Style

Street Threads: Look of the day

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Street Threads: Look of the day

Today’s Look: Brook, 16th Street and Lapidge

What’s your style philosophy?: “I like jewelry and objects that have magical powers.”

The man, the myth, the legend

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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The man, the myth, the legend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

GRANT MORRISON


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

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

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

Isotope

326 Fell, S.F.

www.isotopecomics.com

What not to M.O.O.P.

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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What not to M.O.O.P.

caitlin@sfbg.com

PLAYA PREP In Miranda Caroligne’s Mission District sewing studio, there is a dress dummy covered in used Carhartt remnants that are being reborn as an asymmetrical mini-dress. It’s a project that the designer, whose fanciful style has made her a popular check box on pre-Burning Man to-do lists, is working on for Margaret Long, a member of the Flaming Lotus Girls fire art collective. Please note: no fun fur or tribal accents are visible on the soon-to-be-dress.

These are the rush months for Caroligne and other burner designers, like SF-based Silver Lucy and Tammy Hulva of Tamo Design, prime time for helping burners to realize their sartorial fantasies. Caroligne makes form-fitting, whimsically-stitched fleece jackets that hang by the bundle throughout her bright creative space, and one-size-fits-all boot covers made from old suit sleeves. But she says that for her custom-made creations, she prefers a little vision in her clients. In other words, please don’t come to her for furry boots and glow sticks.

“I tend to speak out against that,” she says of trends towards the homogenization of playa culture. “I only design for people if they have a very clear vision of something they want to express. I consider myself the conduit to making that happen.” When people come in for the standard Mad Max raver treatment, she sits them down to clarify what about the look resonates with them.

Burning Man fashions have evolved over the last quarter-century, with the old emphasis on crazy DIY costumes eventually morphing into distinct burner fashion aesthetics, such as the feather-and-leather look popularized by the El Circo camp and the late designer Tiffa Novoa and featured in SF stores such as Five and Diamond.

It is perhaps indicative of the spread of Burning Man culture that Caroligne’s potential clients sometimes ask for the same style. It’s been popularized by a hundred wholesale websites — fun fur bikinis and (particularly popular in the Bay Area, according to the designer) the “dark leather and feather tribal look that’s mass produced in Bali.”

Stores from SoMa to San Rafael to New York advertise themselves as one-stop shopping venues for burner-fied fashion, and numerous expos make similar claims here in the Bay Area — Aug. 14’s second Prepare for the Playa street fair of the year being one of them.

Independent designers are at creative odds with the uniformity that is developing in some camps — but they’re also concerned with the sustainability of the designs, which are often imported and disposable. “That disgusts me,” Caroligne says. “A lot of that stuff is very M.O.O.P.-y.” (M.O.O.P. being the burner acronym for to-be-avoided-at-all-costs “matter out of place,” or any waste that could harm the playa’s natural ecosystem).

It wasn’t always this way. Before the turn of the 21st century, it would have been difficult to determine the Burning Man uniform. People made clothes for themselves and friends, or they wore regular clothing-redux in the hot Nevadan sun. Ironically nowadays, Caroligne says, “I’ve heard many people talk about walking into a Burning Man party and feeling judged (because of what they were wearing).”

She’s still a little unsure of the implications of working as a for-profit businessperson within a nonprofit culture. But Caroligne tries to mitigate the disconnect by doing pieces for busy artists that contribute to the Burning Man community (she was particularly excited to have costumed Burning Man board member Marian “Maid Marian” Goodell for the ritual burning of The Man one year, and be-suited Glitch Mob’s Justin Berreta for another).

In a previous incarnation, Caroligne was a physical therapist. When she began her fashion career, she did so with an eye toward her clothing’s effect on individual body dynamics. She created weighted coats that swung appealing when their owner strode across dusty Black Rock streets, sexy dresses made of cozy fabric that could be doubled around the face for warmth or privacy. At times, her clothing can even reflect the party philosophy of the wearer– she often asks customers whether they’d like the softest fabric of their new wardrobe item on the inside or outside. “Do you want to feel it or do you want other people to feel it?”

She believes what one wears at Burning Man can be empowering. “We’re finding your superhero self. What does your superhero look like?” is a common topic of discussion in initial consultations.

Judging from the length of her in-process dress’ skirt, Long’s superhero is sultry — but also here to get some work done. An intact overall strap has been left to speak for itself on the right shoulder, and below, grease-stained Carhart pieces have been left whole so that Long’s customary wrench loop will continue to ride comfortably on her right hip. Caroligne is attempting to create an outfit that expresses the wearer.

“During my 12 years at Burning Man, I’ve seen the change from self-made to high fashion,” says Hulva, whose Tamo Design clothes “originate from ideas about making my wardrobe more functional and fashionable on the playa.

Hulva makes luxe faux fur that doesn’t shed M.O.O.P. like the cheaper stuff you’ll find at many a mall store. Her popular “Baroness” jacket is late-night-early-morning playa crawl dream wear, with a hood to hide in, fabric that gives, deep pockets to store party essentials — and you don’t have to be so glum about covering up your LED tube top: it’s sexy, to boot.

When pumped about hot playa trends for 2011, Caroligne and Hulva were loathe to cite anything too specific (though Caroligne expressed her enthusiasm for “playful 1980s revival styles”), rooting instead for individuality.

Burning Man fashion is about “a platform for self-expression,” according to Caroligne. Clothes, she says, “are the primary way that people can express themselves,” accessible even to those that specialize in other forms of playa magic, like Long.

But they did note a general trend arch over the festival’s history. The past of Burning Man lay in DIY clothes, self-made everything. The present has brought professionally-made garb, and the mass accessibility of a certain playa “look.” The future? Hulva hopes it holds “a trend to be more sustainable and practical — in addition to keeping things light and fun.”

