Performance Archives — Page 81 of 132 — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

A hardly strictly kind of guy

Andrew Lam

September 27, 2010

It is not everyday that a San Francisco Bay Guardian culture writer finds herself going for an interview in the Financial District. Something about the fumes of avarice making poor atmosphere for the creative process. But high above the Starbucks and town cars is the banjo-packed office of a rich man who puts on the best free bluegrass festival of the year. And so, for Warren Hellman and his Hardly Strictly Bluegrass (Fri/1-Sun/3), I braved the world of name tags and extravagant corner offices.

Much has been written on the avuncular nature of Hellman. He is an ex-president of Lehmann Brothers, and as chairman of Hellman and Friedman and founding partner of his own venture capital firm, falls just shy of Forbes’ 400 Richest Americans list. He’s a born and bred adherent to a downtown-centric vision of the city, but counts among his buddies union activists and some of the city’s well-known liberal muckrakers.

But I guess Hellman just likes what he likes. And after I’ve breached the security check-in that takes place in his megalithic office building’s lobby, traveled up to Hellman and Friedman’s well-appointed offices, chit-chatted with his amiable receptionist, and been installed in his office to wait for the man’s arrival from a meeting next door, I realize that central to this category is bluegrass music. His corner office is comfortably packed with stacks of banjos and guitars, a signed CD from Emmylou Harris that wishes him a happy birthday, a metal sculpture that wears aviator sunglasses and a white cowboy hat, thank you plaques from the Berkeley music venue Freight and Salvage, where Hellman is a keystone donor and acted as chairman for the club’s fundraising campaign in years past. It’s impossible to avoid the music in the room, indeed the music is the room

Hellman arrives shortly, limping slightly, but enthused at the prospect of our interview. I tell him it’s great to meet you, Mr. Hellman, an honorific he doesn’t cotton to – Warren it is. He’s wearing a long sleeve denim button down – a look he favors, judging from photos of him taken at different shows and events.

It comes as a shock to the system in this day and age, to meet a billionaire with progressive friends (or, in my case, a billionaire at all), an older man with tattoos who likes to talk glowingly of his trips to Burning Man ensconced in his skyscraper office above the downtown grid. “There’s no fights there!” he tells me of the desert art festival. “Sure, there’s lots of pot, but there’s no violence.” Warren perhaps falls into the eccentric rich guy archetype, but the philosophy inherent in his personal pastimes at times seep here and thre into his politics, at least sporadically. He’s the kind of guy that will endorse the installation of a massive underground parking lot in Golden Gate Park, yet still support closing down the streets that access said lot so that Sundays amongst the trees and museums can be car-free affairs.

So first for the obvious question: why bluegrass, Warren? “People like to ask these ethereal questions,” the man muses in response. I realize quickly that Hellman pulls few punches, answering questions quickly before detouring into favorite stories that more or less illustrate his point. He’s a good talker. “Why do you like bluegrass – why do you like smoked salmon?”

Fair enough, but why choose to spend your birthday putting on three days of music for the riff-raff (besides the obvious PR bonanza it affords the businessman)? With this query, the billionaire’s eyes alight with a thoroughly unmonetized joy. “It’s the single most fulfilling thing – this is as close to heaven as I’m gonna get,” Hellman says. “To be able to give something that’s really fun to a lot a people that seem to have the same love it as I do… it’s just really fulfilling. And if I could hang out with anyone in my life, it would not be the president of Lehmann Brothers and Goldman Sachs.”

Hardly Strictly seems to be at its a place that allows Hellman to mingle with people outside the financial business. He’s endowed the festival to continue at least 15 years after he dies. “I’d like it to go on more or less forever,” he says. His desire for meetings of minds across ideological, professional, and personal differences is evident even in the way he conducts our interview — which he treats as though he is meeting a friend for the first time.

Hellman’s typical routine for this weekend? “You could say what are the peaks of ecstasy,” he chuckles. He worries all week leading up to the event about the weather – this weekend’s sweaty days have perhaps precluded this part — attends the Friday morning MC Hammer (yes, Hammer’s a regular performer at the event) concert for middle schoolers, and then zips around from stage to stage in his golf cart throughout Saturday and Sunday, reaping praise by the untold hundreds of thousands that come to the park to check out the six stages of tunes provided by Hellman each year.

Oh, and there’s the matter of his band’s performance as well. Hellman plays banjo and sings for the Wronglers, who will be taking the stage at Hardly Strictly at 11 a.m. on Sun/3. They debuted at the festival, and now play gigs all over the country. His travels with the band bring him to bluegrass events year round – when he’s not racing horses, another hobby – and into contact with some great potential acts for Hardly Strictly.

One such group, Hardly Strictly newcomers the Ebony Hillbillies, an all African-American outfit from Jamaica Queens, are Hellman’s personal don’t-miss pick for this weekend. He’s also looking forward to perennial favorites Jimmie Dale Gilmore and Emmylou Harris.

Our time is up, and Hellman’s assistant enters the room to tell him that his next appointment is waiting in the lobby, which doesn’t seem to enthuse him in quite the same fashion that our interview did. Or maybe he’s just good at pretending.

“Oh crap. Well, that was the most fun I’m going to have all day,” he says. Hellman exhorts me to set up another appointment with assistant to talk (“I barely got to find out anything about you!”) and insists on playing me a song about Hardly Strictly that was sent to him by a woman impelled to compose it by her therapist but finally it is time for me to vamoose. We sit convivially, tapping our feet to the beat, Warren every so often blurting out “You have to listen to this part!” Soon, he escorts me to my journey back away from the skyscrapers of the Financial District and returns to his tightly regimented meeting schedule. Moments after our parting, I catch a flat on my bike and am forced to hail a cab to bring me to a neighborhood endowed with such pedestrian things as a bike store. It’s less infuriating than it would have been sans Hellman meet up — I’m still satisfied by our morning time brush between two worlds.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass

Fri/1 10:30 a.m.-12 p.m., 2 p.m.-7 p.m.; Sat/2 and Sun/3 11 a.m.- 7 p.m.

Speedway Meadows

Golden Gate Park, SF

www.strictlybluegrass.com

Allen town: Toronto International Film Festival 2010

Sue Vaughan

September 27, 2010

Allen town: Toronto International Film Festival 2010

Every time a new Woody Allen film arrives (a near-annual event since 1969) the same old, lazy complaints (“It’s not one of his best”) arrive faster than you can say “pontificate.” Yet 10 or 20 years later it seems that somehow many of those uncelebrated films seem to become “one of his best.” See Broadway Danny Rose (1984), Husbands and Wives (1992), or Sweet and Lowdown (1999).

With his latest entry, You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger (opening locally Fri/1), Allen delivers another pitch-perfect mini-guide to the hilarious horrors of growing old … something Allen (according to the director himself, speaking at his Toronto International Film Festival press conference) wouldn’t wish on anyone. What looks and feels like a whimsical rom-com about aging is, in fact, a sobering and even paralyzing blueprint of what exists in most relationships or marriages. Don’t let the fun and breezy vibe of quirky narration deter you. Not only is there more of a bittersweet edge to Allen’s familiar archetypes, but the UK-produced film works as a perfect counterpart to Mike Leigh’s latest monument Another Year (2010). I wouldn’t be surprised if Stranger‘s Gemma Jones earns an Oscar nomination for her performance in what will surely be one of the year’s most truthful films.

After talking to a handful of critics at the TIFF this year about their unimpressed or indifferent reactions to Woody Allen’s latest, I feel it’s important to take a moment to revisit exactly what Allen has made over this past decade of films. Wrapping up his fourth full decade of prolific filmmaking, he has somehow stayed surprisingly strong in such a bipolar industry.

Here’s a quick guide to the brilliance of Woody Allen during the Y2Ks.

1. Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) While it’s wonderful to see directors like Noah Baumbach, David O. Russell, and Wes Anderson making cinema inspired by Allen, he can still beat all of them at his own game. Showcasing defining roles for Rebecca Hall and Scarlet Johansson as well as juicy parts for Javier Bardem and Penélope Cruz, the film also features gorgeous cinematography by Javier Aguirresarobe (of Pedro Almodóvar fame) that punctuates this realistic-romance to transcendental heights. Woody + Almodóvar = blissful chronic dissatisfaction.

2. Match Point (2005) and Cassandra’s Dream (2007) Who would have ever guessed that making films in the UK would reawaken Allen’s serious side? Of course, there were hints; see also: Interiors (1978) and Another Woman (1988). While Match Point was perhaps overly hyped and Cassandra’s Dream utterly dismissed, both of these morality tales contain profound character studies, hauntingly performed by Jonathan Rhys Meyer, Colin Farrell, and Ewan McGregor. Both are well worth revisiting. Who says people aren’t making movies about the new Depression?

3. Melinda and Melinda (2004) While this masterful deconstruction may have left audiences cold the first time around, what shines so brightly about this gem is how deftly the same story being told both from a comedic and tragic perspective slowly starts to blend into one. Radha Mitchell was robbed of an Oscar nod here and Will Ferrell delivers one of the all time best Woody impersonations.

4. Small Time Crooks (2000) When Woody Allen’s character in the 1980 masterpiece Stardust Memories, Sandy Bates, is approached by his fans, they often make the comment “I love your work … especially the earlier, funny ones.” Well, if you wanna talk about one of Allen’s funniest films, it’s right here. Not only do Tracey Ullman, Jon Lovitz, and Michael Rapaport deliver laugh-out-loud performances, nothing will prepare you for Allen’s girlfriend in the film — she’s played by Elaine May, director of The Heartbreak Kid (1972) and Ishtar (1986). The two of them together light up the screen.

5. Anything Else (2003) Rounding out the top five is this overlooked treasure championing both Christina Ricci as a neurotic 20-something and Stockard Channing as her newly reenergized single mother. While it could be said that Jason Biggs is a bit too awkward, both Danny DeVito and Allen shine in what even Quentin Tarantino ranked as one of the best films of the decade.

Throw in the hilarious little rainy day ditties such as the match made in heaven Whatever Works (2009) with Larry David and the ScarJo-starring, surprisingly sweet if not a bit silly Scoop (2006) and you’ve got one helluva great decade. I understand that sometimes it’s easier to move on from your favorite artists of the past to find the hot new Hollywood or Sundance sensation. But to paraphrase Preston Sturges’ Sullivan’s Travels (1941): don’t forget about the clowns and buffoons who attempt to lighten our burden a little with laughs while putting a mirror up to the society around us. All that … plus a little sex too, of course.

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks is the Film History Coordinator at the Academy of Art University and programs Midnites for Maniacs, a monthly series at the Castro Movie Theatre that celebrates dismissed, underrated, and overlooked cinema.

Women in the sky: Flyaway Productions is bold

John Elberling

September 22, 2010

Women in the sky: Flyaway Productions is bold

By Emmaly Wiederholt

Recently I’ve been volunteering with an older blind woman. During our last volunteer session I mentioned I was attending Flyaway Productions’ Singing Praises: Centennial Dances for The Women’s Building (Sept. 10-18) and asked if she had heard of The Woman’s Building. She practically laughed out loud, and I was surprised to learn she was very familiar with it as an active member of the second-wave feminist movement during the ’70s and ’80s. She described the struggle against sexual and gender inequality in the workplace, in the family, and in reproductive rights.

That night as I stared at the brilliantly lit murals of The Women’s Building with aerial dance artists scaling the walls and windows, I thought again of my blind friend’s activism and pondered what it meant to be a woman watching this particular dance performance. So many of the values I cherish about being a woman were present in the bold women flying above.

These women were strong. While dance requires a certain amount of brawn in itself, aerial dance requires much more abdominal and upper body strength than in most dance forms. This may seem self-evident, but in the context of the piece it was particularly telling that these were women with musculature. These women took risks. Hanging suspended over asphalt by a harness requires a certain amount of fearlessness. The risks inherent in this type of dance lent to the thrill audiences felt as dancers swung upside down or sideways high above the ground. These women challenged each other. Much of Jo Kreiter’s choreography consisted in the dancers pushing and pulling at one another, not as antagonists, but as competitors, driving each other to new physical heights. And finally, these women were intuitive. Dance in unison is difficult. Three women, each positioned on a different flight of stairs on the fire escape, danced in tandem though they could hardly see each other. Rather, they had to feel one another’s energy, a feat that takes sensitivity and practice to perfect.

Aside from the lovely testament to women inherent in the dancing, I also enjoyed how unassumingly the performance garnered an audience. Passersby stopped and looked up in wonder. Cars slowed. Buses full of people crammed to look out the window and see what was going on. The performance ran about one half hour in length and by the end quite a crowd had accrued. This rapt community of onlookers, some there by chance and others by premeditation, were yet another demonstration of the role The Women’s Building plays in bringing people together.

Nearing the end of the performance, a dancer stood on the corner of the colorful four story building, her body illuminated in white light, her clothing and hair billowing frantically in the wind. She looked seven feet tall and practically biblical in effect. Looking around, I noticed the now sizeable crowd, their faces upturned towards the Amazonian woman atop the poignantly muraled walls, a veritable bastion of womanhood in the sky.

Hot sluts!

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 21, 2010

culture@sfbg.com

SEX ISSUE Forget those uptight pricks: sluts are awesome. There’s no shame in harboring a voracious appetite for sexiness in all its myriad expressions. Combined with a well-developed ethical stance and safe practices, it’s one of the joys of being human. In honor of the enormous, charitable Folsom Street leather and fetish fair (Sun/26, 11 a.m.–6 p.m., donations requested. www.folsomstreetfair.org), we wanted to honor some of our favorite local sluts with the pervy attention they want and deserve.

>>CLICK HERE FOR PICS OF OUR FAVORITE HOT SLUTS!

SLUTTIEST CELLULOID

You’ve always wanted to watch your neighbors bang, right? Well moan enthusiastically in honor of the Good Vibrations Indie Erotic Film Festival, which every year puts the call out for the cream of the amateur blue filmmaker crop, then assembles the spunkiest for your viewing pleasure at the Castro Theatre. You too can be in the audience, which will ooh and aah its approval to choose the sexiest, steamiest home-screw, the lucky winner receiving a $1,500 money shot. So how does SF get it on? This year’s 12 finalists include preggo smut (Jeannie Roshar’s “Bun in the Oven”), good old-fashioned wordplay like Benjamin Williams’ “The Filth Element,” and sci-fi sexin’ (“Orgasm Raygun” by Martin Gooch). The fest precedes a range of specialty nights around town coordinated by Good Vibes, including Lebso Retro: A Dyke Porn Retrospective (Wed/22 at the Women’s Building). It’s gonna be a hot ticket, so grab a seat, relax your rear, and revel in the sight of sexy San Francisco.

Thurs/23 pre party: 7 p.m., $10; screening: 8 p.m., $10. Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, SF. (415) 621-6120, www.gv-ixff.org

SLUTTIEST QUEEN

“I’m so honored to be named Sluttiest Queen,” inimitable alternative drag goddess Suppositori Spelling tells us. “It’s nice to see that my work hasn’t gone unnoticed. I have so many performances that require nudity that when I drop my skirt lately it’s often met with a wave of yawns from my audience. I think they’re more shocked by the presence of panties nowadays.” (Her audience, found at her raucous weekly drag show Cocktailgate — Sundays, 9 p.m., $5. Truck, 1900 Folsom St., SF. www.trucksf.com — sheds a few panties themselves when she’s on stage.) “I could tell you stories so dirty hot that this paper would burn like a Koran in Florida” she continues, “but I’m so shy and reserved. I will say this, though: as far as the queer sex scene in San Francisco goes, we seem to be in the flush of a renaissance. I keep stumbling upon things that even make me blush — like the gentleman who preferred a visible handjob on public transportation during rush hour as foreplay. But I encourage whatever floats your boat or creams your Twinkie. I just want to clarify, however, that “ouch” is not a safe word!”

Suppositori emcees the Seventh Street stage at Folsom Street Fair from 11 a.m.–2 p.m., followed by a special performance at 2:30 p.m., and then a “hanky code” themed Cocktailgate at its regular time.

SLUTTIEST BOYS

Dan and JD, a.k.a. Two Knotty Boys, are no strangers to the twists and loops of BDSM performance. Native San Franciscans both, they not only create mesmerizing stage shows in which they bind nubile flesh to their will, but also produce end results so visionary that you’d be excused for leaving off the “fetish” and dubbing it merely “fashion.” A ever-so-tightly cinched halter top of gleaming white cord, a barely there cobweb bikini that requires an expert hand to remove, overlays of skirts and dresses that hobble the wearer seductively and at the same time, show off the contours of the female body. It’s neat, it’s adjustable, it’s sexily professional work. It’s easy to see why the duo has filmed more than 100 video tutorials and taught countless workshops in the Bay and beyond for their eager fans: the Boys have tied up hundreds of women but, unlike some humiliation artists, they have never tied down their subjects’ beauty and comfort.

www.twoknottyboys.com

SLUTTIEST PARTIERS

Was it written on the rock hard abs of some San Franciscan sex god that all coital gatherings in this city have to be stark and stoic? Thankfully, the colorful gang over at Kinky Salon never got that memo. Creators Polly and Scott have created a swinger’s playland party in the pink and purple rooms of Mission Control whose focus is flair: playful costume themes have focused on everything from kitty cats (the upcoming Pussyfest) to undersea adventure and fairy tale characters. You’ve never lived, it would seem, until your Snow White costume has been peeled off on the couch in the Harem Room by Tinkerbell and Captain Hook. More recently, the team has created a new magazine to celebrate the vast array of sexualities that their partygoers lay claim to: San Fran Sexy. The rag includes erotic history lessons from sexologist Dr. Carol Queen, memoir pieces from Bawdy Storytelling’s Dixie De La Tour, photos from recent Kinky Salon soirees, and news of sensual events to come.

www.kinkysalon.com

SLUTTIEST ROCKERS

“If the Meat Sluts were a Pink Lady, we’d be Rizzo! We ain’t no prudes like Sandy!” says BB Rumproast of rockin’ band the Meat Sluts (www.myspace.com/themeatsluts). In a world of vegan dogs, her XXX-chromosomed trash rock-punk explosion is an all-beef foot long. The four women are cookin’ on stage — literally. In addition to the occasional back up steak dancing alongside their guitar licks and growls, the Meat Sluts have shared space at shows with a live hot dog-maker and a meat grinder flinging sausage and baloney onto hungry fans. It’s messy, carnivorous fun — the perfect expression of the group’s embrace of hedonistic appetite that could care less about what’s considered “ladylike” at the table of the musical establishment. “We are loose and crazy and not ashamed of it! We love man meat! We love weenies! Beef baloney, Slim Jims, T-bones, bring it ON!” says Rumproast. To quote the Sluts’ rager rally cry “Johnny Con Carne,” that’s what we call makin’ bacon.

The Meat Sluts play Dodgyfest 3, Oct 2, 7 p.m., $10. Thee Parkside, 1600 17th St., SF. www.theeparkside.com

SLUTTIEST BLOGGER

Fleur De Lis SF has a bone to pick with the way hot and horny females are portrayed. “Women are just as sexual as men and they should own it,” the blogger tells us. Need proof? Check out the blog she started this summer — just make sure your hands are free and you’ve got a little privacy while you do so. Her posts are missives from a professional woman’s enthusiastic exploration of sensual subcultures in “one of the sexiest cities in the world.” Though her identity is clad in secrecy, Fleur De Lis SF’s escapades with Craig’s List Casual Encounters, BDSM clubs, and randy run-ins at the grocery store will leave you slicker than a Slip ‘N Slide in 90 percent humidity. Erotic inspiration notwithstanding, what we love about this new It slut is her candor and assertiveness. “Mainly, I want to educate people to embrace sex and sexuality,” she says. “I want people to accept who they are, and who are we are sexually is a huge part of who we are as people.”

fleurdelissf.wordpress.com

SLUTTIEST MAN ACTION

For the past few years, hunky leatherman cruisers have been blessed with the return of a SoMa bar crawl, which, while hardly rivaling the infamous Miracle Mile of the 1970s and ’80s, at least offers hide-lusting bar-hoppers an array of options. Truck, Hole in the Wall, Powerhouse, the Eagle, Lone Star — all make for a daisy chain of fellow cock-seekers. But the piece de resistance is surely Chaps II, which gives itself wholly over to man-action bliss. The original Chaps, owned by Chuck Slaton and Ron Morrison, was notorious for its Crisco-minded shenanigans, and Chaps II, opened in 2008 by David Morgan, continues the proudly perverse tradition, with parties devoted to rope play, piss play, fisting, and sports gear aficionados, as well as regular nights simply dedicated to the Holy Grail of slutty manhood: cheap ass. (For those unfamiliar — cheap ass tastes like chicken parmesan.) Kudos to you, Chaps II, for keeping the BDSM spirit alive — and serving a healthy round of Jäger shots to boot.

1225 Folsom, SF. (415) 255-2427, www.chapsbarsanfrancisco.com

SLUTTIEST ROBOTS

Drilldo, Intruder MK II, the Satisfyher, Scorpion, the Little Guy, Annihilator, the Octapussy — these are some of the friendly, dripping sex robots you’ll meet at FuckingMachines.com, part of the Kink.com kingdom. The machines put a bevy of heaving beauties through the motions with their dildo-studded fingers and pulsating hacksaw thrusts. Designed by lucky site users, who submit their moving-parts fantasies, and the fiendishly clever sex-elves at the Fucking Machines workshop (with many of the machines fabricated on site at Kink’s HQ in the Mission Armory), these fascinating thingamabobs range from devilishly dirty to actually kind of cute. There’s even one modeled on Johnny 5 from Short Circuit, albeit renamed Fuckzilla and outfitted with a huge silicone phallus. The whole shebang is overseen by the enthusiastic Tomcat, who drives the point home that, yes, a chainsaw outfitted with 20 fake tongues “challenges the whole idea that women need someone to buy them dinner to get pleasure.” Fucking machines themselves have been around since the 1960s, he notes, “but when we started in 2001, we wanted to capitalize on the tech wave, while approaching the machine construction like sculpture.” Good thing the Fucking Machine bubble didn’t burst.

SLUTTIEST SLÜT

Burlesque heroine Baroness Eva Von Slüt knows what she’s got, and she’s happy to show it to you. The inked, buxom platinum blonde dove into burlesque in 2002, but she’s never been afraid of flaunting her dangerous curves onstage. “Whatever the thing is that women have that they hate their bodies, I just don’t have it. I don’t compare myself to other people because I know I look good.” Von Slüt produces her own burlesque shows, plays party-jumping jams with partner DJ Mod Days, and heads up the vocals for no less than two sexy bands — Thee Merry Widows, an all-girl psychobilly explosion of fishnets, red lipstick, and leather dresses, at whose shows Von Slüt will bust out in pasties and sequined panties, and the White Barons, a stripped down, hard-edged punk outfit in which Von Slüt lets her rebel growl loose. So what gets this freight train whistling? Purrs the lady, “Self-confidence and kindness. Also, I am a bit of a cougar, so gentlemen 10 years younger. I’m not opposed to men my age or older, but gosh they’re just so sweet when they’re young!”

Catch Von Slüt’s DJ session on Wednesday, Oct. 13 at Butter, 354 11th St., SF. www.myspace.com/missevavonslut

SLUTTIEST FREE-FOR-ALL

There are a lot of gay musclemen at the Folsom Street Fair, and there are a lot of steamy, shirtless gay man-parties surrounding the event (causing quite a few Monday morning tragedies). But what about everyone else? “I was talking to my friends at Kink,” says Folsom organizer Demetri Moshoyannis, “and they said that once the fair ended, all the leathermen had a place to go, but everyone at the Kink booth just had to go home. So this year we teamed up with them to change that.” The result? A glorious-sounding omnisexual dance party called Deviants that’s open to everyone. The acknowledgment that gay muscle men aren’t the only ones who can get down and dirty into the wee hours is refreshing. But so is the musical lineup — the Juan Maclean, Zach Moore from Space Cowboys, Australia’s Stereogamous — which offers something beyond the carnival circuit-music at many of the other parties. Musclemen are welcome, too, of course, as long as they’re willing to shake their chains on the dance floor.

Sun/26, 6 p.m.–2 a.m., $30 advance. 525 Harrison, SF. www.folsomstreetfair.org/deviants

SLUTTIEST PIE

It’s not too many harems that offer you 40 different ways to satisfy your cravings. But hot, lip-smacking loving can be yours — in three different locations or for delivery, no less! — whenever that urge to do something naughty hits, whether you like it on your lunch hour or for a post-bar dirty stopover. Oh, Pizza Orgasmica, you sure do know what gets us going. The local chain has umpteen big, salacious pies with nookie-themed names for your perusing. And although the Ménage à Trois, with it’s cuddle puddle of five salty cheeses, will leave you panting, and the Latin Lover’s barbeque sauce, chicken, zucchini, onions, and cilantro make for a meaty, spicy affair, the sluttiest pie award has got to go to the Farmer’s Daughter. She looks like a demure little milkmaid (after all, you can find her on the vegetarian menu) — but once her drizzles of creamy bianca cheese hit your tongue, and her fresh corn and broccoli fill your mouth … it’s a tumble in the hay you won’t soon forget. Old MacDonald would be scandalized.

Various locations, www.pizzaorgasmica.com

SLUTTIEST CLOWN

When it comes gender-bending sexual escapades, we landlubbing bipeds tend to give short shrift to our finned, feathered, and multi-legged Earthmates. That’s why we’re giving a hearty bottoms up to the California Academy of Science’s Amphiprion ocellaris. The showy orange and white striped fish, whose common name is clownfish, is best known as the aquatic brat in Finding Nemo. But we don’t care about Nemo’s celebrity — or his billions. We salute him for his ability to shift from male to female when needed, giving her access to the entire spectrum of fishy sexuality. One of the planet’s rare sequential hermaphrodites, all clownfish are born male (protandrous hermaphrodites) but become female when the female in a breeding pair dies. You may never look at a clownfish the same way again — and you should certainly go and look at them at the Cal Academy aquarium (www.calacademy.org), where the San Franciscan clownfish ride tiny fixies, design websites, and sip Blue Bottle. Kidding! But maybe we should rethink always calling them “Nemo.” How about Nema for a change? Or Nemo-ma. Or, oh goddess of LGBT fish love, Nemaphrodite.

