Water Archives — San Francisco Bay Guardian Archive 1966

Endorsements 2014

Erica Hanna

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October 7, 2014

Welcome to the November 2014 edition of a decades-long Bay Guardian tradition. As usual, we did many hours of endorsement interviews with candidates and ballot measure proponents and opponents, along with additional research to arrive at our picks, some involving difficult decisions. We’ll be posting the audio from most of those endorsement interviews at SFBG.com/Politics, so come listen in if you want more information. And don’t forget to vote by Nov. 4.

CALIFORNIA ASSEMBLY DISTRICT 17

DAVID CAMPOS

We’ll keep this brief because we already endorsed David Campos in the June primary election, but our enthusiasm for his candidacy has only grown since then. San Francisco needs a strong, clear, passionate progressive advocate in Sacramento, particularly as we deal with growing pains and displacement challenges exacerbated by state housing, tax, and election laws and cutbacks in funding for transit and affordable housing.

His opponent, David Chiu, is a skilled lawmaker and he wouldn’t be a bad legislator. But Chiu’s neoliberal economic positions (from the Twitter tax break to a business tax reform that favored the tech industry) and willingness to cut deals with powerful interests rather than hold the progressive line in favor of vulnerable populations give us doubts about what he’d do in Sacramento. We have no such doubts about Campos, who has proven himself to be an effective and trustworthy advocate for renters, workers, consumers, and those who need support against powerful economic and political players. That’s why he won the support of outgoing Assemblymember Tom Ammiano and a wide array of progressive entities.

Listen to our full endorsement interview with David Campos.

Listen to our full endorsement interview with David Chiu.

BART BOARD, DIST. 8

NICK JOSEFOWITZ

This was a surprisingly tough choice given how long we’ve been wanting someone to make a strong and well-funded challenge to entrenched incumbent James Fang, San Francisco’s only Republican elected office holder and the longest serving director at an agency that has been hostile to worker safety reforms and meaningful oversight of the BART Police Department. We got our wish this year when Nick Josefowitz, a solar energy entrepreneur, entered the race, did well in fundraising, and got lots of progressive political support. But SEIU Local 1021 strongly supported Fang, who walked the picket lines with striking BART workers last year. They and other Fang allies also highlighted Josefowitz’s opposition to CleanPowerSF and Prop. G, raising questions about his progressive credentials and political naïveté. Fang deserves credit for supporting BART workers last year and with advocating for a BART extension to Ocean Beach. But the BART board needs new blood, and we believe Josefowitz has the energy, ideas, and perspective to move the district in a more sustainable, accountable, and innovative direction.

Listen to our full endorsement interview with Nick Josefowitz.

Listen to our full endorsement interview with James Fang.

OAKLAND MAYOR

1. REBECCA KAPLAN

2. DAN SIEGEL

Unlike in San Francisco, where it’s sometimes tough for our progressive-minded editorial team to get excited about most candidates running for local office, we’ve got legitimately high hopes for both of our picks for the Oakland mayor’s race. Both Rebecca Kaplan and Dan Siegel offer compelling visions for a diverse and dynamic Oakland at a time when the city is in need of strong leadership. Kaplan, a LGBT candidate who gets around the city by bicycle and has a keen interest in sustainability, has a decade of public service involvement, including holding the at-large seat on the Oakland City Council. She’s emphasizing tackling unemployment and expanding local hiring for the Police Department as a way to improve trust between police and residents. Dan Siegel, a civil rights attorney with a laudable track record in Bay Area social justice movements, is deeply focused on raising the minimum wage to $15 an hour, defending the city’s poor and working-class residents from displacement in the face of gentrification, advancing police reform, and tackling inequality in public education. Whether Oaklanders vote for Kaplan first and Siegel second, or Siegel first and Kaplan second, we think they will have cast a vote for strong progressive leadership in Oakland.

SAN FRANCISCO BOARD OF SUPERVISORS

DISTRICT 2

1. MARK FARRELL

2. JUAN-ANTONIO CARBALLO

We at the Bay Guardian will always have ideological differences with whoever represents District 2 (Marina, Pacific Heights, Sea Cliff), which is one of the wealthiest and most conservative districts in the city. And we’ve differed with incumbent Mark Farrell on many issues, from condo conversions to business tax policy. But Farrell has proven to be a smart, humble, and accessible legislator who often works cooperatively with his more progressive colleagues to do the city’s business. His business background and fiscal expertise made him a solid chair of the Budget Committee, even if we’d like to see more resources directed to social services. And we applaud his recent efforts to address homelessness in the city and to work on legislation to discourage homeowners from keeping vacant rooms out of the housing market. Challenger Juan-Antonio Carballo is more progressive and has some good ideas for encouraging innovation in city government, but he’s new to politics and could use a bit more seasoning before he’s ready for the Board of Supervisors.

Listen to our endorsement interviews with Mark Farrell and Juan-Antonio Carballo.

DISTRICT 4

KATY TANG

Since being appointed by the Mayor’s Office to fill the seat that was vacated when Carmen Chu was named Assessor-Recorder, Katy Tang has mostly continued the role she played previously of competently tending to various concerns of her Sunset District constituents. But over the last year, as political tensions in the city have increased (such as between renters and landlords and supporters and opponents of CleanPowerSF), Tang has played an increasing vocal political role on behalf of the Mayor’s Office and vested economic interests, leading the attacks on the anti-speculation tax and other progressive reforms. We’d rather see her focus on her district, including the promising Sunset District Blueprint she introduced and its major political challenge of getting westside residents to finally accept more housing density. The eastern neighborhoods are growing rapidly and we’re hoping Tang and her neighbors will accept their share of the burden, and she has our support in that process. The Ocean Beach Master Plan that she’s been working on, something made more pressing by rising sea levels, also needs more political leadership to come to fruition, and we support that effort as well.

DISTRICT 6

1. JANE KIM

2. JAMIE WHITAKER

Jane Kim has sought to advance some laudable goals during her time in office, telling us her priorities have been to preserve affordable housing, improve pedestrian safety, and reform the homeless shelter system. Yet time and again, she’s demonstrated a willingness to support and compromise with Mayor Ed Lee, a tactic that has resulted in weaker outcomes than the city’s progressive ranks would hope for at a time when corporate influence in government has rendered City Hall out of touch with ordinary residents. For instance, Kim agreed to weaken a housing balance measure that would’ve created an enforcement mechanism to ensure a balance of affordable housing in San Francisco, and has questionable ties to lobbyist and former Mayor Willie Brown. Kim is a former Green Party member who comes from the progressive community and is a smart legislator, but she’s also an ambitious politician who’s been willing to divide and weaken the city’s progressive movement. It’s a careful balancing act that she doesn’t always pull off. She sponsored the Twitter tax break that fed the tech boom and hyper-gentrification, but now she is working to prevent that industry from gobbling up existing light industrial and office space. We grant her our endorsement in the hopes that she’ll use her influence to advance sound progressive policies. If you’d prefer to press the reset button and go with a candidate who’s less experienced and less well-known, but nevertheless critical of cutting deals for corporate interests and allowing rampant construction to continue apace in District 6, vote for Jamie Whitaker.

Listen to our endorsement interview with Supervisor Jane Kim.

DISTRICT 8

1. SCOTT WIENER

2. GEORGE DAVIS

It’s not easy to endorse Scott Wiener after all the battles that we and our progressive allies have had with him. We’ve fought him on condo conversions, CEQA reform, outlawing public nudity, and with generally siding with property owners and the business community. He often takes strong, uncompromising stands on issues that can infuriate his political opponents. But just as often, that strong political leadership has been in the service of things we believe in and support. Wiener has been the board’s biggest champion for creating a sustainable transportation system and getting more resources (along with more scrutiny) for Muni. He has been a leader on supporting nightlife in San Francisco, the best ally that bar owners and event promoters have had in many years. Wiener has a strong, independent political perspective and courage to cast tough votes, as when he gave the CleanPowerSF program a critical veto-proof majority. We’ve also found him to be honest and accessible even when we don’t agree with him. George Davis is a single-issue candidate focused on nudity, and we’re offering him our second slot mostly for symbolic reasons.

Guardian photo by Matthew Reamer.

DISTRICT 10

1. TONY KELLY

2. MALIA COHEN

The Guardian enthusiastically endorses Tony Kelly for District 10. Incumbent Malia Cohen is someone we like and don’t have strong opposition to, but she has not provided the leadership this district needs, particularly as it rapidly grows and wrestles with high unemployment, gun violence, neglected units in public housing, and environmental hazards that pose a threat to public health. Kelly is a knowledgeable advocate who has presented a detailed and thoughtful plan for crafting solutions in this changing and challenging San Francisco district, while refusing money from developers and real estate interests to make the point that the city should prioritize stabilizing affordable rental stock and preventing displacement. We appreciate Cohen’s service over the past four years, including moving forward the Schlage Lock development site in Visitacion Valley and facilitating gun buyback programs to prevent street violence. But at the end of the day, Kelly’s ideas on how to tackle some of D10’s greatest challenges strike us as being more principled, well-researched, and closely aligned with progressive principles.

Listen to our endorsement interviews with Tony Kelly and Malia Cohen.

SAN FRANCISCO MEASURES

PROP. A: TRANSPORTATION BOND

YES

San Francisco’s transportation system has some serious needs, and this $500 million general obligation bond is an important first step in addressing more than $7 billion in desperately needed capital projects, including Muni’s long list of deferred maintenance needs. Almost a third of the money will go to safety, circulation, and streetscape projects through the city, including finally addressing the cluttered, confusing mess on Market Street. The projects will benefit motorists, pedestrians, and cyclists. Although some critics of the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency have begun to raise concerns about soft language in the list of projects, suggesting it will go to cost overruns on the Central Subway project, SFMTA Director Ed Reiskin categorically told us that isn’t true. Besides, there’s no denying SFMTA needs the money to upgrade a transportation system that is at the breaking point at many times and places. And given that this measure requires a two-thirds vote, it deserves everyone’s vote and it has our strong and unqualified support.

PROP. B: TYING MUNI FUNDING TO GROWTH

YES

There’s an undeniable logic to Prop. B, which would increase the city General Fund contribution to the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency as the city’s population and workforce increase. That makes sense: Muni’s operating costs go up along with its ridership. Prop. B is retroactive to the last funding increase 10 years ago. Since then the population has jumped about 10 percent, immediately giving Muni about $22 million more per year. Ideally, Muni’s dire funding needs would be met with a new revenue source, and we share the concerns of advocates for social services and affordable housing that this measure will put more pressure on them during budget season. City leaders had promised to put a local increase in the vehicle license fee on this ballot, which we supported. But when Mayor Ed Lee balked, Scott Wiener and five of his colleagues responded with Prop. B. This measure contains a provision allowing the mayor to repeal this set-aside if and when voters approve the local VLF increase. Mayor Lee has pledged to do the VLF measure in 2016, so Prop. B is an important stopgap measure and leverage to make sure our flip-flopping mayor keeps his word this time.

Listen to our endorsement interviews, Yes on B and No on B.

PROP. C: CHILDREN’S FUND REAUTHORIZATION

YES

This is a set-aside of city funds for children’s programs, in three parts. It renews the Children’s Fund, which provides youth services through a property tax assessment; the Public Education Enrichment Fund, a General Fund set-aside that goes mostly to the school district; and the Rainy Day Fund, another city set-aside during hard times at the school district. It would guarantee that youth programs — including preschool programs, art and music curriculum in schools, and violence prevention programs — continue receiving these dedicated funds for at least another 25 years. Prop. C is the culmination of the efforts of a grassroots coalition of youth service providers who worked for about two years on crafting this measure. The Guardian strongly supports this measure, which helps thousands of young people in vulnerable situations in San Francisco.

PROP. D: RETIREE HEALTH BENEFITS

YES

This measure was unanimously placed on the ballot by the Board of Supervisors to give most employees of the old San Francisco Redevelopment Agency — a locally based state agency that was disbanded by Gov. Jerry Brown and the Legislature — and its Successor Agency the same retiree health benefits as other city employees. This covers less than 50 employees, so the Controller’s Office estimates it will cost about $75,000 spread over many years. These employees work mostly on facilitating affordable housing projects that the city desperately needs, and it’s a basic fairness issue that deserves voter support.

AP photo by Eric Risberg.

PROP. E: SODA TAX

YES

San Francisco and Berkeley have the chance to spark a national turning point against diabetes and obesity this election by instituting a 2-cents-per-ounce sugary beverage tax. Much like cigarettes were in a previous generation, sugary drinks are as ubiquitous as they are unhealthy. But unlike sugar-filled foods, the human body does not feel satiated after downing a Big Gulp: We just want more. Our city’s low-income neighborhoods have suffered the brunt of higher obesity and diabetes rates, which studies have linked to these sugary beverages. The science is clear and these mounting health care costs hurt all of us. The soda industry is pumping record-breaking dollars into this race because it fears this will start a national movement against soda. Do not believe the sky-is-falling cries from the industry, or its attempt to cast this as an affordability issue that hurts low-income communities of color, the very communities that the soda industry targets and this measure seeks to help. This is about discouraging unhealthy behaviors and raising tax revenue for health and fitness programs, which is why it needs a two-thirds vote. Fight big soda’s big money, ignore the lies, and vote for health.

Listen to our endorsement interview, Yes on E.

PROP. F: PIER 70

YES

Guess what? The Bay Guardian is endorsing a measure for a massive waterfront development project. No, this isn’t a love fest with the developers of tech offices and market-rate housing. There’s an important principle here: Forest City, the developer of Pier 70, has shown itself to be responsive to community stakeholders. It has committed to allocate 30 percent of the project’s units as affordable housing, which is sorely needed and more than most projects offer. The developers have spent years meeting with neighborhood groups, earning endorsements even from the Sierra Club. Prop. B, which passed in June, created a rule requiring voters to weigh in on new waterfront development proposals that would stand taller than existing height limits. That’s why the Pier 70 project is on the ballot — and that’s why the developers have maximized the project’s public benefits. Forest City’s measure can be read as a sign that Prop. B incentivized waterfront developers to present better projects.

PROP. G: ANTI-SPECULATION TAX

YES

Technically, this measure is a tax, but it’s a tax that its proponents say they hope never gets levied. The idea is to discourage a bad behavior that has been fueling the eviction epidemic and driving up housing costs in San Francisco: real estate speculators flipping homes for profit, often evicting longtime tenants in the process in order to maximize that profit. It would levy a 24 percent tax if a property was flipped with a year of purchase or 14 percent within five years. It exempts single-family homes and large apartment complexes, focusing on the units targeted by speculators. This measure revives legislation Harvey Milk introduced shortly before his assassination, and it was the top policy proposal to come out of a series of tenant conventions earlier this year. Opponents, led by Realtor associations that have dumped nearly $1.5 million into the race, call it a “housing tax,” claiming it will drive up rents. But such fear tactics have little basis in reality. The real threat to housing stability in San Francisco is from the rapacious speculators, often from out of town, that this measure is designed to rein in.

Listen to our endorsement interviews, Yes on G and No on G.

PROP. H: BEACH CHALET SOCCER RENOVATION

NO

This measure — opposing replacing an underused grass field with artificial turf soccer fields at the edge of Golden Gate Park — was a tough call. On the one hand, studies are mixed on the ultimate safety of playing fields made from recycled rubber tires (plus the potential long-term environmental consequences of using this material), and the potential flood of stadium light so close to Ocean Beach concerns us. Viscerally, this project bothers us. On the other hand, the switch to an artificial turf field here has been approved by every political body that has considered it and it has the support of progressive Sup. Eric Mar, who often champions families. Opponents’ concerns have been vetted over six years, and lack of park access is an equity issue. Our city fights tooth and nail to keep every family as we watch our child population continue to dwindle. The grass field is now underused, and the city’s children need a revamped place to play. With some reservations, we urge you to vote no and allow this project to finally move forward.

Listen to our endorsement interviews, Yes on H (No on I) and No on H (Yes on I).

PROP. I: RENOVATION OF FIELDS

NO

This proposition represents a disturbing growing trend in local politics. Prop. I is a response to Prop. H, the measure which means to block the creation of an artificial turf field at the edge of Golden Gate Park. If approved with a greater majority than Prop H, Prop I would void it. This is known as a “poison pill” measure, hard bargaining by politicians trying to torpedo propositions they do not agree with. This (rightly) breeds the public’s distrust of politics and politicians. Also, it’s just bad governance. If approved, the Recreation and Park Department could construct turf fields and bright flood lighting over any children’s playground or existing grass field if it can prove that doing so would double the park’s attendance, preventing the normal discretionary review and appeal processes. Proponents are also cloaking this campaign in a “help our kids” message, which rings hollow. This is bad politics, bad policy, and just plain bad.

Listen to our endorsement interviews, Yes on H (No on I) and No on H (Yes on I).

PROP. J: MINIMUM WAGE INCREASE

YES

San Francisco bears the unfortunate distinction of having the fastest-growing income inequality in the country — that’s why it’s so important to raise the pay of the lowest-paid workers. San Francisco could alleviate its growing wealth gap and maintain its progressive distinction as having the highest nationwide minimum wage if voters approve Prop. J. This bid to raise the minimum wage, placed on the ballot following a consensus between Mayor Ed Lee and the Board of Supervisors, would increase hourly earnings for the lowest-paid San Francisco employees to $15 an hour, up from $10.74, by 2018. To give you a sense of how much that’s needed, the National Low Income Housing Coalition estimates that a renter must earn $29.38 an hour in order to afford a one-bedroom, market-rate apartment in San Francisco. Prop. J poses an opportunity for San Franciscans to move toward greater economic equality. Vote yes and help turn the tide against the ugly wealth gap.

PROP. K: HOUSING POLICY STATEMENT

YES

When Sup. Jane Kim introduced this measure as the Housing Balance proposition, it was good legislation that might have helped balance the development of affordable and luxury housing, slowing down market-rate housing with additional studies and hearings when affordable units drop below 30 percent of total housing production. Then it got attacked by developers, political power brokers, and the Mayor’s Office and got turned into a fairly meaningless policy statement encouraging a housing boom and studies of how to reach 33 percent affordability. That is, 33 percent affordable by those making 120 percent of area median income and below and half by those making up to 150 percent AMI. We don’t like that upward creeping definition of “affordable housing” and we don’t think this measure should be needed to ask the Mayor’s Office to study how to meet its own stated housing policy goals, including the 30,000 units by 2020 goal that Mayor Ed Lee announced in January. He should have had a plan before making his pledge. But if this is what our elected officials require to start taking affordable housing development seriously, then fine, vote yes.

Listen to our endorsement interview, Yes on K.

PROP. L: PRO-CAR POLICY STATEMENT

NO

This measure is a shortsighted primal scream by motorists in a transit-first city that is rapidly growing and trying to address pedestrian and bike safety issues and chronic underfunding of Muni. It’s a difficult balancing act, and we understand that motorists feel frustrated by traffic jams and the fact that it’s not cheap or easy to park their cars (which is also the case in every major metropolis in the world). But this simplistic solution — which seeks to divert Muni funding to build more parking lots and give residents veto power over new parking controls in their neighborhoods — would only make things worse for everyone. With San Francisco rapidly adding jobs and homes within its finite road network, it’s more important than ever to encourage people to choose alternatives to the automobile, which also helps those who must drive. Good parking management policies also help drivers find parking spaces by encouraging turnover. But for motorists to act like some oppressed class is ridiculous, and voters should soundly reject this measure, which reeks of overentitlement and refusal to acknowledge the complex realities of urban living.

BERKELEY’S MEASURE D: SODA TAX

YES

Less ambitious than San Francisco’s beverage tax, Berkeley’s measure levies a one-cent-per-ounce tax on sugary drinks (versus two in SF). And this measure only needs a majority to pass, as the taxes will go into the city’s General Fund, as opposed to funding specific health measures. While this may on the surface seem problematic, the ultimate goal for the tax is not to generate revenue, but to raise the price of soda to dissuade people from buying it. As diabetes rates soar in low-income communities of color, Berkeley residents have a clear opportunity to promote public health and raise a little money in the process.

SAN FRANCISCO CITYWIDE OFFICES

ASSESSOR-RECORDER

CARMEN CHU

This office is vitally important to San Francisco city government, assessing property for tax purposes and bringing in about one-third of the city’s General Fund revenue. So a willingness to hold firm with commercial property owners seeking reassessments is the key. Carmen Chu, who was appointed by the Mayor’s Office to the Board of Supervisors and then to this office, has always been a little cozy with downtown and landlords, so we would have liked to see someone challenge her and offer another option. But Chu is definitely smart and professional and she seems to be running this office well, so we’re happy to give her our endorsement.

AP photo by Jeff Chiu.

PUBLIC DEFENDER

JEFF ADACHI

The Bay Guardian enthusiastically endorses Public Defender Jeff Adachi, who has held office since 2003. Adachi hasn’t been shy about holding the San Francisco Police Department accountable for unfairly targeting the poor, and he’s worked to implement programs that go beyond upholding the basic right to legal counsel, co-founding the Reentry Council to help coordinate the delivery of employment, education, and substance abuse treatment to individuals who were recently released from prison or jail and face barriers to getting onto solid footing. We support Adachi for his demonstrated commitment to stand by his principles.

CCSF BOARD OF TRUSTEES

FOUR-YEAR SEAT (3 OPEN)

WENDOLYN ARAGON

City College of San Francisco’s board is now powerless, after being replaced last year by Special Trustee Bob Agrella as part of the district’s ongoing struggle to retain its accreditation. However, the clamor is rising for the democratically elected board to be revived, and the City Charter mandates a vote for this local board, responsible for setting policy for this embattled and vital institution. When that board convenes again, Wendy Aragon would make an excellent addition to it. She has support of progressive supervisors, the CCSF teacher’s union, and labor. As chair of the SFPUC Citizen Advisory Committee and president of the Richmond Democratic Club, Aragon championed progressive politics. Most importantly, she opposed the findings of the accrediting commission seeking to close City College long before such a view was popular. Vote for Wendolyn Aragon to help City College’s board find a new way forward.