She’s working on it. On Sunday, Aug. 7, Hulva is organizing the Haute Pool Show, a gathering at the Phoenix Hotel of 20 local, independent designers selling their high quality, playa-ready belts, vests, and accessories. It’s a follow up to her last event — July’s Beyond the Fence at Mighty — and both cater to those preparing for their journey to Black Rock City.

Only these aren’t clothes you’ll be reserving for the desert. Sure, they’re whimsical, but Burning Man fashion — particularly here in the Bay Area — really is stepping beyond the playa fence. The festival’s recent sell-out of tickets and an expected crowd of around 52,000 underline the fact that its impact is growing, and style cues picked up from the playa may just be finding their way into year-round usage.

“Versatile styles are hot this year,” says Hulva. “Burning Man fashion has really migrated into the everyday self expression, so people are buying things they can wear on the playa and back home.”

HAUTE POOL SHOW

Sun/7 2-8 p.m., free

Phoenix Hotel

601 Eddy, SF

Facebook: Haute Pool Show

PREPARE FOR THE PLAYA

Aug. 14 noon-7 p.m., free

Cafe Cocomo

650 Indiana, SF

www.preparefortheplaya.com

 

 

MIRANDA CAROLIGNE’S MUST-HAVES FOR THE PLAYA

Comfortable shoes

Cotton socks

Daytime clothes in light colors

A good shade hat and/or parasol

Silk long underwear for easy layering

A warm coat (“that you’ll have fun with”)

A thrift store cashmere sweater that you can tailor to be form-fitting

Film Listings

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

SAN FRANCISCO JEWISH FILM FESTIVAL

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

OPENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONGOING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life in a Day (1:30) Balboa.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Our weekly picks: Aug. 3-11, 2011

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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WEDNESDAY 3

FILM

“John Musker on the Art of Animation”

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

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

 

THURSDAY 4

MUSIC

Exhumed

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

With Macabre, Cephalic Carnage, and Withered

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

 

MUSIC

Shit Robot

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

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

 

FRIDAY 5

MUSIC

Bastard Noise

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

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

 

MUSIC

KMFDM

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

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

 

MUSIC

Low End Theory

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

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

 

MUSIC

Think and Die Thinking Festival

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

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

 

SATURDAY 6

MUSIC

San Frandelic Summer Fest

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

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

 

MUSIC

Kill Moi

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

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

 

MUSIC

Big Business

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

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

 

MONDAY 8

COMEDY

“Comedy Returns to El Rio!”

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

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

 

TUESDAY 9

MUSIC

Imelda May

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

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

 

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Moonhearts beam a hazy summer light on Total Trash Fest 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Street Thread: Look of the Day

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Street Thread: Look of the Day

Today’s Look: Sarah, 24th St. and Poplar

What’s your style philosophy? “Go as classic as possible.”

Stage Listings

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

THEATER

OPENING

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

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

BAY AREA

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

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

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

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

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

ONGOING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BAY AREA

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Film Listings

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

SAN FRANCISCO JEWISH FILM FESTIVAL

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

OPENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ONGOING

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

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

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

A Better Life (1:38)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Best of the Bay 2011: BEST SINGLE-FILE STYLE

Andrew Lam
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If bikes are ever going to live up to their potential as game-changers in the world’s consumption of fossil fuels, their proponents are gonna need smarts, heart, and damn if they’re not gonna need style as well. Luckily, Tyrone “Baybe Champ” Stevenson Jr. has all three covered. The Oakland cyclist started decorating his two-wheelers with flashy strips of foil, elaborate sound systems, and kitschy corporate logos, sparking a movement that now claims a hip-hop video with more than 3 million hits on YouTube, a dedicated East Bay youth massive, and a world of imitators. The Original Scraper Bike Team holds head-turning single-file group rides through its neighborhoods and has become a bike advocate on par with few. Broke environmentalists everywhere can jam with OSBT anthem: “My bike rides hard/Don’t need no car.”

originalscraperbikes.blogspot.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST SING-ALONG FOR WANNABE SEA DOGS

Andrew Lam
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Admit it. You’ve always wanted to run away to sea. But landlubbin’ reality just keeps on getting in the way. Still, those Captain Kidd fantasies won’t go gently, so isn’t it great that there’s a safe space to live out your water-logged fantasies in real swashbuckling style? On the first Saturday of the month, at the very end of Hyde Street Pier (a National Park Service sanctuary for historic boats) a diverse crowd of young buffs and old salts gather together for a spirited sing-along, the Sea Chantey Sing. The atmosphere is pretty wholesome overall, but still a convivial anarchy reigns supreme. Want to lead a chantey? Go ahead. Want to improvise a harmony line during the chorus? Do it. Want to take a break and tool around the meticulously-restored tall boat Balclutha where the sing is held, cup of hot cider in hand? Totally encouraged! It’s free. It’s fantastically fun. And this October it’ll be a tradition 30 years young.

First Saturdays of the month, 8 p.m., free, reservations required. The Balclutha, Hyde Street Pier, 2905 Hyde, SF. (415) 561-7171, www.nps.gov/safr/historyculture/chantey-sing

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST BARREL FULL OF MONKEY SUITS

Andrew Lam
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Let’s face it, if you’re a happenin’ gentleman or a trouser-trusting lady in this fancy-pants city, you’re going to need to bust out the occasional tuxedo. But who wants to spend a few hundred bucks on a new tux? Screw that noise, get over to Held Over, and check out the selection of $20 used tux shirts and wide variety of full monkey suits — from the 1970s-style mariachi look to something a bit more classic. Hell, why don’t you mix-and-match it up? They’ve already got you in a suit, so you might as well have some fun with it.