SLUTTIEST BUFFET

It’s lunchtime Friday and you need a juicy thigh in your mouth: Gold Club is there. And no, we’re not talking about the lovely ladies popping, dropping, and locking it all over the SoMa strip club’s pleasure poles. Carnal urges take on new meaning when it comes to the joint’s $5 all you can eat Friday buffet, an omnivorous affair stuffed with roast beef, lasagna, fresh veggies, hummus, brownies, and their signature breasts (or as one Yelper so memorably dubbed them, “fried chicken tit-tays!”) The spread attracts a diverse crowd of office workers and lap-dance connoisseurs of all genders, endowed with an appetite for crispy skin and jiggling glutei maximi alike. So pair your plate with a $4 happy hour cocktail — available until 7 p.m. — and don’t forget to share your savings with the working women up front.

Gold Club’s all you can eat buffet Fridays 11 a.m.– 2 p.m., $5. 650 Howard, SF. (415) 536-0300, www.goldclubsf.com

Slutty profiles written by Marke B., Caitlin Donohue, Johnny Ray Huston, and Diane Sussman.

“Red” bayou

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 21, 2010

STAGE The young woman has something wrong with her; a chorus of women tell us so. They’re neighbors in the same particular, yet nebulous, time/place: a housing project in a nameless small town in the Louisiana bayou, some time in the “distant present.” As if floating on water, the young woman, an African American teen named Oya (Lakisha May), lies prone on a dais at the center of an otherwise bare stage as they speak of her. Her name, like those of all the characters in Tarell Alvin McCraney’s In the Red and Brown Water, evokes African folklore, but there is something of the classical Greek tragedy about all this too, something of Lorca, and more. This is meta-theatrical terrain as hybrid and multifarious as the culture of the bayou itself.

As we circle back to the beginning of her story, Oya seems destined for great things. She’s an exceptional runner, a natural in fact, and it brings her great joy as well as the offer of a scholarship to the state school. But she defers the offer to be with her ailing single mother (Nicol Foster) and soon finds herself not moving at all.

Oya’s hopes shift to love. But the great love of her young life, a lothario named Shango (an excellent Isaiah Johnson), soon joins the military, leaving Oya to the care of a fallback sweetheart, the big, gentle, stuttering Ogun Size (Ryan Vincent Anderson). She continues stagnating, restless, unhappy, spending all her time on the porch of her house. It seems a baby might save Oya, but she appears incapable of becoming pregnant. Her desperation grows, since her womb and her world will not. Left with no room to breathe, no air, no forward motion, Oya’s fate is all but sealed.

It would be something for any new play by a playwright under 30 to live up to the hype that greeted McCraney’s In the Red and Brown Water, which opened last week at Marin Theatre Company. Fortunately for playwright and audience alike, MTC delivers a solid production, attractively staged by its own producing director, Ryan Rilette (whose relationship with the playwright goes back to a production at Rilette’s former stomping grounds, New Orleans’ Southern Rep), and featuring some fine performances by a strong, engaging ensemble. But if the Bay Area premiere of this first work in McCraney’s much touted trilogy, The Brother/Sister Plays — all being staged over the coming weeks in an unprecedented coproduction by MTC, the Magic, and ACT — well serves the real talents exhibited by the acclaimed newcomer, the play itself still falls short of its ambitious scope.

Rilette’s impressive cast and fluid staging take the poetry and humor in McCraney’s words and run with it. The playwright has his characters voice their own and others’ stage directions — calling knowing attention to the artifice of theatrical storytelling as well as the narrations we make of our own lives — and the actors handle this aspect with aplomb, deftly shifting from bland utterance to in-character performance of the emotion or action described. There’s much well-throated song and some affecting sensuality here too. But the theatrical style only partly makes up for some thinness in plot and character. Oya’s is a humble story, at one level, and the strength of the play comes in recognizing her as worthy of our attention. At the same time, the playwright’s urge to cast her along a trajectory of classical-tragic proportions ends up feeling overblown instead of quietly poignant.

Bay Area audiences have the opportunity to see The Brother/Sister Plays trilogy over the coming weeks, which is no small thing, marking an unprecedented collaboration between three major companies. The Magic Theatre opens The Brothers Size this week (Size having first brought attention to McCraney when it was produced by New York City’s Public Theater in 2006) and American Conservatory Theater will follow in October with the Bay Area premiere of Marcus; or the Secret of Sweet. Qualifications aside, this is an unusual and enticing project all around.

IN THE RED AND BROWN WATER

Through Oct. 10, $32–$-53

Marin Theatre Company

397 Miller, Mill Valley

(415) 388-5208

www.marintheatre.org

Horns of plenty

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 21, 2010

art@sfbg.com

MUSIC Shaun O’Dell is best known for his visual art work — work that has earned him a Goldie from the Guardian, a SECA Award from San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and more recently the Tournesol Award at Headlands Center for the Arts. Less known is O’Dell’s work in music, likely because over the years the artist has distanced himself from the scene, its attendant clash of egos, and the oft-inevitable creative tussles. “I’d been in bands before,” he says by phone. “That’s part of the reason I went into visual art. I didn’t want to collaborate with people anymore — it just got weird and stressful.”

So when old friend and Thee Oh Sees leader John Dwyer — for whom O’Dell played sax on an early Coachwhips recording — asked the painter to try his hand at his latest project with Randy Lee Sutherland (Vholtz, Murder Murder) a couple years ago, O’Dell obviously wasn’t planning on major sand scuffles or gladiatorial touring.

The three started playing together, and lo, “it worked.” Meaning, the trio might play a little before a performance and then bring it all together live, while improvising. “It wasn’t rehearsed music — it was more build-up-a-language music,” as O’Dell puts it. “The energy was really about the live thing, but there was a lot of energy between the three of us whenever we played. It was good that way — no hassles.”

“We played shows a lot of times with noise bands, and we weren’t trying to make noise — we weren’t trying to make chaos. We were basically searching through the chaos to find these common places for us to make harmonic things happen or melodic things happen or rhythmic things coalesce,” O’Dell recollects. “I think the music was interesting to me because both those guys were committed to communicating but not afraid to explore and have the music fall apart at times, and I think on the record you can hear that.”

You can hear that sense of play, exploration, and driving pulse on Sword and Sandals’ studio debut, Good & Plenty (Empty Cellar). O’Dell and Sutherland, both on alto sax, weave in and out of each other’s lines, calling like exotic birds, while Dwyer picks up such unexpected instruments as the flute on the untitled second track. Dwyer and Sutherland took turns on drums, O’Dell played tenor and Sutherland bass clarinet, and all three played keyboards, with Dwyer, and on one track, Anthony Petrovic of Ezee Tiger, interjecting with electronics and a ramshackle Moog at engineer Lars Savage’s Mission District studio.

Tracked live during one all-day Ben Hur of a session, sans overdubs, Good & Plenty‘s improvisations pull at the ear insistently, with one foot lodged in the warehouses of SF’s post-punk/-hardcore experimental music scene and another in the wild, woolly outback of improv. “All three of us have played music enough to commit to playing off the top of our heads and listening enough to make something work,” observes O’Dell. “I think that’s what made it different.”

It’s all different now: after two years with Sword and Sandals, two 2007 live CD-Rs, and a track on a Zum TwoThousandTapes compilation earlier this year, O’Dell has left the band. Instead O’Dell and Sutherland are carrying on as a duo dubbed WR/DS, playing the S&S release-show-of-sorts at Viracocha and O’Dell’s book release party at Park Life Gallery. O’Dell hopes to incorporate a string section at Park Life, wryly describing WR/DS repetitive, sometimes-Terry-Reilly-inspired experiments as “art gallery music. It means we like to do it in spaces that make acoustic music sound good. It’s kind of a joke — but kind of not a joke.”

Not that Sword and Sandals wasn’t touched or touched by the art realm as well. “For me, it became a good outlet for trusting in the unknown, as far as it was related to my art practice,” explains O’Dell. “I was overdoing it for years and years, and I’ve gotten to the point where I’m interested in the places I don’t know about so much.

“It’s a different thing playing music,” he continues, “but your brain is doing the same thing — just letting go and not judging yourself and playing and not judging other people you’re playing with and finding space to make music.”

WR/DS

With Up Died Sound, Pillars and Tongues, and Joseph Childress

Wed/22, 8 p.m., call for price

Viracocha

998 Valencia, SF

(415) 374-7048

viracochasf.com

Also Sept. 30, 6–8 p.m., free

Park Life Gallery

220 Clement, SF

(415) 386-7275

www.parklifestore.com

O victory forget your underwear

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 21, 2010

marke@sfbg.com

>>CLICK HERE FOR OUR INTERVIEW WITH JAMES FRANCO

Let’s get this out of the way right off the bat: The true “howl” in Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman’s breezy bio-pic Howl is that of the ghost of Beat poet and queer countercultural icon Allen Ginsberg, patting his Buddha belly in the clouds and roaring at his good fortune to be portrayed by James Franco. Eat Pray Love‘s Elizabeth Gilbert may have scored the chick lit holy grail with Julia Roberts, but on the gay-o-meter, being reincarnated in the delectable body of Franco is pretty much to die for.

And Franco’s performance is a wonder, necessarily conveying all the maddening and inspiring elements of the young poet’s personality through subtle facial expressions, eye twinkles, and head cocks. I say necessarily because another thing Franco nails is Ginsberg’s pancake-flat vocal inflection. (Even at 31, Ginsberg came off like a nursing home resident grumbling over mushy latkes.)

There is the evangelical poeticizing and genius marketing. There is the awkward peacocking and needy perviness. And then there is Howl itself. I guess calling this a biopic is misleading. The movie is an amalgamation of styles — imagined interview, courtroom drama, historical flashback, animated fancy — that zeroes in on one particular slice of Ginsberg’s (and the nation’s) development: the celebrated 1957 obscenity trial over Howl the poem that seared Ginsberg, the Beats, and midcentury San Francisco into mainstream consciousness.

Focusing on that trial — City Lights publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti and bookstore employee Shigeyoshi Murao were busted when Murao sold a copy of the poem to undercover cops — is an excellent strategy, and not just because, historical spoiler alert, Howl‘s victory provides a snappy climax. It also gives the filmmakers a chance to open a window on a particularly tumultuous time.

You get a little Mad Men-type excitement in the spot-on retro set designs and courtroom scenes, which rub old-school 1950s mores against the nascent cultural revolution. (Jon Hamm, Mad Men protagonist, plays the dashing defense lawyer.) You get some freshly presented Beat hagiography, with scenes of strapping young literary princes shaking off their fancy college pedigrees in New York and going, yes, on the road. Jack Kerouac, Neil Cassady, Peter Orlovsky … Beat fetishists will be readjusting their berets with glee.

Unfortunately, you also get long stretches of animated interpretations of the Howl text that seem incongruously imported from the neon-noir ’90s. Which in fact they were — illustrator Eric Drooker collaborated with Ginsberg for 1996’s Illuminated Poems, and he’s the animation designer here. The swirling ayurvedic tornadoes and cosmically copulating bodies, coupled with overly literal imagery (i.e. African American saxophonist during the “Negro streets at dawn” passage) took me back to a lot of bad French Canadian animation festivals.

Mostly though, you get the young Ginsberg. He didn’t attend the obscenity trial, and Howl’s framing device is an imagined interview in his fantastically shabby chic North Beach apartment during the legal proceedings. With Epstein and Friedman (The Times of Harvey Milk) directing, Gus Van Sant (Milk) executive producing, and Franco fresh from Milk himself, the set-up is pretty obvious. Another queer saint is being cinematically canonized. (Ginsberg, of course, was far from Milk on the political scale — his version of gay lib focused on the spiritual journey, not the systematic legal integration. Maybe Howl is meant to be the yang to Milk‘s yin.)

The idea of portraying an openly gay man in the 1950s is juicy — but Howl skews toward sexual yuks, like Neil Cassady’s girlfriend walking in on Ginsberg about to blow him. In this often rushed-feeling film, Ginsberg is allowed only a splash of existential longing before finding some fulfillment with his lifelong companion Orlovsky. But is that really fair, or even brave? After Milk, wouldn’t it be more courageous for this distinguished team to take on a lesbian activist? A transgender groundbreaker? A queer of color? Or even, gasp, the opportunistic, overexposed, NAMBLA-defending, hustler-gorging, radiantly nudist old man that Ginsberg became?

HOWL opens Fri/24 in Bay Area theaters.

Film listings

David Talbot

September 21, 2010

Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. The film intern is Ryan Prendiville. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock. For first-run showtimes, see Movie Guide.

OPENING

*Buried Spanish director Rodrigo Cortés’ first English-language feature has one of the most deeply unsettling openings in recent memory: a pitch-black screen gradually soundtracked by the waking, disorientation, and frantic scratching made by Paul Conroy (Ryan Reynolds) as he realizes he’s been buried alive. A U.S. civilian contractor (the good, reconstructionist kind, not the gun-crazy, mercenary "security" type) in Iraq, he struggles to calm down as he uses a pocket lighter to view the coffin he’s trapped in. Finding a flashlight and cell phone, he soon receives a call from his kidnappers informing he has just 90 minutes of oxygen (and probably less time on the phone’s running-down battery) to raise a considerable ransom. Chris Sparling’s clever screenplay and Cortés’ surprisingly cinematic treatment (given the single location’s extreme claustrophobia) keep this potentially one-note real-world horror movie nail-bitingly tense throughout, while Reynolds runs a grueling emotive gamut with aplomb. (1:34) (Harvey)

*The Desert of Forbidden Art Uzbekistan probably hasn’t been at the top of your vacation wish list, but it might be after seeing this documentary by Tchavdar Georgiev and Amanda Pope — at least if you’re a modern art lover. It centers on the Nukus Museum, an extraordinary institution founded by the late Igor Savitsky, a frustrated painter who came here first from Moscow as an archaeologist, then became fascinated with the remote region’s ethnic folk artifacts. By 1966 official policy had turned from wiping out regional traditions and identities to embracing them, so he was given public funds to showcase his collection here. But unbeknownst to the bureaucrats back home (until it was too late), he’d already found a new passion, and was busy funneling his budget toward it: Finding and archiving a wealth of virtually unknown Soviet modern art that had been created without notice (often in hiding) since Stalin’s cultural watchdogs condemned the once-favored avant-garde movement of the 1920s in favor of sentimental, propagandic "Soviet realism." This stuff is the bomb — almost literally, since workaholic Savitsky finally died in 1984 of excess exposure to toxic restoration chemicals. There are poignant and colorful human stories here, but The Desert of Forbidden Art‘s exhilarating primary appeal lies in the fact that it features probably more eye-poppingly great visual art that you’ve never seen or known about before than quite possibly any documentary before it. You may well walk out with a question: so, are there cheap flights to Uzbekistan? (1:20) Four Star. (Harvey)

*Howl See "O Victory Forget Your Underwear" and "Franco’s Reign." (1:30) Elmwood, Smith Rafael.

Jack Goes Boating Not all miserable people are interesting — sometimes they’re just miserable and dull. Case in point: all of the characters in Jack Goes Boating, adapted by Robert Glaudini from his play. The titular Jack (Philip Seymour Hoffman, who also directs) is an awkward limo driver with filthy dreads and an anger management problem. He does his best to court equally awkward Connie (Amy Ryan), while his best friends Clyde (John Ortiz) and Lucy (Daphne Rubin-Vega) watch their marriage collapse, spectacularly. Given the talent involved, Jack Goes Boating might be mistaken for a better film than it is. There are moments, in fact, when it’s almost good. But the movie is unpleasant on every level — and not in an engaging way, like far better Noah Baumbach films about dysfunction. The romance is strained and unrelatable: you want Jack and Connie to make it work, if only so that the movie can end. (1:29) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Peitzman)

Last Train Home In Lixin Fan’s documentary, a Chinese couple moves from their rural village to the city to find factory work, hoping to provide a better life for the young daughter they leave behind. (1:27) Shattuck.

Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga’hoole In which owls enter the uncanny valley. (1:31) Presidio.

Never Let Me Go The time is not so long ago, and the atmosphere is of a rural England that resists change. So it takes a while for us to realize that this adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s acclaimed book (by fellow novelist Alex Garland) takes place in an alternative recent past in which society has indeed changed in ways that are few, yet enormous. Raised at what appears to be a familiar if slightly peculiar English boarding school, the students of Hailsham are given limited but highly specific education preparing them for an adulthood of service. A short adulthood, that is, for they are clones grown from "originals," considered not quite human, their purpose being eventual willing harvest for organs by a populace whom medical science breakthroughs can now allow extraordinarily long lifespans. Placidly preparing for that future sacrifice are best friends Ruth (Keira Knightley), Tommy (Andrew Garfield), and Kathy (Carey Mulligan), the latter such a born accommodator that she doesn’t utter a peep of protest when Ruth grabs Tommy as her boyfriend — destroying all Kathy’s hopes and probably dimming Tommy’s somewhat as well. Directed by Mark Romanek (2002’s One Hour Photo), Never Let Me Go spans a couple of decades, but its aura of mournful melancholy never wavers. The results are well cast, handsomely outfitted (Rachel Portman contributes a plaintive string score), tasteful, and just a little bit more monotonous and less touching than you might hope. Not particularly plot-driven, this is a good film that’s also another illustration (like such recent examples as 2009’s The Road and 2008’s Revolutionary Road) of how sometimes no amount of intelligent effort can make a movie achieve everything that some literature can. (1:43) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

The Romantics Katie Holmes, Anna Paquin, Josh Duhamel, and assorted other pretty people star in this wedding-themed ensemble comedy. (1:35) Shattuck.

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps Hold onto your wallets: greedy Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas, reprising his Oscar-winning role) returns. (2:13) Cerrito, Elmwood, Four Star, Marina.

Whiz Kids "One of the bad things about all methods of dating," according to 17-year-old Harmain Khan, "is that if you want to date something, you have to destroy it." A rather advanced notion about relationships, if not for the fact that the teen is actually referring to using electron spin resonance to date fossilized crocodile teeth. Yeah. And yet, he’s the most oddly charismatic among the three nerds at center in Tom Shepard and Tina DiFeliciantonio’s Whiz Kids. Like 2002’s Spellbound, the doc follows quirky kids as they prepare for an important competition, in this case the Intel Science Talent Search. Though the film isn’t ground-breaking, the subjects amuse with their odd mixture of scientific maturity and age-appropriate social naiveté; there’s a lot to relate to, even if they’re hoping to get into Harvard and solve the environmental crisis, and you at that age were just hoping to make it to graduation. (1:22) Balboa. (Prendiville)

You Again Two generations of former high school rivals (Kristen Bell vs. Odette Yustman and Sigourney Weaver vs. Jamie Lee Curtis) do battle on the eve of a family wedding. (1:30) Elmwood, Presidio.

ONGOING

*The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector Alternately slavish and critical, simultaneously buying into and subtly resisting the hype, The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector is a bit like the renowned producer himself, who said this to biographer Mick Brown in 2007’s Tearing Down the Wall of Sound: the Rise and Fall of Phil Spector: "I have a bipolar personality … I have devils inside that fight me. And I’m my own worst enemy … I would say I’m probably relatively insane." You can see why director Vikram Jayanti scored the interview with Spector at the center of Agony, since he gets on board the musicmaker’s bifurcated, multichannel tip. The doc is both fascinating and monotonous, respectful of Spector’s achievements as well as the sensation surrounding his blighted celebrity. The filmmaker stays away from the specifics of the night in 2003 when Lana Clarkson was found dead at Spector’s mansion, while recontextualizing the producer’s words and music with images culled from the murder trial and other footage. The end result is an innuendo-laden pastiche that resembles an echo chamber reverberating with all the doomed dramatics of "He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss)." (1:42) Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Alpha and Omega (1:28) 1000 Van Ness.

*The American George Clooney caught in a moodily paranoid, yet exquisitely photographed, ’70s-style suspense-arthouse death-trap? Belmondo and Beatty could empathize. Nonetheless, veteran rock photographer and Control (2007) director Anton Corbijn suffuses the chilly proceedings with a fresh, wintry beauty, the carefully balanced sense of highly charged tension and silky smoothness that a gunsmith would appreciate, and a resonance that feels personal. How else would an ex-rock shooter like Corbijn, who’s made iconic images of the Clash, U2, and others, connect with this tale of an assassin masquerading as a photographer, one who’s constantly glancing behind and around himself — justifiably wary of being caught in another killer’s sights — and seemingly just as wary of the director’s, and audience’s, gaze? A character who wouldn’t be out of place in a Camus novella or a Melville brooder, Jack/Edward, or more accurately "the American," (Clooney) is in exile after a bad collision with a girlfriend and hitmen in Sweden and hiding out in a picturesque Italian village, conspicuously the more-cold-than-cool outsider and doing one immaculate job for a gorgeous mysterious woman (Thekla Reuten). Is he a good or bad guy? The local priest (Paolo Bonacelli), who knows and sees all like a great eye in the sky, is trying to find out, as is the most beautiful prostitute in town (Violante Placido). The answers are nowhere near as clear or as plainly painted as a Sergio Leone Western, although Corbijn nods to the maestro when stone-cold killer Henry Fonda, then playing shockingly against type, appears on a cafe TV screen in Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). But the director’s care and attention to beauty — as well as the lines carved in the face of Clooney’s lean, mean-looking American, a whore like any other — say more than words. (1:43) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

*Animal Kingdom More renowned for its gold rush history and Victorian terrace homes than its criminal communities, Melbourne, Australia gets put on the same gritty map as Martin Scorsese’s ’70s-era New York City and Quentin Tarantino’s ’90s Los Angeles with the advent of director-writer David Michôd’s masterful debut feature. The metropolis’ sun-blasted suburban homes, wood-paneled bedrooms, and bleached-bone streets acquire a chilling, slowly building power, as Michôd follows the life and death of the Cody clan through the eyes of its newest member, an unformed, ungainly teenager nicknamed J (James Frecheville). When J’s mother ODs, he’s tossed into the twisted arms of her family: the Kewpie doll-faced, too-close-for-comfort matriarch Smurf (Jacki Weaver), dead-eyed armed robber Pope (Ben Mendelsohn), Pope’s best friend Baz (Joel Edgerton), volatile younger brother and dealer Craig (Sullivan Stapleton), and baby bro Darren (Luke Ford). Learning to hide his responses to the escalating insanity surrounding the Codys’ war against the police — and the rest of the world — and finding respite with his girlfriend, Nicky (Laura Wheelwright), J becomes the focus of a cop (Guy Pearce) determined to take the Codys down — and discovers he’s going to have use all his cunning to survive in the jungle called home. Stunning performances abound — from Frecheville, who beautifully hides a growing awareness behind his character’s monolithic passivity, to the adorably scarifying Weaver — in this carefully, brilliantly detailed crime-family drama bound to land at the top of aficionados’ favored lineups, right alongside 1972’s The Godfather and 1986’s At Close Range and cult raves 1970’s Bloody Mama and 1974’s Big Bad Mama. (2:02) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Bran Nue Dae An energetic screen translation of a 1990 Australian stage musical, Rachel Perkins’ film is tourist cliché spun into crowd-pleasing slop, like a Down Under Riverdance. Young Aboriginal Willie (Rockie McKenzie) escapes the "corrective" environ of a 1969 Perth Catholic boarding school and flees homeward, only to be pursued by mercilessly hammy Geoffrey Wright’s racist priest baddie. The crude humor, generic tunes, and hectically shot and dance-poor numbers have about as much to do with Aussie abo culture as The Lion King does with "Africa" — it’s prefab feel-good pap posing as multicultural representation. (1:28) Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Cairo Time (1:29) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Smith Rafael.