BRIGITTE DAVILA

Brigitte Davila is one of the few candidates running for the college board with experience as a teacher. A San Francisco State University professor for over 20 years, Davila has experience with the needs of many City College students, as they often transfer to SFSU. She’s also laid solid groundwork in city politics by rallying for the Latino community, earning her the endorsement of the Latino Democratic Club. During a time where administrators seek major changes to the college, including class cuts and possible closure of campuses, the school needs an advocate for its disadvantaged communities. For Davila’s grassroots political work, her progressive values, and her education experience, we heartily recommend her.

THEA SELBY

Thea Selby is a neighborhood and small business advocate. While she’s not as leftist as we’d like, she was a solid candidate when she ran for District 5 supervisor in 2012, and she’s a solid candidate now. She chairs the San Francisco Transit Riders union, which has taken many progressive stances on transportation, and backed them up by going toe to toe with the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency’s Board of Directors. With her business background comes endorsements from many moderates, including DCCC Chair Mary Jung, which worries us. But she has the experience necessary to navigate that difficult political landscape, earning our endorsement.

CCSF BOARD OF TRUSTEES

TWO-YEAR SEAT (1 OPEN)

WILLIAM WALKER

When William Walker first ran for the CCSF board, he was a student at City College himself. Balancing school, a full-time job, and a board seat, we felt then that Walker had too much on his plate to earn our endorsement, though we liked him. Times have changed, and Walker has too: We think he’s ready for the Board of Trustees. He’s a longtime active participant at City College, first as an advocate and later as a student trustee (a position without voting privileges). Walker has deep institutional knowledge, but isn’t beholden to the constituent groups at the campus. He’s ready, and has our endorsement.

SFUSD BOARD OF EDUCATION

SHAMANN WALTON

This is not Shamann Walton’s first time running for the Board of Education, and we’ve endorsed him before. The reasons are many: He’s a native San Franciscan who has long worked with the Bayview and other communities of color, and he has strong political bonafides. Walton has also worked directly with students through workforce and mentorship programs, giving him a uniquely intimate perspective on the needs of students. This insight already sparked his first plan as commissioner: to improve SFUSD facilities and leverage federal dollars to expand vocational opportunities for students. San Francisco’s public schools have made tremendous progress of late, instituting restorative justice programs and gaining more funding for communities of color, but those programs need a watchful eye from the community. Walton is a fine choice to ensure equity is maintained in the SFUSD.

STEVON COOK

It’s important for the school board to hear from the voices of families, and Stevon Cook is exactly that. A third-generation San Franciscan and resident of the Bayview, Cook has the perspective of a large segment of SFUSD students. This may be his first run for office, but Cook has shown his political acumen by racking up key endorsements, including Assemblymember Tom Ammiano, United Educators of San Francisco, and the Harvey Milk LGBT Democratic Club. Importantly, Cook identifies teacher retention as a key part of his first term. The SFUSD often loses many qualified teachers in their first five years on the job, and the city’s housing crisis has only exacerbated this problem. Cook also aims to bolster support for restorative practices, a program that replaces suspensions with constructive dialogue. For his policy choices and his character, he has our strong support.

EMILY MURASE

We’ve endorsed two relative newcomers for the three open Board of Education seats, but the third choice is an incumbent. We must recognize the progress the board has made since its days as a fractious mess, even though it isn’t supportive enough of increasing salaries of district employees and has pushed teachers to the verge of striking. Fellow incumbent Hydra Mendoza’s close ties to the mayor made it easy to leave her off our list, leaving Murase as our sole choice for an incumbent on the school board. Murase is the executive director of the San Francisco Department of the Status of Women, bringing a perspective on equity that’s needed in the SFUSD. Murase is an ally, often voting with progressive measures, but doesn’t have a strong track record on proposing her own initiatives at the board. Hopefully though, her experience will help guide the board back to better relations with district teachers, who need a significant raise to live in this gentrifying city.

Guardian photo by Rebecca Bowe.

CALIFORNIA MEASURES

PROP. 1 — WATER BOND

NO

At a whopping $7.5 billion, this water bond is considered to be the diet version of what was originally proposed by Sacramento lawmakers. Making a decision on this one was challenging, as there are mixed signals from the environmental community. The Sierra Club, whose perspective we often trust, went with no endorsement, while other big green environmental groups have backed it because it provides substantial funding for ecological restoration in rivers. Nevertheless, we tend to agree with Prop. 1 opponents, particularly the Center for Biological Diversity and Food and Water Watch, that point out that the $2.7 billion allocation in this bond for water storage — read: major, expensive dam projects — could have serious environmental consequences. “It will push the Sacramento–San Joaquin Bay Delta closer to collapse,” CBD wrote in a position statement, “leaving little chance for the imperiled Chinook salmon, smelt and steelhead.” The bottom line is that California’s water issues, now exacerbated by a severe drought, stem from a deep dysfunction that Prop. 1 does not adequately address. Try again, Sacramento.

PROP. 2: STATE BUDGET STABILIZATION

YES

Prop. 2 is a common sense fiscal reform for Sacramento, one the state’s public school system and other social services badly need. Prop. 2 would create a “rainy day fund,” tasking the state with setting aside money in boom periods to shield vital services in an economic bust. The boom and bust cycle holds millions of state K-12 and college students hostage every year, as well as social programs we all depend on. Assemblymember Tom Ammiano championed such a measure when he was supervisor of San Francisco, to great effect. The first 15 years, this new rainy day fund would be split in two, with half paying the state’s liabilities, like pensions and loans. The only potential downside of this measure is a provision which would require local school districts to cut their own reserves. It’s a real problem, but not enough to outweigh the potential gains of a statewide rainy day fund.

PROP. 45 — HEALTH CARE INSURANCE

YES

Endorsed by the California Nurses Association, Consumer Watchdog, and civil rights leader Dolores Huerta, Prop. 45 seeks to place controls on rising health care insurance costs by making rate changes subject to approval by the California Insurance Commissioner. It also provides for public notice, disclosure, and hearings on rate changes, and requires insurers to submit sworn statements as to the accuracy of information submitted to justify rate changes. While health care reform has helped to improve access to health care across the board, it’s had little impact on rising costs. This is an important consumer protection measure.

PROP. 46 — DRUG TEST DOCTORS

NO

We at the Guardian have always opposed random drug testing as an invasion of privacy, and we see no reason why all medical doctors should be drug tested, as this measure would do. This hasn’t been shown to be a big problem, and it strikes us as unfair demonization of an entire profession, just as critics of public schools have tried to do to teachers. This measure would also support a statewide prescription drug database and increase medical malpractice damage limits, which may be fine ideas if they weren’t contained in a measure designed mostly to just beat up on doctors.

PROP. 47: SENTENCING REFORM

YES

Our state has a prison problem. We put too much of our funding toward jailing nonviolent offenders, leading to the decimation of low-income communities of color. Prop. 47, co-sponsored by District Attorney George Gascon, would reduce nonviolent and non-serious felonies to misdemeanors, and allow nearly 10,000 current prisoners to apply for resentencing. This is exactly the kind of thing California needs to address its overcrowded prison system. Shoplifting, theft, forgery, bad checks, and personal use of illegal drugs should not put someone in prison for untold years. The money the state saves from imprisonment will then be spent on recidivism programs and schools, to help newly released former convicts.

PROP. 48: INDIAN GAMING COMPACTS

YES

This proposal affirms compacts negotiated by Gov. Jerry Brown and ratified by all stakeholders to allow the North Fork Tribe to establish a casino in Madera County, with revenues split between the North Fork and the Wiyot tribes. It will create thousands of jobs, promote tribal self-sufficiency, avoid an alternative development plan in environmentally sensitive areas, and generate business opportunities and economic growth. While we acknowledge that gambling addiction is a sad byproduct of the gaming industry and that not everyone wants to see this kind of development pop up in their communities, we see little merit in opponents’ arguments that approving Prop. 48 would somehow open the door to the terrible threat of more casino construction off tribal lands.

[Editor’s Note: With the exception of Secretary of State, we also endorsed the following state and federal candidates in the June primary election, so read our rationales here]

Governor Jerry Brown

Lt. Governor Gavin Newsom

SECRETARY OF STATE

ALEX PADILLA

Alex Padilla has been a strong liberal Democrat while serving the California Legislature, including being an important champion for renewable energy, and he has the knowledge and experience to make the Secretary of State’s Office run efficiently. He’s also pledged to restore the promise of the Voting Rights Act, which Republicans have sought to undermine in states around the country, and to work to expand the ranks of voters in California. He has our support.

Controller, Betty Yee

Treasurer, John Chiang

Attorney General Kamala Harris

Insurance Commissioner Dave Jones

Superintendent of Public Instruction Tom Torlakson

Board of Equalization, District 2, Fiona Ma

SF Superior Court Judge, Daniel Flores

California Assembly, District 19, Phil Ting

US Congress, District 12, Nancy Pelosi

US Congress, District 13, Barbara Lee

US Congress, District 14, Jackie Speier

Film Listings: Oct 8-14, 2014

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October 7, 2014

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Advanced Style Many successful blogs have been turned into books, but few make the leap to film. Street-style photographer Ari Seth Cohen’s online album of fashionable elders translates well to the big screen, as without exception all of the women featured in Lina Plioplyte’s doc are vivacious, quotable (“I’m an artist, and my art is dressing!” “Good style improves the view for everybody!”), and — obviously — wonderfully, uniquely put together. Although at least one subject, 80-year-old Joyce, is wealthy (witness her to-die-for vintage Chanel purse collection), the rest of the women eschew designer for the most part; one owns a vintage store (“Sometimes I’m building an outfit for seven years!”), one owns a boutique (“You either have it, or you don’t … but you can learn it!”), and others are artists, including a former Apollo theater dancer. All are close with Cohen, an access point that allows Advanced Style to dig beyond fabulous hats and into end-of-life issues, including health concerns among the women and their aging spouses. But mostly, this is an upbeat, inspiring look at women who are embracing their later years — and looking rather fab doing it. (1:12) Elmwood, Presidio. (Eddy)

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day In this Disney comedy based on the Judith Viorst children’s book, Steve Carell and Jennifer Garner star as parents to an 11-year-old struggling through, well, see title. (1:22) Marina.

Björk: Biophilia Live Those who saw one of Björk’s mind-boggling, futuristic spaceshows for her most recent full-length Biophilia — performed at only a handful of intimate venues around the world — know the specialness of that experience. At the shows, Björk, everyone’s favorite chirping Icelandic wood-fairy, stood on relatively diminutive stages surrounded by a chilling blonde choir while a Tesla coil vibrated electric shocks of purple lightning. Now those who missed out on these very-special-Björk-moments have the luxury of viewing the full show with concert film Bjork: Biophilia Live. The album was heavily based around imaginative musical apps created for it, making the film an interactive experience as well (play along at home!) The film showcases the complete experience of Biophilia, which touches on nature, music, and technology, during Björk’s showing at London’s Alexandra Palace in 2013. While it would have been nice to see a few behind-the-scenes moments, Biophilia Live still brings up close rushes of electrifying sounds, glittering visuals, and a poufy red-orange cotton candy wig floating delicately above Bjork’s cherubic face. (1:37) Roxie. (Emily Savage)

Dead Snow 2: Red vs. Dead Beginning moments after the events of the original 2009 Dead Snow, Tommy Wirkola’s sequel has that film’s sole survivor, Martin (Vegar Hoel), fleeing the resurrected Nazi invaders who laid waste to his seven fellow med school students on their holiday weekend. Crashing his car en route, he wakes up in the hospital, where there’s some good news — he’s alive — but also plenty of bad. For one thing, the infected arm he sawed off to escape zombie-bite infection has been replaced; that would be good, if he weren’t now the bearer of an arm belonging to none other than the nefarious Col. Herzog (Orjan Gamst); naturally, the limb has a malevolent mind of its own. Plus, the authorities laugh off his story of undead Nazi attackers, naturally assuming that he killed his friends himself. Worse still, Martin figures out that Herzog and company won’t stop killing (and “turning”) the living until they’ve conquered a sleepy town some miles away — thus completing their direct orders from Hitler 70 years ago. The first film took its time revealing the outrageous premise, poking along as a conventional slasher until turning into an increasingly berserk, hilarious black comedy midway. This follow-up makes an all-too-predictable mistake: It starts out at “over-the-top,” leaving the movie nowhere to go but further into slapstick gore and bad-taste jokes, all scaled bigger but just half as funny as before. (There’s also the really dismal addition of three zombie-obsessed American nerds, additional “comedy relief” presumably aimed at US audiences — but I’m not sure even a Norwegian could find these asinine cartoons amusing.) Dead Snow 2 has high energy and some laughs, but if you haven’t seen the original, that’s the place to start — and perhaps to end. (1:40) Roxie. (Harvey)

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby: Her/Him The combined version, Them, was released earlier this fall; now, the individual films exploring a marriage in shreds arrive in theaters. Jessica Chastain and James McAvoy star. (3:19) Embarcadero.

Dracula Untold Before he was Dracula, he was just plain ol’ Vlad Tepes. Luke Evans (The Hobbit series) stars as vampire patient zero in this action-fantasy-horror flick. (1:32)

The Green Prince Nadav Schirman’s Sundance Film Festival audience award winner (and SF Jewish Film Festival opening night film) should make an impression well beyond the fest circuit; it’s edited and scored like a thriller, surging ahead with constant tension despite the fact that most of the movie consists of the same two talking heads. But what subjects: Palestinian Mosab Hassan Yousef, oldest son of a Hamas leader, and Shin Bet agent Gonen Ben Yitzhak, the man who recruited Mosab to spy on behalf of Israel. How this relationship came to be, the sensitive information it yielded, the incredible risks both men took, and how Mosab eventually ended up living in the United States and sharing his tale — for so long, a life-or-death secret — with the world, is an undeniably gripping tale of loyalty, trust, and a most unlikely friendship. (1:41) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Eddy)

The Guest See “Go for Goth.” (1:39)

The Judge Crackling chemistry between Robert Downey, Jr. (as Hank, a hotshot Chicago lawyer who reluctantly returns to his rural hometown after the death of his mother) and Robert Duvall (as the stern title character, Hank’s long-estranged father, Joseph) elevates this otherwise heavy-handed look at a dysfunctional family forced to pull together when Joseph is arrested for murder. The rest of the cast in this more mature departure for director David Dobkin (2005’s The Wedding Crashers) ain’t bad, either; there’s Vincent D’Onofrio as Hank’s seething older brother; Vera Farmiga as Sam, the high school sweetheart Hank left behind; and Billy Bob Thornton as a gimlet-eyed prosecutor with an ax to grind. At two hours and 20 minutes, there’s a lot of opportunity for sentimentality, including a recurring narrative device of using home movies — a treasured hobby of Hank’s younger brother, Dale (Jeremy Strong), unfortunately scripted as a “childlike,” vaguely autistic type — to remind us The Way We Were When Things Were Good. And as if the drama of a murder trial wasn’t enough, there’s also Hank’s tentative reconciliation with Sam, relationship-building efforts with his own wee daughter (Emma Tremblay), a tornado, etc. etc. If The Judge tries to be too many genres at once (see also: Cameron Crowe’s lesser filmography), at least it has those marvelously acted Downey vs. Duvall tête-à-têtes — as well as one memorably hilarious jury-selection scene. For an interview with Dobkin, visit www.sfbg.com/pixel_vision. (2:21) Four Star, Marina. (Eddy)

Kill the Messenger Based partly on former San Jose Mercury News investigative reporter Gary Webb’s 1998 book, Dark Alliance, and partly on a posthumous 2004 biography of Webb written by SoCal reporter Nick Schou (from which the film takes its title), Kill the Messenger recounts a grim tale of single-minded muckraking, professional betrayal, and how the federal government’s dubious War on Drugs took an extra-grim turn during the Reagan administration. As the film opens, Webb (Jeremy Renner) is working for the Mercury News, having moved to the Bay Area with his wife (Rosemarie DeWitt) and three kids after some marital trouble back east. In the course of covering a drug dealer’s trial, he gets tipped to a story connecting the CIA, the US funding of the contras in Nicaragua, and the crack cocaine that began pouring into Los Angeles and other American cities in the mid-1980s. Michael Cuesta, who since his directorial debut with L.I.E. in 2001 has been mainly working in television (Homeland, Six Feet Under), attempts to combine an All the President’s Men-style journalistic crime procedural with a portrait of the man who broke the story and was in turn broken by it — or rather, by the CIA and the mainstream press, which turns on him with the vengeance, it’s implied, of a handful of prestigious papers of record that got majorly scooped. The portrait, with Renner giving a nuanced, painfully sympathetic performance, comes out better than the procedural, which feels blurry in places from the speed of the discoveries. (1:52) Shattuck. (Rapoport)

Kite Based on Yasuomi Umetsu’s cult anime, known for its fetishy sex and violence involving a young girl assassin with a penchant for traditional Japanese school uniforms, South Africa-set sci-fi action indie Kite begins with a bang — and a hail of bone fragments and gray matter splatter when an explosive bullet connects with a baddie’s skull. Set in the dystopic near future, after a global financial meltdown, Kite picks up in the middle of an all-too-familiar seedy scenario: an out-of-it teen hooker in a body-con mini and neon wig is getting dragged into the elevator by a trashy sleazebag. His unnecessary cruelty to an elderly lady sharing their lift forces the damsel to break cover and unleash those exploding bullets. It turn out Sawa (India Eisley) is far from your traditional hapless victim — rather she’s a brutal assassin out to avenge her parents’ murders and jumped up on a military drug designed to dull the pain and memories related to PTSD, administered oh so helpfully by her father’s old law-enforcement partner Aker (Samuel L. Jackson). The catch: a mystery man (Callan McAuliffe) who threatens to disrupt the smooth flow of bloody mayhem with his promise to dredge up Sawa’s past. Kite‘s acting talent — in particular Eisley and Jackson — and cinematographer Lance Gewer do what they can, painting the screen with lurid hues and just as over-the-top emotive moments, with pulpy material that’s high on the ultra violence (and salacious kicks for those into little girls with guns) but low on originality. (1:30) Presidio. (Chun)

One Chance Dramedy about the unlikely rise of Britain’s Got Talent breakout Paul Potts (played by James Corden, who just replaced Craig Ferguson as host of The Late Late Show). (1:43)

The Two Faces of January See “Con and On.” (1:38) Embarcadero, Shattuck.

ONGOING

Abuse of Weakness Those who last saw Isabelle Huppert as a dutiful daughter in 2012’s Amour will be both thrilled and piqued to see the tables turned so remarkably in Catherine Breillat’s Abuse of Weakness. Huppert gives an unapologetic, stunning tour de force performance in what appears to be a story torn from the filmmaker’s own life, when Breillat suffered a series of strokes in the ’00s and ended up entangled in a loving and predatory friendship with con man Christophe Rocancourt. Here, moviemaker and writer Maud (Huppert) is particularly vulnerable when she meets celebrity criminal and best-selling writer Vilko (Kool Shen). She is determined to have him star in her next film, despite the protestations of friends and family, and he helps her in return — by simply helping her get around and giving her focus when half her body seems beyond her control, while his constant machinations continue to compel her. Crafting a layered, resonant response to what seems like an otherwise clear-cut case of abuse, Breillat seems to have gotten something close to one of her best films out of the sorry situation, while Huppert reminds us — with the painful precision of this intensely physical role — why she’s one of France’s finest. (1:45) Roxie. (Chun)

Annabelle The Conjuring was a big hit last summer, thanks to its scares (the clapping game!) and its unusually thoughtful themes of motherhood, further elevated by the casting of Vera Farmiga and Lili Taylor. The one thing the story didn’t have was sequel potential — ergo, this cheapy spin-off prequel delving into the back story of a haunted doll that was only tangential to the original film’s action. Set in 1970, Annabelle begins with TV footage of the Manson murders as heavily pregnant Sharon Tate look-alike Mia — yes, just like that actress who played Rosemary! Except this actress is, weirdly, named Annabelle Wallis — stitches clothes for her impending arrival. Hubby John (bland Ward Horton) is a doctor and is never home, even going on work trips after the film’s first-act home-invasion by Satanists who curse guess-which-toy. After the baby’s born, straaaange things start to happen, and the sinister pranks become more menacing when the family moves into the gloomiest apartment building in Pasadena. As a soul-hungry demon circles closer, Annabelle hopes we’re chilled enough to ignore blatant rip-offs not just of Rosemary’s Baby (1968) but also 1979’s Amityville Horror and the ghosts of other schlocky devil flicks that’ve come before. The only thing about Annabelle that might keep you up at night: What is the otherwise respectable Alfre Woodard — cast as a confusingly motivated bookstore owner — doing in this forgettable misfire? (1:39) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

Art and Craft Fans of docs that can be summed up with the phrase “I can’t believe that shit really happened” are in for a treat with Art and Craft, which boasts an eccentric subject who allows filmmakers Sam Cullman, Jennifer Grausman, and Mark Becker full access yet remains entirely inscrutable. He is art forger Mark Landis, diagnosed as schizophrenic after a teenage nervous breakdown, now in his 50s, in fragile health, and living in his late mother’s Mississippi apartment. For 30-plus years, his illness has manifested in an obsession with recreating artworks with remarkable accuracy (Dr. Seuss, Picasso, you name it) — and then arranging elaborate scenarios (an inheritance, the passing of a nonexistent sister, situations that require him to dress as a priest) that involve donating the fakes (to 46 museums in 20 states, most delighted to benefit from his philanthropy). He’s not in it for the money, so the FBI merely observes his exploits, leaving the legwork to former Cleveland Art Museum employee Matt Leininger, who after realizing the deception at his own institution becomes consumed with uncovering Landis’ trail of phony brush strokes. This cat-and-mouse tale (in which the mouse is completely on his own astral plane of reality) leads up to one of the most awkward gallery openings ever captured on film — with artwork as beautifully created as it is plagiarized and deliberately misrepresented. (1:29) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

The Boxtrolls (1:37) Balboa, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

Boyhood Believe the hype: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is one of the best films of the year. It’d be a towering cinematic accomplishment in any year. By now, you’ve heard the set-up, which borrows elements from Linklater’s Before films, as well as his coming-of-age dramas (1993’s Dazed and Confused in particular). He filmed his cast — including titular youth Ellar Coltrane, Lorelai Linklater as his older sister, and Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke as his divorced parents, on and off over 12 years — with scenes touching on moments both monumental (high-tension moments with ugly stepfathers) and microscopic (the creation of a perfect campfire s’more). The years flow by, signaled not by any obvious gestures like on-screen text, but by changing hairstyles, pop culture references, and evolving video-game consoles. Watching Coltrane’s Mason grow from arrowhead-obsessed tyke to thoughtful college freshman is a rare and remarkable pleasure; among the more experienced actors, Arquette is particularly moving as a fiercely loving single mom determined to advance in her career despite continual, mountain-sized roadblocks in her personal life. (2:40) Balboa, Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Brush With Danger (1:30) 1000 Van Ness.