1542 Haight, SF. (415) 864-0818

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST WAY TO SIGN UP

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

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

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST REASON TO NOT GET OUT OF BED

Andrew Lam
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You know those girls who flounce down 24th Street, vintage pastel print sundresses fluttering over their kicky cork wedge sandals, carrying a perfect sexy grandma purse? We know their style secret. Oakland’s Field Day Wearables’ bedding dresses are handmade by a crunchy-awesome label that wants to take the disposable out of fashion. They’ve got pockets and detachable straps that double as a matchy-match headband, and you can find them in patterns from striped to pansied to Batman (yes, they’re made from actual sheets). Score ’em at myriad brick-and-mortar distributing boutiques — or even better, by trying them on over your jeans at one of the craft fairs and street walks where FDW sets up a pretty post.

Available at various Bay Area locations. www.fielddaywearables.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST EVERYDAY KAN DO

Andrew Lam
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Peruse the labels of say, a kitty-shaped exfoliating washcloth or exquisitely lacquered bento box at Ichiban Kan, and you’re likely to see a Good Housekeeping seal of approval-style label trumpeting that the item won a design award in Japan. At times it seems like everything wins a design award in Japan, then the realization sets in that no other country seems to have dedicated itself so fervently to assuring that the everyday things of life — from paper clips to cooking utensils — be attractive, eminently functional, durable, and well-designed. When we want to load up on the best of the quotidian (we’re particular fans of the rolls of plastic wrap for $1), we come here.

Various locations, www.ichibankanusa.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST CHOCOLATE LIQUIFACTION

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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In the third season of Dexter, top cop Maria has two bonding experiences with women that are consummated with two words: “ganache frosting.” Ganache — that rich, delicious, thick, delicious, dense, delicious mix of chocolate and cream — is the base element of Boulette Larder‘s singular cup of Eastern European-style hot chocolate. All day long, Boulette’s attentive chefs keep a pan of molten ganache simmering in anticipation of its hot chocolate fans. The result is hot chocolate so thick you almost need a spoon, and so satisfying you can omit that dollop of cream. But an almost-colloidal scoop of liquid nirvana doesn’t come cheap: it’ll cost your $5 to go and $6 to stay. Still, that’s way cheaper than booking a flight to Prague. Now we know how Maria felt.

1 Ferry Building No. 48, SF. (415) 399-1155. www.bouletteslarder.com

Best of the Bay 2011 Editors Picks: Shopping

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Best of the Bay 2011 Editors Picks

Shopping

 

BEST VINYL FLIPPERS

Tweekin Records in the Lower Haight was one of the centers of Bay Area dance music culture for the better part of two decades. But besides the basic insanity of operating a specialty record store in these e-times, the Tweekin brand had gotten a bit ragged over the years. So it was a charge for vinyl lovers when Manny Alferez and crew stepped up for a reinvigoration, unveiling Black Pancake Records. Pretty much the same concept reigns: great funk, soul, house, techno, jazz, and even (gasp!) rock records, plus a friendly staff with some primo recommendations. Perhaps best of all, there are a couple of those rarest of beasts — listening stations. Yep, you can put the actual circular whatsit on the doohickey that spins around and hear it make the music, little Johnny. All without clickety-clicking on the wee mouse-thingy.

593 Haight, SF. (415) 626-6995, www.blackpancakerecords.com

 

BEST EVERYDAY KAN DO

Peruse the labels of say, a kitty-shaped exfoliating washcloth or exquisitely lacquered bento box at Ichiban Kan, and you’re likely to see a Good Housekeeping seal of approval-style label trumpeting that the item won a design award in Japan. At times it seems like everything wins a design award in Japan, then the realization sets in that no other country seems to have dedicated itself so fervently to assuring that the everyday things of life — from paper clips to cooking utensils — be attractive, eminently functional, durable, and well-designed. When we want to load up on the best of the quotidian (we’re particular fans of the rolls of plastic wrap for $1), we come here.

Various locations, www.ichibankanusa.com

 

BEST GEEKDOM: THE GATHERING

It’s a constant nerd alert — not that that’s a bad thing — at Cards and Comics Central, a Richmond District shop where employees know the difference between vine whips and seed bombs and can explain why destroy effects don’t harm a cattank. Kids into Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokémon, or Magic will be overwhelmed by the shop’s vast selection. Parents will be overwhelmed at the price tag — you can spend more than $100 on a single card, though assorted decks (available for under $10) might keep the average young collector sated. Check out the back room for the real action — pale adults playing Magic with an intensity you won’t find at most Vegas poker tables.

5424 Geary, SF. (415) 668-3544, www.candccentral.com

 

BEST REFILL, NOT LANDFILL

What does it take to win a gazillion green business awards? It certainly starts with a great concept, a seriously vetted supply chain, and a commitment to spreading the eco-word. It also helps to have a pleasing storefront in Noe Valley, cute and eager staff, luscious products, and bulk-store prices without the forklifts and doublewide shopping carts. Green 11, launched by married couple Marco Pietschmann and Bettina Limaco and inspired by a Rachel Carson observation (“For the first time in history, every human being is being subjected to contact with dangerous chemicals, from the moment of conception to death.”), offers soaps, cleaning supplies, pet food, shampoo, conditioners, and lotions, all ready for your refillable, affordable use. Bring your own containers or put for up a starter container at the store.