Catfish Please do not reveal the secret to Catfish — relax, I’m not going to. What I will say is this: Catfish’s uber-secretive, Paranormal Activity-esque ad campaign is effective, but the film ultimately stands on its own merits. This is an intriguing, relatable documentary, and if the studio feels that they’ll sell more tickets by promoting it in a certain way, so be it. Without giving away too much, Catfish is the spontaneous documentary that arose when filmmakers Rel Schulman and Henry Joost began filming Rel’s brother, Nev. Like so many of us, Nev finds himself drawn to a person he’s never met — embarking on a relationship through Facebook photos and wall posts. Of course, as is so often the case with the internet, nothing is quite what it seems. Catfish has already found its critics, particularly those who insist the documentary is a fake. I believe it, but either way it’s an impressive achievement: the best film yet about social networking. (1:26) Metreon. (Peitzman)

Devil (1:20) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

*Easy A Take the sex out of a teen sex comedy and hone in on the heard-it-yesterday info overload of the highly social-networked ’00s, and you get Easy A, a whip-smart striver looking to give a whole new definition to fast fiction. The brainy grandchild of 1930s screwball comedies and the knowing offspring of more recent spoofs of the Clearasil years like Clueless (1995) — with blood ties to the on-point pop of pater familias John Hughes — Easy A doesn’t quite aspire to the grainy, your-so-called-reality of YouTube auteurs, à la The Virginity Hit, though Bert V. Royal’s script is just as steeped in the culture of viral gossip and TMZ-writ-small, as well as the high-low literary and cinematic referents, that ’80s babies-and-up were succored on. Welcome to the postmodern mixed-up world of the girl who gets straight As, a marked contrast to all the bromancin’ going down in other parts of the cineplex: Olive Penderghast (Emma Stone) is curious enough to venture fully down the rabbit hole of bad-girl schoolyard celebrity after fabricating a story about losing her virginity. Despite the swelling disapproval of Marianne (Amanda Bynes) and her virginal Christian fundamentalist crew, Olive’s soon giving pity faux-fucks to all the misfits on campus in exchange for gift cards to big-box stores. Her hilariously staged tryst with classmate Brandon (Dan Byrd), who’s sick of getting beaten up every day because he’s gay, is up there with anything in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986). And though Easy A often seems pitched more to adults, like Olive’s wise-cracking parents (Patricia Clarkson and Stanley Tucci), its entertainingly self-aware fiction is still likely to bridge generational divides as much as anything on Facebook. (1:30) Marina, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Chun)

Eat Pray Love The new film based on Elizabeth Gilbert’s chart-busting memoir, Eat Pray Love, benefits greatly from the lead performance by Julia Roberts, an actor who can draw from her own reserves of pathos when a project has none of its own. The adaptation, about a whiny American author farting around the globe in search of what amounts to spiritual room service, is nothing without her. The journey begins with the Type-A, book contract-inspired premise that Gilbert will travel to three appointed countries over the course of a year in order that, having thrice denied herself absolutely nothing, she might come out the other end a better-balanced human being. The first stop is Italy, where her entire plan is to finally unbutton her jeans and indulge in a celebrated cuisine, as if her home base of Manhattan were a culinary backwater. But this film is all about tired equivalencies, so Italy equals food, and expressive hand gestures, and "the art of doing nothing." India, her next stop, equals enlightenment (her discovery that the guru she’s come to see is currently at an ashram in New York is an irony lost on the movie). And Bali, her final getaway, apparently equals contradictory but flattering aphorisms and thematically hypocritical romances. The sole appeal to a moviegoer here is aspirational. What’s so embarrassing about Eat Pray Love is its insistence that this appeal sprouts from the spiritual quest itself, and not just from the privilege that enables Gilbert to have such an extravagant quest in the first place. But then, self-awareness is supposed to be a obstacle to enlightenment. She’s got nothing to worry about there. (2:30) Empire, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Jason Shamai)

Get Low Born from the true story of Felix Bush, an eccentric Tennessee hermit who invited the world to celebrate his funeral in advance of his own death, Get Low is a loose take on what might inspire a man to do a thing like that. It’s a small story, and unlikely to attract the attention of popcorn-addled viewers in the midst of the summer blockbuster season, but Get Low has a whopper of a character in Felix Bush. Robert Duvall becomes Bush, constructing a quiet man who sees it all and speaks only when he has something to say, and supporting roles from Sissy Spacek and Bill Murray are expectedly solid, but the real surprise is what a strong eye director Aaron Schnieder has. In allowing scenes to unfold on their own terms and in their own time, Schneider gives a real humanity to what could have been a Hallmark movie. (1:42) Four Star, Shattuck. (Galvin)

*The Girl Who Played With Fire Lisbeth Salander is cooler than you are. The heroine of Stieg Larsson’s bestselling book series is fierce, mysterious, and utterly captivating: in the movie adaptations, she’s perfectly realized by Noomi Rapace, who has the power to transform Lisbeth from literary hero to film icon. Rapace first impressed audiences in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009), a faithful adaptation of Larsson’s premiere novel, and she returns as Lisbeth in The Girl Who Played With Fire. The sequel, as is often the case, isn’t quite on par with the original, but it’s still a page-to-screen success. And while the first film spent equal time on journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist), The Girl Who Played With Fire is almost entirely Lisbeth’s story. Sure, there’s more to the movie than the hacker-turned-sleuth — and the actor who plays her — but she carries the film. Rapace is Lisbeth; Lisbeth is Rapace. I’d watch both in anything. (2:09) Four Star, Lumiere, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Peitzman)

Going the Distance If you live in San Francisco, don’t try to date someone in New York. It’s just not worth the hassle. But hey, maybe you’re as adorable as Drew Barrymore, and your boyfriend’s as charming as Justin Long — you can’t be expected to let a little geographical complication get in the way. That’s the driving force behind Going the Distance, a romcom that stars real-life couple Barrymore and Long as Erin and Garrett, two crazy kids trying to make it work cross-country. In many ways, the film is your standard boy-meets-girl story, but it’s cute enough that the predictability factor doesn’t really matter. The cast is universally strong, with bonus points to the standouts: It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia‘s Charlie Day as Garrett’s embarrassing roommate, and Christina Applegate as Erin’s germaphobe sister. The humor is surprisingly sharp — and raunchy, which earned Going the Distance an R-rating. I’m not going to say Long’s bare ass is worth the price of admission, but it’s certainly a selling point. (1:43) 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Shattuck. (Peitzman)

*Heartbreaker French import Heartbreaker is a star-driven romantic comedy that underlines how lame and formulaic Hollywood’s current endeavors in that genre almost invariably are. Not that it isn’t formulaic — but you don’t feel nose-led by a committee of script-coarsening hacks, and the usual escapist lifestyle pleasures don’t come off as a product-placement parade. Alex (Romain Duris) is the star performer in a biz run with pragmatic sibling Mélanie (Julie Ferrier) and her genially vague husband Marc (François Damiens). They orchestrate breakups with maximum guile but also strict ethical rules ("We open their eyes, not their legs … We only step in if the woman is unhappy"), usually hired by families desperate to wean daughters from bad relationships. An amusing montage of Alex essaying various roles — window washer, sushi chef, redeemable criminal — establishes this is an enterprise both elaborately thought-out and costly. Indeed, Alex and Co. are in debt, thanks to his theatrical perfectionism. Ergo they’ve no choice but to violate rules and accept a lucrative new assignment whose target seems far from unhappy. There’s never any doubt where Heartbreaker is headed. Cocky Alex will fall hard, repent his professional Don Juan fakery, almost lose the game, then grovel sufficiently to pull a Graduate as scruffy charmer triumphs over dully respectable Mr. Right. What happens after the fade, when reality dawns? We probably don’t want to know. Yet Heartbreaker earns that suspension of disbelief, arriving at a unabashedly melodramatic climax just as romantically intoxicating as it aims to be. (1:44) Albany, Opera Plaza. (Harvey)

I’m Still Here This examination of Joaquin Phoenix’s self-imposed Hollywood exile is neither fascinating nor insightful. More like tedious and aggravating, really. Whether or not "JP" — as the erstwhile Oscar nominee refers to himself as he takes on a new persona as unwashed hip-hop artist — is faking his downward spiral is supposed to be the great attraction for Casey Affleck’s apparently vérité vehicle. But Phoenix is so (deliberately?) unlikable it’s hard to care one way or the other. If he is having a breakdown, conveniently captured on film from multiple angles, he’s still a spoiled, private jet-taking movie star moping about existential woes while living a privileged life (hotel suites, fawning personal assistants, etc.) If he’s faking it, it’s unclear what the point of I’m Still Here is supposed to be, other than a "fuck you" to the industry that made Phoenix rich and famous. Either way, ugh. (1:48) Lumiere. (Eddy)

Inception As my movie going companion pointed out, "Christopher Nolan must’ve shit a brick when he saw Shutter Island." In Nolan’s Inception, as in Shutter Island, Leonardo DiCaprio is a troubled soul trapped in a world of mind-fuckery, with a tragic-vengeful wife (here, Marion Cotillard) and even some long-lost kids looming in his thoughts at all times. But Inception, about a team of corporate spies who infiltrate dreams to steal information and implant ideas, owes just as much to The Matrix (1999), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), and probably a James Bond flick or two. Familiar though it may feel, at least Inception is based on a creative idea — how many movies, much less summer blockbusters, actually require viewer brain power? If its complex house-of-cards plot (dreams within dreams within dreams) can’t quite withstand nit-picking, its action sequences are confidently staged and expertly directed, including a standout sequence involving a zero-gravity fist fight and elevator ride. Though it’s hardly genius — and Leo-recycle aside — Inception is worth it, if you don’t mind your puzzle missing a few pieces. (2:30) 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*The Kids Are All Right In many ways, The Kids Are All Right is a straightforward family dramedy: it’s about parents trying to do what’s best for their children and struggling to keep their relationship together. But it’s also a film in which Jules (Julianne Moore) goes down on Nic (Annette Bening) while they’re watching gay porn. Director Lisa Cholodenko (1998’s High Art) co-wrote the script (with Stuart Blumberg), and the film’s blend between mainstream and queer is part of what makes Kids such an important — not to mention enjoyable — film. Despite presenting issues that might be contentious to large portions of the country, the movie maintains an approachability that’s often lacking in queer cinema. Of course, being in the gay mecca of the Bay Area skews things significantly — most locals wouldn’t bat an eye at Kids, which has Nic and Jules’ children inviting their biological father ("the sperm donor," played by Mark Ruffalo) into their lives. But for those outside the liberal bubble, the idea of a nontraditional family might be more eye-opening. It’s not a message movie, but Kids may still change minds. And even if it doesn’t, the film is a success that works chiefly because it isn’t heavy-handed. It refuses to take itself too seriously. At its best, Kids is laugh-out-loud funny, handling the heaviest of issues with grace and humor. (1:47) Opera Plaza, Piedmont. (Peitzman)

*Machete Probably the first movie that was initially conceived solely as a fake-movie trailer (as part of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’s 2007 Grindhouse), Rodriguez’s Machete emerges in full-length form to take on everyone’s sky-high expectations. I mean, the trailer promised motorcycles soaring through flames, a gun-toting priest, and the line "You just fucked with the wrong Mexican." Fortunately, Machete the film does Machete the trailer proud; its deliberately silly revenge plot is both spot-on vintage homage and semi-serious commentary on America’s ongoing immigration debate. In addition, it features more severed limbs, gunshots to the head, irresponsible sex, and smirking Steven Seagal close-ups than any other movie in recent memory. Frequent Rodriguez supporting player Danny Trejo pretty much kills it as the title badass — but then, you already knew he would. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Eddy)

*Mademoiselle Chambon Stéphane Brizé’s new Mademoiselle Chambon is a movie whose protagonists lunge toward each other — even though they shouldn’t, for their own sakes and everyone else’s. Grave-voiced, craggy-faced Jean (Vincent Lindon) is a construction-site laborer; Anne Marie (Aure Atika) his assembly-line worker wife; Jeremy (Arthur Le Hourerou) the eight-year-old offspring who’s already better educated than either of them. One day Anne Marie suffers a temporarily disabling factory accident, leaving Jean to pick up Jeremy from school. There, Jean first encounters Jeremy’s teacher, Véronique Chambon (Sandrine Kiberlain). She has the willowy body of a veteran ballet dancer and a naturally refined air — at least by his limited experiential standards. There’s an immediate if unadmitted spark between them, yet Mademoiselle Chambon doesn’t get cheap about it. None of these people are more than ordinary, kinda-attractive. As temptations and related tensions unravel their stability, Brize allows his characters to slip grip gracefully. No one behaves well, but they do behave credibly. Mademoiselle Chambon sees rational folk with well-organized lives stubbornly resisting a mutual pull whose logical outcome will surely suck for all concerned. It’s a fine, measured drama presented with typical Gallic insouciance — tenderly discreet even when conventional art and commerce shout for something more crudely dramatic. (1:41) Albany, Clay. (Harvey)

*Mao’s Last Dancer Based on the subject’s autobiography of the same name, this Australian-produced drama chronicles the real-life saga of Li Cunxin (played as child, teen, and adult by Huang Wen Bin, Chengwu Guo, and Chi Cao), who was plucked from his rural childhood village in 1972 to study far from home at the Beijing Dance Academy. He attracted notice from Houston Ballet artistic director Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood) during a cultural-exchange visit, and was allowed to go abroad for a Texas summer residency. At first the film looks headed toward well-handled but slightly pat inspirational territory pitting bad China against good America, as it cuts between Li’s grueling training by (mostly) humorless Party ideologues, and his astonishment at the prosperity and freedom in a country he’d been programmed to believe was a capitalist hellhole of injustice and deprivation. (Though as a Chinese diplomat cautions, not untruthfully, he’s only been exposed to "the nice parts.") Swayed by love and other factors, Li created an international incident — tensely staged here — when he chose to defect rather than return home. But Jan Sardi’s script and reliable Aussie veteran Bruce Beresford’s direction refuse to settle for easy sentiment, despite a corny situation or two. Our hero’s new life
isn’t all dream-come-true, nor is his past renounced without serious consequence (a poignant Joan Chen essays his peasant mother). The generous ballet excerpts (only slightly marred by occasional slow-mo gimmickry) offer reward enough, but the film’s greatest achievement is its honestly earning the right to jerk a few tears. (1:57) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Harvey)

*Mesrine: Killer Instinct This first half of a two-part film about notorious French bank robber Jacques Mesrine examines the early life of its subject, before he was a flamboyant, headline-grabbing folk hero. The very first scene uses 70s-style split-screens to revel Mesrine’s violent 1979 death; writer-director Jean-François Richet (2005’s Assault on Precinct 13) then jumps back 15 or so years for a glimpse of our (anti-) hero’s soldiering days in Algeria. Before long, "Jacky" (an outstanding Vincent Cassel, in a César-winning performance) is back in Paris, horrifying his upper-class parents and young wife by choosing the underworld over conventional pencil-pushing. (A near-unrecognizable Gérard Depardieu appears as a mob boss.) Killer Instinct, which is adapted from Mesrine’s own prison-penned autobiography, suffers from some standard biopic problems — it tries to cram in too much, and feels mighty rushed at times. But there’s still plenty of bad, bad behavior to enjoy, including the film’s spectacular last act, a breakneck recreation of one of the daring prison escapes that helped make Mesrine a legend. Continuation Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1, which beings where this film ends, is now playing. (1:53) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1 If you see writer-director Jean-François Richet’s Mesrine: Killer Instinct (review above), you’re pretty much obligated to see this sequel, especially since the earlier film beings with the main character’s death, then flashes back and never catches up to it. This installment was actually filmed first, allowing star Vincent Cassell to pack on nearly 50 pounds to play the oldier, portlier version of the legendary French bank robber. Mesrine’s prowess as an escape artist allows him to spend much of this film on the lam with partner François (Mathieu Amalric) and girlfriend Sylvia (Ludivine Sagnier). Along the way, the headline-hungry crook declares himself a revolutionary, poses for Paris Match, kidnaps a billionaire, spends his ill-gotten money on diamonds and BMWs, tortures a journalist, and does as much as he can to further the Myth of Mesrine. The foreknowledge of Mesrine’s ultimate end lends a sense of ticking-clock doom; the first time we see it, in Killer Instinct, it’s from the point of view of Mesrine and Sylvia. Richet films the death scene here from the perspective of the police who tracked him, with increasing frustration, for years. Clever twists like this make it preferable to watch both films back-to-back, though Cassell’s commanding performance makes each a worthwhile stand-alone. (2:14) Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Other Guys Will Ferrell and Adam McKay can do no wrong in some bro-medy aficionados’ eyes, but The Other Guys is no Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006) or Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004). The other two Ferrell-McKay team-ups made short work of men’s jobs, in addition to genre filmmaking tropes, with crisper, cut-to-the-gag punchiness. And despite its laugh-out-loud first quarter — and some surprising TLC references by Michael Keaton, of all people, The Other Guys is about half a genuinely hilarious film that pokes fun at masculinity, as well as, interestingly, whiteness and beyond-the-pale, big-bucks white-collar crime. This lampoon of action buddy-cop flicks is dealt a semi-fatal blow when excess-loving, damage-dealing supercops Samuel Jackson and Dwayne Johnson exit, manically chewing scenery as they go. Two forgotten desktop jocks, forensic accounting investigator-with-a-past Allen (Ferrell) and ragaholic screwup Terry (Mark Wahlberg), must step it up when the dynamic duo dissipates, and go after crooked financier David Ershon (Steve Coogan). The second half of The Other Guys could have used some of the dramatic tension budding between buddy team Jackson-Johnson and reluctant cohorts Ferrell-Wahlberg, especially when Wahlberg begins to get bogged down in single-gear disbelief. But perhaps we should just be grateful for what few yuks we can glean from the atrocities of Great Recession-era robber barons. (1:47) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Resident Evil: Afterlife (1:30) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center.

*Scott Pilgrim vs. The World For fans of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s just-completed comics saga Scott Pilgrim, the announcement that Edgar Wright (2004’s Shaun of the Dead, 2007’s Hot Fuzz) would direct a film version was utterly surreal. Geeks get promises like this all the time, all too often empty (Guillermo del Toro’s Hobbit, anyone?). But miraculously, Wright indeed spent the past five years crafting the winning Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. The film follows hapless Toronto 20-something Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera), bassist for crappy band Sex Bob-omb, as he falls for delivery girl Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), only to find he must defeat her seven evil exes — like so many videogame bosses — before he can comfortably date her. As it happens, he’s already dating a high-schooler, Knives (Ellen Wong), who’s not coping well with Scott moving on. Cera plays a good feckless twerp; his performance isn’t groundbreaking, but it dodges the Cera-playing-his-precious-self phenomenon so many have lamented. The film’s ensemble cast maintains a sardonic tone, with excellent turns by Alison Pill, Aubrey Plaza, and newcomer Wong. Jason Schwartzman is perfectly cast as the ultimate evil ex-boyfriend — there’s really no one slimier, at least under 35.The film brilliantly cops the comics’ visual language, including snarky captions and onomatopoetic sound effects, reminiscent onscreen of 1960s TV Batman. Sometimes this tends toward sensory overload, but it’s all so stylistically distinctive and appropriate that excess is easily forgiven. (1:52) California, 1000 Van Ness. (Sam Stander)

*Sicilian Girl Spoiled daddy’s girl Rita Atria (Veronica D’Agostino) is traumatized at age 11 when her beloved papa is killed by Mafia associates. At 17, she’s pushed over the edge when an older brother meets the same fate. It’s then, in 1991,
that she breaks the omertà, or code of silence, by cooperating with judicial authorities, putting herself under severe witness-protection limitations while still at high assassination risk. This dramatized real-life story doesn’t offer cliché heroism: as portrayed by fireball D’Agostino, Rita is bratty, obstinate, not especially bright or pretty, her dedication more selfishly vengeful than concerned with the public good. She’s also a naive teenager susceptible to manipulation, especially by questionably motivated boyfriends. Yet she takes a stand and refuses to back down. The likely consequences of that courage make for a suspenseful drama director Marco Amenta ably steers to a conclusion both tragic and inspiring. (1:50) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Soul Kitchen Director Fatih Akin (2004’s Head-On) offers a tribute to the German Heimat ("homeland") film, as well as to his own hometown, Hamburg, with this gritty comedy set in a restaurant dubbed Soul Kitchen. Star Adam Bousdoukos, who co-wrote the script with Akin, really did own a similar greasy spoon, and his knowledge of what makes an eatery soar or fail is exaggerated here to humorous and occasionally surreal effect. Bousdoukos’ character, the scruffy Zinos, loves funk music; he’s also in an existential funk, having just seen his girlfriend move to Shanghai. What’s worse, he’s just injured his back, necessitating the hiring of snooty chef Shayn (Head-On‘s Birol Ünel); his ne’er-do-well brother (Moritz Bleibtreu) is freshly out of jail; and he owes big bucks to the local tax board. Also, an old childhood pal turned sleazy businessman (Wotan Wilke Möhring) is circling his property with sharky hunger. Will everything that can possibly go wrong, go wrong, with a side of ketchup and mayonnaise? Of course it will. Stylish direction and a game cast, including winning newcomer Anna Bederke as Zinos’ shot-gulping waitress, make Soul Kitchen a fun if non-essential diversion. (1:33) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

*The Tillman Story To what extent is our government prepared to lie to us? Not just on a policy level, but a personal level, perverting actual instances of heroic self-sacrifice into propagandistic pablum? The answer during our prior White House administration was clearly: as far as possible, until caught. Perhaps the most egregious such instance was the case of Pat Tillman, who gave up a lucrative NFL contract, becoming a U.S. Army Ranger enlistee in a burst of genuine patriotic fervor post-9/11. He was subsequently killed in Afghanistan — but the "friendly fire" circumstances of that death, and its apparent cover-up, scandalized not only his military superiors but a command chain of deliberate disinformation stretching all the way to the White House. Amir Bar-Lev’s The Tillman Story is a documentary expose of unusual immediacy, narrative thrust, and outrage, which may partly stem from its being such a Bay Area story. The deceased subject’s South Bay family were diehard liberals dedicated to values that might be considered eccentric anywhere else. The mistake authorities made in casting Tillman’s death as a battlefield martyrdom — a scenario amply undermined by footage and testimony here — lay in underestimating the well-educated skepticism and doggedness of his blood relations, most notably mom, Mary. While other families might have simply accepted an official scenario, the Tillmans found logistical gaps, then pushed, and pushed. The Tillman Story is a journey toward justice (if not nearly enough). It’s engrossing, appalling, heartrending, and enraging, the nonfiction equivalent to last year’s underseen body bag drama The Messenger. (1:34) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

The Town While not quite on par with The Departed (2006) or Gone Baby Gone (2007), The Town is a solid entry into the Boston crime drama genre. Ben Affleck directs — it’s his second full-length feature after Gone Baby Gone — and stars as Doug MacRay, a lifelong bank robber who wants out of the family business. His desire to change is further complicated when he falls for Claire (Rebecca Hall), the woman he and his gang took hostage during their latest robbery. The Town doesn’t offer much in the way of surprises: if you’re familiar with the genre, you know what to expect. But it’s sleek and well-paced, with a script that at least raises some thought-provoking questions. The film also boasts a universally accomplished cast. Affleck, Hall, and Academy Award nominee Jeremy Renner are predictably good, but the two standouts are actors better known for their television work: Mad Men‘s Jon Hamm as an FBI agent and Gossip Girl‘s Blake Lively (yes, really) as a drug-addled single mom.(2:10) California, Cerrito, Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

*Undertow This sexy and delicate drama is a bisexual triangle that continues beyond the grave. In a Peruvian coastal hamlet, fisherman Miguel (Cristian Mercado) loves his pregnant wife and fellow church leader Mariela (Tatiana Astengo). But he’s also having a secret, passionate affair with Santiago (Manolo Cardona), an urbanite who moved there to paint the land- and seascapes, and who chafes at the restrictions Miguel places on their relationship. At a certain point one character dies, and writer-director Javier Fuentes-León seamlessly handles Undertow‘s transition to magical realism. The leisurely story doesn’t go where one expects, ending on a perfect grace note of bittersweet acceptance. (1:40) Bridge. (Harvey)

The Virginity Hit To its credit, The Virginity Hit is not what you’d expect. The trailer and concept recall the teen sex comedy trend that sprung up after 1999’s American Pie, but the actual film is a far more grounded in reality. It’s also not nearly as good. The Virginity Hit is a well executed mockumentary, in that it feels amateur even in its most absurd moments. The movie follows Matt (Matt Bennett) in his attempts to lose his virginity after a disastrous attempt with his girlfriend Nicole (Nicole Weaver). As you’ve probably guessed, hilarity ensues — and it ensues, for a YouTube generation, in the form of viral videos and crude parodies. The problem with The Virginity Hit is that it just isn’t funny: the tone is all over the place, and the bits that should be amusing fall flat. It’s interesting as an experiment and the cast is quite convincing, but the material never elevates the film past its gimmick. (1:26) Metreon. (Peitzman)

A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop An intriguing misfire on par with his 2006 OTT bodice-heaver Curse of the Golden Flower, A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop sees filmmaker Zhang Yimou playfully dispensing with the serious rep cultivated by such films as Red Sorghum (1987) and Raise the Red Lantern (1981), movies that made Zhang a central figure amid Chinese film’s Fifth Generation. Deep into middle age, with crowd-pleasers like Hero (2002) and House of Flying Daggers (2004) behind him, Zhang appears fully committed to the low road of commercial entertainments — an approach completely in line with his country’s embrace of market-driven economics. But why remake the Coen brothers’ career-making 1984 noir tribute, Blood Simple? Zhang does little to refresh and improve on Coens’ noir retool, apart from drenching the proceedings in his homeland’s very dated, broad slapstick, including a jarringly out-of-place noodle-dough twirling scene, and setting some of the action on the glorious painted-desert mountainsides of the Gansu province. It’s as if Zhang has decided to send up himself — the film’s vivid palette and adulterous couple compares unfavorably with 1990’s Ju Dou — as well as with the brudders Coen. (1:35) Opera Plaza, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

REP PICKS

*Three in the Attic You can get a pretty good idea where much of America’s head was at in 1968 via this largely forgotten American International Pictures release, which was a huge sleeper hit. What did Joes Blow and College think about all this love, peace, freedom, and revolution stuff? That it was gonna be a lot easier to find and ball swinging chicks, hopefully. Ergo Steven Yafa’s screenplay, directed by spotty industry veteran Richard Wilson (who curiously never made another feature after this peak commercial success) was the perfect male fantasy for the times. Campus stud Paxton Quigley (Christopher Jones) is a love ’em and leave ’em type who surprisingly surrenders to monogamy — briefly — upon meeting flaxen-haired Tobey (Yvette Mimieux). But what’s a poor boy to do when girls are practically forcing him to be bad? Soon he’s scheduling regular secret assignations with schoolteacher Eulice (Judy Pace), who affects the corniest honey-dripping Southern accent you ever did hear, and hippie ditz Jan (Maggie Thrett), who says things like "Do you think it possible for a woman to be both Jewish and psychedelic at the same time?" (After posing as a homosexual to get a first sympathy shag from her, he snarks "I sometimes think that faggots make with with more chicks than I do!" Har.) When all three find out he’s been getting triple tail, they do the practical thing: Drug him, then imprison him in Tobey’s sorority attic, taking turns "punishing" our hero by fucking him to exhaustion, penance, or death. Needless to say, this was one notion of female empowerment that highly appealed to guys at the time, making them feel hip while basically feeding them ye olden insatiable-female orgiastic fantasy with a gloss of love beads and ironed hair. Awesomely dated, Three in the Attic takes itself more seriously than you’d expect, which does not mean it gets away with it. One thing that hasn’t dated, however, is Chad and Jeremy’s theme song "Paxton Quigley’s Had the Course." The cofeature on this Vortex Room bill is 1976’s lower-education horror Massacre at Central High. (1:30) Vortex Room (www.myspace.com/thevortexroom). (Harvey)

On the Cheap listings

David Talbot

September 21, 2010

On the Cheap listings are compiled by Paula Connelly. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

WEDNESDAY 22

Big Book Sale Festival Pavilion, Fort Mason Center, Laguna at Beach, SF; (415) 626-7500. Wed.-Sat. 10am-8pm, Sun. 10am-4pm; free. Head out to the annual big book sale and browse through a half a million books, DVDs, CDs, books on tape, vinyl, and more, all for $5 or less. Proceeds to benefit the San Francisco Public Library and literacy programs.

Party with Carnivores Conservatory of Flowers, 100 John F. Kennedy Dr., SF; (415) 831-2090. 5:30pm, $5. Take a tropical vacation for a night at the Conservatory of Flowers special exhibition, "Chomp 2: Return of the Carnivorous Plants" featuring artists Sarah Filley and Yvette Molina, who are working on a project to float a giant terrarium on Lake Merritt. This event is 21 and over, cocktails will be available for purchase.

THURSDAY 23

City of Stairways Red Poppy Art House, 2698 Folsom, SF; (415) 826-2402. 7pm, $5-$10. Join the young authors of WritersCorps for a reading of this new travel guide and literary anthology, packed with poetry, photography, artwork, maps, and tips on seeing some of the most memorable sites and neighborhoods in San Francisco. Also featuring live music by Hopie Spitshard, Tbird, and the Invisible Cities.