Dolphin Tale 2 (1:48) Metreon.

The Drop The late James Gandolfini gets a fitting final feature-film sendoff in this edgy microcosm of a crime movie, set among the small-time hoodies of Brooklyn, but just easily recast in Tony Soprano’s Jersey or the Beantown of 2010’s The Fighter. As Cousin Marv, a onetime dive-bar owner forced to turn his watering hole over to Chechen mobsters as a drop spot for bookmaking loot, he also gets worthy sparring partners in Tom Hardy and Matthias Schoenaerts (star of 2011’s Bullhead, director Michaël R. Roskam’s Oscar-nominated breakout). Hardy’s Bob looks to be the perpetual side guy to his Cousin Marv; he seems sludgy and lacking confidence, until he finds a battered pit bull puppy in a trashcan belonging to Nadia (Noomi Rapace) — and discovers himself in the middle of a brazen robbery at the drop bar. With the puppy and Nadia comes the canine’s purported owner, rumored killer, and neighborhood “nut case” Eric (Schoenaerts). The beauty of Dennis Lehane’s screenplay, spinning off his short story “Animal Rescue,” is embedded in how the most banal niceties (like “Good to see you”) are used with Mamet-like skill to signal the threadbare facade of civilized behavior and convey an almost nihilistic sense of imminent threat. Meanwhile, Roskam walks a tightrope between the drab, wintry everyday and a pervasive mood of menace, creating a downbeat yet almost horrifying effect when the trigger is finally pulled — and the veil between the hidden and the real, the animal and the human, is dropped. (1:45) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

The Equalizer In this big-screen reboot of the 1980s TV series — which starred Brit Edward Woodward as Robert McCall, a former secret agent who’s since devoted himself to helping “people in need” — man-with-a-past Bob (Denzel Washington) lives his days of quiet desperation working for a Home Depot-like store. He spends his insomniac nights in the local 24-hour diner, sharing sympathies with juvenile hooker Toni (Chloë Grace Moretz). When Toni’s pimp beats her up, Bob tries to buy her freedom, but instead starts a bloodbath that attracts the attentions of a mafioso (Martin Csokas). When Toni calls Bob “Robert” you expect them to bond, but that’s not what director Antoine Fuqua (2001’s Training Day) has in mind — he’s aiming for shared vulnerability, and it’s the quality that unites everyone in this corrupt segment of Boston. Hollywood has long looked for a character to simultaneously please grown-ups and the hero-hungry young-dude demographic, and while this origin story leaves a taste of ham in your mouth, it’s a great way to bridge the divide. I’d happily watch The Equalizer 2 and frankly hope they make one. (2:08) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Gone Girl Gillian Flynn’s twisted 2012 tome — about a marriage about to implode at its five-year mark; the American media’s obsession with missing white women; and the wide-ranging effects of our shitty economy; not to mention a killer reminder of why the unreliable narrator is such a tasty literary device — gets the best possible big-screen scenario, with David Fincher directing (along with his usual A+ crew, including cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth and composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross), Flynn herself penning the screenplay, and an A-list cast. If Gone Girl the film comes up short in translating the book’s deliberately mind-fucking story structure, which explores the action from two distinct points of view, it succeeds in other ways, visually capturing the beige, airless, McMansions-with-overgrown-yards life of Nick (Ben Affleck) and Amy (Rosamund Pike) Dunne, forced to move to his Missouri hometown after losing their NYC writing jobs. There, they proceed to wallow in separate but mutual misery until Amy goes missing, and we get a front-row seat as the shit hits the fan in many different ways. Affleck (Flynn’s top choice) and Pike are well-cast, with Kim Dickens (as the no-nonsense detective investigating Amy’s disappearance) making the biggest impression among a large supporting cast. (2:25) 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Centre, Vogue. (Eddy)

Guardians of the Galaxy The trailer that nearly broke the internet didn’t lie: Guardians of the Galaxy is cheeky, hilarious, eye-popping fun. Its plot may be a predictable anti-hero’s journey, but the saga of Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), half-Earthling, half maybe-alien, as he transforms from scavenging scoundrel to rescuer-of-the-universe is so enjoyable nobody seeking a good time at the movies will care. Helping Quill in his battle against baddie Ronan (Lee Pace) are slinky, green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana); rascally raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper); muscle-bound dim bulb Drax (former pro wrestler Dave Bautista); and a tree-like creature named Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel — his best performance in years, if ever, despite the fact that the only words the character ever utters are “I am Groot.”) Director and co-writer James Gunn (2010’s Super), working from a cult comic from the prolific house of Marvel, does a stellar job balancing action and goofiness, with plenty of unexpected touches along the way, including the best use of 1970s soft-rock since Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Cherish (2002). (2:02) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Hector and the Search For Happiness Despite the inherent lovability of Simon Pegg, Hector and the Search For Happiness gives off a strong whiff of #firstworldproblems. Pegg’s well-meaning, too-tidy therapist Hector is at the end of his tether with his mewling patients, perfect girlfriend (Rosamund Pike), and immaculate London condo — he’s just dying to get dirty, mussed up, and fundamentally unsettled and along the way, he hopes to discover the secret to happiness, purportedly for his clients, but really, truly for himself. Getting out of his comfort zone with a dose of cultural colonialism, er, tourism, seems to be the answer, so Hector embeds himself, sort of, in Shanghai, where he meets wealthy businessman (Stellan Skarsgård) and falls for a tremulous club hottie (Ming Zhao); Tibet, where he meets a magical monk (Togo Igawa); Africa, where he has the best time dancing and eating and the worst time being imprisoned and tortured by a warlord (Akin Omotoso); and finally LA, where he is torturously confronted by an old love (Toni Collette) and poked and prodded by a happiness researcher (Christopher Plummer). The scattered laughs and whimsical drawings in Hector’s notes, which the film’s sporadic animations emerge from, are the best things about this otherwise meander of movie as Pegg’s Hector attempts to follow his bliss down some familiar pathways. Hector’s holy-fool naiveté and conclusions don’t entirely surprise or coalesce — we’re missing the usual cohort of director Edgar Wright and sidekick Nick Frost and Pegg’s own writerly touch — though the heart, positive intentions, and wide screen ambitions still glimmer, however dimly. (1:54) SF Centre. (Chun)

The Hundred-Foot Journey Don’t watch Lasse Hallström’s latest film on an empty stomach. Under the film’s rich layers of mouthwatering food closeups and stunning shots of France (which, admittedly, occasionally threaten to steal the show), The Hundred-Foot Journey is a simple feel-good movie, akin to your favorite comfort food. The Kadam family spices up the South of France when they open an Indian restaurant just 100 feet away from a formidable competitor: a ritzy place owned by Madame Mallory (Helen Mirran). Papa (Om Puri) and eldest son Hassan (Manish Dayal) don’t back down when the heat gets turned up. It’s easy to get caught up in Hassan’s optimism, so the film is predictable (even managing to sprinkle a bit of romance in), but not cheesy. The score is the final icing on the cake, but it’s impossible to expect anything less from Slumdog Millionaire (2008) composer A.R. Rahman. (2:02) SF Centre. (Amy Char)

I Am Eleven Australian director Genevieve Bailey wanted to find out if kids today are still as “happy and excited” in “this crazy world” as she was at her own favorite age. So she trotted around the globe interviewing 11-year-olds. This innocuous documentary doesn’t ask them any difficult or probing questions. So we get a curiously samey sampling of children in very different cultural and economic circumstances who are nonetheless all plucky and well-adjusted, have the same opinions (war, racism, bullies and global warming are bad; animals and family are good). None of them appear to be suffering any serious deprivations, abuse or cultural-religious programming that might disturb viewers, making I Am Eleven a feel-good montage with little depth. It might ideally be shown to actual 11-year-olds, who could benefit from its mild, relatable depiction of diversity. But by grown-up standards, this movie represents a wasted opportunity to take the pulse of those who are about to inherit a world facing crisis on myriad fronts. (1:34) Balboa, Metreon. (Harvey)

Jimi: All is by My Side There’s a huge challenge facing Jimi: All Is By My Side, written and directed by John Ridley (an Oscar winner for scripting 2013’s 12 Years a Slave): The Hendrix family noped any song permissions, so star André Benjamin, aka OutKast’s André 3000, doesn’t get to wail through “Foxy Lady” or any other songs that hit big during the film’s time frame (it ends just before Hendrix’s stateside breakout at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival). He does get to noodle on some blues riffs, and the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s notorious cover of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” — played days after its release in front of a crowd that included astonished Beatles — is one of Jimi’s few exhilirating moments. There are other issues beyond the music rights; controversy has swirled around the script’s portrayal of Hendrix as a violent drunk, and as an aimless drifter who probably wouldn’t have made much of himself, despite his talent, were it not for people like Linda Keith (Imogen Poots), who used her connections as Keith Richards’ girlfriend to kickstart Hendrix’s music career. But without those electrifying songs to punctuate Hendrix’s day-to-day drama, Jimi‘s narrative is meandering at best. We already know he’s going to become a star. We know he’s going to die young. Maybe we don’t know how Hendrix wrote “Purple Haze,” but this movie, which contains precious few insights into his creative process, isn’t going to tell us. (1:58) Metreon, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Last Days in Vietnam Recent news coverage of Yadizi people — ethnic-minority Iraqis targeted by ISIS for their spiritual beliefs — desperately fleeing their country brought to mind another frantic evacuation, investigated in detail by Rory Kennedy’s tense new doc Last Days in Vietnam. It begins in 1975, when Saigon’s post-war population included 6,000 or so Americans, as well as thousands more South Vietnamese who worked for and with them. With rapidly-approaching Communist troops on the horizon, the urgent exodus began, and Last Days combines news footage with eyewitness reports from American embassy workers and military (including the last US soldier to climb aboard the last departing helicopter) who took an active role in the operation. We also hear from South Vietnamese — including several people who did not make it out, but managed to survive, as well as a man whose father daringly choppered his entire family to an American ship bobbing offshore. Kennedy — whose previous work, 2012’s Ethel, was about her mother, best-known as RFK’s widow — favors filmmaking that doesn’t innovate stylistically beyond anything seen on the History Channel, and there are no big revelations here. But her straightforward approach means the stories she captures take center stage, and they are harrowing stories indeed. (1:19) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

Left Behind Jeepers creepers, they went and remade 2000 Christian scare flick Left Behind: The Film, based on the best-selling book series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. Just gonna come right out and let you know the Antichrist character does not appear in Vic Armstrong’s do-over. WEAK. But it does contain supremely awkward breakdancing; terrible CG of an airplane floundering after the Rapture makes flying a dicey prospect (apparently, air traffic control is a largely evangelical profession); erstwhile CW network heartthrob Chad Michael Murray as an internationally renowned investigative journalist (the same role Kirk Cameron played, also implausibly, in the original); and — best of all, and the only reason to seek out this ham sandwich of a movie — Nicolas Cage, who delivers possibly the worst performance of his career as an airline pilot whose sins include thinking about cheating on his born-again wife (Lea Thompson) and coveting U2 concert tickets. All of this brings up a very important question for our times: Does Jesus snark? (1:50) Metreon. (Eddy)

The Liberator Lush production values and a smoldering performance by Venezuela’s best-known acting export (Édgar Ramírez), elevate this Simón Bolívar tale from mere biopic to epic (bio-epic?) It begins amid revolutionary tumult before stepping back in time to Bolívar’s younger days; we’re brought up to speed on the tragic early deaths of his well-to-do parents, as well as the yellow-fever death of his delicate Spanish wife and some globe-trotting that allows Ramírez to show off his flawless French (he also speaks Spanish and English in the film), and for Bolívar to meet characters who prove important to his crusade for Venezuelan independence. Bombastic battle scenes and grueling marches (in and across jungles, open fields, the snowy Andes, seaside forts, blood-stained villages, etc.) soon follow, with Bolívar’s bravery and rousing speechmaking (“Freeeedooommm!”) inspiring people across northern South America and beyond, from every class and race, to join his cause. If this two-hour film feels a bit tight for such a sprawling story — especially when you consider that Ramírez’s breakout role came with 2010 miniseries Carlos, which lavished five-and-a-half hours on the career of Carlos the Jackal — it still makes for stirring viewing. (1:59) Four Star, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Lucy Eurotrash auteur Luc Besson’s latest is a mostly fun action fantasy about a party girl (Scarlett Johansson) who runs afoul of gangsters in Taipei and ends up with a leaking packet of futuristic drugs sewn into her shapely stomach. Side effects include super strength and supernatural intelligence — insert pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo about tapping into 100 percent of one’s woefully underused brainpower, etc. etc. — which leads to some satisfying scenes in which Johansson’s Lucy flattens a hallway of cops with a single gesture, or filters through every phone conversation in the Paris metro area to find the one guy she needs to eavesdrop on. She’s also able to beam herself into electronic devices, a nifty trick that convinces kindly scientist Morgan Freeman to help download her magnificently advanced intelligence into a kind of living computer (shades of 2013’s Her and Under the Skin, except this time ScarJo’s wearing a really great dress). South Korean weirdo/superstar Choi Min-sik (2003’s Oldboy; 2010’s I Saw the Devil) is an inspired choice to play the vengeful kingpin intent on tracking down his runaway mule, and Besson adds some arty flair via nature-show footage and Cosmos-esque clips from beyond the infinite — though the film’s Big Ideas wobble precariously amid its other, mostly silly elements. (1:29) Castro, Metreon. (Eddy)

The Maze Runner What better way to allegorically filter the nightmarish battleground of adolescence amid apocalyptic end times, than through the prism of brainteasers and video games? After all those dystopic, divergent, ender-baiting — and more girl-focused — hunger games, The Maze Runner feels like a mixture of Michael Bay blockbuster fare, crypto-Lost conspiracy-fantasy, and classic proto-YA fiction, à la Lord of the Flies. We are bolted — like smart noob Thomas (Dylan O’Brien), waking from an amnesiac slumber in a speeding mystery elevator — into a contained Petri dish of sorts: a bucolic box of forests and fields, a land of lost boys. No Peter Pans here, though. Alby (Ami Ameen) oversees the fragile peace of this budding society, alongside second-in-command Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster), opinionated hazer Gally (Will Poulter), and a baby Hurley named Chuck (Blake Cooper). They’re surrounded by a menacing maze filled with deadly, giant spider-like “Grievers,” and the strongest and fastest, led by Minho (Ki Hong Lee), explore its corridors each day in search of a way out. Of course, Thomas, who happens to be smarter, speedier, and more compassionate than most, is destined to run the maze, which evokes a way-too-elaborate guillotine-cum-Skinner-box, the Transformers, and the doomed pathways of The Shining (1980). The arrival of a girl to the glade, of course, changes everything, though not in ways you’d naturally expect. In spite of its intriguing premise and director Wes Ball’s brisk play-by-play, Maze Runner‘s end game is way more pat than anything Kubrick ever laid his digits on. And why any entity would go through the fuss and bother and expense of building out this scenario for the goals finally teased out at the end comes off as utterly absurd, as is the laughable catchphrase that poor Patricia Clarkson is tasked with intoning. (1:53) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Men, Women & Children The web of title characters in Jason Reitman’s new film, set in a nonspecific-feeling Austin, Tex., stand in for a larger culture, digital native and immigrant alike, leading a significant portion of their lives online. A mother (Jennifer Garner) obsessed with the invidious snares of the scrolling feed, feverishly tracks the digital micro-movements of her teenage daughter (Kaitlyn Dever of 2013’s Short Term 12), sabotaging the latter’s burgeoning relationship with a sweetly troubled, Carl Sagan-quoting ex-football player (The Fault in Our Stars’ Ansel Elgort). Another mother (Judy Greer) embraces the seedier aspects of the mercantile web, bolstering her daughter’s dreams of stardom by pimping out her image to private customers. A man (Adam Sandler) and a woman (Rosemarie DeWitt) drift unconnected through their marriage and seek recourse among web escorts and a dating site for cheaters. The message, underscored with motifs running thickly through the interconnected plot lines, is that our lives and relationships are echoed and overlapped by a ghostly online population, whom our loved ones experience, if they notice, only as a zoned-out absence, a silent withdrawal from the room. Reitman (2009’s Up in the Air), who co-wrote the film with Erin Cressida Wilson (2002’s Secretary), finds a wealth of visual tools for mapping this populace. Texts and Facebook messages bubble up and hover over crowd scenes in an overlay, flooding the screen with drifting commentary. At cheerleading practice, one paper-thin teenager silently backstabs another via a hailstorm of emoji. If the film doesn’t issue a fiery polemic, most of its protagonists do seem caught in a stultified daze by a succession of variously proportioned screens; the emotional payoffs, and the brutal, awkward collisions, tend to come when they look up. (1:56) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

My Old Lady If only the grand dame had more of a say, rather than the whiny, middle-aged offspring. Playwright Israel Horovitz makes his feature-film debut, directing his own play in this potentially fascinating clash of cultures on a generational battlefield populated by some amply endowed acting talents. New Yorker Mathias (Kevin Kline), who grew up privileged with a “silver knife” in his maw, got little else from his deceased, estranged father than a Paris apartment in the coveted Marais district. But his real estate dreams are quashed when it turns out to be a “viager,” a quirk of French law that allows the former owner — in this case, worldly elder Mathilde (Maggie Smith) — to continue dwelling in the property long after the sale, collecting monthly payments from the purchaser until her death. Penniless, troubled Mathias can barely afford those payouts, much less cope with Mathilde’s daughter, Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), in this wearily paced dramedy that turns out to be more sour — and dourily serious — than saucy. One is forced to fantasize: What would Smith’s Violet Crawley do, or better yet, say, about this effort, which makes Downton Abbey look like the picture of crisply edited moviemaking modernity? (1:47) Clay. (Chun)

No Good Deed (1:24) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

Pride In 1984 London, queer radical Mark (Ben Schnetzer) browbeats his coterie of fellow gay activists into raising funds for coal miners striking against P.M. Margaret Thatcher’s firmly anti-unionist policies. Their success brings a reluctant invitation to visit and receive thanks from one small Welsh town of strikers, most of whom are not all that enthused to get helped by a buncha poofs. But in this loosely fact-inspired crowdpleaser by scenarist Stephen Beresford and director Matthew Warchus (a UK stage luminary whose only prior feature was the unfairly maligned Sam Shepard-penned Simpatico 15 years ago), adversity ultimately creates allegiance and understanding, despite such hurdles as ingrained prejudice (represented by Lisa Palfrey as a particularly homophobic miner’s widow) and the still-new AIDS crisis. With Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, Paddy Considine, and Bill Nighy scattered among both the “pit and pervert” types, this feel-good flashback complete with a soundtrack full of New Wave oldies hits all the right notes even if there are few real surprises in the overall tune. (2:00) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

The Skeleton Twins “I don’t know … maybe we were doomed from the beginning,” muses Maggie (Kristin Wiig) at the beginning of The Skeleton Twins. It’s her voice-over, but the figure onscreen is her brother, Milo (Bill Hader), who mopes to Blondie before flopping into a bathtub that slowly fills with water and blood from his slashed wrists. The twins haven’t seen each other in over 10 years, and the ice takes awhile to break when Maggic appears at his hospital bedside. But we know her secret: On the same day Milo was penning a suicide note, Maggie — trapped in a torturously bland marriage — was on the verge of gobbling a handful of pills in order to make her own permanent exit. Clearly, these siblings have more in common than they realize: They’re both deeply miserable, unable to shake a troubled past that includes their beloved father’s suicide, a distant mother (Joanna Gleason), and the scandalous incident (involving Milo and his high-school English teacher) that caused their estrangement. There’s only one path that these sad-sacks can choose (since if one of ’em actually died, that would make this black comedy a little too black), so they set about trying to mend fences. And it’s obvious — despite their frequent arguments, and the fact that both do some pretty terrible things — that the only bond in The Skeleton Twins that has any chance at repair is Milo and Maggie’s. Produced by indie darlings Jay and Mark Duplass, and directed by Craig Johnson (whose co-writer, Mark Heyman, also co-wrote 2010’s Black Swan), The Skeleton Twins might veer too deeply into melodrama territory were it not for its restrained script, and its deeply appealing cast. Wiig and Hader have been funnier elsewhere — but they’ve rarely been better. (1:33) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