3980 24th St., SF. (415) 425-5195. www.shopgreen11.com

 

BEST FAIR FEATHERS

You think your head hurts from the plumage parade that alit on Dolo Park this year? Think of the feather-farm roosters and other avian amigos that have lost their lives to appease the current mania for quill jewelry and hair extensions. Happily, two gentle crafters have taken the torture out of the trend: Erykah Prentice and Martha Hudson started their accessories label Divine Dandelions for peace, not plucking. The two create their cascading earrings and fanciful headdresses from foraged feathers, selling them from a sweet little gazebo at festivals up and down the West Coast. If you find yourself Bay-bound during next month’s Gaia Festival (up in the hills of Laytonville), you can always check out their Kahlil Gibran-quoting website for custom-made creations.

www.divinedandelions.com

 

BEST MEMORY TRANSFERENCE

Are your childhood camcorder memories gathering worrisome mildew by the minute? Entrust your VHS-ed precious moments to the Mission’s Video Transfer Center run by Jennifer Miko, a 2008 graduate of the L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation and a collaborator with the Image Permanence Institute. Miko, along with husband Buck Bito, boasts some of the best equipment in the biz — including a fancy-pants transfer system for 8mm and Super-8 that the center says is California’s first and only. For a small fee, the team will inspect, repair, and transfer your film memories to a digital format that will last forever … or at least until we figure out brain-to-brain info-beaming.

395 South Van Ness, SF. (415) 558-8815, www.videotransfercenter.com

 

BEST BUGS BUNNY B-BOY FLASHBACKS

Mission vintage stores tend to cater to your typical high-waisted jean-clad, chain-smoking-in-front-of-Four-Barrel kind of girl. (We love her!) But New Jack City is a breath of fresh hype air. This “throwback goods” outpost at 15th and Guerrero streets specializes in sports gear and B-boy stylings straight from your favorite scene in Houseparty 2. Vintage Giants jackets, old school stripes, Bugs Bunny tees of various ages, priceless Afro-centric relics, and breezy caps repping teams or just plain reppin’ … . Actual 1980s and ’90s B-boys (and newer admirers) will feel they never left their Cold Crush Brothers and KRS-One cassettes in their cousin’s janky hoopty’s deck once they step inside.

299 Guerrero, SF. (415) 624-3751, newjackcitysf.blogspot.com

 

BEST REASON TO NOT GET OUT OF BED

You know those girls who flounce down 24th Street, vintage pastel print sundresses fluttering over their kicky cork wedge sandals, carrying a perfect sexy grandma purse? We know their style secret. Oakland’s Field Day Wearables’ bedding dresses are handmade by a crunchy-awesome label that wants to take the disposable out of fashion. They’ve got pockets and detachable straps that double as a matchy-match headband, and you can find them in patterns from striped to pansied to Batman (yes, they’re made from actual sheets). Score ’em at myriad brick-and-mortar distributing boutiques — or even better, by trying them on over your jeans at one of the craft fairs and street walks where FDW sets up a pretty post.

Available at various Bay Area locations. www.fielddaywearables.com

 

BEST SMALL WORLDS AFTER ALL

Apparently all the people who came of age in the late 1960s and early ’70s are either dead or too busy filling out Social Security forms to notice that at least one of their cherished craft projects is making a comeback. (No, not candle-splattered Mateus wine bottles or macramé hanging plant slings.) We’re talking about terrariums, the terrestrial equivalent of a ship in a bottle. So what if many G4-era terrarium enthusiasts call them “terraniums”? Their variation on vivarium nomenclature does nothing to diminish the charm of these glassed-in mini-worlds. And particularly high on the charm assessment scale are the creations of the good women of Studio Choo, part of Prairie Collective, whose arrangements of tiny ferns, succulents, and other floral inspire full minutes of unbroken, smart phone-free contemplation.

Available at Prairie Collective 262 Divisadero. (415) 701-8701, www.studiochoo.com, www.prairiecollective.com


BEST BET FOR BAROQUE BEAUTY

You’ve redecorated your living room, but still something is missing. Could it be? Yes it is — a fuchsia-toned chaise lounge. Do not despair, for we have your marching orders: SF Antiques and Design Mall. The 13-year-old Bayview behemoth is something akin to an indoor flea market, and is home to 200 experts in the art of antique, all of whom have booths filled to the brim with fanciful paperweights, glittering heaps of costume jewelry, and ever-so-whimsical seating options. Seriously, if your interior design is hankering for a touch of the over-embellished, a whiff of kitsch, or perhaps a splash of hanging basket chair, you will find it here.

701 Bayshore, SF. (415) 656-3530, www.sfantique.com

 

BEST FASHION SHRINE

Natural wooden tables, colorful blankets spread here and there, a goat’s head staring placidly down on wonder-covered shelves — Hayes Valley’s Reliquary could be a gaucho explorer’s treasure room. And — minus the gaucho part — that’s pretty much what boutique owner Leah Bershad has created it to be. Bershad stocks the year-old space with crafts and vintage finds from all around the country, plus Europe and — in the case of some elaborate bead-and-quilt satchels stacked near the counter — Afghanistan. The store’s racks of secondhand embroidered dresses and its smattering of designer wear like high-waisted Court denim mean that, as far as fashion church goes, Reliquary lives up to its name: a container for sacred relics.