"Copyright Criminals" Mighty, 119 Utah, SF; www.theslayersclub.com/cc. 8:30pm, $10. Attend this screening of Copyright Criminals, a film about the history of music sampling, followed by a panel discussion with hip hop historian Jeff Chang, entertainment lawyer Tony Berman, Tim Jones, and more. Featuring live performances by controversial music collage master Steinski and DJ Amp Live, live painting by Nick Fregosi, b-boy performances, and more.

Fancy French Cologne Casanova Lounge, 527 Valencia, SF; www.fancyfrenchcologne.com. 7pm, free. Attend the launch party for this new web boutique inspired by classic San Francisco style and curated by two local ladies to carry fashion-forward clothing, bag, and accessory labels and handmade items from independent designers. Featuring complimentary treats and music by DJ Eli Glad.

FRIDAY 24

Farm Film Night Hayes Valley Farm, 450 Laguna, SF; www.hayesvalleyfarm.com. 6pm; free, $5 suggested donation for honeybee outreach efforts and programming. See the newly released eco-documentary Vanishing of the Bees, co-directed by Maryam Henein and George Langworthy and presented in partnership with Holos Institute. Featuring live music by local duo The Secrets. The film will start at sundown.

Leather Art The Eagle Tavern, 398 12th St., SF; (415) 626-0880. 9pm, free. Celebrate leather week at this art show and auction of homoerotic leather and exotic art by celebrities, known, and unknown artists, curated by Leather Daddy IV Tom Rodgers. Proceeds to benefit Visual Aid, a support program for artists living with HIV/AIDS and other life-threatening illnesses.

24 Days kickoff Mint Plaza, Jesse at Mary, SF; www.centralmarketarts.org. Fri. Noon-7pm, Sat. and Sun. 1pm-5pm; free. Enjoy three days of music and performances at Mint Plaza to kickoff a three week visual art and performance schedule happening at various locations in the Central Market district. The kickoff to include a free concerts and performances throughout the weekend by twenty dance and performance companies, including Project Bandaloop, Labayen Dance, Virginia Iglesias, LEVY Dance, KUNST-STOFF Dance Company, and many more.

SATURDAY 25

Dragon Boat Festival Treasure Island, SF; www.sfdragonboat.com. Racing Sat.-Sun. 8am-5pm, Festival Sat.-Sun. 10am-5pm; free. Watch the 15th annual dragon boat races following the Chinese tradition, where each boat uses 20 paddlers, a drummer, and a steers person to compete to win. There will also be a festival featuring live dance and music performances, international food vendors, arts and crafts, and more.

Festa Coloniale Italiana San Francisco Athletic Club, 1630 Stockton, SF; (415) 781-0165. 11am-6pm, free. Celebrate San Francisco’s rich Italian and Italian-American heritage at this festa featuring live Italian music, a pizza toss demonstration, dancers, delicious food, drinks, and wares. Promenade through the temporary piazza in the main ballroom and you’re sure to sing "vita bella."

Green Presidio Enter at the 15th Ave. gate, 15th Ave. at Lake, SF; (415) 561-5418. 11am-4pm, free. Attend the grand opening of the Presidio’s new Public Health Service District, a re-imagining of landmark buildings and homes to create a welcoming park, new apartments, cultural and educational programs, and new trails. The opening to feature local food, art, live music, and sustainable vendors.

North Beach Art Walk Start at Live Worms Gallery, 1345 Grant, SF; www.northbeachartwalk.org. Sat.-Sun. 11am-5pm, free. Pick up a map at Live Worms Gallery while you check out the group show by all participating art walk artists and then visit various venues along Columbus, Grant, and other neighboring streets for poetry, music, and art.

Polk Street Blues Festival Polk from Pacific to Union, SF; 1-800-310-6563. Sat.-Sun. 10am-6pm, free. Attend this first annual blues festival featuring two days of live blues on two stages, vendor booths, arts and crafts, gourmet food, a family area, café seating, and more.

Tour de Fat Lindley Meadow, Golden Gate Park, SF; www.sfbike.org. 11am-5pm, free. The day begins with a Bike Parade through Golden Gate Park at 11am and continues with fire-jumping bicycle acts, cycling games, live music, New Belgium beer, bike maintenance, and, of course, free bike valet parking. All proceeds to benefit the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition and the Bay Area Ridge Trail Council.

SUNDAY 26

BAY AREA

Tropical Time Machine Forbidden Island Tiki Lounge, 1304 Lincoln, Alameda; (510) 749-0332. 2pm, free. Browse through vintage tiki, Hawaiiana, rockabilly, vinyl, collectibles along with original art, collectible mugs, vintage furniture, and more. DJ Tanoa will be spinning exotica and the Reefriders will be playing live surf music in the evening. Food will be available from the La Piñata Taco Truck and drink specials and surprises will be on hand all day.

Stage listings

David Talbot

September 21, 2010

Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

Absolutely San Francisco Phoenix Theatre, Stage 2, 414 Mason; 433-1235, www.absolutelysanfrancisco.com. $20-25. Opens Fri/24, 8pm. Runs Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 23. A one-woman musical starring Karen Hirst, with book and music by Anne Doherty.

And Then They Came for Me: Remembering the World of Anne Frank New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness; 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. Call for reservations. Opens Mon/27, 10 and 11:45am. Runs Mon-Thurs, 10 and 11:45am. Through Oct 10. YouthAware Educational Theatre presents a multimedia play by James Still, directed by Sara Staley.

Anita Bryant Died For Your Sins New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness; 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $24-40. Previews Wed/22-Fri/24, 8pm. Opens Sat/25, 8pm. Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. New Conservatory Theatre Center presents a show by Brian Christopher Williams.

Futurestyle ’79 Off-Market Theater, Studio 250, 965 Mission; (8008) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $15-20. Opens Wed/22, 8pm. Runs Wed, 8pm. Through Oct 27. A fully improvised episodic comedy played against the backdrop of SF in 1979.

IPH… Brava Theater, 2781 24th St, 647-2822, www.brava.org. $15-35. Previews Sat/25, 8pm; Sun/26, 3pm. Opens Mon/27, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 3pm (also Oct 4, 8pm). Through Oct 16. Brava Theatre and African-American Shakespeare Company present the US premiere of an adaptation of Iphigenia at Aulis.

Last Days of Judas Iscariot Gough Street Playhouse, 1620 Gough; (510) 207-5774, www.CustomMade.org. $10-30. Previews Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm. Opens Tues/28, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Oct 30. Custom Made Theatre presents Stephen Adly Guirgis’ meditation on the meaning of forgiveness.

The Secretaries Boxcar Playhouse, 505 Natoma; 255-7846, www.crowdedfire.org. $15-25 (pay what you can previews). Opens Wed/22, 8pm. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 9. Crowded Fire Theatre brings the irreverent feminist satire by Five Lesbian Brothers to the stage.

BAY AREA

ONGOING

Aida War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness, 864-1330, www.sfopera.com. $25-320. Fri/24, 8pm; Sept 29, 7:30pm; Oct 2, 8pm; Oct 6, 7:30pm. San Francisco Opera presents Verdi’s classic, a co-production with English National Opera and Houston Grand Opera.

Bi-Poseur StageWerx Theatre, 533 Sutter; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Sat/25. W. Kamau Bell directs a solo piece by Oakland native Paolo Sambrano.

The Brothers Size Magic Theatre, Bldg D, Fort Mason Center; 441-8822, www.magictheatre.org. $20-60. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 17. Magic Theatre presents the West Coast premiere of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play, directed by Octavio Solis.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Actors Theatre, 855 Bush; 345-1287, www.actorstheatresf.org. $26-38. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 2. Actors Theatre presents Tennessee Williams’ sultry, sweltering tale of a Mississippi family, directed by Keith Phillips.

*Dreamgirls Curran Theatre, 445 Geary; (888) SHN-1749, www.shnsf.com. $30-99. Wed, 2 and 8pm; Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2 and 8pm, Sun, 2pm; Tues, 8pm. Through Sun/26. The touring version of director-choreographer Robert Longbottom’s revamped revival of the 1981 Broadway sensation (with book and lyrics by Tom Eyen and music by Henry Krieger, under original direction by A Chorus Line‘s Michael Bennett) is a visually and aurally dazzling spectacle that is also a knowing (if now familiar) take on the history and business of latter-20th-century American pop music from the perspective of African American R&B. The cast, operating with ease against and within a remarkable videoscape projected onto large draped screens center stage, charms from the outset of this story about the rise of a female vocal group called the Dreams (a loose composite of the Supremes and the Shirelles). The first act enthralls with the plot’s gathering possibilities, the sparkling music and the irresistible performances—not least Moya Angela’s unstoppable Effie and Chester Gregory’s heroically soulful, funky Jimmy "Thunder" Early. But the second act stretches things unnecessarily with one too many power ballads (albeit lunged to perfection) and a slowpoke approach to the all but predictable plot resolution. Still, this is a masterful production on many counts and an infectious evening overall. (Avila)

*Etiquette Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 701 Mission; 978-2787, www.ybca.org. $8-10. Thurs-Sat, noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm, 6pm, 7pm, 8pm; Sun, noon, 1pm, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, 5pm, 6pm. Through Oct 3. Rotozaza presents a participatory performance piece for two people.

Jerry Springer the Opera Victoria Theatre, 2961 16th; www.jerrysf.com. $20-36. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 16. Ray of Light Theatre presents the West Coast premiere of the operatic farce by Stewart Lee and Richard Thomas.

KML Holds the Mayo Zeum Theater, 221 4th St; www.killingmylobster.com. $10-20. Thurs-Fri, 8pm. Through Oct 3. Killing My Lobster presents its fall comedy show, directed by co-founder Paul Charney.

Law and Order San Francisco Unit: The Musical! (sort of) Metreon Action Theater, Metreon Cineplex, second floor, 101 4th St; www.brownpapertickets.com. $10. Mon, 8pm. Through Mon/27. Funny But Mean comedy troupe presents an original production.

Olive Kitteridge Z Space at Theater Artaud, 450 Florida; (800) 838-3006, www.zspace.org. $20-40. Wed-Thurs, 7pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through Oct 10. Page-to-stage company Word for Word takes on two chapters’ worth of Elizabeth Strout’s celebrated 2008 novel, comprised of a loosely connected set of stories surrounding the title character (played with cunning subtlety by Patricia Silver) and her immediate circle in a coastal town in Maine. In "Tulips," we find the thorny but shrewd Olive, a former math teacher, and her patient husband Henry (Paul Finocchiaro), the town’s longtime pharmacist, transitioning not so smoothly into their retirement years. Olive—itchy, cantankerous and vaguely at a loss despite her sharp wit—resents her grown son’s (Patrick Alparone) happily distant life in New York and battles with the neighbors until her husband’s stroke leaves her at sea, unexpectedly vulnerable and open to the kindness of neighbors and strangers alike (played by an ensemble that includes Jeri Lynn Cohen, Nancy Shelby, and Michelle Belaver). In "River," Olive, now a widow, begins a gradual, unlikely and bumpy romance with a recently widowed former academic (Warren David Keith). Director Joel Mullennix grabs hold of colorful details along the way—like the summer influx of rollerbladers and bicyclists—to further enliven the verbatim staging of these stories, but the effort can feel a little forced at times, as if betraying a sense that these well-acted, gently poetical and thoughtful stories and their complex protagonist do not always make for the most stimulating drama. (Avila)

A Picasso Royce Gallery, 2901 Mariposa; (866) 811-4111, www.apicassoonstage.com. $12-28. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 9. Expression Productions presents Jeffery Hatcher’s drama about the authenticity of three Picasso paintings.

*The Real Americans The Marsh MainStage, 1062 Valencia; (800) 838-3006; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Wed-Fri, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through Nov 6. The fifth extension of Dan Hoyle’s acclaimed show, directed by Charlie Varon.

BAY AREA

Angels in America, Part One Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn View; (650) 254-1148, www.thepear.org. $15-30. Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2 and 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 16. Pear Avenue Theatre kicks off its fall "Americana" program with the Tony Kushner play.

Anton in Show Business Marion E. Green Black Box Theater, 531 19th St; (510) 436-5085; www.theatrefirst.com. $10-30. Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Sun/ 26. TheatreFIRST presents Jane Martin’s theater comedy, under the direction of Michael Storm.

Antony & Cleopatra Forest Meadows Ampitheatre, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Sat/25. Marin Shakespeare Company’s summer season continues with the tale of the Egyptian queen.

Bleacher Bums Contra Costa Civic Theatre, 951 Pomona, El Cerrito; (510) 524-9132, www.ccct.org. $18. Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 3. A sports comedy conceived by Joe Mantegna, directed by Joel Roster.

La Cage Aux Folles San Mateo Performing Arts Center, 600 N. Delaware; (650) 579-5565, www.broadwaybythebay.org. $20-48. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 3. Broadway By the Bay presents the gay musical based on the play of the same title.

*Compulsion Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison; (510) 647-2949, www.berkeleyrep.org. $29-85. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 31. Mandy Patinkin stars in a world premiere of Rinne Groff’s play, directed by Oskar Eustis.

*East 14th: True Tales of a Reluctant Player Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Dates and times vary. Through Nov 21. Don Reed’s solo play, making its Oakland debut after an acclaimed New York run, is truly a welcome homecoming twice over. (Avila)

In the Red and Brown Water Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller, Mill Valley; 388-5208, www.marintheatre.org. $32-53. Tues, 8pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Wed, 7:30pm, Sun, 7pm (also Thurs/23, 1pm; Oct 2, 2pm). Through Oct 10. Marin Theatre Company presents the West Coast premiere of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play.

In the Wound John Hinkel Park, Berk; (510) 841-6500, www.shotgunplayers.org. $10 (no one turned away). Sat-Sun, 3pm. Through Oct 3. Shotgun Players’ annual free performance in Berkeley’s John Hinkel Park is this year an impressively staged large-cast reworking of the Illiad from playwright-director Jon Tracy. In the Wound is actually the first of two new and related works from Tracy collectively known as the Salt Plays (the second of which, Of the Earth will open at Shotgun’s Ashby stage in December). Its distinctly contemporary slant on the Trojan War includes re-imagining the epic’s Greek commanders as figures we’ve come to know and loath here in the belly of a beast once know by the quaint-sounding phrase, "military-industrial complex." Hence, Odysseus (Daniel Bruno) as a devoted family man in a business suit with a briefcase full of bloody contradictions emanating from his 9-to-5 as a "social architect" for the empire; or Agamemnon (an irresistibly Patton-esque Michael Torres) as the ridiculously macho, creatively foul-mouthed redneck American four-star commander-clown ordering others into battle. While the alternately humorous and overly meaningful American inflections can feel too obvious and dramatically limiting, they’re delivered with panache, amid the not unmoving spectacle of the production’s energetic, drum-driven choreography and cleverly integrated mise-en-scène. (Avila)

*Loveland The Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston Way; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $20-50. Fri, 7pm; Sat, 5pm. Through Nov 13. Ann Randolph’s acclaimed one-woman comic show about grief returns for its sixth sold-out extension.

MilkMilkLemonade La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 2. Impact Theatre presents Joshua Conkel’s off off Broadway play about a lonely gay man trapped in a chicken farm.

She Loves Me Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic Drive, Walnut Creek; (825) 943-7469, www.CenterREP.org. $36-45. Wed, 7:30pm; Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2:30 and 8pm; Sun, 2:30pm. Through Oct 10. Center REPertory company presents a musical choreographed and directed by Robert Barry fleming.

The Taming of the Shrew Forest Meadows Amphitheatre, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-25. Fri-Sun, 8pm; Sun, 4pm and 5pm. Through Sun/26. Marin Theatre Company presents a swashbuckling version of the classic.

Trouble in Mind Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; (510) 843-4822, www.auroratheatre.org. $10-55. Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2 and 7pm; Tues, 7pm. Through Oct 3 Aurora Theatre presents Alice Childress’ look at racism through the lens of theater.

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

along the way CounterPULSE, 1310 Mission; 626-2060, www.counterpulse.org. Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm; $10. A series of contemporary dance pieces by detour dance.

"Blue Room Comedy" Club 93, 93 9th St; 264-5489. Free. Tues/28, 10pm. A weekly series that takes comedy to new lows.

"Clash of the Titans" Make Out Room, 3225 22nd St; www.myspace.com/thetitanups. Mon/27, 8pm; $5. The Cat’s Pajamas present an evening of performance.

"Latin Comedy Fever" Yoshi’s, Fillmore and Eddy; www.yoshis.com. Wed/22, 8pm; $20-25. Bill Santiago, Marga Gomez, and Rudy Moreno perform.

Losing My Religion: Confessions of a New Age Refugee Yoga Loft, 321 Divisadero; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm; $12-15. A one-man show by Seth Lepore.

"Music for People and Thingamajigs Festival" Various venues; Berk and SF; (510) 418-3447, www.thingamajigs.org. Thurs/23-Sun/26, various times; $10-15. An annual event devoted to experimental music on innovative instruments.

"New Choreography" The Garage, 975 Howard; www.975howard.com. Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm; $10-20. An evening of work by Jenni Bregman, Jen Mellor, Zack Bernstein, and Miriam Wolodarski.

"Other Cafe’s 30th Reunion Comedy Concert" Palace of Fine Arts, 3301 Lyon; www.The OtherCafe.com. Sat/25, 7:30pm; check for prices. An evening of comedy in honor of the legendary Haight-Ashbury club.

Passages: For Lee Ping To Dance Mission Theater3316 24th; (800) 838-3006, www.dancemission.com. Fri/24-Sat/25, 8pm; Sun/26, 2pm; $14-20. An evening of dance by Leonora Lee.

RAW The Garage, 975 Howard; www.975howard.com. Wed/22-Thurs/23, 8pm; $10-20. Performances by PunkkiCo and Alyce Finwall Dance Theater.

Somei Yoshino Taiko Ensemble Randall Museum Theater, 199 Museum; (510) 397-8501, www.taikoensemble.com. Sat/25, 7pm; $20. "Eek! Peek!," an evening of works inspired by bugs.

"Super Sunday With the Nutballs" Actors Theatre, 855 Bush; Sun/26, 8pm; $20. An evening of alternative comedy hosted by Tony Sparks.

"WestWave Dance" Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center; 345-7575, www.westwavedancefestival.org. Mon/20, 8pm. The 19th annual season of contemporary choreography kicks off with Amy Seiwert, Kat Worthington, and three others.

BAY AREA

Bayanihan Philippine National Dance Company Zellerbach Hall, UC campus, Berk; (510) 642-9988, www.calperformances.org. Fri/24, 8pm; $20-48. A program of traditional and contemporary dance and music by the 33-person company.

"Fall Free for All" Various venues, Berk; (510) 642-9988, www.calperformances.org. Sun/26, 11am-6pm; free. A day of performances by Kronos Quartet, Mark Morris Dance Group, and others.

"The Funniest Bubble Show on Earth" The Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston; (800) 838-3006, www.themarsh.org. Sun/26, 11am (through Nov 21); $8-11. The Amazing Bubble Man (aka Louis Pearl) returns with his show.

"Saturday Night Comedy" The Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston; (800) 838-3006, www.themarsh.org. Sat/25, 8pm; $15-50. Comedy by Ann Randolph, Betsy Salkind, and Emily Levine.

The Other kind of SF comedy makes a comeback

Andrew Lam

September 20, 2010

“The stage used to be right here.” Bob Ayres, founding partner of the classic Haight-Ashbury stand up comedy club, The Other Café, is sitting in his old yuckster stomping grounds, now a neighborhood crepery. He’s gesturing to the corner of the restaurant, roughly where we’re sitting, and where his small stage used to host everyone from Robin Williams to Jerry Seinfeld. Now in its place it’s just me and Bob and a guy eating a sandwich two tables down. Could a desire for resurrection be driving Ayres’ Other Café reunion show this weekend (Sat/25)?

Ayres, fresh back from living in Nevada City (“I missed my peeps”) is now rocking an impressive Jew ‘fro and a distinctive pendant under a partially unbuttoned shirt. Over a bottle of mineral water and a cup of coffee we chat about just what San Francisco misses about the scene at The Other, which he opened with partner Steve Zamek in 1977. It was initially a place for bluegrass shows as well as the comedy it eventually chose to specialize in.

Located in a neighborhood known for its progressive values – “the Haight was ground zero for that,” Ayres tells me — the club gained a reputation for comedians that avoided berating their audience and using swear words or “take my wife” jokes as a cheap crutch for laughs. Eschewing liquor sales and smoking inside the club doors (perhaps the first venue in California to do so), the team cultivated an environment that was less a meat market, bar-like ambience, and more a place where people came to hear consistently good jokes.

A generation of comedians with sitcoms built around their act would come up from L.A. to play the cafe, agents sent up their big name clients to practice their material for the Tonight Show in front of an audience that could appreciate clean jokes. When the club first opened, the glut of comedy now available on cable was merely a glimmer in the distance, long before the 1990 merger of the Ha! Channel and Comedy Central that brought stand up into living rooms from San Francisco to San Antonio. Clubs like these were where comedy lovers came to see everyone who was new and hot. “It became the hottest thing around for three to four years,” says Ayres.

A young Jay Leno holds the mic to his chin at the Other, circa 1980

With an official crowd capacity of 49, the Other would regularly squeeze in 180 comedy fans for local favorites like Dana Carvey, who pioneered his “Church Lady” character right where I’m sipping my cup of soy milk and medium roast. “Our doorman was always on the lookout for the fire marshall,” Ayres tells me. So you could squeeze everyone out the back door real quick if he came? “We didn’t have a back door. That was another problem,” he laughs.

A community of sorts formed around the Other, whose staff was dedicated to promoting unique, non-repetitive shows that they themselves would watch. Some employees were more passionate about punchlines than others – Paula Poundstone washed dishes in the Other Café’s kitchen before she made the leap to the stage, knowing the neighborhood well enough to even time comments about the perennially empty 10 p.m. #37 Corbett Muni bus, which would thunder past the club each evening when the headliner was onstage.

One such night, Poundstone stopped her set, strode out the door and boarded the bus, leaving club staff to cover the mid-set interruption. Slightly uncomfortable for those left behind, yes, but indicative of a place where comedians felt comfortable experimenting with their act. “That was a time when it was more funny to tell the story later,” Ayres tells me. That said, he relished those moments when the stars would go off script into moments of improv. “That’s usually when they were the best.”

I ask him what makes good comedy, and he answers with a story about his “hero,” Steve Martin. Before shows, Ayres says, Martin would stuff baloney into his shoes “so if he didn’t get laughs he could always think of the baloney.” The point being that if you can make yourself laugh, you stand a good chance of making your audience laugh as well. “I think that plays out in every part of life,” Ayres counsels me.

So what does he miss most about the days of fire code violations and impromptu sets? “Knowing there’s a great comedian in your club that night, and inviting all your friends and family. After you see a good comedy show you are happy.” Ayres remembers standing at the front door on Cole and Carl after such a night’s performance, watching smiling faces leave the club. “Then you’re high. You’re, like, doing something good for the people.”

But when I ask Ayres what young comedians he recommends for a night on the town like the ones he’s reminiscing about, he demurs to name a single one, telling me that he’s not well enough acquainted with the scene today. Look for that coyness to change: Ayres is setting up young comedian showcases in Boston, Chicago, and New York over the next year. He says he’ll be checking out possible acts for upcoming shows he’ll be putting together in the Bay Area.

“It’s clear to me that we have a following: an older crowd who wants a more focused, comfortable setting,” he tells me with an air of a man who knows that he knows what he knows. Look to his reunion show this weekend, then, not just for a look at once was, but possibly what will be for San Francisco comedy.

The Other Café reunion show

Sat/25 7:30 p.m., $70

Palace of Fine Arts

3601 Lyon, SF

(415) 563-6504

www.theothercafe.com

For sale: Panhandle Bandshell

Sasha Cuttler

September 17, 2010

If you’re an environmentally minded lover of the arts who wants to start hosting cool gatherings on your property, have we got a centerpiece for you! Remember the Panhandle Bandshell? That was the temporary performance venue that a group of local artists built from old car hoods and other recycled materials back in 2007. And now, for the right price, it can be yours.

“It’s a classic bandshell and the ideal use is for community to gather and performers to do their things,” says Will Chase of Finch Mob, which collaborated on the project with Rebar and CMG Landscape Architecture. “If people are interested in recycling and reuse, this is a great example of that in action.”

After its initial (slightly controversial) run on the Panhandle in the summer of 2007, where it hosted regular performances, the bandshell has been more recently been on display at Fort Mason, from where it must be removed by Oct. 8.

Its artist-owners have the opportunity now to move it out to Treasure Island, either for storage or display, but first they wanted to see whether a private party would want to give it a more permanent home. They’re hoping to pull down around $30,000 for the piece, which they’ll pour into other projects, so make them an offer if you’re interested. Contact info and details on the piece can be found on their website.

Chron endorsement dishonestly attacks marijuana measure

Sasha Cuttler

September 16, 2010

Chron endorsement dishonestly attacks marijuana measure

Once again proving itself to be an corporate-run embarrassment to a city that has been at the forefront of progressive reform – including the movement to legalize medical marijuana – the San Francisco Chronicle this morning recommended that voters reject Prop. 19, which would allow cities and counties to legalize marijuana use by adults. And it did so with tortured logic and a cowardly, disingenuous claim to support legalizing marijuana.

As a journalist who has covered the medical marijuana industry in the Bay Area, I didn’t recognize the chaos that Chron editorial writers say resulted from the landmark 1996 measure Prop. 215, the medical marijuana measure written right here in San Francisco, home to a well-regulated, professional network of cannabis dispensaries, thanks to the city proactively setting guidelines. The cities cited in the Chron all did nothing to set standards for medical marijuana dispensaries, whereas in cities like San Francisco that did, an increasingly important sector of the local economy flourished with few problems.

Prop. 19 would similarly allow cities and counties to create systems for regulating marijuana for recreational use – or to not allow it if they so chooses. Yet the Chron takes issue with this localized approach, writing, “The measure establishes no state controls over distribution and product standards; it does nothing to help cure the state’s budget deficit.”

Both statements simply aren’t true. The measure explicitly gives the state authority to tax and regulate marijuana, Assembly member Tom Ammiano already has proposed legislation to do so if the Prop. 19 passes, and the California Legislative Analyst’s Office has estimated it could bring in more than $1.5 billion annually into state coffers.