This Is Where I Leave You Jason Bateman plays Judd Altman, the hollow center of a clan of snarky, squabbling siblings — Wendy (Tina Fey), fractiously married with kids and pining for her high school sweetheart (Timothy Olyphant); Paul (Corey Stoll), who runs the family sporting goods store; and Phillip (Adam Driver), a philandering über-fuckup currently dating his former therapist (Connie Britton) — reunited somewhere in eastern seaboard suburbia by the death of their father. This vaguely sketched individual’s last wish, they are informed by their mother (Jane Fonda), a therapist turned author who mined their adolescence for pop psych bestseller gold, was that, his atheism notwithstanding, they conform to Judaic tradition and sit shivah for him. A seven-day respite of quiet reminiscing and clarifying reflection, broken up by periodic babka-and-whitefish-salad binges, could be good for Judd, whose recent misfortunes also include coming home to find his wife (Abigail Spencer) between the sheets with his shock jock boss (Dax Shepard), resulting in a divorce-unemployment double whammy. But there is no peace to be found at the Altman homestead, where fuses blow, siblings brawl, in-laws conduct high-volume international business transactions and reproductive rites, and Wendy’s latchkey toddler wanders the property with his portable potty. Director Shawn Levy (2013’s The Internship, 2010’s Date Night) and writer Jonathan Tropper, who adapted the script from his novel, don’t want any of the siblings, or satellite characters, to feel left out, and the story line is divvied up accordingly. But the results are uneven — lumps of comedy and genuine pathos dropped amid the oppressive exposition, pat resolutions, and swings in pacing from slack to frenetic. (1:43) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Rapoport)

The Trip to Italy Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon return as “Steve Coogan” and “Rob Brydon” in this sequel to Michael Winterbottom’s 2010 The Trip. Like its predecessor, the premise — a road trip for the purpose of a restaurant-reviewing gig — provides a loose framework upon which these two actor-comedians, portraying exaggerated, fictionalized versions of themselves, hang their easy banter and occasional deeper conversations. The midlife crisis themes are still apparent (Brydon meets a comely expat who tempts him into cheating on his wife, with whom he has a small child; Coogan feels regret over his distant relationship with his teenage son), which tie into career anxieties for both men; references to classic literature also hold over from the first film. Most importantly, also like the first film, The Trip to Italy — blessed with all the gorgeous food and coastal landscapes the change of scenery suggests — is a riot. The impressions (lots of Godfather this time around) flow fast and furiously; while there’s nothing that can top the first film’s Michael Caine battle, it’s still a pleasure watching Brydon “converse” with a historical relic at Pompeii, or the duo’s joyous invocation of The Bounty (1984) during a brief boat journey. (1:55) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

Tusk Michael Parks has a gift for looking like he’s in a different movie than everyone else, and it’s possible that ineffable skill of his has found its best use to date in Kevin Smith’s new fuck-you horror/comedy Tusk. When jerky podcaster Wally (Justin Long) finds a video that begins like “Star Wars Boy” but ends with dismemberment, Wally flies to Canada to interview the “Kill Bill Boy” (so named for the sword wielding and spurting stump). Wallace reaches his destination and is importuned by the funeral. This is one of a handful of scenes that exists to make us happy when Wally meets magical storyteller Howard Howe, an ex-sailor full of sea tales and an dark plan to turn Wally into a Franken-walrus. The story is based on something Smith hashed out in his sModcasts (excerpted during the credits) and when you look for author surrogate (not that you should) Wally’s impossible to distinguish from Smith. Asshole podcaster? Fights for permission to work freely? Body issues? All Wally needs is a dachshund and a jersey. Tusk isn’t up to the level of Smith’s early output, but it’s right in line with the decline in quality he’s been facing since critics broke his spirit, studios turned cold shoulders, and cynicism naturally set in. I hope whatever soul coughing Tusk represents will provide Smith momentum and license to leave any transformative hardships behind him — there are always beacons of hope (an uncredited Johnny Depp provides a good one here). Despite fundamental frustrations, Tusk has some deep and inky moments. When Howe takes Wally’s leg from him (leveling him to a “Kill Bill Kid”-styled punch line) Wally wails impotently, and Howe laughs — at what, it’s not certain (perhaps it’s really Parks, guffawing at Long’s performance?), but whatever that gloriously complicated motivation was, in the mingling of cries emerges an eerie but profoundly communal squall. (1:42) Metreon. (Vizcarrondo)

A Walk Among the Tombstones The latest in Liam Neeson’s string of films in which he plays a tough guy uncannily adept at hissing orders (or threats) through a telephone is as pitch-black as its eerie title suggests. Set conspicuously in 1999, when Y2K and far more sinister threats loomed (see: a poignant shot of the World Trade Center), Tombstones is the grim tale of Matt Scudder, a loner with both an NYPD career and a prodigious drinking habit wedged 10 years in the past. He maintains his bare-bones lifestyle by doing off-the-books PI work, but none of his dirty-deeds experience can prepare him for his next case, a nightmarish pile-up of missing women sliced to pieces by a van-driving maniacs. Working from Lawrence Block’s novel, writer-director Scott Frank (2007’s The Lookout) emerges with surprisingly layered characters that extend beyond the archetypes they initially seem to be at first; besides Neeson’s Scudder, there’s a street-smart youth who becomes his sorta-helpful sidekick (Brian “Astro” Bradley), and a vengeful drug dealer (Dan Stevens) with a junkie brother (Boyd Holbrook). Even the murderers behave in unexpected ways. And if its story hews a bit too closely to Urban Noir 101, it’s bleak as hell, and has the guts to make relentlessness one of its primary objectives. (1:53) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Eddy) *

Still Steppin’

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October 7, 2014

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arts@sfbg.com

The Boogaloo is a dance, descended from the Twist but landing firmly between the Philly Dog and the Skate.

“I like to dance. Always did,” says Oscar Myers, who turns 70 next week, while demonstrating his moves in front of a whooping, sweating, grinning 1am crowd at San Francisco’s Boom Boom Room. Myers knows the Boogaloo because he was there when it happened, and because he plays the melange of funk, soul, jazz, and Latin music that make up its unique sound.

Myers, a trumpet player, percussionist, and singer, has been a Bay Area mainstay for decades, but if you wandered into any of his regular nights here or Madrone Art Bar, you might not immediately realize you were in the presence of a musical forefather.

“Want something slow, something fast, or something half-assed?”

His band, Steppin’, plays tunes by Lou Donaldson, Melvin Sparks, and Ivan “Boogaloo Joe” Jones, alongside classics by James Brown and Michael Jackson. The 30-somethings in Steppin’ are talented, but all eyes are usually on the man up front: It’s Myers who played with James Brown, Ray Charles, Charles Mingus, Lowell Fulson, and R&B icon Jimmy McCracklin. There aren’t many musicians of Myers’ era left — much less playing regular late-night gigs around San Francisco. (His next will be his 70th birthday party, at the Boom Boom Room this Friday, Oct. 10.)

No one ever asks for anything “half-assed.”

Born in Montego Bay, Jamaica, in 1944, Myers moved to Charleston, South Carolina as a kid. His father worked the graveyard shift at the city water pump station and dug actual graves during the day. His parents weren’t especially musical, but they had a piano, on which Myers began to pick out songs by ear. Through the family’s record player, he got to know the era’s swing greats: Benny Goodman, Cab Calloway, Duke Ellington, and McKinney’s Cotton Pickers. He picked up the trumpet as a teenager, which got him into the orchestra and marching band at North Carolina A&T, alongside classmate (and future saxophone legend) Maceo Parker.

Oscar Myers. Photo by Saroyan Humphrey.

Following college, he joined the military, landing in San Francisco after serving in Vietnam. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he was wounded in the Tet Offensive, and ended up in physical therapy at the Letterman Army Hospital in the Presidio. He ultimately decided to stay: “The Bay Area was humming,” says Myers, with an inimitable, throaty husk in his voice. “There was music coming from everywhere.”

His list of collaborators is an index to the Bay Area’s music history — “The Bishop” Norman Williams, Jackie Ivory, Julian Vaught, Bill Bell, Bill Summers, and Babatunde Lea — and his gigs map out its nearly forgotten musical nervous system: the jazz, funk, and R&B clubs that once hosted the area’s thriving scene.

By the ’90s, Myers was leading a band that included two former bandmates of James Brown: organist Louis Madison and saxophonist C.A. Carr. Madison — a member of the Famous Flames, who were unceremoniously fired by Brown after a gig in San Francisco in 1959, reportedly after asking to be paid fairly — is rumored to have penned such Brown hits as “I Feel Good,” “Try Me,” and “Please, Please, Please.” Sans Brown, the Flames stuck around the Bay for good.

“How many of y’all know who the Godfather of Soul is?”

In the early ’90s, Myers got a call from James Brown’s manager, saying Brown wanted to meet up with Madison and this new bandleader in San Francisco. Myers declined, citing their gig at Eli’s Mile High Club in Oakland that night. Since two of Brown’s alumni were in the band, Myers added, Brown should actually come to them. Sure enough, during the show, Brown showed up with his wife, and the band broke into “I Feel Good.” After “I’ll Go Crazy,” Brown rushed the stage to hug his old band-members.

Soon after, Brown invited Myers to sit in on trumpet when he played the West Coast. Myers did about eight gigs with Brown, a perfectionist who notoriously fined his musicians for mistakes.

“All that’s true,” says Myers, though he didn’t personally receive any penalties. “He’d go down to the front of the stage and be leaning and crying and singing and then he’d hold up his hand: $5.” Don’t miss a note, was the lesson. “And don’t be late either!”

“I’ve never seen so many dead people breathing in my life!”

It takes a lot to get away with chastising a crowd. “He can tell the audience to shut up and it’s ok, because he has the credibility to do it,” says organist Wil Blades, who’s been playing with Myers for over a decade, since Blades was 20. “Oscar has big ears and he knows how this music should sound, because he came up with it.”

Mentorship is important to Myers, who now lives with his wife off Alamo Square. “Nowadays, you don’t see that stuff happening, where the older cats let the younger ones come and play and test their knowledge,” says the bandleader. Go to any Myers gig, and you’ll see one or two young musicians trying to prove their worth. If Myers likes what he hears, they’ll receive a smile and a handshake at the end of the night.

That said: “If you can’t play I’m not going to let you get up there. If you’re bad, I’ll run your ass off stage.” He’s not kidding.

“He let me up there and gave me an old-school butt-whooping,” remembers Blades. “That’s how you really learn this music, to me. You don’t learn it in school.”

How does it feel to be playing on his 70th birthday? “I did it when I was 69!” says Myers with a laugh. “You’re blessed just to be here this long. You can wake up, open your eyes, wiggle your toes, everything’s working. Everything from here on out is gravy for me.”

Which might explain why, on a typical night, you’ll find him dancing spontaneously during a set break, even when the curtain is down and the audience can’t see a thing.

OSCAR MYERS & STEPPIN‘
With Bootie Cooler & DJ K-Os
Fri/10, 9pm, $10
Boom Boom Room
1601 Fillmore, SF
www.boomboomblues.com

Live shots: A hot and sticky Hardly Strictly

Steven T. Jones

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October 6, 2014

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In keeping with Hardly Strictly weekend weather of years gone by, this past weekend was the most summerlike the Bay Area’s been all year. Ooo-weee, it was hot out there.

While you’re chugging your coconut water and dabbing your sunburn with aloe vera, here are our photos and reviews of our favorite sets.

Lucinda Williams

Lucinda Williams is about the only person I can think of who actually makes me wish I drove a car more often. Her music just sounds best while you’re moving — or maybe that’s because I associate it with long road trips, because it was on a road trip that I first became obsessed with her classic record Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. Specifically, “Drunken Angel.” Blood spilled from the hole in your heart/over the strings of your guitar… As a completely non-religious person, watching her sing it — a little behind the beat, in that husky/warbly way Williams has where she doesn’t sound entirely sober ever, but also that’s kinda part of her schtick, in front of 1000 people as the 5pm sun bore down on us — felt something like church. (Emma Silvers)

Mavis Staples

During this 64th year musical of her career, songstress Mavis Staples belted out her tunes that fueled the civil rights movement on Saturday afternoon to a Hardly Strictly crowd full of avid fans, one man with nipple piercings dancing in a continuous flow, and several babies with adorable earmuffs. “Hardly Strictly is my favorite festival!” she bellowed to huge applause. “We wanna leave you feeling good.” She unleashed her soulful, resounding voice directly from her gut with a gravelly tone accumulated through decades of performance. In a flowing white blouse, surrounded by a guitarist, backup singers, and drummer also dressed in black and white, Staples kicked off the set with “If You’re Ready (Come Go with Me)” — preaching from the gospel of social justice with lyrics such as “No hatred/will be tolerated.” Although the band’s sound level was occasionally too low in the mix, Staples made up for it with her gospel singing style that brought the funk all on its own.

The band nailed covers such as “The Weight” and the protest song “For What It’s Worth,” with the drummer adding a groovy beat and dropping silent at “Stop children, what’s that sound?” On the old hit “Freedom Highway,” Staples credited her “Pops” with writing the song for their family band, The Staple Singers, and said, “I’m a living witness here…and I’m still fighting, and I’m still on the battlefield.” She soldiered on by ending the set with a ten-minute rendition of her family’s biggest hit, “I’ll Take You There,” that left the crowd in a chilled-out reverie. (Rebecca Huval)

Yo La Tengo

Yo La Tengo is never going to be the flashiest kid in the room. Powered by Ira Kaplan’s voice and moody walls of freaked-out guitar, it’s a critic’s band, one that you almost forget you love until you hear those opening notes of “Sugarcube” (which they opened with). “Do you like being referred to as Hardly Strictly Bluegrass?” Kaplan wondered aloud, sounding, charmingly, every bit like a 22-year-old, cold-weather indie band that didn’t quite know what they were doing at a sunny outdoor festival full of girls in crop tops. “Like if we were to say ‘Hello, Hardly Strictly Bluegrass?’ You, sir, in the front, please speak for everyone.'” Toward the end of the set they brought out Cibo Matto’s Yuka Honda to play keys, followed by (SF legends) the Flamin’ Groovies’ Roy Loney to sing. Ryan Adams was crooning his guts out about 100 yards away, but for half an hour or so, this was the old school cool kid section of the party for sure. (Silvers)

Flatlanders

The 1972 “rowdy country group” from Lubbock, Texas returned to Hardly Strictly this year, wrapping up Saturday’s tunes with a spectacular performance on two acoustic and two electric guitars, as the sun set and a cool breeze blew on exhausted festival-goers. With an outlaw country feel, this group attracted an older generation of fans by far. Lead singer Jimmie Dale Gilmore had a voice similar to Willie Nelson himself, and his stark white shoulder-length hair glimmered with the lyrics “the stars in my life will stay in place” and “where a good guitar-picker makes more money than a cowboy,” (their first song laid down on tape) echoed across the swaying crowd in true bluegrass character. (Haley Brucato)

Rosanne Cash

Johnny Cash’s little girl is definitely keeping the legend alive. Daddy would be proud. But, she has made a name for herself and will undoubtedly be remembered as her own legend. She harmonized with the best of country, and flashed those pearly whites over the packed stage. Fans piled into grass and dirt areas, pushed up against the chain-link fences, and everywhere in between as they forced their way in to catch a glimpse of this Tennessee beauty. Her songs are intoxicating and, although I am not a country fan, I am now a fan of Rosanne Cash. You can’t ignore that talent. (Brucato)

Built to Spill

Nope, don’t care that I saw them two months ago at Slim’s. Built to Spill make me happy every time, every which way, whether it’s Doug Martsch’s raw vocals pushing high above a horde of people on “Time Trap” or the precision of a lilting guitar outro on “Stab.” That said — and I recall coming to a consensus about this with other BTS super-fans later Saturday night — there is something a little weird about sharing the emotional relationship that most Built to Spill fans have to Built to Spill songs with, well, other Built to Spill fans. And non-Built to Spill fans. In a situation that’s not the slightest bit depressing nor lonely whatsoever. It’s almost too raw. This may also be related to the amount of rosé I consumed during the set (come on, it was getting warm fast). “Thank you for listening and paying attention,” said Martsch at the set’s close. Doug. Doug! Anytime. (Silvers)

Tweedy

Jeff Tweedy (Wilco) has a unique family collab going on with this band. I was wondering why the drummer looked so much younger than the other band members, and then I’m told it’s lead singer Jeff Tweedy’s 18-year-old son, Spencer! Ah, that’s sweet. The Tweedys performed with a full band, but for the two that share the family name, they were performing songs from their debut record Sukierae (named after Tweedy’s wife and mother to their son, Spencer). The music is very simple, light,and enjoyable. I laid back on my blue and white blanket, stretched my legs, and relaxed during this set. People seemed happy to be here for this performance and vibes were going strong as the afternoon wore on. (Brucato)

Social Distortion

Proving punk rock wasn’t and never will be just a fad, Social Distortion headlined the Towers of Gold stage in their 35th year of existence on Saturday. While the band’s Americana-inspired repertoire consists of ample crowd-pleasers, singer-songwriter-guitarist Mike Ness and crew also rewarded long-time fans with some deep cuts and variations on familiar tunes. Wasting no time on introductions, Social Distortion opened with “Through These Eyes,” an anthem that encapsulates their message of hard-earned hope in a cruel and capricious world.

With his sparkly gold-top Gretsch and signature wide stance (not to be confused with Larry Craig’s), Ness led the eager crowd through a veritable tour of the band’s past and present with recent hits like “Machine Gun Blues” and “Gimme the Sweet and Lowdown” intertwined with eternal classics like “Ball and Chain” and “99 to Life.” Mid-set, bassist Brent Harding switched to an upright bass, and the band embarked on a slower, waltzy rendition of 1992’s “Cold Feelings” followed by an acoustic and accordion treatment of 2004’s “Reach for the Sky.” As Ness’s crimson T-shirt became consumed by sweat, he beckoned the audience to sing along to “Story of My Life,” the band’s most well-known and relatable song, and closed with “Ring of Fire,” a romantic Johnny Cash classic that coincidentally qualified the several mosh pits that had formed. That hot afternoon, Social Distortion gave us something to believe in. (Chung Leung)

Lake Street Dive

This talented, and young, quartet provides a stark contrast to the aged musicians scattering the lineup this year. The avant garde group hailing from Boston, MA put a creative spin on pop, jazz, folk, and soul, and it works. Rachael Price (lead singer) bellowed out an unexpected bluesy, sultry voice that eerily resembles the late Amy Winehouse. It’s a really neat combo of sounds with the giant upright bass, talented drummer and guitarist as well — all graduates from the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. They expertly covered a Hall and Oates song, that got my head bobbing and foot tapping automatically. Lake Street Dive are a genuinely talented bunch and I’m hooked. (Brucato)

Chris Isaak

“When I first came to San Francisco, I used to come down to the park and play guitar here,” said Chris Isaak to an adoring throng of fans at around 6:30pm on Saturday evening. “Who’d have thought that 30 years later, I’d still be playing here for free?” Then he launched into the signature guitar sigh of “Wicked Game,” as the sunburned, stoned, blissed-out masses cheered and swayed and made out. Isaak is a Hardly Strictly veteran, so you’d think he couldn’t surprise you — but then he goes and coordinates dance moves with his band, shimmying side to side in his blue Johnny Cash-esque suit. A handful of Roy Orbison covers, a handful of songs that took the performance well past the official 7pm end time: He can do whatever he wants. Silly grin-inducing. (Silvers)

Bruce Cockburn

Wow. I didn’t expect that kind of guitar playing when I wandered down to the Star stage, exhausted and sunburnt, for the last performance on Sunday. Things were (sadly) winding down for 2014 HSB. I looked on stage to see a small man fully clad in an army jacket with combat boots, small circular spectacles, standing alone. The swaying crowd could definitely feel the spirit of Warren Hellman hovering over the best festival on earth. Cockburn’s fingerpicking skills on his dark green guitar washed over onlookers. There he stood, with his eyes tightly closed for his entire set, bellowing out a surprisingly raspy voice. You could tell it’s the kind of voice that’s been around awhile, but one that has truly gotten better with age.

I looked behind me, and I could see others mimicking his meditation-like pose, closing their eyes too, and feeling only the music, deeply concentrated on the bluegrass sounds floating around them. It was magical, and it gave me goosebumps. I was just about to leave (after realizing I could barely remain upright after the draining weekend of music) when “Iris of the World” began playing, and something made me turn back and stay put. (Brucato)

Film Listings: Oct 1-6, 2014

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October 1, 2014

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

MILL VALLEY FILM FESTIVAL

The 37th annual Mill Valley Film Festival runs Oct 2-12. Venues include the Lark Theater, 549 Magnolia, Larkspur; Cinearts@Sequoia, 25 Throckmorton, Mill Valley; and Smith Rafael Film Center, 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael. For tickets (most shows $8-14) and complete schedule, visit www.mvff.com. For commentary, see Film.