537 Octavia, SF. (415) 431-4000, reliquarysf.tumblr.com

 

BEST PLACE TO BUY 300 PAIRS OF PANTS, 250 TELEPHONES, OR 7,651 RUBBER GASKETS

If you’ve ever spent an afternoon wistfully clicking your way through the Craigslist “free” section — pondering all you could do with an extra this or that — you’ve sampled a certain seductive sweet taste. Beware: the California Materials Exchange is crack to Craigslist’s cocaine. It’s eBay on steroids, Urban Ore for colossi. A state-sponsored recycling program, CalMAX facilitates the transfer of bulk, odd, and industrially useful products for wholesale and discount rates, and sometimes for free. So, looking for extra cubicles? How ’bout a free 1000-gallon asphalt-emulsion tank? Or 7,500 pounds of apparel, including 300 women’s black twill pants missing only the waist button? That’ll cost you a paltry 10 grand, but for someone with a plan — and a lot of storage — it could be just the thing.

www.calrecycle.ca.gov/CalMAX

 

BEST SHOP FOR THE SOCIALLY CONSCIOUS STITCH

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

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

 

BEST WAY TO SIGN UP

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

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

 

BEST PROTOTYPES (PRIMATE OR OTHERWISE)

The website of the Foam Monkeys concept modeling studio has an “awards” section that admits, “While we can’t honestly recall Foam Monkeys ever actually being mentioned for an award, the company has certainly been a part of many award-winning product development teams.” But we’re giving the company itself a real, bona fide Best of the Bay to boast about. Why? Because! Here you can not only construct a polyurethane primate, but also all sorts of useful stuff — like prototypes for everything from MacBooks to microchips. Sure, the company is geared toward creating serious conceptual models for industrial design and product development, but that doesn’t make the idea of an accessible foam-based 3-D modeling studio any less awesome.

32 Shotwell, SF. (415) 552-5577, www.foammonkeys.com

 

BEST SONIC SAFARI

Deep in the thick of the taquerias, bodegas, butcher shops , and joyerias of 24th Street dwells this exotic little shopping outpost for fearless cultural adventurers. Explorist International captain Chris Dixon (known on assorted music bills as Phengren Oswald) lets his collector come out to play here, sharing new and used recordings of global party riddims, heady jazz, weird old folk and country blues, and various unclassifiables — as well as art books, micro-run zines, and McSweeney’s volumes. The record bins are where the real action is, though: Moondog vinyl canoodles with Sperm Walls rarities, and Charlie Nothing crashes with the Indonesian prog and funk of Those Shocking, Shaking Days. Would we like to snag that vinyl copy of Luk Thung: Classic and Obscure 78s from the Thai Countryside? Yes, Dr. Livingstone, we would indeed.

3174 24th St., SF. (415) 400-5850, www.exploristinternational.com

 

BEST CHEAP PLACE TO SCORE A CUP AND A CONRAD

Literature and coffee: such sweet, sweet dependencies. Enable both on the cheap at Reader’s Café . Inconspicuous to those on a casual Fort Mason stroll, this used book treasure trove on the bay is infinite and grand once found. With $20, it’s possible to take home a few written works (some only $1!) and still have change for indulging in a custom-brewed cup of Blue Bottle. Reader’s is a production of the San Francisco Friends of the Library, so not only does each purchase soothe the DTs, it’s for a good cause.

Building C, Room 165, Fort Mason Center, SF. (415) 771-1076, www.readerscafe.org

 

BEST PARTNER IN PREUSED PURCHASE

In a perfect world, each visit to the Apartment would be a leisurely half-day treasure hunt. The Mission District store is packed with vintage furnishings, boxes of old family photos and 1960s magazines, even a $1 tray for affordable finds. No plywood or cheap IKEA stuff here — everything on offer is well maintained and crafted. Of course, that quality comes with some heft, but if you’ve fallen in love with a cedar armoire when you were supposed to be on the hunt for a throw rug, the Apartment will pay for its delivery: $65 plus $10 for every flight of stairs it must ascend to your door. So accommodating!

3469 18th St., SF. (415) 255-1100

 

BEST ANTI-GOLIATH GAME FACE

After a five-year effort by chain-wary neighborhood activists to keep it off the grand hippie boulevard, megachain Whole Foods opened at Haight and Stanyan streets early this year. It furthered the neighborhood’s fitful transmogrification into Fancy Town (or Ashbury Valley, the ‘hood’s new NoPa-like real estate agency-created moniker), but Haight Street Market is rising to this market-share challenge. With shifts starting before the crack of dawn, the 30-year-old family-owned shop has stepped it up, adding a high-quality butcher counter, a deli, the least pricey and most diverse beer selection in the Upper Haight, and a buffed-up coffee selection. If only all small businesses could up their game in the face of corporate claims.

1530 Haight, SF. (415) 255-0644, www.haightstreetmarket.com

 

BEST LEATHER-SCENTED TIME WARP

Stepping into cobbler Suzanne George’s shop is like entering a hide-covered time warp. George crafts her clodhoppers in much the same way that shoes were made several hundred years ago. She works the leather by hand, stitching the pieces with thread and hammering it all together with actual nails. Not only are the shoes custom-made to fit every tootsie they encase, they are also unique pieces of art, nearly too lovely to take tramping on the dirty pavement. George shares her high-quality, low-technology workshop with Peter, a shoemaker originally from Italy who used to make sandals for Mother Teresa. Together they make some damn fine throwback sling-backs.

1787 Church, SF. (415) 775-1775, www.suzannegeorgeshoes.com

 

BEST COUCH-BOUND — BUT COMMUNITY-MINDED — STONER’S DREAM COME TRUE

While a marijuana home delivery business may sound like nothing more than a couch-bound stoner’s dream come true, the Green Cross actually offers a valuable service to many of the city’s neediest residents who are less mobile as a result of illness, disability, or age. And this is no slapdash selection, either. Brick-and-mortar dispensaries can’t beat its impressive array of hard-to-find THC-infused specialty items like olive oil and agave nectar. Plus it boasts vegan, gluten-free, and nut-free goodies, all made in-house. So toke it all in — a portion of the proceeds are reinvested in the community, supporting social service agencies like the SF AIDS Foundation and the YMCA.