Although the Chron claims “that the ‘war on drugs’ – especially as it applies to marijuana – has been an abject failure,” it bemoans a provision in the measure that prevent employers from firing employees simply for having marijuana in their systems, as it would be if someone smoked a joint three weeks ago, despite having no impact on job performance. “Pre-employment testing would be banned,” the Chron writes, as if that were a bad thing. The editorial also complains that people would be allowed to grow small plots of marijuana in their backyards. Again, and the problem with that is what exactly?

Bottom line: Chron editorial writers fall into the same old tired reefer madness stereotypes that have driven the drug war’s “abject failure,” but they just aren’t honest enough to admit the contradiction with their stated claim that “if this were simple a referendum on the status quo, and the ability of a 21-or-older Californian to possess an ounce or less for personal use, it might be an easy ‘yes’ vote.”

Because the reality is that’s what this measure does, simply lift the prohibition on pot, while also including language supporting local control and basic civil rights. There are some valid arguments against Prop. 19 – such as it lets jurisdictions tax or regulate pot too much – but those honest disagreements weren’t raised by the newspaper.

Instead, the paper made it sound like measure would fill the roads with stoned drivers and every neighborhood with the stench of marijuana, which is laughably alarmist. San Francisco’s experience with medical marijuana should serve as an indicator. This city has been the most accepting and legitimizing of marijuana for decades. It’s part of our culture. But drug surveys from our school district and others show that the rate of marijuana use among young people here is lower than the state average, and we have been at the forefront of world-renowned technological innovation and academic research, so clearly the normalization of marijuana hasn’t corrupted our youth or turned us all into menacing zombies.

The Chronicle’s presentation of the issue, and its recommendation on this measure, are anachronistic throwbacks to another era and should be tossed into the dustbin of history where they belong.

Party Radar: Men, Kele, Kaos

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks

September 16, 2010

Ah, yes — the fleeting maybe yes/ maybe no of San Francisco summer has (possibly) arrived. And even if the weather doesn’t quite cooperate, at least we all feel our spirits lift and our clothing constrict. Fortunately, there are many, many parties to rip it all off at! Not literally, but why not? Besides some of the parties listed in this week’s Super Ego clubs column, here’s a few more at which you can run wild and free and hot.

MEN

The topical and too-catchy indie electro group Men, which includes super-sexy JD Samson of Le Tigre fame, is taking over the SFMOMA this evening as part of the Thursday Now Playing series. (“Radical dance music” in a big museum? Me like.)

Cool queers and friends of all stripes will get into a screening of a new project by the Ridykeulous project at 7pm and then a live performance in the Haas Atrium by Men at 9pm.

Thu/16, 6pm-9:45pm, free with admission to museum. SFMOMA, 151 Third St., SF. www.sfmoma.org

KELE

The Bloc Party leader — and out queer dream — is bringing his solo show to Mezzanine in support of new album The Boxer, and it seems he’s focussing on getting the crowd dancing. That’s alright with me! Does It Offend You, Yeah?, who put on a great show a couple years ago at Slim’s (even though everyone was at Coachella) open up with some baggy Madchester-referencing gonzo electro.

Sat/18, 9pm, $20. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com

DJ KAOS

Toothy grin for this one. Honey Soundsystem‘s great weekly Honey Sundays party has been homeless since Paradise Lounge shut its doors. Until the Honey boys find a new space, they’ve been a-roving — and it’s a great indication of how open our scene is that they’re arty-fab queer crowd is being welcomed by intelligent techno-head hosts. This week, Honey pairs with Bionic, the weekly Sunday at 222 Hyde that’s seen its fair share of roving itself, to bring in Berlin ‘s DJ Kaos, whose been pumping out quality, eclectic techno and house releases since 1991, yeesh. I can’t wait to see how this whole experiment coalesces.

Sun/19, 10pm, $5. 222 Hyde, SF. www.222hyde.com

Music to cross the globe for

Andrew Lam

September 15, 2010

If you hoisted up a park bench, cut the back off of it, removed the legs, placed it on top of cushion on a saw stand, and commenced to thrum on it with headless croquet mallets with a dear friend, you’d have created a bootleg version of the txalaparta, a traditional instrument from the Basque region of Spain. Two of the area’s most renowned musicians took this contraption on a trip to play with indigenous nomadic musicians the world over, creating Nomadak TX, a music documentary where notes are exchanged in culture-to-culture melodies.

Igor Otxoa is a member of the group, Oreka TX, that embarked on the project that took them to India, Mongolia, Lapland, and the Sahara. Days away from the group’s launch of their North American tour –and in the midst of a visa kerfuffle that threatened to derail the whole thing — Otxoa (who is staying in Spain while band members Mikel Ugarte and Harkaitz Martinez de San Vicente man the txalaparta in the States) answered our questions via email from San Sebastian. His group will be in town next week (Thurs/23) at the Basque Cultural Center for a live performance of the music in Nomadak TX.

Oh you say you like guttural rhythm? Do we have the trailer for you…

San Francisco Bay Guardian: Why do you play the txalaparta?

Igor Otxoa: I saw it played in my neighborhood fiesta and I loved it. “Percussion and related to Basque culture, that’s for me!” I told myself. After that I saw it again at school played by the Artze brothers, some of the ones that brought back the instrument. After that, I started looking for somewhere I could learn it.

SFBG: The txalaparta almost disappeared at one point in the 20th century. Is there a well-documented tradition of how to play it, or have you developed your approach independently?

IO: The way to play it that we received was the one that the last of the old txalaparta players left to us. In the ’60s there were only two txalaparta player couples, the Zuaznabar brothers and the Goikoetxea brothers, and they left us the way of playing that they learned from their grandfathers. But after that there was a process in which the Beltran brothers and the Artze brothers started to develop the instrument in a more musical way. We are from the next generation — we learned from the Beltrans, and we developed the instrument in our own way.

SFBG: Why is it important that it be a two person instrument?

IO: It was related to the work on the farms, and as in many percussion instrument that come from a tradition of work, it became an instrument. For us the txalaparta it is not the physical instrument itself — it is the way of playing it, sharing the rhythm between two people. That is why we don’t understand the txalaparta without two players. It’s its peculiarity, what makes it unique in the world, this way of sharing the rhythm between two players.

SFBG: Tell us about the motivation behind the film Nomadak TX. Why nomadic peoples?

IO: We choose the countries and peoples we wanted to meet for different reasons. One was the level of nomadity that they had. Another reason was the music of those cultures. We were very interested in the Khoomi singing in Mongolia. And the Bereber women´s singing. And the Indian rhythms. Another reason was the materials that condition the way of living in those parts of the world. The ice and snow that takes up many months in Saapmi, the sand and stones of in the Sahara dessert, the wood in India, and the air in Mongolia. We wanted to play txalaparta with those materials. And we got to!

SFBG: How did you locate the musicians that would be in the movie?

IO: Sometimes we made the arrangements before traveling. The musicians, we contacted them by different ways — the Internet helped a lot. Other times we didn’t contact any of them and it was just who we found on the trip. We think that like in music, on the trips the improvisation was the most interesting as we never knew what we would find. We had unforgettable musical surprises on all the trips. For us it had the same value: the music of a professional musician in a studio or old men singing in a yurt in the Mongolian steppe.

SFBG: In Nomadak TX you make txalapartas out of everything from ice to stone — why the multi-media?

IO: That was one of the most marvelous moments of the project. We never expected to do a txalaparta with ice. Our idea was that we were going to play with the txalaparta of wood and the Terje Isungset “Iceman” in Saapmi would play with ice. But we tried it, and it was so nice to work with the ice. If you cut too much we would throw water on it and in few seconds it was frozen and the note was changed!

SFBG: Now that you’re doing the North America tour, inquiring minds want to know — when’s the Oreka TX hip hop remix coming out?

IO: Good question! I hope that during the USA Tour we will be able to contact good hip-hop musicians that can work on it. It is not our music style, so if we want to have a quality result, better if someone from USA makes it!

Oreka TX’s Nomadak TX live concert

Thurs/23 8 p.m., free

SF Basque Cultural Center

599 Railroad, SF

www.sfbcc.us

Our Weekly Picks: September 15-21, 2010

David Talbot

September 14, 2010

WEDNESDAY 15

MUSIC

Head Cat

Boasting a bona fide all-star lineup of musicians, rockabilly super group the Head Cat features Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead on bass and vocals, Slim Jim Phantom of the Stray Cats on drums, and Danny B. Harvey of the Rockats on guitar and piano. Breathing new life and a new attitude into classic tunes by Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, and others, the trio hits the road for a few special gigs whenever they can find the rare time in their mutually busy touring schedules. Fans can expect a new slew of hell-bent covers from their yet untitled forthcoming second album, along with a couple of original songs born from the same vein of the seminal sound that forged the template for all rock ‘n’ roll to come. (Sean McCourt)

With Red Meat and Bad Men

9 p.m., $20

Uptown

1928 Telegraph, Oakl.

www.uptownnightclub.com

THURSDAY 16

MUSIC

Wild Nothing

Don’t call it “chillwave:” Wild Nothing’s Jack Tatum makes woozy beach music that owes more to ’80s Cocteau Twins dream-pop than the recent lo-fi progeny who bear that wince-inducing label. The dream-pop badge is one Tatum wears proudly, initially gaining online chatter from a faithful rendition of Kate Bush’s “Cloudbusting” before releasing debut album Gemini, which features a lot of those deep drum machine sounds you used to hear out of Collins and Gabriel before they moved on to Disney theme songs and cover albums, respectively. Joining Tatum at this Popscene event is Swedish Balearic pop star Eric Berglund, of Tough Alliance fame, performing as DJ CEO. Don’t forget the beach ball! (Peter Galvin)

With DJ CEO and JJ

9 p.m., $10–$13

Popscene

330 Ritch, SF

www.popscene-sf.com

EVENT

“w00tstock”

Though the Revenge of the Nerds movies were made back in the 1980s, the collective social paradigm had yet to really shift in favor of our pocket protector-wearing brethren. But now, with the near ubiquity of computers, entertainment technology, and mainstream success of events like Comic-Con, the time has come to push those horn-rimmed glasses back up our noses and bask in the geek glory that is upon us. Join Adam Savage from Mythbusters, Wil Wheaton from Star Trek: The Next Generation, music-comedy team Paul and Storm, and others for a night of music, comedy, readings, films, demonstrations, and more that embrace geek pride. (McCourt)

Through Fri/17

7:30 p.m., $30

Great American Music Hall

859 O’Farrell, SF

(415) 885-0750

www.gamh.com

FRIDAY 17

FILM

The Room

Oh, hi. You know, we have a policy about not running sold-out events in Picks, and I suspect tickets for the Red Vic’s screenings of 2003’s The Room — hot commodities under any circumstances — are in scarce supply, especially since writer-director-producer-star Tommy Wiseau plans to attend each showing in person. But how could I naaaht include what just might be the cinematic event of the year? If you’ve seen The Room, you know whereof I speak. If you haven’t seen it, you are tearing me a part [sic]. Gather your spoons, your football, your red roses, your red dress, your pizza, your tuxedo, your drug debts, your green screen, your phone-tapping device, and your most romantic slow jamz — maybe that’ll be enough Room mojo to secure a front-row seat. (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Sat/18

8 p.m. and midnight, $15

Red Vic

1727 Haight, SF

(415) 668-3994

www.redvicmoviehouse.com

SATURDAY 18

MUSIC

Kele

Kele Okereke has a deeply soulful voice that forms the heart of his steady band, Bloc Party, consistently matching dramatic post-punk guitars and ruthless drums with gusto. But it appears Kele’s interests are more far-reaching than anyone ever thought: he brings those soulful vocals to a collection of chintzy U.K. house in his first ever solo album. The Boxer is a hodgepodge of ideas and styles that survives solely on the exuberance Okereke brings to each performance. He’s so happy to be making these songs, you can literally hear him smiling as he sings. (Galvin)

With Does It Offend You, Yeah?, Innerpartysystem, Aaron Axelsen, and Miles

9 p.m., $20

Mezzanine

444 Jessie, SF

(415) 625-8880

www.mezzaninesf.com

DANCE

Mary Armentrout Dance Theater

Mary Armentrout is a choreographer of keen perception and sharp intelligence. As an artist, her pieces are witty and wonderfully theatrical — yet they also explore important ideas. Unfortunately, she is not very prolific, so this premiere should be a real treat. The site-specific the woman invisible to herself explores issues around identity even as it questions the very nature of performance — as a state of being and as a theatrical practice. Armentrout structured woman as a solo for herself — and for Natalie Green, Nol Simonse, and Frances Rotario. It will be performed for small audiences at sunset in and around her studio, the Milkbar in East Oakland. (Rita Felciano)

Through Oct. 3

Sat.–Sun., 6:30 p.m. (times vary), $20

Milkbar at the Sunshine Biscuit Factory

851 81st St., Oakl.

(510) 845-8604

www.maryarmentroutdancetheater.com

EVENT

Creature Feature Night at AT&T Park

Beloved local TV horror host and writer John Stanley resurrects the classic Creature Features show for a spooktacular evening at the ballpark tonight — after cheering on the Giants as they take on the Milwaukee Brewers, fans can head out onto the field for some eerie entertainment, prizes, and limited edition T shirts. Then, under cover of darkness (and likely shrouded in a perfect scene-setting fog), the high tech scoreboard will transform into a giant movie screen, showing the 1954 Universal monster melee Creature From The Black Lagoon. Be sure to bring a blanket — and watch out for any beasts clamoring out of McCovey Cove! (McCourt)

6:05 p.m., $25

AT&T Park

24 Willie Mays Plaza, SF

www.sfgiants.com/specialevents

www.bayareafilmevents.com

EVENT

“A Tribute to Fess Parker”

For multiple generations of kids, Fess Parker was a true American hero. Though he was just an actor, he came to embody the stature and values of the roles he played, particularly those of Daniel Boone, and of course, the one he is most remembered for, Davy Crockett. Parker passed away earlier this year, but his legacy will live on in the hearts of his fans, who can celebrate his life and work this weekend with a series of Davy Crockett screenings and a special tribute event featuring members of his family. (McCourt)

Sat/18–Sun/19, 3 p.m. (also Sat/18, 10:15 a.m.), $5–$12

Walt Disney Family Museum Theater

104 Montgomery, Presidio, SF

(415) 345-6800

www.waltdisney.org

EVENT

UFO X Fest

Because you’ve only got 472 days left until 2012. Because that lenticular cloud you peeped over Mount Shasta on Labor Day weekend left you a little tingly. Because The X-Files hasn’t been on TV for eight years. Whatever the reason, mysterious forces are pulling you to UFO X Fest. G’wan, heed them — the two-day lineup of speakers, films, and collegiate paranoia is just the ticket for truthiness. Speakers include a chappie who has assembled a database of 142,000 recorded UFO sightings and a cryptohunter whose specialty lies in scrutinizing unexplained cattle mutilations. Through Sun/19. (Caitlin Donohue)

9:30 a.m., $89.99 (weekend pass, $149.99)

Historic Bal Theater

14808 East 14th St., San Leandro

(510) 614-1224

www.ufoxfest.com

SUNDAY 19

MUSIC

Melvins

No strangers to the SF stage, Seattle’s iconoclastic sludge merchants the Melvins are back, with a new album, The Bride Screamed Murder, in tow. The band has long specialized in mind-bending songwriting and arrangement, and The Bride doesn’t disappoint, working in everything from free jazz to boot camp-style call-and-response — “Captain Beefheart playing heavy metal” according to guitarist/vocalist King Buzzo (and his legendary coiffure). The dual-drummered quartet (Big Business skinsperson Coady Willis joined in 2006) will be presaged by the delectably grungesque L.A.-by-way-of-SF trio Totimoshi, touring on 2008’s thumping Milagrosa but touting a new record very soon. (Ben Richardson)

With Totimoshi

9 p.m., $21

Slim’s

333 11th St, SF

(415) 255-0333

www.slims-sf.com

FILM

“Radical Light: Landscape as Expression”

San Francisco plays itself in dozens of Hollywood movies, but the avant-garde works featured in the inaugural “Radical Light” program explore the imaginary city, the one perpetually coming into shape through the fog and over the hills. Of the city’s topography, filmmaker-teacher Sidney Peterson noted with some delight, “The straight line simply resisted use.” Tonight’s bill draws on the works of artists similarly disinclined: Bruce Baillie’s lovely Ella Fitzgerald-scored camera movement (1966’s All My Life); Chris Marker’s science-fiction views of Emeryville trash sculptures (1981’s Junkopia); Dion Vigne’s electrifying survey of North Beach’s surfaces (1958’s North Beach); and in-person appearances from two established masters, Lawrence Jordan (1957-78’s Visions of a City) and Ernie Gehr (1991’s Side/Walk/Shuttle). (Max Goldberg)

6:30 p.m., $9.50

Pacific Film Archive

2575 Bancroft, Berk.

(510) 642-1412

www.bampfa.berkeley.edu

TUESDAY 21

MUSIC

Cloud Cult

The inspiration for much of Craig Minowa’s music with Cloud Cult is, and seemingly will always be, the sudden death of his two-year-old son in 2002. An event like that is likely to shape any man’s future. Although the Cloud Cult moniker existed previous to that devastating moment, it’s absolutely appropriate for a band that thrives on songs about the next life, fear, and pain. Let me backpedal a bit though, because while those are scary subjects, this is not scary music. We’re talking jubilant indie music here, and, judging the tunes apart from their lyrical content, Minowa crafts some wildly fun, experimental beats that prove that the things that shape you don’t have to define you. (Galvin)

With Mimicking Birds

8 p.m., $15

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

FILM

“Robert Altman vs. Friendship!”

Of the three consecutive Robert Altman double-headers at the Roxie this week, I’ll put my money on this one every time. California Split (1974) remains one of the great troves of talk in American movies and a prime example of the director’s open sound design. In a just world, lovers of 1998’s The Big Lebowski would line up for Elliot Gould and George Segal as compulsive gamblers and friends, blurting out pearls on betting, the Seven Dwarves, stealing time, and California (“Everybody’s named Barbara”). As for 3 Women (1977), I still think I must have dreamed Shelley Duvall and Sissy Spacek being in the same movie. (Goldberg)

7 and 9 p.m., $6–10

Roxie Theater

3117 16th St., SF

(415) 863-1087

www.roxie.com

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

Tender is the ‘Loin

David Talbot

September 14, 2010

arts@sfbg.com

STAGE The sexes — more or less all of them — were at the heart of much of my first 48 hours at the San Francisco Fringe Festival, Exit Theatre’s 19th annual uncurated gamut-gamble. There, too, were the power trips, the pity fests, the nonsense, the reverence, and the dark-carnival mayhem that trails in all of its wake. Men solo, women on women, persons of uncertain gender in ensemble dances, L.A. cabbies driving down mammary lane, men in lab coats burning women at the stake — all of them were sources of grim or delirious laughter, vividly etched characters, a legit existential truth or two, and the occasional horrible theatrical misstep. Just what we go to the Tenderloin for.

In VITCH Slapped, Starr Ahrens, Nancy Kissam, and Diana Yanez of Los Angeles–based troupe The Gay Mafia lob a volley of comic sketches on the subject of, for want of a better term, women’s issues. It’s about harmony (of voices, of visions, of menstrual cycles) and breakdown (of patriarchy, sexual orientation, nervous and social conditions). Hence songs to the goddess-moon-mother from three loving sisters in paganism — or two loving "life partners" and one disgruntled ex–life partner. Hence a jack-booted lesbian speaking impeccable German with an audible whip-crack to each (surprisingly) meaningful morsel. Hence a vlog by two determined liberators of the female bod on a nude road trip across America, always one step ahead of propriety and in stride with the best of bad taste. This and more, in a show that makes up for only fitfully inspired material with focused performances and contagious exuberance.

In the same venue — namely, the Exit’s brand new, nicely appointed Studio Theater — man gets his retort in L.A.-based writer-performer James Schneider’s Man on Sex. But this solo outing is not up to the task. The promise in its title of frank truth-telling from a male perspective leads instead to a disappointing meander down a rather passive-aggressive lane, taken by a man frustrated that his wife has stopped having sex with him. Shallowly assuming the air of an innocent victim of some unnatural disaster, Schneider presents a monologue that lacks honesty as well as cohesiveness. It’s punched up (if not quite elevated) by a pseudo-Elizabethan rap called the "PeniFesto" and about half-dozen original songs that the actor sings to his own keyboard accompaniment. These range from the maudlin ("If Only I Liked Strippers") to the boorishly jaunty ("Tranny in a Tree"). The music conveys some dexterity and imagination, but the schmaltzy pop style, like the show’s overarching theme, often feels strained and misplaced.

Meanwhile, just down the hall in the Exit’s cozy Stage Left, The Burnings smacks its female subjects and the audience around. Writer-director Lili Weckler’s macabre poetry spins a sinuous narrative about three exploited laborers (Rebecca Kanengiser, Carla Pauli, and Lauren Spencer, all wild-eyed and draped in sack cloth mended with duct tape). Their stories are coaxed from them on pain of death, then capitalized on by an opportunist doctor (Pete Frontiera), aided by his willful henchman, The Interpreter. There’s energy and attitude right out of the box, but the play takes a while to heat up and never quite scorches, despite committed performances and lively staging. Beginning like something staged in a neighbor’s haunted house, The Burnings gains depth in its mixing of medieval misogyny with the more subtly sadistic, flagrantly commercial gestures of the therapeutic age. The music along the way — each actor plucks or strikes or squeezes sound from some little something — is sparely composed but well done. This is especially true of the resonant vocal harmonies.

Accomplished actor Dominic Hoffman’s solo show Last Fare will likely rank among the best within the 12-day festival. Beginning at the funeral of a Hollywood man who was mysteriously murdered, the story follows a noir-like path through interviews with several people acquainted to one degree or another with the victim. Hoffman imbues the half-dozen or so characters in his beautifully written play with palpable life — life slightly larger-than, in fact, in keeping with one cab driver’s observation that in Hollywood everyone thinks he or she is a movie star. Suffused with alternately wry and raucous humor, affecting but understated emotion, and flashes of genuine insight and wisdom, Last Fare lures us to the fateful site of apartment 609, only to meet us with surfaces so crystalline in their appearance, and solid in their depth, that they become as much mirror as doorway.

One show not seen in time for review but worth flagging for consideration is San Francisco–based writer-actor David Jacobson’s Theme Park. A hysterically funny and sharp excerpt at the San Francisco Theater Festival had phrases like "powerhouse," "Best of Fringe," and "creatively disturbed" written all over it. Also promising is The Burroughs and Kookie Show: Late Night in the Interzone. The title alone appeals, but knowing this RIPE Theater coproduction is the brainchild of writer-performer Christopher Kuckenbaker (whose recent performance credits include Beowulf: A Thousand Years of Baggage) seals the deal.

SAN FRANCISCO FRINGE FESTIVAL

Through Sept 19, $10–$12.99 ($45 for 5 shows; $75 for 10)

Various locations, SF

(800) 838-3006

At the Drive-In

David Talbot
-

September 14, 2010
0

arts@sfbg.com

VISUAL ART Before it became the context-free darling of YouTubers and meta-bloggers, the 1980s was a real, living era. Movies and music videos copulated. An actor became president and decided to invade Grenada despite a warning from, yes, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher that the action would be seen as "intervention by a Western country in the internal affairs of a small independent nation, however unattractive its regime." The pre-politics Governator appeared in 1984’s The Terminator as "something unstoppable … that felt no pain." And Martin Amis, in Einstein’s Monsters (1987), wrote that "the arms race is a race between nuclear weapons and ourselves." The future appeared bleaker than bleak, its robotic violence and darkness palatable if seen through neon-tinted pop culture glasses.

The 01SJ Biennial, a welcome if dizzying affair that opens this week in San Jose, is a plugged-in antidote to ’80s-era apocalyptic soothsaying. Although more recent cultural creations from 28 Days Later (2002) to The Road (2009) have done little to imagine a coherent future, they’ve at least begun asking what it means to be honestly human. Might we finally stop blaming technology?

Blogging about the biennial’s "Build Your Own Future" theme, Artistic Director Steve Dietz recently noted that the event offers a chance for "serious play." For an illustration of what he means, look no further than Todd Chandler and Jeff Stark’s Empire Drive-In, a fully functional theater featuring cars saved from a local auto wrecker and a screen built almost entirely from salvaged wood. A collaboration with artists including Brett James, Ian Page, and Robin Frohardt (who designed and fabricated a unique concession stand), Empire‘s cinema comes to life inside the San Jose Convention Center’s airplane hangar-sized South Hall.

Last week, Chandler took a break from cleaning broken glass out of one of the cars to chat about the project. He said he had first presented Dietz with the idea of a possible live performance by his band Dark Dark Dark, along with Flood Tide: Remixed. a sort of contemplative preview version of his forthcoming feature film of the same name. "Steve was interested," Chandler explained, "but he said that it wasn’t enough. I was like, not enough?!"

Though Chandler had been pouring himself into Flood Tide project, if the biennial wanted something even bigger, he knew what to do. He called Stark, the intrepid editor of Nonsense NYC (www.nonsensenyc.com ). "Jeff is amazing at pulling off really big, impossible projects," Chandler says. "And he’d had this idea in his head for a while about a junk car drive-in."

Chandler and Stark met while working on the Miss Rockaway Armada project (www.missrockaway.org ), the first iteration of a number of artistic ventures involving large rafts made of salvaged materials. That participatory trip down the Mississippi River — deemed an "anarchist county fair" and a "fools’ ark" — gave birth to the projects that became the subject of Flood Tide. In turn, Empire Drive-In includes not just the hypnotic Flood Tide: Remixed, but a number of "live cinema" presentations, including Zoe Keating and Robert Hodgin’s Into the Trees, and Laetitia Sonami and SUE-C’s Sheepwoman.

"The cars we’re using were on their way to Redwood City to get crushed," Chandler explained. "A lot of them had smashed windshields." He and Stark chose vehicles based on what was available rather than a predetermined vision: "We didn’t want to do a retro, ’50s-style drive-in."

As with any other theater, when a drive-in closes for good, we say that it has "gone dark." My childhood haunt, Skyview Drive-In in Santa Cruz, went dark a few years ago. When I drove by and saw the missing screens, I started to cry. Empire Drive-In presents the unbearable lightness of seeing in a world that might someday go dark.