OPENING

Abuse of Weakness Those who last saw Isabelle Huppert as a dutiful daughter in 2012’s Amour will be both thrilled and piqued to see the tables turned so remarkably in Catherine Breillat’s Abuse of Weakness. Huppert gives an unapologetic, stunning tour de force performance in what appears to be a story torn from the filmmaker’s own life, when Breillat suffered a series of strokes in the ’00s and ended up entangled in a loving and predatory friendship with con man Christophe Rocancourt. Here, moviemaker and writer Maud (Huppert) is particularly vulnerable when she meets celebrity criminal and best-selling writer Vilko (Kool Shen). She is determined to have him star in her next film, despite the protestations of friends and family, and he helps her in return — by simply helping her get around and giving her focus when half her body seems beyond her control, while his constant machinations continue to compel her. Crafting a layered, resonant response to what seems like an otherwise clear-cut case of abuse, Breillat seems to have gotten something close to one of her best films out of the sorry situation, while Huppert reminds us — with the painful precision of this intensely physical role — why she’s one of France’s finest. (1:45) Roxie. (Chun)

Annabelle The freaky doll from 2013’s The Conjuring returns to terrorize an expectant mother … AND YOU. (1:39)

Art and Craft Fans of docs that can be summed up with the phrase “I can’t believe that shit really happened” are in for a treat with Art and Craft, which boasts an eccentric subject who allows filmmakers Sam Cullman, Jennifer Grausman, and Mark Becker full access yet remains entirely inscrutable. He is art forger Mark Landis, diagnosed as schizophrenic after a teenage nervous breakdown, now in his 50s, in fragile health, and living in his late mother’s Mississippi apartment. For 30-plus years, his illness has manifested in an obsession with recreating artworks with remarkable accuracy (Dr. Seuss, Picasso, you name it) — and then arranging elaborate scenarios (an inheritance, the passing of a nonexistent sister, situations that require him to dress as a priest) that involve donating the fakes (to 46 museums in 20 states, most delighted to benefit from his philanthropy). He’s not in it for the money, so the FBI merely observes his exploits, leaving the legwork to former Cleveland Art Museum employee Matt Leininger, who after realizing the deception at his own institution becomes consumed with uncovering Landis’ trail of phony brush strokes. This cat-and-mouse tale (in which the mouse is completely on his own astral plane of reality) leads up to one of the most awkward gallery openings ever captured on film — with artwork as beautifully created as it is plagiarized and deliberately misrepresented. (1:29) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Eddy)

Brush With Danger Indonesian American stunt woman Livi Zheng wrote, directed, and stars in this action thriller about a painter who unwittingly becomes entangled with gangsters. (1:30) 1000 Van Ness.

Gone Girl Gillian Flynn’s best-selling thriller gets the big-screen treatment from director David Fincher, with Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike starring as a husband and wife whose small-town lives are not what they appear to be. (2:25) Presidio.

Left Behind Jeepers creepers, they went and remade 2000 Christian scare flick Left Behind: The Film, based on the best-selling book series by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins. Just gonna come right out and let you know the Antichrist character does not appear in Vic Armstrong’s do-over. WEAK. But it does contain supremely awkward breakdancing; terrible CG of an airplane floundering after the Rapture makes flying a dicey prospect (apparently, air traffic control is a largely evangelical profession); erstwhile CW network heartthrob Chad Michael Murray as an internationally renowned investigative journalist (the same role Kirk Cameron played, also implausibly, in the original); and — best of all, and the only reason to seek out this ham sandwich of a movie — Nicolas Cage, who delivers possibly the worst performance of his career as an airline pilot whose sins include thinking about cheating on his born-again wife (Lea Thompson) and coveting U2 concert tickets. All of this brings up a very important question for our times: Does Jesus snark? (1:50) (Eddy)

The Liberator Lush production values and a smoldering performance by Venezuela’s best-known acting export (Édgar Ramírez), elevate this Simón Bolívar tale from mere biopic to epic (bio-epic?) It begins amid revolutionary tumult before stepping back in time to Bolívar’s younger days; we’re brought up to speed on the tragic early deaths of his well-to-do parents, as well as the yellow-fever death of his delicate Spanish wife and some globe-trotting that allows Ramírez to show off his flawless French (he also speaks Spanish and English in the film), and for Bolívar to meet characters who prove important to his crusade for Venezuelan independence. Bombastic battle scenes and grueling marches (in and across jungles, open fields, the snowy Andes, seaside forts, blood-stained villages, etc.) soon follow, with Bolívar’s bravery and rousing speechmaking (“Freeeedooommm!”) inspiring people across northern South America and beyond, from every class and race, to join his cause. If this two-hour film feels a bit tight for such a sprawling story — especially when you consider that Ramírez’s breakout role came with 2010 miniseries Carlos, which lavished five-and-a-half hours on the career of Carlos the Jackal — it still makes for stirring viewing. (1:59) SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Men, Women & Children The web of title characters in Jason Reitman’s new film, set in a nonspecific-feeling Austin, Tex., stand in for a larger culture, digital native and immigrant alike, leading a significant portion of their lives online. A mother (Jennifer Garner) obsessed with the invidious snares of the scrolling feed, feverishly tracks the digital micro-movements of her teenage daughter (Kaitlyn Dever of 2013’s Short Term 12), sabotaging the latter’s burgeoning relationship with a sweetly troubled, Carl Sagan-quoting ex–football player (The Fault in Our Stars’ Ansel Elgort). Another mother (Judy Greer) embraces the seedier aspects of the mercantile web, bolstering her daughter’s dreams of stardom by pimping out her image to private customers. A man (Adam Sandler) and a woman (Rosemarie DeWitt) drift unconnected through their marriage and seek recourse among web escorts and a dating site for cheaters. The message, underscored with motifs running thickly through the interconnected plot lines, is that our lives and relationships are echoed and overlapped by a ghostly online population, whom our loved ones experience, if they notice, only as a zoned-out absence, a silent withdrawal from the room. Reitman (2009’s Up in the Air), who co-wrote the film with Erin Cressida Wilson (2002’s Secretary), finds a wealth of visual tools for mapping this populace. Texts and Facebook messages bubble up and hover over crowd scenes in an overlay, flooding the screen with drifting commentary. At cheerleading practice, one paper-thin teenager silently backstabs another via a hailstorm of emoji. If the film doesn’t issue a fiery polemic, most of its protagonists do seem caught in a stultified daze by a succession of variously proportioned screens; the emotional payoffs, and the brutal, awkward collisions, tend to come when they look up. (1:56) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

ONGOING

The Boxtrolls (1:37) Balboa, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio.

Boyhood Believe the hype: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is one of the best films of the year. It’d be a towering cinematic accomplishment in any year. By now, you’ve heard the set-up, which borrows elements from Linklater’s Before films, as well as his coming-of-age dramas (1993’s Dazed and Confused in particular). He filmed his cast — including titular youth Ellar Coltrane, Lorelai Linklater as his older sister, and Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke as his divorced parents, on and off over 12 years — with scenes touching on moments both monumental (high-tension moments with ugly stepfathers) and microscopic (the creation of a perfect campfire s’more). The years flow by, signaled not by any obvious gestures like on-screen text, but by changing hairstyles, pop culture references, and evolving video-game consoles. Watching Coltrane’s Mason grow from arrowhead-obsessed tyke to thoughtful college freshman is a rare and remarkable pleasure; among the more experienced actors, Arquette is particularly moving as a fiercely loving single mom determined to advance in her career despite continual, mountain-sized roadblocks in her personal life. (2:40) Balboa, Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes As usual, a heady hybrid of anticipation and dread accompanies all Planet of Apes installments: you brace yourself for the abused, righteously rebellious apes; the apocalyptic mise-en-scène laden with symbolism; and more overt messaging concerning animal testing, civil rights, and gun control. But why worry? In line with 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the PG-13 high-fives go to new Apes director Matt Reeves (2008’s Cloverfield) for sparing us animal kills, gore, and graphic violence, despite its Dawn of the Dead-evoking title. Really, this Dawn is all about the bitterly fought beginnings of a civilization among the primates north of the Golden Gate Bridge in Muir Woods, complete with community building, social structure, and alas, a burgeoning war with the humanoids amid vaguely familiar SF ruins, setting off an epic showdown that challenges not only the oft-repeated commandment “ape shall not kill ape” but takes advantage of our anthropomorphized pals’ ability to swing with the C4 explosions. The viral drug ALZ 113 that led to super-intelligent primates like chimp hero Caesar (motion-captured Andy Serkis) has decimated the human population, leaving the field wide open for enterprising and vengeful creatures like scarred lab survivor Koba (motion-captured Toby Kebbell). Neither quite trusts the band of desperate human survivors — including friendly Jason Clarke, nurturing Keri Russell, and token asshole Kirk Acevedo — that ventures into the apes’ woods to harness the power of nature, namely a dam, to electrify their SF compound. You know what side of the evolutionary span we’re on when the humans seem much more interchangeable than the chimps, and the movie can barely wait to end on its contemporary version of a Touch of Evil (1958) crane shot, as it zooms to an extreme close-up of a certain chimp’s carefully crafted eyes. (2:10) Metreon. (Chun)

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby Writer-director Ned Benson’s The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby began as separate films about a failed marriage, told from the points of view of the husband (James McAvoy), and then the wife (Jessica Chastain). Because Americans will happily binge-watch entire TV seasons but still get the shakes when confronted with a two-part film, the segments (titled Him and Her) are getting wide release in the edited-together Them. (Diehards will have a chance to seek out the complete work eventually, but for now, this review concerns only Them.) As the film begins, Chastain’s Eleanor (yep, named after the Beatles song) flings herself off an NYC bridge. She survives physically, but her mental state is still supremely fragile, so she checks out of her Manhattan life and her marriage to Connor (McAvoy), and digs in at the chic suburban saltbox occupied by her parents (Isabelle Huppert and William Hurt) and sister (Jess Weixler), a single mother with a young son. Meanwhile, Connor mopes around his failing restaurant with his chef BFF (the suddenly ubiquitous Bill Hader), and pays occasional visits to his own moping father (Ciarán Hinds). The estranged couple circles each other, in flashbacks and occasional run-ins, and the audience is slowly made privy to the tragedy that drove them apart and has them both reeling from grief months later. Even in mash-up form, this is a delicate film, enhanced by Benson’s confidence in his audience’s intelligence; what could have been a manipulative tear-jerker instead feels authentically raw, with characters whose emotional confusion leads them to behave in realistically frustrating ways. The casting is note-perfect, with a special nod to Viola Davis as Eleanor’s world-weary college professor. I’ll be seeking out Her just to catch more of that performance. (2:03) SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Dolphin Tale 2 (1:48) Metreon.

The Drop The late James Gandolfini gets a fitting final feature-film sendoff in this edgy microcosm of a crime movie, set among the small-time hoodies of Brooklyn, but just easily recast in Tony Soprano’s Jersey or the Beantown of 2010’s The Fighter. As Cousin Marv, a onetime dive-bar owner forced to turn his watering hole over to Chechen mobsters as a drop spot for bookmaking loot, he also gets worthy sparring partners in Tom Hardy and Matthias Schoenaerts (star of 2011’s Bullhead, director Michaël R. Roskam’s Oscar-nominated breakout). Hardy’s Bob looks to be the perpetual side guy to his Cousin Marv; he seems sludgy and lacking confidence, until he finds a battered pit bull puppy in a trashcan belonging to Nadia (Noomi Rapace) — and discovers himself in the middle of a brazen robbery at the drop bar. With the puppy and Nadia comes the canine’s purported owner, rumored killer, and neighborhood “nut case” Eric (Schoenaerts). The beauty of Dennis Lehane’s screenplay, spinning off his short story “Animal Rescue,” is embedded in how the most banal niceties (like “Good to see you”) are used with Mamet-like skill to signal the threadbare facade of civilized behavior and convey an almost nihilistic sense of imminent threat. Meanwhile, Roskam walks a tightrope between the drab, wintry everyday and a pervasive mood of menace, creating a downbeat yet almost horrifying effect when the trigger is finally pulled — and the veil between the hidden and the real, the animal and the human, is dropped. (1:45) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

The Equalizer In this big-screen reboot of the 1980s TV series — which starred Brit Edward Woodward as Robert McCall, a former secret agent who’s since devoted himself to helping “people in need” — man-with-a-past Bob (Denzel Washington) lives his days of quiet desperation working for a Home Depot-like store. He spends his insomniac nights in the local 24-hour diner, sharing sympathies with juvenile hooker Toni (Chloë Grace Moretz). When Toni’s pimp beats her up, Bob tries to buy her freedom, but instead starts a bloodbath that attracts the attentions of a mafioso (Martin Csokas). When Toni calls Bob “Robert” you expect them to bond, but that’s not what director Antoine Fuqua (2001’s Training Day) has in mind — he’s aiming for shared vulnerability, and it’s the quality that unites everyone in this corrupt segment of Boston. Hollywood has long looked for a character to simultaneously please grown-ups and the hero-hungry young-dude demographic, and while this origin story leaves a taste of ham in your mouth, it’s a great way to bridge the divide. I’d happily watch The Equalizer 2 and frankly hope they make one. (2:08) Marina, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Vizcarrondo)

Frank Who doesn’t want to be a musical savant, visually riveting, naturally gifted, freed from convention, and liberated of linear thought? The exception might be the doll-headed, damaged namesake of this comedy loosely inspired by the life of late English musician and comedian Frank Sidebottom (real name: Chris Sievey), and real-life Sidebottom sideguy Jon Ronson, who co-wrote the screenplay. And if this loving, very funny, bromantic take on the so-called creative process of rock seems a bit forced at times, that’s only because the movie is so clearly filtered through the archetypal wannabe, made likable by Domhnall Gleeson. His office worker Jon is struggling to write songs when he stumbles across a band, Soronprfbs, after watching their keyboard player attempt to drown himself at the beach. Manager Don (Scoot McNairy) taps the bystander to contribute to the chaos happening onstage, then drags him off for the making of the album. Mysterious leader Frank (Michael Fassbender), who never takes off his massive, faux-happy head, finds inspiration in threads protruding from upholstery. As Jon’s nest egg gets sucked into the recording budget and theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal) rages against the interloper, he posts the band’s, er, artistry to YouTube, obtaining the group a coveted gig at South by Southwest. But who really wants this shot at fame? The sideman with a will to power, or the damaged true talent? Director Lenny Abrahamson and Ronson wisely place Frank squarely in the viral video/GIF/Vine-poisoned multiplatform miasma of today, put across all the more powerfully by Gleeson and particularly Fassbender, who reveals a fine singing voice. While cleverly referencing outsider artists big and small by way of right-on original songs by Stephen Rennicks, Frank asks vital questions about motivation and art-making in an era when it seems like everyone is getting their 15 minutes of fame — and we’re getting increasingly weary of eyeballing it and filtering the wheat from the gone-in-a-nanosecond chaff. Some make music because they want to be stars, while others, Frank says, do it because they have little other choice. (1:34) Balboa. (Chun)

Guardians of the Galaxy The trailer that nearly broke the internet didn’t lie: Guardians of the Galaxy is cheeky, hilarious, eye-popping fun. Its plot may be a predictable anti-hero’s journey, but the saga of Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), half-Earthling, half maybe-alien, as he transforms from scavenging scoundrel to rescuer-of-the-universe is so enjoyable nobody seeking a good time at the movies will care. Helping Quill in his battle against baddie Ronan (Lee Pace) are slinky, green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana); rascally raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper); muscle-bound dim bulb Drax (former pro wrestler Dave Bautista); and a tree-like creature named Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel — his best performance in years, if ever, despite the fact that the only words the character ever utters are “I am Groot.”) Director and co-writer James Gunn (2010’s Super), working from a cult comic from the prolific house of Marvel, does a stellar job balancing action and goofiness, with plenty of unexpected touches along the way, including the best use of 1970s soft-rock since Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Cherish (2002). (2:02) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Hector and the Search For Happiness Despite the inherent lovability of Simon Pegg, Hector and the Search For Happiness gives off a strong whiff of #firstworldproblems. Pegg’s well-meaning, too-tidy therapist Hector is at the end of his tether with his mewling patients, perfect girlfriend (Rosamund Pike), and immaculate London condo — he’s just dying to get dirty, mussed up, and fundamentally unsettled and along the way, he hopes to discover the secret to happiness, purportedly for his clients, but really, truly for himself. Getting out of his comfort zone with a dose of cultural colonialism, er, tourism, seems to be the answer, so Hector embeds himself, sort of, in Shanghai, where he meets wealthy businessman (Stellan Skarsgård) and falls for a tremulous club hottie (Ming Zhao); Tibet, where he meets a magical monk (Togo Igawa); Africa, where he has the best time dancing and eating and the worst time being imprisoned and tortured by a warlord (Akin Omotoso); and finally LA, where he is torturously confronted by an old love (Toni Collette) and poked and prodded by a happiness researcher (Christopher Plummer). The scattered laughs and whimsical drawings in Hector’s notes, which the film’s sporadic animations emerge from, are the best things about this otherwise meander of movie as Pegg’s Hector attempts to follow his bliss down some familiar pathways. Hector’s holy-fool naiveté and conclusions don’t entirely surprise or coalesce — we’re missing the usual cohort of director Edgar Wright and sidekick Nick Frost and Pegg’s own writerly touch — though the heart, positive intentions, and wide screen ambitions still glimmer, however dimly. (1:54) SF Centre. (Chun)

The Hundred-Foot Journey Don’t watch Lasse Hallström’s latest film on an empty stomach. Under the film’s rich layers of mouthwatering food closeups and stunning shots of France (which, admittedly, occasionally threaten to steal the show), The Hundred-Foot Journey is a simple feel-good movie, akin to your favorite comfort food. The Kadam family spices up the South of France when they open an Indian restaurant just 100 feet away from a formidable competitor: a ritzy place owned by Madame Mallory (Helen Mirran). Papa (Om Puri) and eldest son Hassan (Manish Dayal) don’t back down when the heat gets turned up. It’s easy to get caught up in Hassan’s optimism, so the film is predictable (even managing to sprinkle a bit of romance in), but not cheesy. The score is the final icing on the cake, but it’s impossible to expect anything less from Slumdog Millionaire (2008) composer A.R. Rahman. (2:02) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Amy Char)

I Am Eleven Australian director Genevieve Bailey wanted to find out if kids today are still as “happy and excited” in “this crazy world” as she was at her own favorite age. So she trotted around the globe interviewing 11-year-olds. This innocuous documentary doesn’t ask them any difficult or probing questions. So we get a curiously samey sampling of children in very different cultural and economic circumstances who are nonetheless all plucky and well-adjusted, have the same opinions (war, racism, bullies and global warming are bad; animals and family are good). None of them appear to be suffering any serious deprivations, abuse or cultural-religious programming that might disturb viewers, making I Am Eleven a feel-good montage with little depth. It might ideally be shown to actual 11-year-olds, who could benefit from its mild, relatable depiction of diversity. But by grown-up standards, this movie represents a wasted opportunity to take the pulse of those who are about to inherit a world facing crisis on myriad fronts. (1:34) Metreon. (Harvey)

Jimi: All is by My Side There’s a huge challenge facing Jimi: All Is By My Side, written and directed by John Ridley (an Oscar winner for scripting 2013’s 12 Years a Slave): The Hendrix family noped any song permissions, so star André Benjamin, aka OutKast’s André 3000, doesn’t get to wail through “Foxy Lady” or any other songs that hit big during the film’s time frame (it ends just before Hendrix’s stateside breakout at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival). He does get to noodle on some blues riffs, and the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s notorious cover of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” — played days after its release in front of a crowd that included astonished Beatles — is one of Jimi’s few exhilirating moments. There are other issues beyond the music rights; controversy has swirled around the script’s portrayal of Hendrix as a violent drunk, and as an aimless drifter who probably wouldn’t have made much of himself, despite his talent, were it not for people like Linda Keith (Imogen Poots), who used her connections as Keith Richards’ girlfriend to kickstart Hendrix’s music career. But without those electrifying songs to punctuate Hendrix’s day-to-day drama, Jimi‘s narrative is meandering at best. We already know he’s going to become a star. We know he’s going to die young. Maybe we don’t know how Hendrix wrote “Purple Haze,” but this movie, which contains precious few insights into his creative process, isn’t going to tell us. (1:58) Metreon, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Last Days in Vietnam Recent news coverage of Yadizi people — ethnic-minority Iraqis targeted by ISIS for their spiritual beliefs — desperately fleeing their country brought to mind another frantic evacuation, investigated in detail by Rory Kennedy’s tense new doc Last Days in Vietnam. It begins in 1975, when Saigon’s post-war population included 6,000 or so Americans, as well as thousands more South Vietnamese who worked for and with them. With rapidly-approaching Communist troops on the horizon, the urgent exodus began, and Last Days combines news footage with eyewitness reports from American embassy workers and military (including the last US soldier to climb aboard the last departing helicopter) who took an active role in the operation. We also hear from South Vietnamese — including several people who did not make it out, but managed to survive, as well as a man whose father daringly choppered his entire family to an American ship bobbing offshore. Kennedy — whose previous work, 2012’s Ethel, was about her mother, best-known as RFK’s widow — favors filmmaking that doesn’t innovate stylistically beyond anything seen on the History Channel, and there are no big revelations here. But her straightforward approach means the stories she captures take center stage, and they are harrowing stories indeed. (1:19) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

Love is Strange Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina) have been together four decades, so it’s a big celebration for their extended family of friends and relations when they finally, legally get hitched. But news of the marriage reaches the archdiocese in charge of the Catholic high school where George teaches music, and while he’s hardly been in the closet at work or anywhere else, this supposed gesture of public defiance against church doctrine gets the beloved instructor fired. With Ben a not-particularly-successful painter, and George now looking for a new job, the couple can now no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the Manhattan co-op apartment they’ve lived in for 20 years (but only owned for five). Finding an affordable new place is near-impossible. So the pair find themselves split up, forced to crash under different roofs and awkward circumstances. Ben moves in with his workaholic nephew (Darren Burrows), unwittingly heightening tensions with his author wife (Marisa Tomei) and especially their moody teenage son (Charlie Tahan), who deeply resents having to share his bedroom. George lands on the couch of a younger gay couple, two cops (Cheyenne Jackson, Manny Perez) who are very nice but have an active social life that robs him of privacy and sleep. This latest from ever-more-excellent Ira Sachs (2012’s Keep the Lights On), its near-flawless screenplay co-written with Mauricio Zacharias, is a widely relatable drama about precisely observed human nature and increasingly inhumane economic realities. It’s also easily one of the best US films 2014 is likely to offer. Might as well start filling out your Oscar ballots, because this movie is definitely going to be a contender. (1:38) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