(415) 648-4420, www.thegreencross.org

 

BEST GOAL-GETTERS

Toby and Libby Rappolt hardly leave the balls behind when they exit their 20-year business, Sunset Soccer Supply, for the day. The Rappolts are players, coaches, and fans too. If they’re not holding up the counter at their shop, chatting with regulars about the most recent match or the best way to teach a kid to dribble or selling a team-sized box of scrimmage vests, there’s a good chance they’re out supporting the SF soccer community. The business is especially into rooting for women’s teams: it was present at the Civic Center showing of the World Cup final, it sponsors tournaments, and it has even invited players to in-store signings.

3401 Irving, SF. (415) 753-2666, www.sunsetsoccer.com

 

BEST PLACE TO PUT A CORD ON IT

Where to trundle if you want to wear that pretty pierced stone you found on your first anniversary hike up Mount Diablo? The Bead Store has a vast assortment of necklace-ready cords, and the Castro shop’s friendly staff can point you toward a nice clasp, or even tie a slip-knot for you if you’re not fancy. It’s the city’s smallest and oldest bead store — it has been in the same spot since 1964 — and stocks centuries-old beads and rare stones you won’t find anywhere else, as well as the standard tools you need to take your diamonds from the rough.

417 Castro, SF. (415) 861-7332, www.thebeadstoresf.com

 

BEST RING OF SUCCESS

Jewelry — it can be scary! We don’t mean the fun ornamental kind of jewelry, like Celtic nipple rings or jade idol earrings or purple pentagram pendants (although those can be scary too). No, we’re referring to real jewelry — like the fancy traditional kind you’d better get right or Bridezilla/o is gonna ‘splode and slap you silly with a rolled-up copy of Country Weddings magazine. How will you know how to score the perfect engagement ring, or wedding band, or anniversary bracelet, or birthday watch? Don’t fret. The enormously helpful and nice folks of Just Bands will help you with everything, from sizing and color to design and polish. Their showroom in the labyrinthine San Francisco Gift Center sparkles not just with diamonds and silver, but with the smiles of satisfied lovers whose romance wasn’t tarnished by stressful transactions.

888 Brannan, Suite 151, SF. (415) 626-2318

 

BEST THROUGH THE RABBIT HOLE

The N-Judah thunders by it dozens of times a day, but because it’s tucked well back in a garden courtyard, you’d never know this spirited, magickal little “multitraditional world mysticism” shop existed. Unless you capital-K Know. Look into your third eye: do you Know? Randy, the genial owner of the Sword and the Rose — a man who is part Keith Richards, part Baba Yaga — definitely Knows. And he’ll graciously tell you, spinning tales of about gods and goddesses from esoteric cultures past and present, or reading your tarot cards in a cozy nook warmed by an amber fire, or selling you his house-produced incense, or offering lessons in spellcraft, all while bestowing friendly (if a bit confusing to the uninitiated) guidance to more transcendent realms. First stop: Cole and Carl streets. Next stop: the Divine.

85 Carl, SF. (415) 681-5434

 

BEST BARREL FULL OF MONKEY SUITS

Let’s face it, if you’re a happenin’ gentleman or a trouser-trusting lady in this fancy-pants city, you’re going to need to bust out the occasional tuxedo. But who wants to spend a few hundred bucks on a new tux? Screw that noise, get over to Held Over, and check out the selection of $20 used tux shirts and wide variety of full monkey suits — from the 1970s-style mariachi look to something a bit more classic. Hell, why don’t you mix-and-match it up? They’ve already got you in a suit, so you might as well have some fun with it.

1542 Haight, SF. (415) 864-0818

 

BEST GRAND POOBAH OF THE PAST

A visit to the cavernous Potrero Hill digs of Big Daddy’s Antiques ushers you into a wondrous, uncannily postmodern version of the past. There’s definitely a little vintage-meets-steampunk aesthetic going on — Big Daddy grand poobah Shane Brown and his magic elves have collected enough old-school film lights, globes, wooden angel wings, horse-drawn buggies, large animal heads, giant pillars, and studio cameras with bellows to kit out the dreams of antique queens and cyber-fanboys alike. (Tech guys, please get your decor here.) And the large collection of Depression-era Americana like shoe shop signs and flag bunting adds to the pleasantly discombobulating Twilight Zone feel. Don’t worry though; the amiable Big Daddy’s staff will guide you though it all.

1550 17th St., SF. (415) 621-6800, www.bdantiques.com

 

BEST SHOT OF PANACHE

We just have one question for you, Revolver: can we move in? We would fit so well in your charming, roomy, homey, comfy store-and-gallery. On warm summer days, we could don one of your light summer frocks and Illesteva sunglasses, like contemporary post-ironic preppies but not that heavy; seal in our dewy look with one of your delicious moisturizers; and have coffee while pondering the art on display in your back room. Evenings, we could venture out in a pair of Tretorn rubber boots or suede Volta high tops and Creep khaki chinos, then settle in for the night on one of your durable cotton Japanese Workers pillow covers. In short, Revolver, we like everything about your small, beautifully curated store. Just one more thing: Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you glad to see us?

136 Fillmore, SF. (415) 578-3363, www.revolversf.com

 

BEST HOLGA ROLLS

You know what’s tired? Using your iPhone to take a picture of yourself in the mirror for your Google+ profile. You know what’s not tired? Using a low-fi medium format 120 film Chinese toy camera from the 1980s to snap that same pic. Sure, you could just download Hipstamatic, but the hardcore among us prefer to use the delightful original mechanism — an actual Holga camera — which, thanks to a mini-craze in the past few years, has become readily available in the U.S. But you’ll need the right roll of film, and the awesome Photoworks is here to provide. Photoworks stocks hard-to-find film from all over the world, offers excellent print production services, and will even stretch your Holga hotness on a canvas to hang in your hallway.