01SJ BIENNIAL: EMPIRE DRIVE-IN

Thurs/16–Sun/19, various venues

(408) 916-1010

www.01sjart.org

Music listings

David Talbot
-

September 14, 2010
0

Music listings are compiled by Paula Connelly and Cheryl Eddy. Since club life is unpredictable, it’s a good idea to call ahead to confirm bookings and hours. Prices are listed when provided to us. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

WEDNESDAY 15

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Chapin Sisters, Rachel Efron Café Du Nord. 8pm, $12.

Honey, Gratitillium, Pow! Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

Jaguares, Los Cenzontles Fillmore. 9pm, $49.50.

James Colley Show, Allen Stone, Jo Henley, Joe Gil Hotel Utah. 8pm, $8.

Jeff the Brotherhood, Ty Segall, Tropical Sleep Rickshaw Stop. 8pm, $12.

*K.Flay Harlot, 46 Minna, SF; (415) 777-1077. 9pm, $5. Featuring special guests and DJs Kid Chris and Brother Bently spinning old school, hip hop, and soul.

Kim Lenz and the Jaguars, Quarter Mile Combo Verdi Club, 2424 Mariposa, SF; www.kimlenz.com. 9pm, $12.

Majesty, Parties, DJs Dirty Dishes and English Steve Knockout. 9pm, $5.

Marina and the Diamonds, Young the Giant Independent. 8pm, $15.

Menomena, Suckers, Tu Fawning Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $18.

Reaction, Crime Wave, Yes Go’s Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $8.

*Tamaryn, Weekend, oOoOO, Nako and Omar Elbo Room. 9pm, $8.

Zoo, Swanifant, Clouds El Rio. 8pm, $3-5.

DANCE CLUBS

Booty Call Q-Bar, 456 Castro, SF; www.bootycallwednesdays.com. 9pm. Juanita Moore hosts this dance party, featuring DJ Robot Hustle.

Breezin Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; (415) 885-4788. 9:30pm, free. With DJs Amy A and Brynnie Mac spinning yacht rock od smooth 70s.

Hands Down! Bar on Church. 9pm, free. With DJs Claksaarb, Mykill, and guests spinning indie, electro, house, and bangers.

Jam Fresh Wednesdays Vessel, 85 Campton, SF; (415) 433-8585. 9:30pm, free. With DJs Slick D, Chris Clouse, Rich Era, Don Lynch, and more spinning top40, mashups, hip hop, and remixes.

Mary-Go-Round Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; (415) 431-0306. 10pm, $5. A weekly drag show with hosts Cookie Dough, Pollo Del Mar, and Suppositori Spelling.

RedWine Social Dalva. 9pm-2am, free. DJ TophOne and guests spin outernational funk and get drunk.

Respect Wednesdays End Up. 10pm, $5. Rotating DJs Daddy Rolo, Young Fyah, Irie Dole, I-Vier, Sake One, Serg, and more spinning reggae, dancehall, roots, lovers rock, and mash ups.

Synchronize Il Pirata, 2007 16th St, SF; (415) 626-2626. 10pm, free. Psychedelic dance music with DJs Helios, Gatto Matto, Psy Lotus, Intergalactoid, and guests.

THURSDAY 16

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Bobby Radcliff Trio Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Bonnie Doom, Real Nasty, Misisipi Rider Hotel Utah. 9pm, $6.

Jimmy Edgar, Loose Shus, Boys IV Men Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $12.

Fucking Buckaroos, Baltic Cousins, Annie Bacon and Her Oshen Knockout. 10pm, $5.

Guella, Soda Pop Junkies, For the Kings Blue Macaw, 2565 Mission, SF; www.thebluemacawsf.com. 10pm, $10.

Hooray for the Riff Raff, Guilded Books Amnesia. 9pm, $5.

*Langhorne Slim, Or The Whale Independent. 8pm, $15.

Mission Players Coda. 9pm, $7.

Mike Posner Fillmore. 8pm, $30.

Release, Oola Rocksteady, Swoon, Amaya Slim’s. 9pm, $14.

Society of Rockets, Invisible Cities, Amores Vigilantes Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $8.

*Tyvek, Nodzzz, Art Museums Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $6.

White Barons, Space Vacation Thee Parkside. 9pm, $6. With Altercation Punk Comedy Tour’s JT Habersaat, Lisa Root, and Kleveland.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Mercury Falls, Dave Mihaly’s Shimmering Leaves Ensemble Make-Out Room. 9:30pm, $12.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Septeto Nacional de Cuba Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $18-26.

Somi, Sparlha Swa Café Du Nord. 8pm, $17.

DANCE CLUBS

Afrolicious Elbo Room. 9:30pm, $10. DJs Pleasuremaker and Señor Oz, plus guests Dunklebunt and Santero, spin Afrobeat, Tropicália, electro, samba, and funk.

Caribbean Connection Little Baobab, 3388 19th St, SF; (415) 643-3558. 10pm, $3. DJ Stevie B and guests spin reggae, soca, zouk, reggaetón, and more.

Club Jammies Edinburgh Castle. 10pm, free. DJs EBERrad and White Mice spinning reggae, punk, dub, and post punk.

Drop the Pressure Underground SF. 6-10pm, free. Electro, house, and datafunk highlight this weekly happy hour.

Electric Feel Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; (415) 431-0306. 9pm, $2. With DJs subOctave and Blondie K spinning indie music videos.

Good Foot Som., 2925 16th St, SF; (415) 558-8521. 10pm, free. With DJs spinning R&B, Hip hop, classics, and soul.

Jivin’ Dirty Disco Butter, 354 11th St., SF; (415) 863-5964. 8pm, free. With DJs spinning disco, funk, and classics.

Koko Puffs Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; (415) 885-4788. 10pm, free. Dubby roots reggae and Jamaican funk from rotating DJs.

Mestiza Bollywood Café, 3376 19th St, SF; (415) 970-0362. 10pm, free. Showcasing progressive Latin and global beats with DJ Juan Data.

Nightvision Harlot, 46 Minna, SF; (415) 777-1077. 9:30pm, $10. DJs Danny Daze, Franky Boissy, and more spinning house, electro, hip hop, funk, and more.

Peaches Skylark, 10pm, free. With an all female DJ line up featuring Deeandroid, Lady Fingaz, That Girl, and Umami spinning hip hop.

Popscene 330 Rich. 10pm, $10. Rotating DJs spinning indie, Britpop, electro, new wave, and post-punk.

Solid Thursdays Club Six. 9pm, free. With DJs Daddy Rolo and Tesfa spinning roots, reggae, dancehall, soca, and mashups.

FRIDAY 17

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Black Pacific, Static Thought, Stagger and Fall Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $14.

Blisses B, Tyler Matthew Smith, Bryn Loosley Hotel Utah. 9pm, $8.

Bonerama, Sol Driven Train Red Devil Lounge. 8pm, $15.

Quinn Deveaux and the Blue Beat Review, Jugtown Pirates Independent. 9pm, $14.

Hostility, Almost Dead, Hysteria, Kingdom Fail Slim’s. 9pm, $14.

James Lanman and the Good Hurt, Horde and the Harem, Dylan Cannon Café Du Nord. 9:30pm, $10.

KK Martin Union Room at Biscuits and Blues. 8:30pm, $10.

Mist and Mast, Sands, Yeltsin Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $7.

Pride and Joy Bimbo’s 365 Club. 9pm, $22.

Ratatat, Dom Warfield. 9pm, $32.

Lavay Smith and Her Red Hot Skillet Lickers Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $20.

Venomous Concept, Kill the Client, Murder Construct, Population Reduction, DJ Rob Metal Thee Parkside. 9pm, $12-15.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Meredith Axelrod and Craig Ventresco Amnesia. 6pm.

Benise Palace of Fine Arts, 3301 Lyon, SF; (415) 567-6642. 8pm, $48-58.

Freddy Clarke’s Wobbly World Rrazz Room. 7pm, $25.

Los Rakas, 40 Love, Yung Mars Project Elbo Room. 10pm, $8-10.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Equinox Trio Rite Spot, 2099 Folsom, SF; www.ritespotcafe.net. 9pm, free.

Fazz Enrico’s, 504 Broadway, SF; (415) 982-6223. 8pm.

Primavera Latin Jazz Band Savanna Jazz. 7:30pm, $8.

Sadao Watanabe Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $24-30.

DANCE CLUBS

Alcoholocaust Presents Riptide Tavern. 9pm, free. DJ What’s His Fuck spins old school punk rock and other gems.

Club Dragon Club Eight, 1151 Folsom, SF; www.eightsf.com. 9pm, $8. A gay Asian paradise. Featuring two dance floors playing dance and hip hop, smoking patio, and 2 for 1 drinks before 10pm.

Dirty Rotten Dance Party Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, $5. With DJs Morale, Kap10 Harris, and Shane King spinning electro, bootybass, crunk, swampy breaks, hyphy, rap, and party classics.

Exhale, Fridays Project One Gallery, 251 Rhode Island, SF; (415) 465-2129. 5pm, $5. Happy hour with art, fine food, and music with Vin Sol, King Most, DJ Centipede, and Shane King.

Fat Stack Fridays Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; (415) 885-4788. 10pm, free. With rotating DJs B-Cause, Vinnie Esparza, Mr. Robinson, Toph One, and Slopoke.

Fubar Fridays Butter, 354 11th St., SF; (415) 863-5964. 6pm, $5. With DJs spinning retro mashup remixes.

Good Life Fridays Apartment 24, 440 Broadway, SF; (415) 989-3434. 10pm, $10. With DJ Brian spinning hip hop, mashups, and top 40.

Hot Chocolate Milk. 9pm, $5. With DJs Big Fat Frog, Chardmo, DuseRock, and more spinning old and new school funk.

Oldies Night Knockout. 9pm, $2-4. Doo-wop and one-hit wonders with DJs Primo, Daniel, and Lost Cat.

Radioactivity 222 Hyde, SF; (415) 440-0222. 6pm. Synth sounds of the cold war era.

Rockabilly Fridays Jay N Bee Club, 2736 20th St, SF; (415) 824-4190. 9pm, free. With DJs Rockin’ Raul, Oakie Oran, Sergio Iglesias, and Tanoa "Samoa Boy" spinning 50s and 60s Doo Wop, Rockabilly, Bop, Jive, and more.

Singapore 60s Happy Hour Knockout. 5:30-9pm, free. DJ Sid Presley spins rare pop and garage from SE Asia, crica 1964-72.

Some Thing The Stud. 10pm, $7. VivvyAnne Forevermore, Glamamore, and DJ Down-E give you fierce drag shows and afterhours dancing.

Summer Climax 1015 Folsom. 10pm, $25. Featuring a live band performance by Lena Katina of t.A.T.u. and DJs Aykut, Frenchy le Freak, Trevor Simpson, and more.

Three Kings of Stupid Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $10. DJs BAS and Brother Grimm spin an eclectic mix.

SATURDAY 18

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Tab Benoit Great American Music Hall. 9pm, $20.

Bonerama, Lubriphonic Red Devil Lounge. 8pm, $15.

John Lee Hooker Jr. Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $22.

Kele, Does It Offend You Yeah?, Innerpartysystem, Aaron Axelsen, Miles Mezzanine. 9pm, $20.

Mother Hips Fillmore. 9pm, $20.

LB Muzac Enrico’s, 504 Broadway, SF; (415) 982-6223. 8pm, free.

New Up, Hundred Days, Moanin’ Dove Café Du Nord. 9:30pm, $15.

*No Means No, Bar Feeders, Ezee Tiger Bottom of the Hill. 10pm, $15.

Pantha du Prince, Sight Below Independent. 9pm, $15.

Religious Girls, Clipd Beaks, Grand Lake, Casy and Brian, Dashing Suns, Siddhartha, Color Chasm Thee Parkside. 4pm, $10-20.

Robot Hustle, CLAWS, Global Warming, Mr. Saturday, DJs Chris Orr and Beaner Amnesia. 9pm, $5.

Savage Republic, Carta Hemlock Tavern. 9:30pm, $8.

Swamees, Felsen, Jay Trainer Band El Rio. 3pm, $8.

JAZZ/NEW MUSIC

Denise Perrier and the Swing Fever Band Rrazz Room. 7pm, $30.

Suzanna Smith Quintet Savanna Jazz. 7:30pm, $8.

Sadao Watanabe Yoshi’s San Francisco. 8 and 10pm, $30.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Benise Palace of Fine Arts, 3301 Lyon, SF; (415) 567-6642. 7pm, $48-58.

En Vivo, Tony Lindsay, Gladiators of Rock Slim’s. 8pm, $16.

Octomutt and friends Rite Spot, 2099 Folsom, SF; www.ritespotcafe.net. 9pm, free.

Craig Ventresco and Meredith Axelrod Atlas Café. 4pm, free.

DANCE CLUBS

Bar on Church 9pm. Rotating DJs Foxxee, Joseph Lee, Zhaldee, Mark Andrus, and Nuxx.

Booty Bassment Knockout. 10pm, $5. Hip-hop with DJs Ryan Poulsen and Dimitri Dickenson.

Cock Fight Underground SF. 9pm, $7. Gay locker room antics galore with electro-spinning DJ Earworm, MyKill, and Dcnstrct.

Fire Corner Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; (415) 885-4788. 9:30pm, free. Rare and outrageous ska, rocksteady, and reggae vinyl with Revival Sound System and guests.

Fringe Madrone Art Bar. 9pm, $5. With DJs Blondie K and subOctave spinning indie music videos.

Full House Gravity, 3505 Scott, SF; (415) 776-1928. 9pm, $10. With DJs Roost Uno and Pony P spinning dirty hip hop.

HYP Club Eight, 1151 Folsom, SF; www.eightsf.com. 10pm, free. Gay and lesbian hip hop party, featuring DJs spinning the newest in the top 40s hip hop and hyphy.

Non Stop Bhangra Rickshaw Stop. 9pm, $15. Live dhol rhythms, DJs, and dance performances by Dholrythms Dance Troupe.

Prince vs. Michael Madrone Art Bar. 8pm, $5. With DJs Dave Paul and Jeff Harris battling it out on the turntables with album cuts, remixes, rare tracks, and classics.

Rock City Butter, 354 11th St., SF; (415) 863-5964. 6pm, $5 after 10pm. With DJs spinning party rock.

Saturday Night Soul Party Elbo Room. 10pm-2am, $5. DJs Lucky, Paul Paul, and Phengren Oswald spin butt-shakin’ ’60s soul on 45.

Spirit Fingers Sessions 330 Ritch. 9pm, free. With DJ Morse Code and live guest performances.

SUNDAY 19

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Airborne Toxic Event, Calder Quartet Regency Ballroom. 8pm, $22-30.

"Bay for the Bayou Benefit" Bimbo’s 365 Club. 7pm, $75-150. With Anders Osborne, George Porter Jr., Ivan Neville, Zigaboo Modeliste, and more.

Karen Bein, Chris Cotton, John Henry and Dorothy Wood Hotel Utah. 8pm, $10.

Cult, Black Ryder Warfield. 8pm, $38.50-100.

Epidemia Rickshaw Stop. 7pm, free.

Grand Lake, Hosannas, Laura Stevenson and the Cans Hemlock Tavern. 8pm, $6.

*Hellbeard, Floating Goat, Gritter, Hashashin, DJ Rob Metal Thee Parkside. 8pm, $8.

Human Condition, Slow Motion Cowboys, Brothers Comatose Bottom of the Hill. 5pm, $8.

Lyfe Jennings Independent. 8pm, $27.

Jim Jones Revue, Bare Wires, Coasting Great American Music Hall. 8pm, $14.

*Melvins, Totimoshi Slim’s. 9pm, $21.

Peter Rowan, Elizabeth Cook Café Du Nord. 8pm, $20.

Tim Hockenberry Band Rrazz Room. 7:30pm, $25.

FOLK/WORLD/COUNTRY

Hipwaders Park Chalet, 1000 Great Highway, SF; (415) 386-8439. 3pm, free.

Jesus Diaz Latin Ensemble Coda. 8pm, $10.

DANCE CLUBS

Call In Sick Skylark. 9pm, free. DJs Animal and I Will spin danceable hip-hop.

Culture Profetica Mezzanine. 7pm, $27.50. With Toy Selectah, Manicato, and DJ Walt Digz.

DiscoFunk Mashups Cat Club. 10pm, free. House and 70’s music.

Dub Mission Elbo Room. 9pm, $6. DJ Sep, Ludichris, and J Boogie spin dub, roots, and classic dancehall.

Gloss Sundays Trigger, 2344 Market, SF; (415) 551-CLUB. 7pm. With DJ Hawthorne spinning house, funk, soul, retro, and disco.

Honey Soundsystem Paradise Lounge. 8pm-2am. "Dance floor for dancers – sound system for lovers." Got that?

Jock! Lookout, 3600 16th St, SF; (415) 431-0306. 3pm, $2. This high-energy party raises money for LGBT sports teams.

Kick It Bar on Church. 9pm. Hip-hop with DJ Zax.

Lowbrow Sunday Delirium. 1pm, free. DJ Roost Uno and guests spinning club hip hop, indie, and top 40s.

Religion Bar on Church. 3pm. With DJ Nikita.

Stag AsiaSF. 6pm, $5. Gay bachelor parties are the target demo of this weekly erotic tea dance.

Swing Out Sundays Rock-It Room. 7pm, free (dance lessons $15). DJ BeBop Burnie spins 20s through 50s swing, jive, and more.

MONDAY 20

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Charlatans UK, Giant Drag, DJs Aaron and Omar Bimbo’s 365 Club. 8pm, $25.

Efterklang, Buke and Gass, Silian Rail Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $12.

Frankie and the Outs, Hunx and His Punx, Lilac, Wax Idols, DJ Primo Rickshaw Stop. 7:30pm, $12.

Hanson, A Rocket to the Moon, Red Light Circuit Great American Music Hall. 7:30pm, $35.

David Landon Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

Peck the Town Crier, Roy G Biv Elbo Room. 9pm, $8.

DANCE CLUBS

Black Gold Koko Cocktails, 1060 Geary, SF; (415) 885-4788. 10pm-2am, free. Senator Soul spins Detroit soul, Motown, New Orleans R&B, and more — all on 45!

Krazy Mondays Beauty Bar. 10pm, free. With DJs Ant-1, $ir-Tipp, Ruby Red I, Lo, and Gelo spinning hip hop.

M.O.M. Madrone Art Bar. 6pm, free. With DJ Gordo Cabeza and guests playing all Motown every Monday.

Manic Mondays Bar on Church. 9pm. Drink 80-cent cosmos with Djs Mark Andrus and Dangerous Dan.

Musik for Your Teeth Revolution Café, 3248 22nd St., SF; (415) 642-0474. 5pm, free. Soul cookin’ happy hour tunes with DJ Antonino Musco.

Network Mondays Azul Lounge, One Tillman Pl, SF; www.inhousetalent.com. 9pm, $5. Hip-hop, R&B, and spoken word open mic, plus featured performers.

Skylarking Skylark. 10pm, free. With resident DJs I & I Vibration, Beatnok, and Mr. Lucky and weekly guest DJs.

TUESDAY 21

ROCK/BLUES/HIP-HOP

Cloud Cult, Mimicking Birds Independent. 8pm, $15.

Do, El Olio Wolof, Please Do Not Fight Bottom of the Hill. 9pm, $15.

Electric Sister, Mendozza, Hexe Hemlock Tavern. 9pm, $7.

Hanson, A Rocket to the Moon, Motel Drive Great American Music Hall. 7:30pm, $35.

Lightning Swords of Death, Pathology, Deafheaven, Cyanic, DJ Rob Metal Thee Parkside. 8pm, $8-10.

Lion Riding Horses, Greenflash Rite Spot, 2099 Folsom, SF; www.ritespotcafe.net. 7pm, free.

Joanne Shaw Taylor Biscuits and Blues. 8 and 10pm, $15.

DANCE CLUBS

Alcoholocaust Presents Argus Lounge. 9pm, free. With DJs Heiko and What’s His Fuck.

Brazilian Wax Elbo Room. 9pm, $7. Samba with DJs Carioca and Fausto Sousa and guests Mucho Axe and Borucoe.

Eclectic Company Skylark, 9pm, free. DJs Tones and Jaybee spin old school hip hop, bass, dub, glitch, and electro.

Rock Out Karaoke! Amnesia. 7:30pm. With Glenny Kravitz.

Share the Love Trigger, 2344 Market, SF; (415) 551-CLUB. 5pm, free. With DJ Pam Hubbuck spinning house.

Womanizer Bar on Church. 9pm. With DJ Nuxx.

Film listings

David Talbot
-

September 14, 2010
0

Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Peter Galvin, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock. For first-run showtimes, see Movie Guide.

OPENING

Alpha and Omega A pair of relocated wolves try to make their way home in this 3D animated comedy. (1:28)

Catfish Please do not reveal the secret to Catfish — relax, I’m not going to. What I will say is this: Catfish’s uber-secretive, Paranormal Activity-esque ad campaign is effective, but the film ultimately stands on its own merits. This is an intriguing, relatable documentary, and if the studio feels that they’ll sell more tickets by promoting it in a certain way, so be it. Without giving away too much, Catfish is the spontaneous documentary that arose when filmmakers Rel Schulman and Henry Joost began filming Rel’s brother, Nev. Like so many of us, Nev finds himself drawn to a person he’s never met — embarking on a relationship through Facebook photos and wall posts. Of course, as is so often the case with the internet, nothing is quite what it seems. Catfish has already found its critics, particularly those who insist the documentary is a fake. I believe it, but either way it’s an impressive achievement: the best film yet about social networking. (1:26) Metreon. (Peitzman)

Devil "From the mind of M. Night Shyamalan," caution the commercials. (1:20) Shattuck.

*Easy A See "Life on the ‘A’ List." (1:30) Marina, Shattuck.

*Heartbreaker See "The Break-Up Artist." (1:44) Albany, Embarcadero.

*Sicilian Girl Spoiled daddy’s girl Rita Atria (Veronica D’Agostino) is traumatized at age 11 when her beloved papa is killed by Mafia associates. At 17, she’s pushed over the edge when an older brother meets the same fate. It’s then, in 1991,
that she breaks the omertà, or code of silence, by cooperating with judicial authorities, putting herself under severe witness-protection limitations while still at high assassination risk. This dramatized real-life story doesn’t offer cliché heroism: as portrayed by fireball D’Agostino, Rita is bratty, obstinate, not especially bright or pretty, her dedication more selfishly vengeful than concerned with the public good. She’s also a naive teenager susceptible to manipulation, especially by questionably motivated boyfriends. Yet she takes a stand and refuses to back down. The likely consequences of that courage make for a suspenseful drama director Marco Amenta ably steers to a conclusion both tragic and inspiring. (1:50) Lumiere, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

The Town Ben Affleck directs and stars in this drama about a conflicted bank robber. (2:10) California, Cerrito, Presidio.

*Undertow See "Peruvian Twist." (1:40) Bridge.

The Virginity Hit To its credit, The Virginity Hit is not what you’d expect. The trailer and concept recall the teen sex comedy trend that sprung up after 1999’s American Pie, but the actual film is a far more grounded in reality. It’s also not nearly as good. The Virginity Hit is a well executed mockumentary, in that it feels amateur even in its most absurd moments. The movie follows Matt (Matt Bennett) in his attempts to lose his virginity after a disastrous attempt with his girlfriend Nicole (Nicole Weaver). As you’ve probably guessed, hilarity ensues — and it ensues, for a YouTube generation, in the form of viral videos and crude parodies. The problem with The Virginity Hit is that it just isn’t funny: the tone is all over the place, and the bits that should be amusing fall flat. It’s interesting as an experiment and the cast is quite convincing, but the material never elevates the film past its gimmick. (1:26) Metreon. (Peitzman)

ONGOING

*The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector Alternately slavish and critical, simultaneously buying into and subtly resisting the hype, The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector is a bit like the renowned producer himself, who said this to biographer Mick Brown in 2007’s Tearing Down the Wall of Sound: the Rise and Fall of Phil Spector: "I have a bipolar personality … I have devils inside that fight me. And I’m my own worst enemy … I would say I’m probably relatively insane." You can see why director Vikram Jayanti scored the interview with Spector at the center of Agony, since he gets on board the musicmaker’s bifurcated, multichannel tip. The doc is both fascinating and monotonous, respectful of Spector’s achievements as well as the sensation surrounding his blighted celebrity. The filmmaker stays away from the specifics of the night in 2003 when Lana Clarkson was found dead at Spector’s mansion, while recontextualizing the producer’s words and music with images culled from the murder trial and other footage. The end result is an innuendo-laden pastiche that resembles an echo chamber reverberating with all the doomed dramatics of "He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss)." (1:42) Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

*The American George Clooney caught in a moodily paranoid, yet exquisitely photographed, ’70s-style suspense-arthouse death-trap? Belmondo and Beatty could empathize. Nonetheless, veteran rock photographer and Control (2007) director Anton Corbijn suffuses the chilly proceedings with a fresh, wintry beauty, the carefully balanced sense of highly charged tension and silky smoothness that a gunsmith would appreciate, and a resonance that feels personal. How else would an ex-rock shooter like Corbijn, who’s made iconic images of the Clash, U2, and others, connect with this tale of an assassin masquerading as a photographer, one who’s constantly glancing behind and around himself — justifiably wary of being caught in another killer’s sights — and seemingly just as wary of the director’s, and audience’s, gaze? A character who wouldn’t be out of place in a Camus novella or a Melville brooder, Jack/Edward, or more accurately "the American," (Clooney) is in exile after a bad collision with a girlfriend and hitmen in Sweden and hiding out in a picturesque Italian village, conspicuously the more-cold-than-cool outsider and doing one immaculate job for a gorgeous mysterious woman (Thekla Reuten). Is he a good or bad guy? The local priest (Paolo Bonacelli), who knows and sees all like a great eye in the sky, is trying to find out, as is the most beautiful prostitute in town (Violante Placido). The answers are nowhere near as clear or as plainly painted as a Sergio Leone Western, although Corbijn nods to the maestro when stone-cold killer Henry Fonda, then playing shockingly against type, appears on a cafe TV screen in Once Upon a Time in the West (1968). But the director’s care and attention to beauty — as well as the lines carved in the face of Clooney’s lean, mean-looking American, a whore like any other — say more than words. (1:43) Cerrito, Empire, Marina, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

*Animal Kingdom More renowned for its gold rush history and Victorian terrace homes than its criminal communities, Melbourne, Australia gets put on the same gritty map as Martin Scorsese’s ’70s-era New York City and Quentin Tarantino’s ’90s Los Angeles with the advent of director-writer David Michôd’s masterful debut feature. The metropolis’ sun-blasted suburban homes, wood-paneled bedrooms, and bleached-bone streets acquire a chilling, slowly building power, as Michôd follows the life and death of the Cody clan through the eyes of its newest member, an unformed, ungainly teenager nicknamed J (James Frecheville). When J’s mother ODs, he’s tossed into the twisted arms of her family: the Kewpie doll-faced, too-close-for-comfort matriarch Smurf (Jacki Weaver), dead-eyed armed robber Pope (Ben Mendelsohn), Pope’s best friend Baz (Joel Edgerton), volatile younger brother and dealer Craig (Sullivan Stapleton), and baby bro Darren (Luke Ford). Learning to hide his responses to the escalating insanity surrounding the Codys’ war against the police — and the rest of the world — and finding respite with his girlfriend, Nicky (Laura Wheelwright), J becomes the focus of a cop (Guy Pearce) determined to take the Codys down — and discovers he’s going to have use all his cunning to survive in the jungle called home. Stunning performances abound — from Frecheville, who beautifully hides a growing awareness behind his character’s monolithic passivity, to the adorably scarifying Weaver — in this carefully, brilliantly detailed crime-family drama bound to land at the top of aficionados’ favored lineups, right alongside 1972’s The Godfather and 1986’s At Close Range and cult raves 1970’s Bloody Mama and 1974’s Big Bad Mama. (2:02) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Bran Nue Dae An energetic screen translation of a 1990 Australian stage musical, Rachel Perkins’ film is tourist cliché spun into crowd-pleasing slop, like a Down Under Riverdance. Young Aboriginal Willie (Rockie McKenzie) escapes the "corrective" environ of a 1969 Perth Catholic boarding school and flees homeward, only to be pursued by mercilessly hammy Geoffrey Wright’s racist priest baddie. The crude humor, generic tunes, and hectically shot and dance-poor numbers have about as much to do with Aussie abo culture as The Lion King does with "Africa" — it’s prefab feel-good pap posing as multicultural representation. (1:28) Elmwood, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Cairo Time (1:29) Embarcadero, Piedmont, Shattuck, Smith Rafael.