Lucy Eurotrash auteur Luc Besson’s latest is a mostly fun action fantasy about a party girl (Scarlett Johansson) who runs afoul of gangsters in Taipei and ends up with a leaking packet of futuristic drugs sewn into her shapely stomach. Side effects include super strength and supernatural intelligence — insert pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo about tapping into 100 percent of one’s woefully underused brainpower, etc. etc. — which leads to some satisfying scenes in which Johansson’s Lucy flattens a hallway of cops with a single gesture, or filters through every phone conversation in the Paris metro area to find the one guy she needs to eavesdrop on. She’s also able to beam herself into electronic devices, a nifty trick that convinces kindly scientist Morgan Freeman to help download her magnificently advanced intelligence into a kind of living computer (shades of 2013’s Her and Under the Skin, except this time ScarJo’s wearing a really great dress). South Korean weirdo/superstar Choi Min-sik (2003’s Oldboy; 2010’s I Saw the Devil) is an inspired choice to play the vengeful kingpin intent on tracking down his runaway mule, and Besson adds some arty flair via nature-show footage and Cosmos-esque clips from beyond the infinite — though the film’s Big Ideas wobble precariously amid its other, mostly silly elements. (1:29) Metreon. (Eddy)

Magic in the Moonlight Woody Allen’s latest — after last year’s vodka-drenched Cate Blanchett showcase Blue Jasmine — offers a return to period romance á la 2011 smash Midnight in Paris. Instead of Owen Wilson time-traveling through the artsy 1920s, we get winsome 1920s clairvoyant Sophie (Emma Stone, 25 years old) falling for the skeptic who’s sent to debunk her, played by Colin Firth (who’s 53). Firth’s performance is easily the best part of Magic in the Moonlight; his Stanley Crawford is a theatrical conjurer famed for his yellowface act, in which he solemnly makes elephants disappear. Off-stage, he’s a self-proclaimed genius regarded by most who meet him as a pompous jerkface. When he’s summoned to the South of France to help a longtime friend and fellow magician (Simon McBurney) prove that Sophie — from humble origins, she’s grown fond of high-society living — is hoodwinking the fancy American family that’s taken her in, nothing unfolds as he expects. The whole exercise is lighter than meringue; it’d be passable as lesser Allen except for that obvious, comically huge age gap between the leads. He knows we disapprove, and he does not care. Are you trolling us, Woody? (1:40) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

The Maze Runner What better way to allegorically filter the nightmarish battleground of adolescence amid apocalyptic end times, than through the prism of brainteasers and video games? After all those dystopic, divergent, ender-baiting — and more girl-focused — hunger games, The Maze Runner feels like a mixture of Michael Bay blockbuster fare, crypto-Lost conspiracy-fantasy, and classic proto-YA fiction, à la Lord of the Flies. We are bolted — like smart noob Thomas (Dylan O’Brien), waking from an amnesiac slumber in a speeding mystery elevator — into a contained Petri dish of sorts: a bucolic box of forests and fields, a land of lost boys. No Peter Pans here, though. Alby (Ami Ameen) oversees the fragile peace of this budding society, alongside second-in-command Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster), opinionated hazer Gally (Will Poulter), and a baby Hurley named Chuck (Blake Cooper). They’re surrounded by a menacing maze filled with deadly, giant spider-like “Grievers,” and the strongest and fastest, led by Minho (Ki Hong Lee), explore its corridors each day in search of a way out. Of course, Thomas, who happens to be smarter, speedier, and more compassionate than most, is destined to run the maze, which evokes a way-too-elaborate guillotine-cum-Skinner-box, the Transformers, and the doomed pathways of The Shining (1980). The arrival of a girl to the glade, of course, changes everything, though not in ways you’d naturally expect. In spite of its intriguing premise and director Wes Ball’s brisk play-by-play, Maze Runner‘s end game is way more pat than anything Kubrick ever laid his digits on. And why any entity would go through the fuss and bother and expense of building out this scenario for the goals finally teased out at the end comes off as utterly absurd, as is the laughable catchphrase that poor Patricia Clarkson is tasked with intoning. (1:53) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

My Old Lady If only the grand dame had more of a say, rather than the whiny, middle-aged offspring. Playwright Israel Horovitz makes his feature-film debut, directing his own play in this potentially fascinating clash of cultures on a generational battlefield populated by some amply endowed acting talents. New Yorker Mathias (Kevin Kline), who grew up privileged with a “silver knife” in his maw, got little else from his deceased, estranged father than a Paris apartment in the coveted Marais district. But his real estate dreams are quashed when it turns out to be a “viager,” a quirk of French law that allows the former owner — in this case, worldly elder Mathilde (Maggie Smith) — to continue dwelling in the property long after the sale, collecting monthly payments from the purchaser until her death. Penniless, troubled Mathias can barely afford those payouts, much less cope with Mathilde’s daughter, Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), in this wearily paced dramedy that turns out to be more sour — and dourily serious — than saucy. One is forced to fantasize: What would Smith’s Violet Crawley do, or better yet, say, about this effort, which makes Downton Abbey look like the picture of crisply edited moviemaking modernity? (1:47) Clay. (Chun)

No Good Deed (1:24) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

Pride In 1984 London, queer radical Mark (Ben Schnetzer) browbeats his coterie of fellow gay activists into raising funds for coal miners striking against P.M. Margaret Thatcher’s firmly anti-unionist policies. Their success brings a reluctant invitation to visit and receive thanks from one small Welsh town of strikers, most of whom are not all that enthused to get helped by a buncha poofs. But in this loosely fact-inspired crowdpleaser by scenarist Stephen Beresford and director Matthew Warchus (a UK stage luminary whose only prior feature was the unfairly maligned Sam Shepard-penned Simpatico 15 years ago), adversity ultimately creates allegiance and understanding, despite such hurdles as ingrained prejudice (represented by Lisa Palfrey as a particularly homophobic miner’s widow) and the still-new AIDS crisis. With Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, Paddy Considine, and Bill Nighy scattered among both the “pit and pervert” types, this feel-good flashback complete with a soundtrack full of New Wave oldies hits all the right notes even if there are few real surprises in the overall tune. (2:00) California, Embarcadero. (Harvey)

The Skeleton Twins “I don’t know … maybe we were doomed from the beginning,” muses Maggie (Kristin Wiig) at the beginning of The Skeleton Twins. It’s her voice-over, but the figure onscreen is her brother, Milo (Bill Hader), who mopes to Blondie before flopping into a bathtub that slowly fills with water and blood from his slashed wrists. The twins haven’t seen each other in over 10 years, and the ice takes awhile to break when Maggic appears at his hospital bedside. But we know her secret: On the same day Milo was penning a suicide note, Maggie — trapped in a torturously bland marriage — was on the verge of gobbling a handful of pills in order to make her own permanent exit. Clearly, these siblings have more in common than they realize: They’re both deeply miserable, unable to shake a troubled past that includes their beloved father’s suicide, a distant mother (Joanna Gleason), and the scandalous incident (involving Milo and his high-school English teacher) that caused their estrangement. There’s only one path that these sad-sacks can choose (since if one of ’em actually died, that would make this black comedy a little too black), so they set about trying to mend fences. And it’s obvious — despite their frequent arguments, and the fact that both do some pretty terrible things — that the only bond in The Skeleton Twins that has any chance at repair is Milo and Maggie’s. Produced by indie darlings Jay and Mark Duplass, and directed by Craig Johnson (whose co-writer, Mark Heyman, also co-wrote 2010’s Black Swan), The Skeleton Twins might veer too deeply into melodrama territory were it not for its restrained script, and its deeply appealing cast. Wiig and Hader have been funnier elsewhere — but they’ve rarely been better. (1:33) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Starred Up British actor Jack O’Connell (star of the upcoming Unbroken) plays teenage rageaholic Eric, a seasoned convict despite his young age. We meet him as he’s being moved from juvenile to grown-up lockup, where he wastes no time fashioning a weapon out of his toothbrush and adjusting the anvil-sized chip on his shoulder. This young lad’s furious existence is further unsettled when he encounters his shifty father (Ben Mendelsohn), a lifer who grudgingly takes an interest in his son’s progress, while displaying a temper that suggests the origins of Eric’s troubled psyche. Thick accents and slang pepper the script by former prison shrink Jonathan Asser (represented in the film by Rupert Friend) — meaning the dialogue is as authentic as it is impenetrable. No matter, really, since this grim, involving drama from Scottish director David Mackenzie (2011’s Tonight You’re Mine, 2003’s Young Adam) relies firmly on the idea that brutality speaks way louder than words. (1:46) Four Star, Roxie. (Eddy)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Years from now, film scholars will look back at these creatively bankrupt (if box office-rich) times and blame Michael Bay for many evils, including a garish Transformers series that won’t die. He also produces this theatrical reboot of a kiddie action series (currently enjoying a TV cartoon renaissance on Nickelodeon) that probably should’ve been left in the sewer after 2007’s TMNT — star Chris Evans thanks you for forgetting that even existed — or, even better, after revealing the secret of the ooze in the 1990s. But Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is here to stomp all over nostalgic goodwill, not to mention take advantage of CG advancements that render its heroes as “real” as pumped-up reptiles with weapons can be, with a 3D coating that does allegedly human but suspiciously plastic co-star Megan Fox no favors. If you can get past that eeriness, you won’t be rewarded for your efforts; the jokes are either unfunny or pointless (are we really still referencing the Lost finale?), and the plot is so insultingly predictable William Fichtner’s character might as well be named “Sinister Rich Guy.” May also contain: fart jokes, butt jokes, pizza. (2:00) Metreon. (Eddy)

This Is Where I Leave You Jason Bateman plays Judd Altman, the hollow center of a clan of snarky, squabbling siblings — Wendy (Tina Fey), fractiously married with kids and pining for her high school sweetheart (Timothy Olyphant); Paul (Corey Stoll), who runs the family sporting goods store; and Phillip (Adam Driver), a philandering über-fuckup currently dating his former therapist (Connie Britton) — reunited somewhere in eastern seaboard suburbia by the death of their father. This vaguely sketched individual’s last wish, they are informed by their mother (Jane Fonda), a therapist turned author who mined their adolescence for pop psych bestseller gold, was that, his atheism notwithstanding, they conform to Judaic tradition and sit shivah for him. A seven-day respite of quiet reminiscing and clarifying reflection, broken up by periodic babka-and-whitefish-salad binges, could be good for Judd, whose recent misfortunes also include coming home to find his wife (Abigail Spencer) between the sheets with his shock jock boss (Dax Shepard), resulting in a divorce-unemployment double whammy. But there is no peace to be found at the Altman homestead, where fuses blow, siblings brawl, in-laws conduct high-volume international business transactions and reproductive rites, and Wendy’s latchkey toddler wanders the property with his portable potty. Director Shawn Levy (2013’s The Internship, 2010’s Date Night) and writer Jonathan Tropper, who adapted the script from his novel, don’t want any of the siblings, or satellite characters, to feel left out, and the story line is divvied up accordingly. But the results are uneven — lumps of comedy and genuine pathos dropped amid the oppressive exposition, pat resolutions, and swings in pacing from slack to frenetic. (1:43) Marina, 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Rapoport)

Tracks One of the many worrisome visuals in Tracks, an adaptation of a 1980 memoir by a young Australian woman named Robyn Davidson, is the sight of Mia Wasikowska’s skin, scarlet and blistering under a punishing desert sun. Robyn (Wasikowska) has a singular, and single-minded, aim: to walk across nearly 2,000 miles of Australian outback, from Alice Springs in the dead center of the country to the Indian Ocean, with a team of four feral camels and her black lab Diggity for company. There’s some Into the Wild (2007) and All Is Lost (2013) here — in Robyn’s driving impulse toward deep isolation, her almost frantic need to remove herself from the cacophony of human transaction and commune with her animals in the empty desert, as well as in the film’s steady focus on logistics. With the loopy exception of Adam Driver as an admiring freelance photographer who periodically joins her on the trail, at the behest of National Geographic, nearly everyone Robyn encounters at the film’s outset thinks she’s nuts, and doomed, and the viewer is likely sympathetic to this viewpoint. Robyn, radiating an unyielding idealism and a white-knuckled ethic of self-reliance, can seem naïve and unreasonable, and doesn’t much trouble to explain herself. The camera, meanwhile, follows in her tracks without judgment, accepting her decision and watching, solicitously, to see who she is out there and how she will make her way. (1:42) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

The Trip to Italy Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon return as “Steve Coogan” and “Rob Brydon” in this sequel to Michael Winterbottom’s 2010 The Trip. Like its predecessor, the premise — a road trip for the purpose of a restaurant-reviewing gig — provides a loose framework upon which these two actor-comedians, portraying exaggerated, fictionalized versions of themselves, hang their easy banter and occasional deeper conversations. The midlife crisis themes are still apparent (Brydon meets a comely expat who tempts him into cheating on his wife, with whom he has a small child; Coogan feels regret over his distant relationship with his teenage son), which tie into career anxieties for both men; references to classic literature also hold over from the first film. Most importantly, also like the first film, The Trip to Italy — blessed with all the gorgeous food and coastal landscapes the change of scenery suggests — is a riot. The impressions (lots of Godfather this time around) flow fast and furiously; while there’s nothing that can top the first film’s Michael Caine battle, it’s still a pleasure watching Brydon “converse” with a historical relic at Pompeii, or the duo’s joyous invocation of The Bounty (1984) during a brief boat journey. (1:55) Opera Plaza, Presidio. (Eddy)

Tusk Michael Parks has a gift for looking like he’s in a different movie than everyone else, and it’s possible that ineffable skill of his has found its best use to date in Kevin Smith’s new fuck-you horror/comedy Tusk. When jerky podcaster Wally (Justin Long) finds a video that begins like “Star Wars Boy” but ends with dismemberment, Wally flies to Canada to interview the “Kill Bill Boy” (so named for the sword wielding and spurting stump). Wallace reaches his destination and is importuned by the funeral. This is one of a handful of scenes that exists to make us happy when Wally meets magical storyteller Howard Howe, an ex-sailor full of sea tales and an dark plan to turn Wally into a Franken-walrus. The story is based on something Smith hashed out in his sModcasts (excerpted during the credits) and when you look for author surrogate (not that you should) Wally’s impossible to distinguish from Smith. Asshole podcaster? Fights for permission to work freely? Body issues? All Wally needs is a dachshund and a jersey. Tusk isn’t up to the level of Smith’s early output, but it’s right in line with the decline in quality he’s been facing since critics broke his spirit, studios turned cold shoulders, and cynicism naturally set in. I hope whatever soul coughing Tusk represents will provide Smith momentum and license to leave any transformative hardships behind him — there are always beacons of hope (an uncredited Johnny Depp provides a good one here). Despite fundamental frustrations, Tusk has some deep and inky moments. When Howe takes Wally’s leg from him (leveling him to a “Kill Bill Kid”-styled punch line) Wally wails impotently, and Howe laughs — at what, it’s not certain (perhaps it’s really Parks, guffawing at Long’s performance?), but whatever that gloriously complicated motivation was, in the mingling of cries emerges an eerie but profoundly communal squall. (1:42) Metreon. (Vizcarrondo)

20,000 Days on Earth Lushly filmed by artists Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard, 20,000 Days on Earth purports to be a day in the life of moody Aussie troubador-screenwriter-novelist Nick Cave — but is really an experimental docudrama in disguise. It opens with Cave, now in his mid-50s, getting out of bed and admitting in voice-over, that he “cannibalizes” everything that happens in his life for his songs. Thus begins an intimate look into Cave’s songwriting process, a rambling adventure that includes studio sessions for 2013’s Push the Sky Away (including some goofing off — yes, he smiles!); a chat about his childhood with psychoanalyst Darian Leader; a meal with bandmate Warren Ellis; sorting through his career archives; and scenes of Cave driving around his adopted hometown of Brighton, visiting with cohorts (Kylie Minogue, Blixa Bargeld, Ray Winstone) who appear and disappear in perfect cadence with 20,000 Days‘ themes of memory, the art of performance, and storytelling. “Who knows their own story? Certainly it makes no sense when we’re living in the midst of it,” Cave muses. “It only becomes a story when we tell it and re-tell it.” This particular story builds to a Sydney Opera House gig in which Cave croons the songs we’ve seen him create, interspersed with footage of a younger Cave thrashing around the stage in pursuit of what the film vividly captures: “this shimmering space where reality and imagination intersect.” (1:37) Roxie. (Eddy)

Two Night Stand A drifting twentysomething layabout named Megan (Analeigh Tipton) — jobless, living on sufferance with a friend (Jessica Szohr), and newly unmoored from a longtime relationship — tests the powers of a random online hookup to jolt her into a forward trajectory. Meeting Alec (Miles Teller) at the far end of a video chat, she embarks on a midnight trek to his place, has sub-mediocre sex with him, and wakes up the next morning to find herself, after some acrimonious pillow talk and a would-be dramatic exit, trapped in his apartment by about four feet of snow. Setting off from this highly engineered premise — a sort of desert island scenario for the urban millennial — director Max Nichols (son of Mike) and writer Mark Hammer hit some standard romantic comedy plot points, guiding the pair from a state of mutual irritation to grudging rapprochement to growing admiration before setting up the third-act romantic roadblock. But Two Night Stand manages some cleverly maneuvering within its genre strictures, benefiting from a funny, well-paced script, which keeps a talky 24-hour tête-à-tête engaging and entertaining, and two charming, well-matched leads, whose characters trade insults, query each other’s online-profile claims, and gamely tackle a play-by-play postmortem of the previous night’s action — and a do-over — for the sake of future randoms and the possible reeducation of some audience members. (1:26) 1000 Van Ness. (Rapoport)

A Walk Among the Tombstones The latest in Liam Neeson’s string of films in which he plays a tough guy uncannily adept at hissing orders (or threats) through a telephone is as pitch-black as its eerie title suggests. Set conspicuously in 1999, when Y2K and far more sinister threats loomed (see: a poignant shot of the World Trade Center), Tombstones is the grim tale of Matt Scudder, a loner with both an NYPD career and a prodigious drinking habit wedged 10 years in the past. He maintains his bare-bones lifestyle by doing off-the-books PI work, but none of his dirty-deeds experience can prepare him for his next case, a nightmarish pile-up of missing women sliced to pieces by a van-driving maniacs. Working from Lawrence Block’s novel, writer-director Scott Frank (2007’s The Lookout) emerges with surprisingly layered characters that extend beyond the archetypes they initially seem to be at first; besides Neeson’s Scudder, there’s a street-smart youth who becomes his sorta-helpful sidekick (Brian “Astro” Bradley), and a vengeful drug dealer (Dan Stevens) with a junkie brother (Boyd Holbrook). Even the murderers behave in unexpected ways. And if its story hews a bit too closely to Urban Noir 101, it’s bleak as hell, and has the guts to make relentlessness one of its primary objectives. (1:53) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Eddy)

Wetlands It begins, like many a classic coming-of-age tale, with an unbridled case of hemorrhoids, followed by a barefoot meander through possible sewage to the vilest public restroom captured on film since 1996’s Trainspotting. None of this seems to faze Wetlands‘ outspoken heroine and narrator, 18-year-old Helen (Carla Juri), a skateboarding, sexually adventurous young maniac who admits to having a markedly lax attitude toward personal hygiene. Viewers of director-cowriter David Wnendt’s film, however, may want to refrain from visiting the concession stand just this once — chewing on Milk Duds is likely to become negatively evocative as Helen embarks on a round of tactile explorations involving a tasting menu of bodily excretions. The biotic high jinks continue when she winds up in the hospital in the wake of a viscerally enacted shaving incident, from which vantage point, occasionally under general anesthesia, she revisits scenes from both her fraught childhood and her teenage exploits, wandering between the homes of her divorced parents: an anxious, uptight germophobe mother (Meret Becker) and a checked-out, self-indulgent father (Axel Milberg), whose inadvisable rapprochement she hopes to engineer from her hospital bed. Impressively, amid the advancing waves of gross-out, a poignant story line emerges, and, like Helen’s handsome, bemused nurse Robin (Christoph Letkowski), the object of her wildly inappropriate advances, we find ourselves rolling with the shock and revulsion, increasingly solicitous and bizarrely charmed. (1:49) Four Star. (Rapoport)

The Zero Theorem Two-time Oscar winner Christoph Waltz’s ability to play loquacious characters — some evil, some crusading for justice on horseback — is undeniable. But how has this actor, having been hand-picked to portray characters tailored to his strengths, fared beyond Quentin Tarantino movies? It’s been a mixed bag (see: non-starters like 2011’s The Green Hornet and Water for Elephants). His latest test comes with Terry Gilliam’s The Zero Theorem. The project had been on Gilliam’s radar for years; the script was penned over a decade ago by Pat Rushin, a Florida creative writing professor. Its dystopian themes mirror Gilliam touchstones Brazil (1985) and 12 Monkeys (1995); an overt dig at The Matrix (1999) reflects the era in which it was written, although it’s presumably been updated to include more current-day concerns, like technology’s ability to foster extreme loneliness. Waltz plays computer whiz Qohen, one of “the most productive number crunchers” at mega-corp Mancom. He’s a hairless stress case who dreams about massive black holes and refers to himself using plural pronouns, as in “We are dying.” (The affectation is as annoying to Theorem‘s other characters as it is to the viewer.) The mysterious “Management” (Matt Damon) allows Qohen to work from his home, but this privilege comes with a price: he’s tasked with solving the titular theorem, a maddening beast that would drive even a stable person to the brink of sanity. His madness is in no way assuaged by “Dr. Shrink Rom,” his virtual psychiatrist (Tilda Swinton), though he does get some help from Management’s hacker-genius teenage son (Lucas Hedges), and some welcome distraction from a virtual-reality junkie (Mélanie Thierry) — though that nascent romance proves no more “real” than anything else in Qohen’s world. Ultimately, despite Waltz’s heavy lifting (and not-infrequent nudity), Theorem sputters to sustain all its many whirring parts, including the parts that attempt to convey deep thoughts about the meaning of life. Maybe the meaning is “don’t overthink it.” (1:46) Four Star. (Eddy) *

Project Censored 2014

Erica Hanna

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September 30, 2014

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joe@sfbg.com

Our oceans are acidifying — even if the nightly news hasn’t told you yet.