2077-A Market, SF. (415) 626-6800, www.photoworkssf.com

 

BEST NATURE NOOKIE NAPSACKS

Backpacks, tents, and BPA-free utensils designed with an eye for classic retro outdoors-y accouterments (think 1980s L.L. Bean and 1970s RV campers), Mission District-based camping company Alite Designs‘ gear is innovative, body conscious, and oh-so-considerate of our decadent ways. Take for example its Sexy Hotness sleeping bag — at first glance, just a pretty sack for camp-crashing, but unzip the center fastener and it becomes a thermo-Snuggie with built-in feet, its center zipper freeing your nether regions for trips to the john or even a little nature nookie. Plus, the bags connect endlessly, so if you roll deep ‘n’ dirty, your camp orgies will be well served.

2505 Mariposa, SF. (415) 626-1526, www.alitedesigns.com

Best of the Bay 2011 Readers Poll: City Living

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Best of the Bay 2011 Readers Poll: City Living

BEST OF THE BAY 2011: READERS POLL

CITY LIVING

 

BEST STREET FAIR

Folsom Street Fair

www.folsomstreetfair.com

 

BEST HOTEL

The Fairmont Hotel

950 Mason, SF. (415) 772-5000, www.fairmont.com

 

BEST TOURIST ATTRACTION

Golden Gate Bridge

 

BEST TOUR

Local Tastes of the City

2179 12th Ave., SF. (415) 665-0480 and 588 Sutter, SF. (415) 665-0480 www.localtastesofthecitytours.com

 

BEST OVERALL LOCAL BLOG

SFist

www.sfist.com

 

BEST OVERALL LOCAL WEBSITE

Funcheap SF

www.sf.funcheap.com

 

BEST STARTUP COMPANY

Square

www.squareup.com

 

BEST NEWS BLOG OR SITE

Bay Citizen

www.baycitizen.org

 

BEST STYLE BLOG OR SITE

No Pants 2011

www.nopants2011.com

 

BEST SEX BLOG OR SITE

Tiny Nibbles

www.tinynibbles.com

 

BEST POLITICIAN, BEST POLITICIAN YOU LOVE TO HATE

Gavin Newsom

 

BEST NONPROFIT ORGANIZATION

Rocket Dog Rescue

www.rocketdogrescue.org

 

BEST ADULT EDUCATION

The Writing Salon

Various locations, www.writingsalons.com

 

BEST TV NEWSCASTER

Dana King of CBS

 

BEST LOCALLY PRODUCED TV SHOW

Check Please Bay Area

blogs.kqed.org/checkplease

 

BEST RADIO STATION

97.3 Alice

radioalice.radio.com

 

BEST RADIO DJ

Sarah and Vinnie of 97.3 Alice

 

BEST RADIO SHOW

Fernando and Greg of Movin 99.7

 

BEST PLACE TO GET A TATTOO

Black and Blue Tattoo

381 Guerrero, SF. (415) 626-0770, www.blackandbluetattoo.com

 

BEST TATTOO ARTIST

Karen Roze of Sacred Rose

 

BEST LOCAL ANIMAL RESCUE

SF SPCA

www.sfspca.org

 

BEST DOG-WALKING SERVICE

Oakland Dog Walker

(510) 863-0691,www.oakland-dog.com

 

BEST PET GROOMER

VIP Grooming

4299 24th St., SF. (415) 282-1393

 

BEST VETERINARIAN

Mission Pet Hospital

720 Valencia, SF. (415) 552-1969, www.missionpet.com

 

BEST DENTIST

Blair A. Keck, DDS

4128 18th St., SF. (415) 863-9255

 

BEST DOCTOR

Erika Horowitz, ND

(415) 643-6600, www.sfnatmed.com

 

BEST PLUMBER

Thomas Friel Plumbing

245 Connecticut, SF. (415) 626-1662

 

BEST ELECTRICIAN

Pauric Electric

541 Scott, SF. (415) 234-0839, www.thesfelectrician.com

 

BEST MOVING SERVICE

Delancey Street Moving and Trucking

600 Embarcadero, SF. (415) 512-5110, www.delanceystreetfoundation.org

 

BEST ALTERNATIVE HEALING

Double Happiness Health

1501 Mariposa, Suite 318, SF. (415) 255-2252, www.doublehappinesshealth.com

 

BEST THERAPIST

Kendra Rae of Linea Body

www.lineabody.com

 

BEST CAR MECHANICS

Pat’s Garage

1090 26th St., SF. (415) 647-4500, www.patsgarage.com

 

BEST MOTORCYCLE REPAIR

Charlie’s Place

3084 17th St., SF. (415) 255-0316, www.charlies-place.com

 

BEST BICYCLE REPAIR

Valencia Cyclery

1065 and 1077 Valencia, SF. (415) 550-6601, www.valenciacyclery.com

 

BEST SHOE REPAIR

Haight Street Shoe Repair

1614 Haight, SF. (415) 565-6710

 

BEST TAILOR

Al’s Attire

1314 Grant, SF. (415) 693-9900, www.alsattire.com

 

BEST LAUNDROMAT

Brain Wash

1122 Folsom, SF. (415) 431-9274, www.brainwash.com

 

BEST SALON

Carmichael Salon

619 Post, SF. (415) 409-2353, www.carmichaelsalon.com

 

BEST HAIRSTYLIST

Greg Griffin of the Barber Lounge

854 Folsom, SF. (415) 934-0411, www.barberlounge.com

 

BEST MASSAGE

The Mindful Body

2876 California, SF. (415) 931-2639, www.themindfulbody.com

 

BEST DAY SPA

Blue Turtle

57 West Portal, SF and 170 Columbus, SF. (415) 699-8494, www.blueturtlespa.com

 