Change of Plans (1:40) Sundance Kabuki.

The Concert (1:47) Opera Plaza.

Eat Pray Love The new film based on Elizabeth Gilbert’s chart-busting memoir, Eat Pray Love, benefits greatly from the lead performance by Julia Roberts, an actor who can draw from her own reserves of pathos when a project has none of its own. The adaptation, about a whiny American author farting around the globe in search of what amounts to spiritual room service, is nothing without her. The journey begins with the Type-A, book contract-inspired premise that Gilbert will travel to three appointed countries over the course of a year in order that, having thrice denied herself absolutely nothing, she might come out the other end a better-balanced human being. The first stop is Italy, where her entire plan is to finally unbutton her jeans and indulge in a celebrated cuisine, as if her home base of Manhattan were a culinary backwater. But this film is all about tired equivalencies, so Italy equals food, and expressive hand gestures, and "the art of doing nothing." India, her next stop, equals enlightenment (her discovery that the guru she’s come to see is currently at an ashram in New York is an irony lost on the movie). And Bali, her final getaway, apparently equals contradictory but flattering aphorisms and thematically hypocritical romances. The sole appeal to a moviegoer here is aspirational. What’s so embarrassing about Eat Pray Love is its insistence that this appeal sprouts from the spiritual quest itself, and not just from the privilege that enables Gilbert to have such an extravagant quest in the first place. But then, self-awareness is supposed to be a obstacle to enlightenment. She’s got nothing to worry about there. (2:30) Elmwood, Empire, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center, Sundance Kabuki. (Jason Shamai)

The Expendables Exactly what you’re expecting: a completely ludicrous explosion-o-thon about mercenaries hired by Bruce Willis to take down a South American general who’s actually a puppet for evil CIA agent-turned-coke kingpin Eric Roberts. Clearly, Sylvester Stallone (who directed, co-wrote, stars, and even coaxed a cameo out of Schwarzenegger) knows his audience, but The Expendables — bulging with a muscle-bound cast, including Dolph Lundgren, Terry Crews, Jason Statham, and Steve Austin, plus Jet Li, who suffers many a short-guy joke — is content to simply tap every expected rung on the 80s-actioner homage ladder. There’s no self-awareness, no truly witty one-liners, no plot twists, and certainly no making a badass out of any female characters (really, couldn’t the South American general’s daughter have packed some heat, or kicked someone in the balls — anything besides simply heaving her cleavage around?) The only truly memorable thing here is the inclusion of Mickey Rourke as Stallone’s tattoo-artist pal; I would possibly wager that Rourke was allowed to write his own weepy monologue, delivered in a close-up so extreme it’s more mind-searing than any of the film’s many machine-gun brawls. (1:43) 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

The Extra Man The polar opposite of buddy cop action flicks and spoofs a la The Other Guys, with only a faint resemblance to the bromances of Judd Apatow, Adam McKay, Will Ferrell, Seth Rogen, and so on, The Extra Man is a gently weird throwback to another era, much like its title character, Henry Harrison (Kevin Kline). Sweet, cross-dressing-curious teacher and would-be writer Louis Ives (Paul Dano) is drifting though life passively when he stumbles on eccentric playwright Harrison’s room-for-let and his oddball realm of hangers-on. A blustery, prickly, proudly misogynistic collector of Christmas balls, given to spasms of improvisational dancing, Harrison relishes his role as an escort to aged socialites, crankily shucking and jiving to score invites to fancy dinner parties and vacation homes in Florida. When Ives isn’t courting environmental magazine editor Mary (Katie Holmes) or hiding from the fearsome-looking wooly recluse Gershon (John C. Reilly), the mentor-able young man turns out to be more adept at the role than Harrison ever imagined. And like fossilized grande dames in Chanel, literate audiences also might be charmed by director-writer Shari Springer Berman’s unassuming, crushed-out bon mot, based on the novel by Jonathan Ames, to a few mannered, less-than-examined, happily twisted New York City subcultures. (1:45) Four Star. (Chun)

Get Low Born from the true story of Felix Bush, an eccentric Tennessee hermit who invited the world to celebrate his funeral in advance of his own death, Get Low is a loose take on what might inspire a man to do a thing like that. It’s a small story, and unlikely to attract the attention of popcorn-addled viewers in the midst of the summer blockbuster season, but Get Low has a whopper of a character in Felix Bush. Robert Duvall becomes Bush, constructing a quiet man who sees it all and speaks only when he has something to say, and supporting roles from Sissy Spacek and Bill Murray are expectedly solid, but the real surprise is what a strong eye director Aaron Schnieder has. In allowing scenes to unfold on their own terms and in their own time, Schneider gives a real humanity to what could have been a Hallmark movie. (1:42) Empire, Presidio, Shattuck. (Galvin)

*The Girl Who Played With Fire Lisbeth Salander is cooler than you are. The heroine of Stieg Larsson’s bestselling book series is fierce, mysterious, and utterly captivating: in the movie adaptations, she’s perfectly realized by Noomi Rapace, who has the power to transform Lisbeth from literary hero to film icon. Rapace first impressed audiences in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009), a faithful adaptation of Larsson’s premiere novel, and she returns as Lisbeth in The Girl Who Played With Fire. The sequel, as is often the case, isn’t quite on par with the original, but it’s still a page-to-screen success. And while the first film spent equal time on journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist), The Girl Who Played With Fire is almost entirely Lisbeth’s story. Sure, there’s more to the movie than the hacker-turned-sleuth — and the actor who plays her — but she carries the film. Rapace is Lisbeth; Lisbeth is Rapace. I’d watch both in anything. (2:09) Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Peitzman)

Going the Distance If you live in San Francisco, don’t try to date someone in New York. It’s just not worth the hassle. But hey, maybe you’re as adorable as Drew Barrymore, and your boyfriend’s as charming as Justin Long — you can’t be expected to let a little geographical complication get in the way. That’s the driving force behind Going the Distance, a romcom that stars real-life couple Barrymore and Long as Erin and Garrett, two crazy kids trying to make it work cross-country. In many ways, the film is your standard boy-meets-girl story, but it’s cute enough that the predictability factor doesn’t really matter. The cast is universally strong, with bonus points to the standouts: It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia‘s Charlie Day as Garrett’s embarrassing roommate, and Christina Applegate as Erin’s germaphobe sister. The humor is surprisingly sharp — and raunchy, which earned Going the Distance an R-rating. I’m not going to say Long’s bare ass is worth the price of admission, but it’s certainly a selling point. (1:43) Marina, 1000 Van Ness, SF Center, Shattuck. (Peitzman)

I’m Still Here This examination of Joaquin Phoenix’s self-imposed Hollywood exile is neither fascinating nor insightful. More like tedious and aggravating, really. Whether or not "JP" — as the erstwhile Oscar nominee refers to himself as he takes on a new persona as unwashed hip-hop artist — is faking his downward spiral is supposed to be the great attraction for Casey Affleck’s apparently vérité vehicle. But Phoenix is so (deliberately?) unlikable it’s hard to care one way or the other. If he is having a breakdown, conveniently captured on film from multiple angles, he’s still a spoiled, private jet-taking movie star moping about existential woes while living a privileged life (hotel suites, fawning personal assistants, etc.) If he’s faking it, it’s unclear what the point of I’m Still Here is supposed to be, other than a "fuck you" to the industry that made Phoenix rich and famous. Either way, ugh. (1:48) Elmwood, Embarcadero. (Eddy)

Inception As my movie going companion pointed out, "Christopher Nolan must’ve shit a brick when he saw Shutter Island." In Nolan’s Inception, as in Shutter Island, Leonardo DiCaprio is a troubled soul trapped in a world of mind-fuckery, with a tragic-vengeful wife (here, Marion Cotillard) and even some long-lost kids looming in his thoughts at all times. But Inception, about a team of corporate spies who infiltrate dreams to steal information and implant ideas, owes just as much to The Matrix (1999), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), and probably a James Bond flick or two. Familiar though it may feel, at least Inception is based on a creative idea — how many movies, much less summer blockbusters, actually require viewer brain power? If its complex house-of-cards plot (dreams within dreams within dreams) can’t quite withstand nit-picking, its action sequences are confidently staged and expertly directed, including a standout sequence involving a zero-gravity fist fight and elevator ride. Though it’s hardly genius — and Leo-recycle aside — Inception is worth it, if you don’t mind your puzzle missing a few pieces. (2:30) Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*The Kids Are All Right In many ways, The Kids Are All Right is a straightforward family dramedy: it’s about parents trying to do what’s best for their children and struggling to keep their relationship together. But it’s also a film in which Jules (Julianne Moore) goes down on Nic (Annette Bening) while they’re watching gay porn. Director Lisa Cholodenko (1998’s High Art) co-wrote the script (with Stuart Blumberg), and the film’s blend between mainstream and queer is part of what makes Kids such an important — not to mention enjoyable — film. Despite presenting issues that might be contentious to large portions of the country, the movie maintains an approachability that’s often lacking in queer cinema. Of course, being in the gay mecca of the Bay Area skews things significantly — most locals wouldn’t bat an eye at Kids, which has Nic and Jules’ children inviting their biological father ("the sperm donor," played by Mark Ruffalo) into their lives. But for those outside the liberal bubble, the idea of a nontraditional family might be more eye-opening. It’s not a message movie, but Kids may still change minds. And even if it doesn’t, the film is a success that works chiefly because it isn’t heavy-handed. It refuses to take itself too seriously. At its best, Kids is laugh-out-loud funny, handling the heaviest of issues with grace and humor. (1:47) Opera Plaza, Presidio, Piedmont, SF Center. (Peitzman)

The Last Exorcism Latest in a long line of Louisiana preachers, genial extrovert Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian) isn’t even sure he believes in God anymore — but it’s the family business, and it’s a living. He definitely doesn’t believe in demonic possession, yet has presided over many an "exorcism" if only to fool the psychologically damaged into thinking they’re "cured" of delusional ails. But now he’s decided such hijinks might be more harmful than helpful. So to debunk the whole idea, he takes a documentary filmmaking crew on one last "soul-saving" trek, answering a desperate letter from a widowed farmer (Louis Herthum) whose 16-year-old daughter (Ashley Bell) is believed possessed. Cotton deploys theatrical tricks to rig an alleged purging of Satan’s minion. And it works … but this wouldn’t be a horror movie if that rationalist triumph didn’t turn out to be a false finish, followed by all kinds of inexplicable WTF. German director Daniel Stamm’s first English-language feature (written by Huck Botko and Andrew Gurland) is being positioned by Lionsgate as the next viral word-of-mouth horror sensation a la prior faux-docs The Blair Witch Project (1999) and Paranormal Activity (2007). But the "reality" illusion is more transparent here. Despite some clever buildup tactics, okay twists, and a handful of scares, this ultimately disappoints — a preview audience’s catcalls at its underwhelming fadeout suggested there will be no Last Exorcism 2. (1:27) 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

*Machete Probably the first movie that was initially conceived solely as a fake-movie trailer (as part of Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez’s 2007 Grindhouse), Rodriguez’s Machete emerges in full-length form to take on everyone’s sky-high expectations. I mean, the trailer promised motorcycles soaring through flames, a gun-toting priest, and the line "You just fucked with the wrong Mexican." Fortunately, Machete the film does Machete the trailer proud; its deliberately silly revenge plot is both spot-on vintage homage and semi-serious commentary on America’s ongoing immigration debate. In addition, it features more severed limbs, gunshots to the head, irresponsible sex, and smirking Steven Seagal close-ups than any other movie in recent memory. Frequent Rodriguez supporting player Danny Trejo pretty much kills it as the title badass — but then, you already knew he would. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Eddy)

*Mademoiselle Chambon Stéphane Brizé’s new Mademoiselle Chambon is a movie whose protagonists lunge toward each other — even though they shouldn’t, for their own sakes and everyone else’s. Grave-voiced, craggy-faced Jean (Vincent Lindon) is a construction-site laborer; Anne Marie (Aure Atika) his assembly-line worker wife; Jeremy (Arthur Le Hourerou) the eight-year-old offspring who’s already better educated than either of them. One day Anne Marie suffers a temporarily disabling factory accident, leaving Jean to pick up Jeremy from school. There, Jean first encounters Jeremy’s teacher, Véronique Chambon (Sandrine Kiberlain). She has the willowy body of a veteran ballet dancer and a naturally refined air — at least by his limited experiential standards. There’s an immediate if unadmitted spark between them, yet Mademoiselle Chambon doesn’t get cheap about it. None of these people are more than ordinary, kinda-attractive. As temptations and related tensions unravel their stability, Brize allows his characters to slip grip gracefully. No one behaves well, but they do behave credibly. Mademoiselle Chambon sees rational folk with well-organized lives stubbornly resisting a mutual pull whose logical outcome will surely suck for all concerned. It’s a fine, measured drama presented with typical Gallic insouciance — tenderly discreet even when conventional art and commerce shout for something more crudely dramatic. (1:41) Albany, Clay. (Harvey)

*Mao’s Last Dancer Based on the subject’s autobiography of the same name, this Australian-produced drama chronicles the real-life saga of Li Cunxin (played as child, teen, and adult by Huang Wen Bin, Chengwu Guo, and Chi Cao), who was plucked from his rural childhood village in 1972 to study far from home at the Beijing Dance Academy. He attracted notice from Houston Ballet artistic director Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood) during a cultural-exchange visit, and was allowed to go abroad for a Texas summer residency. At first the film looks headed toward well-handled but slightly pat inspirational territory pitting bad China against good America, as it cuts between Li’s grueling training by (mostly) humorless Party ideologues, and his astonishment at the prosperity and freedom in a country he’d been programmed to believe was a capitalist hellhole of injustice and deprivation. (Though as a Chinese diplomat cautions, not untruthfully, he’s only been exposed to "the nice parts.") Swayed by love and other factors, Li created an international incident — tensely staged here — when he chose to defect rather than return home. But Jan Sardi’s script and reliable Aussie veteran Bruce Beresford’s direction refuse to settle for easy sentiment, despite a corny situation or two. Our hero’s new life
isn’t all dream-come-true, nor is his past renounced without serious consequence (a poignant Joan Chen essays his peasant mother). The generous ballet excerpts (only slightly marred by occasional slow-mo gimmickry) offer reward enough, but the film’s greatest achievement is its honestly earning the right to jerk a few tears. (1:57) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Harvey)

*Mesrine: Killer Instinct This first half of a two-part film about notorious French bank robber Jacques Mesrine examines the early life of its subject, before he was a flamboyant, headline-grabbing folk hero. The very first scene uses 70s-style split-screens to revel Mesrine’s violent 1979 death; writer-director Jean-François Richet (2005’s Assault on Precinct 13) then jumps back 15 or so years for a glimpse of our (anti-) hero’s soldiering days in Algeria. Before long, "Jacky" (an outstanding Vincent Cassel, in a César-winning performance) is back in Paris, horrifying his upper-class parents and young wife by choosing the underworld over conventional pencil-pushing. (A near-unrecognizable Gérard Depardieu appears as a mob boss.) Killer Instinct, which is adapted from Mesrine’s own prison-penned autobiography, suffers from some standard biopic problems — it tries to cram in too much, and feels mighty rushed at times. But there’s still plenty of bad, bad behavior to enjoy, including the film’s spectacular last act, a breakneck recreation of one of the daring prison escapes that helped make Mesrine a legend. Continuation Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1, which beings where this film ends, is now playing. (1:53) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*Mesrine: Public Enemy No. 1 If you see writer-director Jean-François Richet’s Mesrine: Killer Instinct (review above), you’re pretty much obligated to see this sequel, especially since the earlier film beings with the main character’s death, then flashes back and never catches up to it. This installment was actually filmed first, allowing star Vincent Cassell to pack on nearly 50 pounds to play the oldier, portlier version of the legendary French bank robber. Mesrine’s prowess as an escape artist allows him to spend much of this film on the lam with partner François (Mathieu Amalric) and girlfriend Sylvia (Ludivine Sagnier). Along the way, the headline-hungry crook declares himself a revolutionary, poses for Paris Match, kidnaps a billionaire, spends his ill-gotten money on diamonds and BMWs, tortures a journalist, and does as much as he can to further the Myth of Mesrine. The foreknowledge of Mesrine’s ultimate end lends a sense of ticking-clock doom; the first time we see it, in Killer Instinct, it’s from the point of view of Mesrine and Sylvia. Richet films the death scene here from the perspective of the police who tracked him, with increasing frustration, for years. Clever twists like this make it preferable to watch both films back-to-back, though Cassell’s commanding performance makes each a worthwhile stand-alone. (2:14) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Other Guys Will Ferrell and Adam McKay can do no wrong in some bro-medy aficionados’ eyes, but The Other Guys is no Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006) or Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004). The other two Ferrell-McKay team-ups made short work of men’s jobs, in addition to genre filmmaking tropes, with crisper, cut-to-the-gag punchiness. And despite its laugh-out-loud first quarter — and some surprising TLC references by Michael Keaton, of all people, The Other Guys is about half a genuinely hilarious film that pokes fun at masculinity, as well as, interestingly, whiteness and beyond-the-pale, big-bucks white-collar crime. This lampoon of action buddy-cop flicks is dealt a semi-fatal blow when excess-loving, damage-dealing supercops Samuel Jackson and Dwayne Johnson exit, manically chewing scenery as they go. Two forgotten desktop jocks, forensic accounting investigator-with-a-past Allen (Ferrell) and ragaholic screwup Terry (Mark Wahlberg), must step it up when the dynamic duo dissipates, and go after crooked financier David Ershon (Steve Coogan). The second half of The Other Guys could have used some of the dramatic tension budding between buddy team Jackson-Johnson and reluctant cohorts Ferrell-Wahlberg, especially when Wahlberg begins to get bogged down in single-gear disbelief. But perhaps we should just be grateful for what few yuks we can glean from the atrocities of Great Recession-era robber barons. (1:47) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Piranha 3D (1:29) 1000 Van Ness.

Resident Evil: Afterlife (1:30) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center.

*Scott Pilgrim vs. The World For fans of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s just-completed comics saga Scott Pilgrim, the announcement that Edgar Wright (2004’s Shaun of the Dead, 2007’s Hot Fuzz) would direct a film version was utterly surreal. Geeks get promises like this all the time, all too often empty (Guillermo del Toro’s Hobbit, anyone?). But miraculously, Wright indeed spent the past five years crafting the winning Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. The film follows hapless Toronto 20-something Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera), bassist for crappy band Sex Bob-omb, as he falls for delivery girl Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), only to find he must defeat her seven evil exes — like so many videogame bosses — before he can comfortably date her. As it happens, he’s already dating a high-schooler, Knives (Ellen Wong), who’s not coping well with Scott moving on. Cera plays a good feckless twerp; his performance isn’t groundbreaking, but it dodges the Cera-playing-his-precious-self phenomenon so many have lamented. The film’s ensemble cast maintains a sardonic tone, with excellent turns by Alison Pill, Aubrey Plaza, and newcomer Wong. Jason Schwartzman is perfectly cast as the ultimate evil ex-boyfriend — there’s really no one slimier, at least under 35.The film brilliantly cops the comics’ visual language, including snarky captions and onomatopoetic sound effects, reminiscent onscreen of 1960s TV Batman. Sometimes this tends toward sensory overload, but it’s all so stylistically distinctive and appropriate that excess is easily forgiven. (1:52) California, 1000 Van Ness. (Sam Stander)

Soul Kitchen Director Fatih Akin (2004’s Head-On) offers a tribute to the German Heimat ("homeland") film, as well as to his own hometown, Hamburg, with this gritty comedy set in a restaurant dubbed Soul Kitchen. Star Adam Bousdoukos, who co-wrote the script with Akin, really did own a similar greasy spoon, and his knowledge of what makes an eatery soar or fail is exaggerated here to humorous and occasionally surreal effect. Bousdoukos’ character, the scruffy Zinos, loves funk music; he’s also in an existential funk, having just seen his girlfriend move to Shanghai. What’s worse, he’s just injured his back, necessitating the hiring of snooty chef Shayn (Head-On‘s Birol Ünel); his ne’er-do-well brother (Moritz Bleibtreu) is freshly out of jail; and he owes big bucks to the local tax board. Also, an old childhood pal turned sleazy businessman (Wotan Wilke Möhring) is circling his property with sharky hunger. Will everything that can possibly go wrong, go wrong, with a side of ketchup and mayonnaise? Of course it will. Stylish direction and a game cast, including winning newcomer Anna Bederke as Zinos’ shot-gulping waitress, make Soul Kitchen a fun if non-essential diversion. (1:33) Elmwood, Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

*The Switch Has any hard-working actor ever made as many mediocre, albeit vigorously marketed, movies as Jennifer Aniston? It seems like an age since her last good one, Nicole Holofcener’s Friends with Money (2006), though some might go as far back as 2002’s The Good Girl, her dramatic and cinematic breakthrough. Perhaps that dry spell seems extra long due to Aniston’s tabloid overexposure, or maybe it’s just the feeble conceits (a la 2009’s Love Happens) that Aniston allows herself to get roped into. In any case, armed with a sharp script based on a Jeffrey Eugenides short story and a less-than-perfect but comically well-equipped everyman foil in Jason Bateman, The Switch turns out to be a refreshing break from Aniston’s run of predictability: it’s actually good, girl (if a bit far-fetched that even a neurotic, successful financial whiz could be so emotionally constipated). Heeding her biological alarm clock over the objections of best friend Wally (Bateman), Kassie (Aniston) decides to get artificially inseminated by handsome, smart, and charming donor Roland (Patrick Wilson), but nothing goes according to plan when Wally gets wasted at her insemination party and — no use crying over spilled semen — woozily decides to substitute his own emissions for Roland’s. Funny, tender, heart-strings-tugging shenanigans ensue when Kassie returns to NYC after seven years with her adorable, neurotic mini-Wally Sebastian (Thomas Robinson). Bateman is as reliably excellent as ever. Blades of Glory (2007) directors Will Speak and Josh Gordon put care into the details — from the lighting, to the scene-swiping cameos by Juliette Lewis and Jeff Goldblum, to the on-point yet relatively realistic dialogue, and it shows, making this, along with The Kids Are All Right, a, ahem, seminal year for donor-coms. (1:56) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

*Takers Likely the best movie to be advertised on billboards all over Oakland in a while, Takers is one of those likeable, smart, and faintly ludicrous genre flicks — a gangsta B with a hip-hop heart, centered on a cadre of high-style, Rat Pack-like bank robbers — that redeems its playas all around. It gives T.I., in both starring and executive producer roles and tellingly emerging from the clink in his first scene, a career beyond the rap game and the pen: he’s a snottily charmismatic Little Caesar here, a slight, serpentine mini-Snoop. It gives the formidable Idris Elba (The Wire) as the group’s leader something to wrap his sonorous Cockney around as he plays off crack ‘ho sister (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) as if they were English-accented castaways on island L.A. It gives Paul Walker, the second-banana princeling of the urban action flick, something to do: namely function as Elba’s lieutenant. And it gives the benighted Chris Brown, who gets his share of fast-stepping glory via a nice, meaty chase scene, a way to recast and strive toward redeeming himself on the silver screen — while giving the little-girls-who-love-bad-boys something to scream about. See, something for everyone (except maybe Zoe Saldana, who gets saddled with the arm candy role). (1:57) 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

*The Tillman Story To what extent is our government prepared to lie to us? Not just on a policy level, but a personal level, perverting actual instances of heroic self-sacrifice into propagandistic pablum? The answer during our prior White House administration was clearly: as far as possible, until caught. Perhaps the most egregious such instance was the case of Pat Tillman, who gave up a lucrative NFL contract, becoming a U.S. Army Ranger enlistee in a burst of genuine patriotic fervor post-9/11. He was subsequently killed in Afghanistan — but the "friendly fire" circumstances of that death, and its apparent cover-up, scandalized not only his military superiors but a command chain of deliberate disinformation stretching all the way to the White House. Amir Bar-Lev’s The Tillman Story is a documentary expose of unusual immediacy, narrative thrust, and outrage, which may partly stem from its being such a Bay Area story. The deceased subject’s South Bay family were diehard liberals dedicated to values that might be considered eccentric anywhere else. The mistake authorities made in casting Tillman’s death as a battlefield martyrdom — a scenario amply undermined by footage and testimony here — lay in underestimating the well-educated skepticism and doggedness of his blood relations, most notably mom, Mary. While other families might have simply accepted an official scenario, the Tillmans found logistical gaps, then pushed, and pushed. The Tillman Story is a journey toward justice (if not nearly enough). It’s engrossing, appalling, heartrending, and enraging, the nonfiction equivalent to last year’s underseen body bag drama The Messenger. (1:34) SF Center, Shattuck. (Harvey)