BEST GYM

World Gym

290 De Haro, SF. (415) 703-9650, www.worldgym.com

 

BEST PERSONAL TRAINER

Jennifer Pattee, Basic Training

3301 Lyon, SF. (415) 519-6483, www.basictrainingsf.com

 

BEST YOGA STUDIO

Monkey Yoga Shala

3215 Lakeshore, Oakl. (510) 595-1330, www.monkeyyoga.com

 

BEST YOGA INSTRUCTOR

Deborah Burkman of Burkman Yoga

2876 California, SF. (415) 931-4367, www.burkmanyoga.com

 

BEST AMATEUR SPORTS TEAM

Fog Rugby

www.sffog.org

 

BEST PUBLIC SPORTS FACILITY

Kezar Stadium

755 Stanyan, SF

 

BEST BEACH

Baker Beach

 

BEST NATURE SPOT FOR PEOPLE WITH DISABILITIES

Muir Woods

(415) 388-2596, www.nps.gov/muwo

 

BEST CAMPGROUND

Samuel P. Taylor State Park

Sir Francis Drake, Lagunitas. (415) 488-9897

 

BEST CAMP FOR KIDS

Silver Tree Day Camp

www.sfrecpark.org

 

BEST PARK FOR DOGS

Fort Funston

 

BEST SKATE SPOT

Potrero Del Sol

 

BEST SURF SPOT

Linda Mar

 

BEST PLACE TO WATCH THE SUNSET

Land’s End

Appetite: Jasper’s menu brightens up the Corner Tap

Andrew Lam
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All photos by Virginia Miller

You heard it here a couple weeks ago: Jasper’s Corner Tap & Kitchen is going to be a drink destination, no doubt about it. Pair its all-star bartender line-up and impeccable cocktail menu with 18 beers on draft (like Telegraph Reserve Wheat from Santa Barbara), a fine wine list with playful categories like “Flower Power” and “We’ve Got the Funk”, satisfying bar food, (eventually) open-all-day hours – and plunk the whole thing down next to Union Square, a perfect tavern space for your downtown rendevous? The set-up is already screaming hit.

If a sneak taste yesterday is any indication, it’s the type of place to bring friends for casual comfort food – house-made sausages, fish and chips, and lamb shepherd’s pie — with well-crafted yet un-fussy cocktails or craft beers in a space that manages to be industrial and warm at the same time. Bar service bodes well with a  talented staff that includes not only Kevin Diedrich (formerly of Burritt Room and NYC’s PDT), but also Brian MacGregor (Jardiniere), Francis Kelly (Ponzu, Presidio Social Club), and Allison Webber (Portland’s Irving Street Kitchen and The Gilt Club). 

As bar manager Kevin Diedrich told me, the menu is meant to be “approachable and not too geeky,” yet in signature Diedrich style, perfectly balanced and nuanced (for a delicious example of Diedrich balance, try his Soda Jerk, in which blanco tequila and Campari get tart with hits of lime and passion fruit, then fizzy and gently sweet with cream soda and egg white). 

Upping the game, Jasper’s will be the first known bar to have Bols Genever on draft! Starting next week, get your fill of a beloved Dutch spirit, flowing fresh and lush. Stay tuned for future unusual draft and barrel-aged offerings.

Enjoying bar bites (Berkshire pork riblettes, anyone?), I tasted through a wide range of the cocktail menu. With playful descriptions under each drink and plenty of house bitters and syrups, it satisfies the cocktail aficionado but, as Diedrich mentions, keeps bartenders and customers happy by not being painstaking or pretentious. Some drinks only have a handful of ingredients, others require a simple mix and stir and they’re ready. Elegant but straightforward. 

Join me on a little sneak-peek photo journey through a few food and cocktail highlights. Cocktail recipes are Kevin Diedrich’s unless otherwise noted. 

Jasper’s Corner Tap and Kitchen

401 Taylor, SF

(415) 775-7979

www.jasperscornertap.com

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

 

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST FAMILY ITALIAN (WITH FREE CHEESE!)

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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The eponymous vintage painting of two blondes and their reflections that hangs inside an alcove of this classic Sunset District Italian resataurant is far from its sole golden attraction. Complimentary sharp cheddar cheese with crackers awaits you at the bar — not quite as epistemologically relevant, but certainly a nice prelude to your veal piccata and housemade tiramisu. The Gold Mirror Restaurant started as a 1940s Fillmore District cocktail lounge but relocated in the 1950s. Since then — except for when a runaway delivery truck caused a temporary closure in 2004 — chef Giuseppe Di Grande, wife Josephine, and sons Domenico and Roberto have continuously maintained the classy-comfortable place for what it is: a shining reflection of old-style San Francisco.

800 Taraval, SF. (415) 564-0401, www.goldmirrorrestaurant.com

Best of the Bay 2011: BEST PLACE TO YUCA IT UP

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Yuca — sounds like yucky, often looks and tastes like same. Turquoise-splashed Puerto Rican restaurant Parada 22 in the Upper Haight turns that yuca to yum. Rarely eaten here, yuca is the deliciously inescapable side dish for the bulk of the entrees, the centerpiece of the vegetarian platter, and the base of the yucca, avocado and garlic soup. Even as a standalone side, mashed and marinated in onion, olive oil, garlic, and spices, it shines. Parada 22’s savory way with the cassava root (as it’s known in much of the USA) complements home-style island favorites like tender, oregano-suffused pernil asado pork and a piquant pollo encebollado (chicken smothered in onions). For real starch maniacs, order a side with the truly scrumptious mofongo, mashed plantains with shrimp criolla.

1805 Haight, SF. (415) 750-1111. www.parada22.com

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