*The Two Escobars In America, the World Cup ends, and most sports fans turn their attentions elsewhere. In other countries, soccer is a year-round happening that inspires religious devotion. Putting this fact into perspectives both glorious and cruel is The Two Escobars, Jeff and Michael Zimbalist’s involving new doc about the rise of "narco-soccer" in Colombia, circa the coke-crazed 1980s and early 90s. One Escobar, we’ve all heard of: Pablo, a noted drug kingpin who was also a hero to the slum-dwellers who benefited from his donations of housing and, perhaps more importantly, soccer fields. A rabid footy fan himself, Pablo invested in Colombian teams, an influx of cash that helped the national team become one of the strongest in the world. Escobar number two is Andrés, the affable, wholesome defender who served as team captain in the 1994 World Cup. The events that caused both Escobars to meet untimely and brutal deaths are detailed here, by people who knew them well, in a moving, well-edited film that’s as cautionary as it is celebratory. Highly recommended. (1:40) Roxie. (Eddy)

*Winter’s Bone Winter’s Bone has already won awards at the Berlin International Film Festival and the Sundance Film Festival, but it’s the kind of downbeat, low-key, quiet film that may elude larger audiences (and, as these things go, Oscar voters). Like Andrea Arnold’s recent Fish Tank, it tells the story of a teenage girl who draws on unlikely reserves of toughness to navigate an unstable family life amid less-than-ideal economic circumstances. And it’s also directed by a woman: Debra Granik, whose previous feature, 2004’s Down to the Bone, starred Vera Farmiga (2009’s Up in the Air) as a checkout clerk trying to balance two kids and a secret coke habit. Drugs also figure into the plot of the harrowing Winter’s Bone, though its protagonist, Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence), is faced with a different set of circumstances: her meth head father has jumped bail, leaving the family’s humble mountain home as collateral; the two kids at stake are her younger siblings. With no resources other than her own tenacity, Ree strikes out into her rural Missouri community, seeking information from relatives who clearly know where her father is — but ain’t sayin’ a word. It’s a journey fraught with menace, shot with an eye for near-documentary realism and an appreciation for slow-burn suspense; Lawrence anchors a solid cast with her own powerful performance. Who says American independent film is dead? (1:40) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop An intriguing misfire on par with his 2006 OTT bodice-heaver Curse of the Golden Flower, A Woman, a Gun and a Noodle Shop sees filmmaker Zhang Yimou playfully dispensing with the serious rep cultivated by such films as Red Sorghum (1987) and Raise the Red Lantern (1981), movies that made Zhang a central figure amid Chinese film’s Fifth Generation. Deep into middle age, with crowd-pleasers like Hero (2002) and House of Flying Daggers (2004) behind him, Zhang appears fully committed to the low road of commercial entertainments — an approach completely in line with his country’s embrace of market-driven economics. But why remake the Coen brothers’ career-making 1984 noir tribute, Blood Simple? Zhang does little to refresh and improve on Coens’ noir retool, apart from drenching the proceedings in his homeland’s very dated, broad slapstick, including a jarringly out-of-place noodle-dough twirling scene, and setting some of the action on the glorious painted-desert mountainsides of the Gansu province. It’s as if Zhang has decided to send up himself — the film’s vivid palette and adulterous couple compares unfavorably with 1990’s Ju Dou — as well as with the brudders Coen. (1:35) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Stage listings

David Talbot
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September 14, 2010
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Stage listings are compiled by Guardian staff. Performance times may change; call venues to confirm. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Rita Felciano, and Nicole Gluckstern. Submit items for the listings at listings@sfbg.com.

THEATER

OPENING

Anita Bryant Dies For Your Sins New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness; 861-8972, www.nctcsf.org. $24-40. Fri/17-Sat/18, 8pm; Sun/19, 2pm; Wed/22-Fri/26, 8pm. Opens Sept 25, 8pm. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. New Conservatory Theatre Center presents a show by Brian Christopher Williams.

KML Holds the Mayo Zeum Theater, 221 4th St; www.killingmylobster.com. $10-20. Opens Thurs/16, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Fri, 8pm. Through Oct 3. Killing My Lobster presents its fall comedy show, directed by co-founder Paul Charney.

The Secretaries Boxcar Playhouse, 505 Natoma; 255-7846, www.crowdedfire.org. $15-25 (pay what you can previews). Previews Sat/18, 8pm; Sun/19, 5pm. Opens Wed/22, 8pm. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 9. Crowded Fire Theatre brings the irreverent feminist satire by Five Lesbian Brothers to the stage.

BAY AREA

Angels in America, Part One Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn View; (650) 254-1148, www.thepear.org. $15-30. Previews Thurs/16, 8pm. Opens Fri/17, 8pm. Runs Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2 and 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 16. Pear Avenue Theatre kicks off its fall "Americana" program with the Tony Kushner play.

La Cage Aux Folles San Mateo Performing Arts Center, 600 N. Delaware; (650) 579-5565, www.broadwaybythebay.org. $20-48. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 3. Broadway By the Bay presents the gay musical based on the play of the same title.

ONGOING

Aida War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness, 864-1330, www.sfopera.com. $25-320. Thurs/16, 7:30pm; Sun/19, 2pm; Sept 24, 8pm; Sept 29, 7:30pm; Oct 2, 8pm; Oct 6, 7:30pm. San Francisco Opera presents Verdi’s classic, a co-production with English National Opera and Houston Grand Opera.

Bi-Poseur StageWerx Theatre, 533 Sutter; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. $20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Sept 25. W. Kamau Bell directs a solo piece by Oakland native Paolo Sambrano.

The Brothers Size Magic Theatre, Bldg D, Fort Mason Center; 441-8822, www.magictheatre.org. $20-60. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 17. Magic Theatre presents the West Coast premiere of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play, directed by Octavio Solis.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Actors Theatre, 855 Bush; 345-1287, www.actorstheatresf.org. $26-38. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 2. Actors Theatre presents Tennessee Williams’ sultry, sweltering tale of a Mississippi family, directed by Keith Phillips.

*Dieci Giorni Thick House Theater, 1695 18th; (800) 838-3006, 282-5616. $25. Fri-Sun, 8pm (through Sept 19). Premonitions of the end of the world in Plague-ravaged 14th-century Florence send a group of women and men into hiding in the countryside where lust, betrayal, high spirits and low comedy make for saucy times at the edge of the abyss. Based on the ribald tales of love and death in Boccaccio’s Decameron —with one contemporary riff about some rowdy bachelorettes in Las Vegas and a misplaced box of whip-its—this collaborative chamber opera directed by Jim Cave brings together new work by Bay Area–based composers Erling Wold ( Mordake ), Lisa Scola Prosek ( Belfagor ), Martha Stoddard and Davide Verotta. The wry, boisterous narration (by actor Robert Ernst, his gusto balanced by mute assistance from Roham Sheikhani’s placidly odd stagehand) has a jagged meta-theatrical quality of its own that charms us with self-conscious references to the production, while tacitly underscoring Boccaccio’s resonance for the present, but does not always aid in entering the individual stories, performed by impressive singers Sascha Joggerst, Maria Mikheyenko, Crystal Philippi, William Sauerland, and Wayne Dexter Wong. The musical aspects are generally more successful. Put fluidly into play under conductor Stoddard and five musicians sporting clarinet, cello, accordion, violin, and keyboard, the compositions offer up vivid, moody passages with contemporary flare yet something evocative too of its subject, a combination at times as contagious and fever-inducing as a touch of the Bubonic (without the swelling of the armpits).

Don’t Ask New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness, 861-8972; www.nctcsf.org. $24-36. Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Sun/19. New Conservatory Theatre Center presents the West Coast premiere of Bill Quigley’s play about the affair between a Private and his superior.

*Dreamgirls Curran Theatre, 445 Geary; (888) SHN-1749, www.shnsf.com. $30-99. Wed, 2 and 8pm; Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2 and 8pm, Sun, 2pm; Tues, 8pm. Through Sept 26. The touring version of director-choreographer Robert Longbottom’s revamped revival of the 1981 Broadway sensation (with book and lyrics by Tom Eyen and music by Henry Krieger, under original direction by A Chorus Line‘s Michael Bennett) is a visually and aurally dazzling spectacle that is also a knowing (if now familiar) take on the history and business of latter-20th-century American pop music from the perspective of African American R&B. The cast, operating with ease against and within a remarkable videoscape projected onto large draped screens center stage, charms from the outset of this story about the rise of a female vocal group called the Dreams (a loose composite of the Supremes and the Shirelles). The first act enthralls with the plot’s gathering possibilities, the sparkling music and the irresistible performances—not least Moya Angela’s unstoppable Effie and Chester Gregory’s heroically soulful, funky Jimmy "Thunder" Early. But the second act stretches things unnecessarily with one too many power ballads (albeit lunged to perfection) and a slowpoke approach to the all but predictable plot resolution. Still, this is a masterful production on many counts and an infectious evening overall. (Avila)

Jerry Springer the Opera Victoria Theatre, 2961 16th; www.jerrysf.com. $20-36. Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 16. Ray of Light Theatre presents the West Coast premiere of the operatic farce by Stewart Lee and Richard Thomas.

Law and Order San Francisco Unit: The Musical! (sort of) Metreon Action Theater, Metreon Cineplex, second floor, 101 4th St; www.brownpapertickets.com. $10. Mon, 8pm. Through Sept 27. Funny But Mean comedy troupe presents an original production.

Olive Kitteridge Z Space at Theater Artaud, 450 Florida; (800) 838-3006, www.zspace.org. $20-40. Wed-Thurs, 7pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through Sept 26. Word for Word presents a premiere production of stories from Elizabeth Strout’s award-winning novel.

*Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray Eureka Theatre, 215 Howard; 552-4100, www.TheRhino.org. $10-25. Wed-Sat, 8pm (also Sun/19, 3pm). Through Sept 19. John Fisher adapts the Oscar Wilde novel for the stage and directs the production.

A Picasso Royce Gallery, 2901 Mariposa; (866) 811-4111, www.apicassoonstage.com. $12-28. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 9. Expression Productions presents Jeffery Hatcher’s drama about the authenticity of three Picasso paintings.

*Posibilidad, or Death of the Worker Dolores Park and other sites; 285-1717, www.sfmt.org. Free. Fri/17, 8pm). Through Sept 17. It may have been just a coincidence, but it certainly seems auspicious that the San Francisco Mime Troupe, itself collectively run since the 1970’s, would preview their latest show Posibilidad on the United Nations International Day of Cooperatives. The show, which centers around the struggles of the last remaining workers in a hemp clothing factory ("Peaceweavers"), hones in on the ideological divide between business conducted as usual, and the impulse to create a different system. Taking a clip from the Ari Lewis/Naomi Klein documentary The Take, half of the play is set in Argentina, where textile-worker Sophia (Lisa Hori-Garcia) becomes involved in a factory takeover for the first time. Her past experiences help inform her new co-workers’ sitdown strike and takeover of their own factory after they are told it will close by their impossibly fey, new age boss Ernesto (Rotimi Agbabiaka). You don’t need professional co-op experience to find humor in the nascent collective’s endless rounds of meetings, wince at their struggles against capitalistic indoctrination, or cheer the rousing message of "Esta es Nuestra Lucha" passionately sung by Velina Brown, though in another welcome coincidence, the run of Posibilidad also coincides with the National Worker Cooperative conference being held in August, so if you get extra inspired, you can always try to join forces there. (Gluckstern)

*The Real Americans The Marsh MainStage, 1062 Valencia; (800) 838-3006; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Wed-Fri, 8pm; Sun, 5pm. Through Nov 6. The fifth extension of Dan Hoyle’s acclaimed show, directed by Charlie Varon.

*"San Francisco Fringe Festival" Various venues; www.sffringe.org. $6-10 ($40 for 5 shows; $75 for 10 shows). Dates and times vary. Through Sun/19. The marathon of indie theater returns, with a lineup that includes 43 companies.

BAY AREA

Anton in Show Business Marion E. Green Black Box Theater, 531 19th St; (510) 436-5085; www.theatrefirst.com. $10-30. Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Sept 26. TheatreFIRST presents Jane Martin’s theater comedy, under the direction of Michael Storm.

Antony & Cleopatra Forest Meadows Ampitheatre, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-35. Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 4pm. Through Sept 25. Marin Shakespeare Company’s summer season continues with the tale of the Egyptian queen.

Bleacher Bums Contra Costa Civic Theatre, 951 Pomona, El Cerrito; (510) 524-9132, www.ccct.org. $18. Runs Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 3. A sports comedy conceived by Joe Mantegna, directed by Joel Roster.

Compulsion Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Thrust Stage, 2025 Addison; (510) 647-2949, www.berkeleyrep.org. $29-85. Dates and times vary. Through Oct 31. Mandy Patinkin stars in a world premiere of Rinne Groff’s play, directed by Oskar Eustis.

*East 14th: True Tales of a Reluctant Player Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Dates and times vary. Through Nov 21. Don Reed’s solo play, making its Oakland debut after an acclaimed New York run, is truly a welcome homecoming twice over. (Avila)

In the Red and Brown Water Marin Theatre Company, 397 Miller, Mill Valley; 388-5208, www.marintheatre.org. $32-53. Tues, 8pm; Thurs-Sat, 8pm; Wed, 7:30pm, Sun, 7pm (also Sept 23, 1pm; Sat/18 and Oct 2, 2pm). Marin Theatre Company presents the West Coast premiere of Tarell Alvin McCraney’s play.

In the Wound John Hinkel Park, Berk; (510) 841-6500, www.shotgunplayers.org. $10 (no one turned away). Sat-Sun, 3pm. Through Oct 3. Shotgun Players’ annual free performance in Berkeley’s John Hinkel Park is this year an impressively staged large-cast reworking of the Illiad from playwright-director Jon Tracy. In the Wound is actually the first of two new and related works from Tracy collectively known as the Salt Plays (the second of which, Of the Earth will open at Shotgun’s Ashby stage in December). Its distinctly contemporary slant on the Trojan War includes re-imagining the epic’s Greek commanders as figures we’ve come to know and loath here in the belly of a beast once know by the quaint-sounding phrase, "military-industrial complex." Hence, Odysseus (Daniel Bruno) as a devoted family man in a business suit with a briefcase full of bloody contradictions emanating from his 9-to-5 as a "social architect" for the empire; or Agamemnon (an irresistibly Patton-esque Michael Torres) as the ridiculously macho, creatively foul-mouthed redneck American four-star commander-clown ordering others into battle. While the alternately humorous and overly meaningful American inflections can feel too obvious and dramatically limiting, they’re delivered with panache, amid the not unmoving spectacle of the production’s energetic, drum-driven choreography and cleverly integrated mise-en-scène. (Avila)

The Light in the Piazza TheatreWorks at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, 500 Castro, Mtn View; (650) 463-1960, www.theatreworks.org. $19-67. Tues-Wed, 7:30pm, Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2 and 8pm; Sun, 2 and 7pm. Through Sun/19. TheatreWorks presents Craig Lucas’s tale of love under the Tuscan sun.

MilkMilkLemonade La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; www.impacttheatre.com. $10-20. Thurs-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 2. Impact Theatre presents Joshua Conkel’s off off Broadway play about a lonely gay man trapped in a chicken farm.

She Loves Me Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic Drive, Walnut Creek; (825) 943-7469, www.CenterREP.org. $36-45. Wed, 7:30pm; Thurs-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 2:30 and 8pm; Sun, 2:30pm. Through Oct 10. Center REPertory company presents a musical choreographed and directed by Robert Barry fleming.

The Taming of the Shrew Forest Meadows Amphitheatre, 1475 Grand, San Rafael; (415) 499-4488, www.marinshakespeare.org. $20-25. Fri-Sun, 8pm; Sun, 4pm and 5pm. Through Sept 26. Marin Theatre Company presents a swashbuckling version of the classic.

Trouble in Mind Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; (510) 843-4822, www.auroratheatre.org. $10-55. Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2 and 7pm; Tues, 7pm. Through Oct 3 Aurora Theatre presents Alice Childress’ look at racism through the lens of theater.

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

Alice NOHspace, 2840 Mariposa; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. Wed-Sun, 8pm (continues through Sun/19). $15. An original revision of Lewis Carroll, directed by Allison Combs.

The Book The garage, 975 Howard; 518-1517, www.975howard.com. Sat/18, 8pm, $10-20. RAW presents an audio-visual wotk by Erika Tsimbrovsky and Vadim Pyundaev.

"Previously Secret Information" StageWerx Theatre, 533 Sutter; (800) 838-3006, www.brownpapertickets.com. Sun/17, 7pm. $15.The comedic storytelling series returns for a monthly installment.

"WestWave Dance" Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center; 345-7575, www.westwavedancefestival.org. Mon/20, 8pm. The 19th annual season of contemporary choreography kicks off with Amy Seiwert, Kat Worthington, and three others.

Zhukov Dance Theater Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center; 345-7575, Thurs-16-Sat/18, 8pm. $25. The company presents its third annual season.

Endorsement interviews: Emily Murase

Zelda Bronstein
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September 13, 2010
0

Emily Murase has a lot on her plate. The mother of two daughters in the San Francisco public school system, she is also the executive director of the San Francisco Department on the Status of Women, a member of the Rosa Parks School Site Council, the Japanese Bilingual Bicultural Program Parent Teacher Community Council, and the Lowell Alumni Association Board of Directors; she also sits on the boards of the Lakeshore Acres Improvement Club, the San Francisco Girl Scouts, and Democratic Women in Action.

As if that weren’t enough, she’s running for school board, and has earned the endorsements of California Senators Mark Leno and Leland Yee, Mayor Gavin Newsom, five members of the Board of Supervisors, and United Educators.

When she met with the Guardian, Murase spoke about tackling the budget deficit, addressing the opportunity gap for African American, Latino, and Pacific Islander students, and fighting truancy. She said she’s in favor of reforming Prop. 13 to promote adequate funding for education, but in the short-term she envisions setting up a system to solicit ideas from people working within the school system to identify opportunities for savings.

Murase said she supports a parcel tax to generate more funding for schools. She’s also in favor of developing a formal system for evaluating teacher performance. Murase said she supported JROTC in the past, but would be interested in forging more robust partnerships between public schools and skilled trades in order to create a broader array of career pathways for students. School lunches should be prepared locally, she added, and this could also translate into a learning opportunity for kids.

Listen to the entire interview below.

murase by endorsements2010

Benefits: Sept 8-Sept 14

David Talbot
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September 8, 2010
0

Ways to have fun while giving back this week

Thursday, Sept. 9

Coalition on Homelessness Auction
Attend this live and silent art auction featuring works by Bay Area artists, live music by Perranosperous, food by the California Culinary Academy, desserts from Kingdom Cake, and a raffle. Proceeds to benefit the Coalition on Homelessness.
5:30 p.m., $25
SOMArts
934 Brannan, SF
(415) 346-3740, ext. 307

Faubourg Tremé
Watch this documentary film about the history of the radical roots of one New Orleans community, where during slavery, Black people could earn their freedom and purchase a house. The film, fully titled Faubourg Tremé: The Untold Story of Black New Orleans, concludes with new challenges facing the Black community after the Katrina disaster.
7:30 p.m., $6 donation
ATA Theater
992 Valencia, SF
(415) 821-6545

Free Community Health Programs
Support two free community health programs at this benefit concert featuring Embers, Speed of Darkness, Somnolence, and Crucifixion. One of the programs, the Street Level Health Project, offers medical screenings, a lunch program, mental health support, herbal medicine and nutrition, and more services for urban immigrant communities in the Bay Area. The other program, Casa Besu, aims to bring alternative, holistic treatments to the people of the Navajo Nation in New Mexico.
8 p.m., $5-$10
El Rio
3158 Mission, SF
(510) 533-9906

Saturday, Sept. 11

A’s Firefighter Appreciation Night
Local firefighters from around the Bay Area and Northern California will be honored at the Oakland A’s vs. Red Socks game. A portion of the ticket proceeds will be donated to charitable organizations that support burn foundations, fire safety, educational programs, and other community organizations when you buy them through the webpage oaklandathletics.com/firefighters, passcode: HERO.
6:05pm
Oakland Coliseum
7000 Coliseum, Oakl.
(510) 563-2336
www.oaklandathletics.com/firefighters

Ghirardelli Square Chocolate Festival
Enjoy San Francisco’s signature chocolate delicacies, sip wine, and take part in family activities. Proceeds benefit Project Open Hand.
Sat. – Sun. Noon-5 p.m., $20 for 15 samples
Ghirardelli Square
900 North Point, SF
www.ghirardellisq.com

Sunday, Sept. 12

True Blood Party
Watch the Season 3 finale of HBO’s True Blood series and enjoy a night of entertainment with host comic Marcella Arguello, a live blues performance by I See Read, a lesbian firedancer show, live tattooing with SkinFiend, a look-a-like contest, Creole food, and more. Proceeds to benefit the Red Cross.
6 p.m., $25-$50
The New Parish
579 18th St., Oakl.
www.thenewparish.com

Wild Salmon BBQ
Enjoy a BBQ dinner featuring sustainably harvested wild Alaskan salmon, fine California wine, live music by the Bay, and a silent auction in celebration of the sustainable marine life of Pacific Rim and the work of Pacific Environment. Proceeds to support Pacific Environment. Vegetarian and vegan options available.
3 p.m., $60
Olympic Circle Sailing Club
1 Spinnaker, Berk.
(415) 388-8850, ext. 309

Mr. In-Between

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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September 7, 2010
0

arts@sfbg.com

STAGE During a lively discussion of aesthetics, Lord Henry Wotton (John Fisher) and painter Basil Hallward (Jef Valentine) pry open a Pandora’s box of idolatry, narcissism, and moral quicksand called The Picture of Dorian Gray. Oscar Wilde, author of the novel, is of course the aesthete par excellence. But this genuinely creepy, darkly sexy, and thought-filled Gothic — now imaginatively brought to life on the stage by Theatre Rhinoceros artistic director and playwright-director Fisher (Medea, the Musical) — reminds us that Wilde was a man prone to paradoxes that were anything but facile.

If Wilde was uncompromising in his aestheticism (not to mention his admirable embrace of social frippery), these qualities came charged with a devastating, subversive wit and an unquiet, compassionate intellect prone to probing questions about so-called human nature, as well as the nature of the social world he had inherited (still familiar in its essentials today, a century later). In a way, Dorian Gray is the dark dramatic counterpart to Wilde’s “The Soul of Man under Socialism,” his still must-read essay on the cultivation of the individual as the basis of a just society and vice-versa.

But to the play. The preternaturally beautiful young man of the title (essayed here with the perfect balance of innocence and ruthlessness by a captivating Aaron Martinsen) is a privileged orphan who comes under the wing of a painter, but the hierarchy is immediately inverted: it is Basil who comes under the power of the initially oblivious Dorian. So possessed (as opposed to merely “inspired”) is Basil by his subject that he paints a portrait well beyond his usual powers and jealously guards it from public eyes. Reluctantly introducing the boy to his friend, the consummate aristo-hedonist Lord Henry (played with a slightly brooding manner and delicate raunch by Fisher), Basil loses Dorian to the pull of Watton’s morally unbounded worldview. Soon Dorian utters a fateful wish: his soul in exchange for the eternal youth represented by his portrait. Wish granted, the portrait bears all the scars of aging and debauchery and evil in his stead, as he spirals into a moral abyss that consumes more than one life along the way.

In the principle roles, Fisher, Valentine, and Martinsen are worthy vehicles for the play’s elevated language and heightened realism. Valentine’s smart and engaging performance as Basil carries real weight and is a fresh surprise coming from a talented actor seen more often in drag than “straight” clothes (though even here, his natty, late-19th-century threads and pointed mustachio suggest a refugee from a barber shop quartet). The principals get strong support from Maryssa Wanlass and Celia Maurice in a variety of parts, and inconsistent help from the hard-working but less versatile Stephen Chun and Adam Simpson.

Fisher’s staging is apt and frequently inspired in a manner that suits the idea-driven material. The Eureka’s ample stage remains empty but for the odd chair, with an occasional sheen of light and shadow (from lighting designer Anthony Powers) suggesting the outdoors. This stark approach emphasizes the actors, whose smart period costumes, courtesy of the able Christine U’Ren, do most of the visual work in setting a period mood. The play’s characters are serenely unmoored in a way that compliments the story’s moral drift, swift conflation of time, and ethereally — and sexually — in-between quality.

Balletic, operatic touches (including light but compelling movement from choreographer Lia Metz, amid occasional bursts of Wagner and other Romantics) enhance the more lurid moments lovingly, while filling out the action with the most economical yet graceful of gestures. When modest theater actress Sybil Vane (a sharp and appealing Wanlass), victim of Dorian’s caprice, jumps to her death, the moment shifts from sturm und drang to a tragic tranquility. The actress throws up her hands and recedes slowly backward upstage, already of another world, as the back wall stops her cold, her vertical pose perfectly in line with the audience’s sight line as it follows her down to the ground.

The production has minor flaws. Chun and Simpson speak into offstage microphones to substitute for onstage servants and other minor parts, and the disparities within sound quality and volume, along with the tossed-off line readings, prove jarring. But any missteps are small ones. Moreover, despite a nearly three-hour run time, the play’s length isn’t a problem. Every word of Wilde’s put to use here — and Fisher has elegantly managed to include a lot of them — feels relevant, enticing, and necessary. If anything, the subtlety and thematic density of the speech demands a certain period of adjustment, and the two sets amount to full immersion in the heart of Dorian Gray. *

THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

Wed.–Sat, 8 p.m.; Sun, 3 p.m.;

(through Sept. 19); $15–$20

Eureka Theatre

215 Jackson, SF

(800) 838-3006

www.therhino.org

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