As humanity continues to fill the atmosphere with harmful gases, the planet is becoming less hospitable to life as we know it. The vast oceans absorb much of the carbon dioxide we have produced, from the industrial revolution through the rise of global capitalism. Earth’s self-sacrifice spared the atmosphere nearly 25 percent of humanity’s CO2 emissions, slowing the onslaught of many severe weather consequences.

Although the news media have increasingly covered the climate weirding of global warming — hurricane superstorms, fierce tornado clusters, overwhelming snowstorms, and record-setting global high temperatures — our ocean’s peril has largely stayed submerged below the biggest news stories.

The rising carbon dioxide in our oceans burns up and deforms the smallest, most abundant food at the bottom of the deep blue food chain. One vulnerable population is the tiny shelled swimmers known as the sea butterfly. In only a few short decades, the death and deformation of this fragile and translucent species could endanger predators all along the oceanic food web, scientists warn.

This “butterfly effect,” once unleashed, potentially threatens fisheries that feed over 1 billion people worldwide.

Since ancient times, humans fished the oceans for food. Now, we’re frying ocean life before we even catch it, starving future generations in the process. Largely left out of national news coverage, this dire report was brought to light by a handful of independent-minded journalists: Craig Welch from the Seattle Times, Julia Whitty of Mother Jones, and Eli Kintisch of ScienceNOW.

It is also the top story of Project Censored, an annual book and reporting project that features the year’s most underreported news stories, striving to unmask censorship, self-censorship, and propaganda in corporate-controlled media outlets. The book is set for release in late October.

“Information is the currency of democracy,” Ralph Nader, the prominent consumer advocate and many-time presidential candidate, wrote in his foreword to this year’s Project Censored 2015. But with most mass media owned by narrow corporate interests, “the general public remains uninformed.”

Whereas the mainstream media poke and peck at noteworthy events at single points in time, often devoid of historical context or analysis, Project Censored seeks to clarify understanding of real world issues and focus on what’s important. Context is key, and many of its “top censored” stories highlight deeply entrenched policy issues that require more explanation than a simple sound bite can provide.

Campus and faculty from over two dozen colleges and universities join in this ongoing effort, headquartered at Sonoma State University. Some 260 students and 49 faculty vet thousands of news stories on select criteria: importance, timeliness, quality of sources, and the level of corporate news coverage.

The top 25 finalists are sent to Project Censored’s panel of judges, who then rank the entries, with ocean acidification topping this year’s list.

“There are outlets, regular daily papers, who are independent and they’re out there,” Andy Lee Roth, associate director of Project Censored, told us. Too many news outlets are beholden to corporate interests, but Welch of the Seattle Times bucked the trend, Roth said, by writing some of the deepest coverage yet on ocean acidification.

“There are reporters doing the highest quality of work, as evidenced by being included in our list,” Roth said. “But the challenge is reaching as big an audience as [the story] should.”

Indeed, though Welch’s story was reported in the Seattle Times, a mid-sized daily newspaper, this warning is relevant to the entire world. To understand the impact of ocean acidification, Welch asks readers to “imagine every person on earth tossing a hunk of CO2 as heavy as a bowling ball into the sea. That’s what we do to the oceans every day.”

Computer modeler Isaac Kaplan, at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration office in Seattle, told Welch that his early work predicts significant declines in sharks, skates and rays, some types of flounder and sole, and Pacific whiting, the most frequently caught commercial fish off the coast of Washington, Oregon, and California.

Acidification may also harm fisheries in the farthest corners of the earth: A study by the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme outlines acidification’s threat to the arctic food chain.

“Decreases in seawater pH of about 0.02 per decade have been observed since the late 1960s in the Iceland and Barents Seas,” the study’s authors wrote in the executive summary. And destroying fisheries means wiping out the livelihoods of the native peoples of the Antarctic.

Acidification can even rewire the brains of fish, Welch’s story demonstrated. Studies found rising CO2 levels cause clown fish to gain athleticism, but have their sense of smell redirected. This transforms them into “dumb jocks,” scientists said, swimming faster and more vigorously straight into the mouths of their predators.

These Frankenstein fish were found to be five times more likely to die in the natural world. What a fitting metaphor for humanity, as our outsized consumption propels us towards an equally dangerous fate.

“It’s not as dramatic as say, an asteroid is hitting us from outer space,” Roth said of this slowly unfolding disaster, which is likely why such a looming threat to our food chain escapes much mainstream news coverage.

Journalism tends to be more “action focused,” Roth said, looking to define conflict in everything it sees. A recently top-featured story on CNN focused on President Barack Obama’s “awkward coffee cup salute” to a Marine, which ranks only slightly below around-the-clock coverage of the president’s ugly tan suit as a low point in mainstream media’s focus on the trivial.

As Nader noted, “‘important stories’ are often viewed as dull by reporters and therefore unworthy of coverage.” But mainstream media do cover some serious topics with weight, as it did in the wake of the police officer shooting of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Mo. So what’s the deciding factor?

As Roth tells it, corporate news focuses on “drama, and the most dramatic action is of course violence.”

But the changes caused by ocean acidification are gradual. Sea butterflies are among the most abundant creatures in our oceans, and are increasingly born with shells that look like cauliflower or sandpaper, making this and similar species more susceptible to infection and predators.

“Ocean acidification is changing the chemistry of the world’s water faster than ever before, and faster than the world’s leading scientists predicted,” Welch said, but it’s not getting the attention is deserves. “Combined nationwide spending on acidification research for eight federal agencies, including grants to university scientists by the National Science Foundation, totals about $30 million a year — less than the annual budget for the coastal Washington city of Hoquiam, population 10,000.”

Our oceans may slowly cook our food chain into new forms with potentially catastrophic consequences. Certainly 20 years from now, when communities around the world lose their main source of sustenance, the news will catch on. But will the problem make the front page tomorrow, while there’s still time to act?

Probably not, and that’s why we have Project Censored and its annual list:

2. TOP 10 US AID RECIPIENTS PRACTICE TORTURE

Sexual abuse, children kept in cages, extra-judicial murder. While these sound like horrors the United States would stand against, the reverse is true: This country is funding these practices.

The US is a signatory of the United Nations’ Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, but the top 10 international recipients of US foreign assistance in 2014 all practice torture, according to human rights groups, as reported by Daniel Wickham of online outlet Left Foot Forward.

Israel received over $3 billion in US aid for fiscal year 2013-14, according to a Congressional Research Service report. Israel was criticized by the country’s own Public Defender’s Office for torturing children suspected of minor crimes.

“During our visit, held during a fierce storm that hit the state, attorneys met detainees who described to them a shocking picture: in the middle of the night dozens of detainees were transferred to the external iron cages built outside the IPS transition facility in Ramla,” the PDO wrote, according to The Independent.

The next top recipients of US foreign aid were Afghanistan, Egypt, Pakistan, Nigeria, Jordan, Iraq, Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. All countries were accused of torture by human rights groups such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch.

Kenyan police in Nairobi tortured, raped, or otherwise abused more than 1,000 refugees from 2012 to 2013, Human Rights Watch found. The Kenyan government received $564 million from the United States in 2013-14.

When the US funds a highway or other project that it’s proud of, it plants a huge sign proclaiming “your tax dollars at work.” When the US funds torturers, the corporate media bury the story, or worse, don’t report it at all.

3. TRANS-PACIFIC PARTNERSHIP, A SECRET DEAL TO HELP CORPORATIONS

The Trans-Pacific Partnership is like the Stop Online Piracy Act on steroids, yet few have heard of it, let alone enough people to start an Internet campaign to topple it. Despite details revealed by Wikileaks, the nascent agreement has been largely ignored by the corporate media.

Even the world’s elite are out of the loop: Only three officials in each of the 12 signatory countries have access to this developing trade agreement that potentially impacts over 800 million people.

The agreement touches on intellectual property rights and the regulation of private enterprise between nations, and is open to negotiation and viewing by 600 “corporate advisors” from big oil, pharmaceutical, to entertainment companies.

Meanwhile, more than 150 House Democrats signed a letter urging President Obama to halt his efforts to fast-track negotiations, and to allow Congress the ability to weigh in now on an agreement only the White House has seen.

Many criticized the secrecy surrounding the TPP, arguing the real world consequences may be grave. Doctors Without Borders wrote, “If harmful provisions in the US proposals for the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) agreement are not removed before it is finalized, this trade deal will have a real cost in human lives.”

4. CORPORATE INTERNET PROVIDERS THREATEN NET NEUTRALITY

This entry demonstrates the nuance in Project Censored’s media critique. Verizon v. FCC may weaken Internet regulation, which Electronic Frontier Foundation and other digital freedom advocates allege would create a two-tiered Internet system. Under the FCC’s proposed new rules, corporate behemoths such as Comcast or Verizon could charge entities to use faster bandwidth, which advocates say would create financial barriers to free speech and encourage censorship.

Project Censored alleges corporate outlets such as The New York Times and Forbes “tend to highlight the business aspects of the case, skimming over vital particulars affecting the public and the Internet’s future.”

Yet this is a case where corporate media were circumvented by power of the viral web. John Oliver, comedian and host of Last Week Tonight on HBO, recently gave a stirring 13-minute treatise on the importance of stopping the FCC’s new rules, resulting in a flood of comments to the FCC defending a more open Internet. The particulars of net neutrality have since been thoroughly reported in the corporate media.

But, as Project Censored notes, mass media coverage only came after the FCC’s rule change was proposed, giving activists little time to right any wrongs. It’s a subtle but important distinction.

5. BANKERS REMAIN ON WALL STREET DESPITE MAJOR CRIMES

Bankers responsible for rigging municipal bonds and bilking billions of dollars from American cities have largely escaped criminal charges. Every day in the US, low-level drug dealers get more prison time than these scheming bankers who, while working for GE Capital, allegedly skimmed money from public schools, hospitals, libraries, and nursing homes, according to Rolling Stone.

Dominick Carollo, Steven Goldberg, and Peter Grimm were dubbed a part of the “modern American mafia,” by the magazine’s Matt Taibbi, one of the few journalists to consistently cover their trial. Meanwhile, disturbingly uninformed cable media “journalists” defended the bankers, saying they shouldn’t be prosecuted for “failure,” as if cheating vulnerable Americans were a bad business deal.

“Had the US authorities decided to press criminal charges,” Assistant US Attorney General Lanny Breuer told Taibbi. “HSBC (a British bank) would almost certainly have lost its banking license in the US, the future of the institution would have been under threat, and the entire banking system would have been destabilized.”

Over the course of decades, the nation’s bankers transformed into the modern mafioso. Unfortunately, our modern media changed as well, and are no longer equipped to tackle systemic, complex stories.

6. THE “DEEP STATE” OF PLUTOCRATIC CONTROL

What’s frightening about the puppeteers who pull the strings of our national government is not how hidden they are, but how hidden they are not.

From defense contractors to multinational corporations, a wealthy elite using an estimated $32 trillion in tax-exempt offshore havens are the masters of our publicly elected officials. In an essay written for Moyer and Company by Mike Lofgren, a congressional staffer of 28 years focused on national security, this cabal of wealthy interests comprise our nation’s “Deep State.”

As Lofgren writes for Moyers, “The Deep State is the big story of our time. It is the red thread that runs through the war on terrorism, the financialization and deindustrialization of the American economy, the rise of a plutocratic social structure and political dysfunction.”

This is a story that truly challenges the mass media, which do report on the power of wealth, in bits and pieces. But although the cabal’s disparate threads are occasionally pulled, the spider’s web of corruption largely escapes corporate media’s larger narrative.

The myopic view censors the full story as surely as outright silence would. The problem deepens every year.

“There are now 854,000 contract personnel with top-secret clearances — a number greater than that of top-secret-cleared civilian employees of the government,” Lofgren wrote, of a group that together would “occupy the floor space of almost three Pentagons — about 17 million square feet.”

7. FBI DISMISSES PLOT AGAINST OCCUPY AS NSA CRACKS DOWN ON DISSENT

Nationally, law enforcement worked in the background to monitor and suppress the Occupy Wall Street movement, a story the mainstream press has shown little interest in covering.

A document obtained in FOIA request by David Lindorff of Who, What WHY from the FBI office in Houston,, Texas revealed an alleged assassination plot targeting a Occupy group, which the FBI allegedly did not warn the movement about.

From the redacted document: “An identified [DELETED] as of October planned to engage in sniper attacks against protestors (sic) in Houston, Texas if deemed necessary. An identified [DELETED] had received intelligence that indicated the protesters in New York and Seattle planned similar protests in Houston, Dallas, San Antonio and Austin, Texas. [DELETED] planned to gather intelligence against the leaders of the protest groups and obtain photographs, then formulate a plan to kill the leadership via suppressed sniper rifles.”

Lindorff confirmed the document’s veracity with the FBI. When contacted by Lindorff, Houston Police were uninterested, and seemingly (according to Lindorff), uninformed.

In Arizona, law enforcement exchanged information of possible Occupy efforts with JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon, according to a report by the Center for Media and Democracy titled Dissent on Terror. The CEO meant to evade possible protests, and local law enforcement was happy to help.

Law enforcement’s all-seeing eyes broadened through the national rise of “fusion centers” over the past decade, hubs through which state agencies exchange tracking data on groups exercising free speech. And as we share, “like,” and “check-in” online with ever-more frequency, that data becomes more robust by the day.

8. IGNORING EXTREME WEATHER CONNECTION TO GLOBAL WARMING

In what can only be responded to with a resounding “duh,” news analyses have found mainstream media frequently report on severe weather changes without referring to global warming as the context or cause, even as a question.

As Project Censored notes, a study by Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting found extreme weather events in 2013 spurred 450 broadcast news segments, only 16 of which even mentioned climate change. National news outlets have fallen on the job as well, as The New York Times recently shuttered its environmental desk and its Green blog, reducing the number of reporters exclusively chasing down climate change stories.

Unlike many journalists, ordinary people often recognize the threat of our warming planet. Just as this story on Project Censored went to press, over 400,000 protested in the People’s Climate March in New York City alone, while simultaneous protests erupted across the globe, calling for government, corporate, and media leaders to address the problem.

“There is a huge mismatch between the magnitude of the challenge and the response we heard here today,” Graca Machel, the widow of former South African President Nelson Mandela, told the United Nations conference on climate change. “The scale is much more than we have achieved.”

9. US MEDIA HYPOCRISY IN COVERING UKRAINE CRISIS

The US battle with Russia over Ukraine’s independence is actually an energy pipeline squabble, a narrative lost by mainstream media coverage, Project Censored alleges.

Russian President Vladimir Putin has drawn fire from the media as a tyrant, without complex analyses of his country’s socio-economic interests, according to Project Censored. As the media often do, they have turned the conflict into a cult of personality, talking up Putin’s shirtless horseback riding and his hard-line style with deftness missing from their political analysis.

As The Guardian UK’s Nafeez Ahmed reported, a recent US State Department-sponsored report noted “Ukraine’s strategic location between the main energy producers (Russia and the Caspian Sea area) and consumers in the Eurasian region, its large transit network, and its available underground gas storage capacities,” highlighting its economic importance to the US and its allies.

10. WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION SUPPRESSES REPORT ON IRAQ IMPACTS

The United States’ legacy in Iraq possibly goes beyond death to a living nightmare of cancer and birth defects, due to the military’s use of depleted uranium weapons, a World Health Organization study found. Iraq is poisoned. Much of the report’s contents were leaked to the BBC during its creation. But the release of the report, completed in 2012 by WHO, has stalled. Critics allege the US is deliberately blocking its release, masking a damning Middle East legacy rivaling the horrors of Agent Orange in Vietnam. But Iraq will never forget the US intervention, as mothers cradle babies bearing scars obtained in the womb, the continuing gifts of our invasion.

Rep Clock: Oct 1-6, 2014

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September 30, 2014

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Schedules are for Wed/1-Tue/7 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double features marked with a •. All times pm unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $6. “Other Cinema:” “Rick Prelinger’s Yesterday and Tomorrow in Detroit,” Sat, 8:30.

BALBOA 3630 Balboa, SF; cinemasf.com/balboa. $7.50-10. “Thursday Night Rock Docs:” The Who’s Tommy (Russell, 1975), Thu, 7:30. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958), Tue, 7:30.

BERKELEY FELLOWSHIP OF UNITARIAN UNIVERSALISTS 1924 Cedar, Berk; www.bfuu.org. The Wisdom to Survive: Climate Change, Capitalism, and Community (Macksoud and Ankele, 2013), Thu, 6:30.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $8.50-11. •To Have and Have Not (Hawks, 1944), Wed, 7:05, and Dark Passage (Daves, 1947), Wed, 5, 9. •Jaws 3-D (Alves, 1983), Thu, 7:30, and Drive Angry (Lussier, 2011), Thu, 9:25. •Christine (Carpenter, 1983), Fri, 7:15, and Carrie (De Palma, 1976), Fri, 9:25. Frozen (Buck and Lee, 2013), presented sing-along style, Sat, 1. Advance tickets ($11-16) at www.ticketweb.com. •The Bad Seed (LeRoy, 1956), Sat, 7:05, and Village of the Damned (Rilla, 1960), Sat, 5:30, 9:30. Gandhi (Attenborough, 1982), Sun, 7.

CINECAVE Lost Weekend, 1034 Valencia, SF; www.lostweekendvideo.com. $10. “Zucker Fairey,” short film screening as “Talkies” comedy night, with other performances including Shadow Circus Creature Theatre, DJ REAL, and Karen Penley, Fri, 8:30.

CONTEMPORARY JEWISH MUSEUM 736 Mission, SF; www.thecjm.org. Free. A Mighty Wind (Guest, 2003), Tue, noon.

EXPLORATORIUM Pier 15, SF; www.exploratorium.edu. Free with museum admission ($19-25). “Saturday Cinema: A Cinematic Study of the Fog in San Francisco,” short films, Sat, 1, 1:30, 2, 2:30, 3, 3:30.

GOETHE-INSTITUT SF 530 Bush, SF; www.goethe.de/ins/us/saf/enindex.htm. $5 suggested donation. “100 Years After WWI:” Diaries of the Great War — Part 3 and 4 (Peter, 2014), Wed, 6:30.

JACK LONDON FERRY LAWN Clay and Water, Oakl; www.jacklondonsquare.com. Free. “Sing-along Cinema:” Frozen (Buck and Lee, 2013), Fri, sundown.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; milibrary.org/events. $10. “CinemaLit Film Series: Alternative Realities:” 7 Faces of Dr. Lao (Pal, 1964), Fri, 6.

MISSION CULTURAL CENTER FOR LATINO ARTS 2868 Mission, SF; www.sfimmigrantfilmfestival.com. $10. Immigrant Film Festival, narratives, docs, and shorts about immigrant people from around the world, Sun, 2 and 4. Visit website for additional screening venues and dates.

NEW PARKWAY 474 24th St, Oakl; www.thenewparkway.com. Free. “First Friday Shorts: Sistah Sinema — Zombie Love,” zombie-themed films by queer women of color, Fri, 6.

142 THROCKMORTON THEATRE 142 Throckmorton, Mill Valley; www.leftcoastensemble.org. $15-30. “Films and Interludes,” silent films accompanied by live scores with the Left Coast Chamber Ensemble, Thu, 8.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Alternative Visions:” “Projection Instructions:” Outer and Inner Space (Warhol, 1965), with “Christmas on Earth” (Rubin, 1963), Wed, 7. “Jean-Luc Godard: Expect Everything from Cinema:” Numéro deux (Godard and Miéville, 1975), Thu, 7; Comment ça va (Godard and Miéville, 1978), Sun, 5. “Eyes Wide: The Films of Stanley Kubrick:” 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Fri, 7:30; Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964), Sat, 8:40. “Endless Summer Cinema:” Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (Burton, 1985), Fri, 8. “Discovering Georgian Cinema:” Little Red Devils (Perestiani, 1923), Sat, 6:30.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $6.50-11. Starred Up (Mackenzie, 2013), Wed, 9:15; Thu, 9:30. 20,000 Days on Earth (Forsyth and Pollard, 2014), Wed-Thu, 9:30 (also Wed, 7; Thu, 7:15). “Synesthesia Film Festival: Screening #7,” short films, music videos, student works, web series, and more, Wed, 1. Nas: Time is Illmatic (One9, 2014), Thu, 7. Abuse of Weakness (Breillat, 2014), Oct 3-9, 7, 9:15 (also Sat-Sun, 2:30, 4:45). Nymphomaniac Uncut (von Trier, 2014), Sat-Sun, midnight. “Pirate Night:” •The Last Hijack (Palotta, 2014), Sun, 7, and Fishing Without Nets (Hodierne, 2014), Sun, 9.

SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $6.50-$10.75. Last Days in Vietnam (Kennedy, 2014), Wed-Thu, call for times. Mill Valley Film Festival, Oct 2-12. For tickets ($8-14) and complete schedule, visit www.mvff.com.

VOGUE 3290 Sacramento, SF; www.cinemasf.com/vogue. $8-$10.50. Born to Fly: Elizabeth Streb vs. Gravity (Gund, 2014), Wed-Thu, 3, 5, 7.

YERBA BUENA CENTER FOR THE ARTS 701 Mission, SF; www.ybca.org. $8-10. “Lest We Forget: Remembering Radical San Francisco:” The Times of Harvey Milk (Epstein, 1984), Thu, 7:30; The Fall of the I-Hotel (Choy, 1983), Sun, 2. *

Pedaling and feasting

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September 24, 2014

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FEAST: COAST BY BIKE I spent my vacations on my bicycle this summer, pedaling from southern Oregon to San Luis Obispo and looping through the Santa Cruz Mountains on three separate bike tours, covering almost 1,000 miles over three weeks, fully loaded with camping and other gear.

It was as healthy, athletic, and adventurous as it sounds — but it also involved some serious feasting along the way. We were often ravenously hungry when we would stop for meals, eager to splurge on whatever struck our fancy on the menus, or just feel an almost irrational appreciation for simple snacks.

After all, we had earned it. And with hiker-biker campsites costing just $5 per night, we could spend our vacation money on good food and drink to fill our internal fuel tanks and feed our taste for decadent delights.

There’s a certain ethos to eating on a bike tour, as I learned from my friend Jason Henderson (the SF State geography professor who writes the Guardian’s Street Fight column) and other veteran bike tourers along the way. Some young cyclists on long trips go for austerity, eating simple meals out of cans or jars to keep their costs down, but we were going for maximum enjoyment.

We cooked about half our meals, mapping out the last place to shop for fresh food before our camping destination for the night. That sometimes meant schlepping heavy groceries — fruits and vegetables, pasta and sauce, rice and beans, beer and wine — up to 10 miles.

We didn’t always use perfect judgment, such as on the long day’s ride from Humboldt Redwoods State Park to the Standish-Hickey State Recreation Area, an otherwise remote site along the Redwood Highway that nonetheless had an awesome restaurant and store, The Peg House, right outside the campground entrance.

In the mornings before breaking camp and hitting the road, usually by 8am, we made coffee and top-quality oatmeal mixed with fresh berries (occasionally picked ourselves from the roadside), brown sugar, and walnuts. This was known as the “first breakfast.”

Two or three hours into the ride, depending on the route, we would stop at some random restaurant for the second breakfast, and it was always such a treat, anything from surprisingly awesome fried chicken from a little market to the best Hangtown Fry (mmm, oysters and eggs!) I’ve ever had.

Later, we’d stop for lunch, usually famished by then, a meal that sometimes included a beer or two if we were close to our destination for the night. Occasionally, there would be a second lunch, and on a few rare occasions when there was a restaurant at the campground, a big, fat dinner feast.

That element of randomness on a slow road trip, when hunger or whims pulled us into some funky little roadside restaurant or store along California’s epic coastline, was one of the great and unexpected joys of my summer bike tours. And while there were many awesome spots we hit along the way, here’s a representative sampling, north-to-south, of a dozen meals that lingered with me:

Fried chicken at Fort Dick Market, Fort Dick
Riding from Harris Beach, Ore. toward Crescent City, that mid-morning hunger pulled us into a little roadside market, and the smell of fried chicken propelled us from there. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw for a second breakfast? Por que no? Well worth it.

Hangtown Fry at Seascape Restaurant, Trinidad
We rolled through beautiful Trinidad on one of our shortest ride days, under 30 miles, so we didn’t mind lingering down by the harbor during a long wait for a table at Seascape Restaurant. And when I put that first bite of my Hangtown Fry in my mouth, the oysters’ vital juice mixing with the cheesy eggs, I believed I reach culinary nirvana.

Sushi room service at Hotel Arcata
My riding partners had traveled all the way from Portland, so they needed a Laundromat and a night in a bed by the time we reached Arcata. The quaint and historic Hotel Arcata was great spot right on the town square, and better yet, it offered room service from Tomo Japanese Restaurant. Fat specialty sushi rolls were a decadent treat after a long ride while my friends washed their skivvies.

BBQ Oysters at The Peg House
Oh, how I wished we had known about this place before we arrived at Standish-Hickey State Park near Leggett. The store was filled with gourmet goodies and a great beer and wine selection, and the adjacent restaurant had a huge outdoor patio, a stage for live music on weekends, and a wonderfully full menu, including some of the most amazing BBQ oysters I’ve ever had, bathed in some secret sauce that I wanted to drink from a pint glass. So that night, I had two dinners.

Ribs at Bones Roadhouse in Gualala
Entering the lovely coastal town of Gualala, past the large dinosaur-shaped topiary on the edge of town, I was immediately charmed. And starving after arriving in our destination town well ahead of my traveling companions. So I hit Bones Roadhouse, a groovy spot with an ocean view and autographed dollar bills covering the walls and ceiling, and ordered a huge plate of smoked pork ribs and two local IPAs on tap. Ah, life is good.

Burger and beers at Pescadero Country Store
After a long day’s ride from San Francisco on Labor Day weekend, with only a few more miles until our Butano State Park campsite under the redwoods, this place not only had awesome gourmet burgers and two fine IPAs on tap, it also had a great little jam band playing on the sunny patio.

Pulled pork sandwich at Big Basin Store
Big Basin Redwoods State Park is a beautiful, popular spot that doesn’t seem to have a restaurant, only a little camp store. Ah, but it has recently added a little restaurant in the back, something visitors would hardly notice. And even though the menu is small, it did have some super yummy pulled pork panini sandwiches that hit the spot after a dusty ride on a dirt trail from Butano.

Coffee and Mocha at Surf City Coffee, Moss Landing
Sometime, between our first and second breakfasts, we’d stop for coffee drinks, which I’d drink as I rode from a Contigo cup that fit perfectly in one of my water bottle holders. At this cute and colorful little spot, I got one of the best mochas of the trip and picked up a bag of fresh ground coffee to go with our first breakfasts.

Whole cracked crab at Liberty Fish, Monterey
It was a big ride from Sunset State Beach all the way to Big Sur, more than 70 miles, with Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey the lunch spot at the halfway point. To mark the spot and fuel up for a big afternoon ride, I devoured a whole cracked Dungeness crab and cup of clam chowder. Then I was good to go.

Steak at Big Sur Lodge
Halfway through our first tour from SF to SLO, we decided to spend two nights under the redwoods at beautiful Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, which also had a fancy restaurant, Big Sur Lodge, right at the campground. We did some serious feasting both nights, short ribs the first night and a thick, perfectly cooked steak the second. Totally decadent, totally worth it.

Smoked albacore tacos at Ruddell’s Smokehouse, Cayucos
This tiny spot by the beach doesn’t look like much, offering mostly just smoked meat and fish tacos and sandwiches, but that’s all you need. It was so good that we even bought a pound of smoked albacore to go.

Lamb burritos at The Wild Donkey Cafe, San Luis Obispo
Offering the uniquely compelling combination of “Greek and Mexican Cuisine” (as well as a table that allowed us to keep an eye on our loaded bikes, which sometimes influenced our restaurant choices), this was a great little spot with an interesting menu, friendly service, and yummy grilled lamb burritos.

Film Listings: Sept. 24 – 30, 2014

Michael Redmond

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September 23, 2014

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

The Boxtrolls The stop-motion wizards behind Coraline (2009) and ParaNorman (2012) release their latest, about an orphaned boy raised by friendly trolls. (1:37) Balboa, Presidio.

The Equalizer A retired black ops commander (Denzel Washington) finds himself at odds with the Russian mafia, as one does, in this update of the Edward Woodward TV show from director Antoine Fuqua. (2:08) Marina.

A Fuller Life Samantha Fuller’s homage to her father, the maverick director Sam Fuller, plays it by the book: a chorus of the director’s many actors (Mark Hamill, Robert Carradine, Constance Towers) and acolytes (Wim Wenders, Monte Hellman, James Toback, William Friedkin) sit in his carefully preserved office reading passages from the 2002 memoir, A Third Face: My Tale of Writing, Fighting and Filmmaking — many of them chomping the auteur’s trademark cigar. If A Fuller Life is too narrowly conceived to be a fully satisfying documentary, it does work as a kind of séance. While barely grazing the complexities of Fuller’s long run of independent productions — to say nothing of their spring-loaded style — the film nonetheless goes a long way in emphasizing the importance of Fuller’s earlier lives as a crime reporter and infantrymen to his no-bullshit approach to narrative cinema. Fans will savor glimpses of unrealized scripts littering the director’s office (Star and Swastika, the mind reels) as well as segments of his private 16mm rolls — most significantly the haunting footage of liberated concentration camps Fuller shot as a grunt. (1:20) Castro. (Max Goldberg)

Hector and the Search For Happiness A therapist (Simon Pegg) roams around the globe to figure out what makes people happy. (1:54)

I Am Eleven Australian director Genevieve Bailey wanted to find out if kids today are still as “happy and excited” in “this crazy world” as she was at her own favorite age. So she trotted around the globe interviewing 11-year-olds. This innocuous documentary doesn’t ask them any difficult or probing questions. So we get a curiously samey sampling of children in very different cultural and economic circumstances who are nonetheless all plucky and well-adjusted, have the same opinions (war, racism, bullies and global warming are bad; animals and family are good). None of them appear to be suffering any serious deprivations, abuse or cultural-religious programming that might disturb viewers, making I Am Eleven a feel-good montage with little depth. It might ideally be shown to actual 11-year-olds, who could benefit from its mild, relatable depiction of diversity. But by grown-up standards, this movie represents a wasted opportunity to take the pulse of those who are about to inherit a world facing crisis on myriad fronts. (1:34) Metreon, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Jimi: All is by My Side See “Keys of Life.” (1:58) Metreon, Sundance Kabuki.

Last Days in Vietnam Recent news coverage of Yadizi people — ethnic-minority Iraqis targeted by ISIS for their spiritual beliefs — desperately fleeing their country brought to mind another frantic evacuation, investigated in detail by Rory Kennedy’s tense new doc Last Days in Vietnam. It begins in 1975, when Saigon’s post-war population included 6,000 or so Americans, as well as thousands more South Vietnamese who worked for and with them. With rapidly-approaching Communist troops on the horizon, the urgent exodus began, and Last Days combines news footage with eyewitness reports from American embassy workers and military (including the last US soldier to climb aboard the last departing helicopter) who took an active role in the operation. We also hear from South Vietnamese — including several people who did not make it out, but managed to survive, as well as a man whose father daringly choppered his entire family to an American ship bobbing offshore. Kennedy — whose previous work, 2012’s Ethel, was about her mother, best-known as RFK’s widow — favors filmmaking that doesn’t innovate stylistically beyond anything seen on the History Channel, and there are no big revelations here. But her straightforward approach means the stories she captures take center stage, and they are harrowing stories indeed. (1:19) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Eddy)

Pride LGBT activists and striking miners become unlikely allies in this based-on-true-events tale starring Bill Nighy, Imelda Staunton, Dominic West, and Andrew Scott. (2:00) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki.

Starred Up British actor Jack O’Connell (star of the upcoming Unbroken) plays teenage rageaholic Eric, a seasoned convict despite his young age. We meet him as he’s being moved from juvenile to grown-up lockup, where he wastes no time fashioning a weapon out of his toothbrush and adjusting the anvil-sized chip on his shoulder. This young lad’s furious existence is further unsettled when he encounters his shifty father (Ben Mendelsohn), a lifer who grudgingly takes an interest in his son’s progress, while displaying a temper that suggests the origins of Eric’s troubled psyche. Thick accents and slang pepper the script by former prison shrink Jonathan Asser (represented in the film by Rupert Friend) — meaning the dialogue is as authentic as it is impenetrable. No matter, really, since this grim, involving drama from Scottish director David Mackenzie (2011’s Tonight You’re Mine, 2003’s Young Adam) relies firmly on the idea that brutality speaks way louder than words. For an extended review visit www.sfbg.com/pixel_vision. (1:46) Roxie. (Eddy)

Tracks One of the many worrisome visuals in Tracks, an adaptation of a 1980 memoir by a young Australian woman named Robyn Davidson, is the sight of Mia Wasikowska’s skin, scarlet and blistering under a punishing desert sun. Robyn (Wasikowska) has a singular, and single-minded, aim: to walk across nearly 2,000 miles of Australian outback, from Alice Springs in the dead center of the country to the Indian Ocean, with a team of four feral camels and her black lab Diggity for company. There’s some Into the Wild (2007) and All Is Lost (2013) here — in Robyn’s driving impulse toward deep isolation, her almost frantic need to remove herself from the cacophony of human transaction and commune with her animals in the empty desert, as well as in the film’s steady focus on logistics. With the loopy exception of Adam Driver as an admiring freelance photographer who periodically joins her on the trail, at the behest of National Geographic, nearly everyone Robyn encounters at the film’s outset thinks she’s nuts, and doomed, and the viewer is likely sympathetic to this viewpoint. Robyn, radiating an unyielding idealism and a white-knuckled ethic of self-reliance, can seem naïve and unreasonable, and doesn’t much trouble to explain herself. The camera, meanwhile, follows in her tracks without judgment, accepting her decision and watching, solicitously, to see who she is out there and how she will make her way. (1:42) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

20,000 Days on Earth See “Keys of Life.” (1:37) Roxie.

Two Night Stand A drifting twentysomething layabout named Megan (Analeigh Tipton) — jobless, living on sufferance with a friend (Jessica Szohr), and newly unmoored from a longtime relationship — tests the powers of a random online hookup to jolt her into a forward trajectory. Meeting Alec (Miles Teller) at the far end of a video chat, she embarks on a midnight trek to his place, has sub-mediocre sex with him, and wakes up the next morning to find herself, after some acrimonious pillow talk and a would-be dramatic exit, trapped in his apartment by about five feet of snow. Setting off from this highly engineered premise — a sort of desert island scenario for the urban millennial — director Max Nichols (son of Mike) and writer Mark Hammer hit some standard romantic comedy plot points, guiding the pair from a state of mutual irritation to grudging rapprochement to growing admiration before setting up the third-act romantic roadblock. But Two Night Stand manages some cleverly maneuvering within its genre strictures, benefiting from a funny, well-paced script, which keeps a talky 24-hour tête-à-tête engaging and entertaining, and two charming, well-matched leads, whose characters trade insults, query each other’s online-profile claims, and gamely tackle a play-by-play postmortem of the previous night’s action — and a do-over — for the sake of future randoms and the possible reeducation of some audience members. (1:26) (Rapoport)

ONGOING

Boyhood Believe the hype: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is one of the best films of the year. It’d be a towering cinematic accomplishment in any year. By now, you’ve heard the set-up, which borrows elements from Linklater’s Before films, as well as his coming-of-age dramas (1993’s Dazed and Confused in particular). He filmed his cast — including titular youth Ellar Coltrane, Lorelai Linklater as his older sister, and Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke as his divorced parents, on and off over 12 years — with scenes touching on moments both monumental (high-tension moments with ugly stepfathers) and microscopic (the creation of a perfect campfire s’more). The years flow by, signaled not by any obvious gestures like on-screen text, but by changing hairstyles, pop culture references, and evolving video-game consoles. Watching Coltrane’s Mason grow from arrowhead-obsessed tyke to thoughtful college freshman is a rare and remarkable pleasure; among the more experienced actors, Arquette is particularly moving as a fiercely loving single mom determined to advance in her career despite continual, mountain-sized roadblocks in her personal life. (2:40) Balboa, California, Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Calvary John Michael McDonagh made a splashy cinematic entree both writing and directing 2011’s acerbic The Guard, which starred Brendan Gleeson as a willfully perverse small-town cop. Filmmaker and actor are back with Calvary, a film just as good, in which Gleeson’s priest is the discreetly gruff moral center of a coastal Irish hamlet that surely would have none otherwise. His parishioners are all skeptics, heretics, nonbelievers, and blatant sinners — cast members include Chris O’Dowd, Aidan Gillen, and Brendan’s real-life son Domnhall — who take particular pleasure in ridiculing the uprightness of this one man no one has a legitimate gripe against, save resentment. As if all this weren’t enough, at Calvary‘s start, an unseen confessor tells James he was abused for years by a (now-dead) Catholic priest, and as recompense will kill his current, admittedly blameless confessor in a week’s time. This set-up would appear entirely, absurdly skewed if not for the gravitational center Gleeson provides; he single-handedly provides the sincere if faint hope of redemption in a scenario that otherwise provides every possible indication of damnation for all. Calvary centrally addresses the question of faith while ultimately dodging the answer. I’d appreciate McDonagh’s ambivalence more if he weren’t quite so pleased about it. He’s got extraordinary taste, no doubt — from its editorial pace to its costume and soundtrack choices, this movie is curated within an inch of too-much-ness. But beyond his understandable disillusionment with the Catholic Church’s crimes, does he truly care about morality, or is it just an authorial chew-toy? (1:45) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Chef Not to take anything away from the superhero crew, but Chef feels like the closest thing to a labor of love from writer, director, and star Jon Favreau in many a day. As a director, he may have been making doughnuts — fun-filled and teeming with CGI eye candy, but doughnuts nevertheless — when it came to effects-driven blockbusters like 2008’s Iron Man, but this well-meaning play for the heart, by way of the stomach, shows you where Favreau’s head is really at. Chef revolves around Carl Casper (Favreau), a onetime food star, now reduced to serving up predictable crowd-pleasers at the behest of his restaurant’s overbearing owner (Dustin Huffman). It takes the barbs of an influential critic (Oliver Platt) — and an ensuing Twitter war — to set Carl off and send him away on his own, at the coaxing of his glam ex Inez (Sofia Vergara). Hooked up with a dilapidated food truck and former kitchen staffer Martin (John Leguizamo), and aided by ably Tweeting son Percy (Emjay Anthony), Carl ties his dreams — and lost passion — to the classic Cuban sandwich. The ensuing road trip from Miami to LA, and Carl’s journey toward self and a renewed relationship with his son, is a fun (if, in the end, a bit too speedily sketched) vault through the joys of eating your way through America’s new culinary heartland. Amid the volley of sign-of-the-times social-media swinging and cameos by the uncostumed Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johansson, and the like, Favreau’s main dish is that a family that eats, cooks, and runs a business together, stays together — child labor laws or no. (1:55) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes As usual, a heady hybrid of anticipation and dread accompanies all Planet of Apes installments: you brace yourself for the abused, righteously rebellious apes; the apocalyptic mise-en-scène laden with symbolism; and more overt messaging concerning animal testing, civil rights, and gun control. But why worry? In line with 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the PG-13 high-fives go to new Apes director Matt Reeves (2008’s Cloverfield) for sparing us animal kills, gore, and graphic violence, despite its Dawn of the Dead-evoking title. Really, this Dawn is all about the bitterly fought beginnings of a civilization among the primates north of the Golden Gate Bridge in Muir Woods, complete with community building, social structure, and alas, a burgeoning war with the humanoids amid vaguely familiar SF ruins, setting off an epic showdown that challenges not only the oft-repeated commandment “ape shall not kill ape” but takes advantage of our anthropomorphized pals’ ability to swing with the C4 explosions. The viral drug ALZ 113 that led to super-intelligent primates like chimp hero Caesar (motion-captured Andy Serkis) has decimated the human population, leaving the field wide open for enterprising and vengeful creatures like scarred lab survivor Koba (motion-captured Toby Kebbell). Neither quite trusts the band of desperate human survivors — including friendly Jason Clarke, nurturing Keri Russell, and token asshole Kirk Acevedo — that ventures into the apes’ woods to harness the power of nature, namely a dam, to electrify their SF compound. You know what side of the evolutionary span we’re on when the humans seem much more interchangeable than the chimps, and the movie can barely wait to end on its contemporary version of a Touch of Evil (1958) crane shot, as it zooms to an extreme close-up of a certain chimp’s carefully crafted eyes. (2:10) Metreon. (Chun)

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby Writer-director Ned Benson’s The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby began as separate films about a failed marriage, told from the points of view of the husband (James McAvoy), and then the wife (Jessica Chastain). Because Americans will happily binge-watch entire TV seasons but still get the shakes when confronted with a two-part film, the segments (titled Him and Her) are getting wide release in the edited-together Them. (Diehards will have a chance to seek out the complete work eventually, but for now, this review concerns only Them.) As the film begins, Chastain’s Eleanor (yep, named after the Beatles song) flings herself off an NYC bridge. She survives physically, but her mental state is still supremely fragile, so she checks out of her Manhattan life and her marriage to Connor (McAvoy), and digs in at the chic suburban saltbox occupied by her parents (Isabelle Huppert and William Hurt) and sister (Jess Weixler), a single mother with a young son. Meanwhile, Connor mopes around his failing restaurant with his chef BFF (the suddenly ubiquitous Bill Hader), and pays occasional visits to his own moping father (Ciarán Hinds). The estranged couple circles each other, in flashbacks and occasional run-ins, and the audience is slowly made privy to the tragedy that drove them apart and has them both reeling from grief months later. Even in mash-up form, this is a delicate film, enhanced by Benson’s confidence in his audience’s intelligence; what could have been a manipulative tear-jerker instead feels authentically raw, with characters whose emotional confusion leads them to behave in realistically frustrating ways. The casting is note-perfect, with a special nod to Viola Davis as Eleanor’s world-weary college professor. I’ll be seeking out Her just to catch more of that performance. (2:03) Albany, SF Centre. (Eddy)

Dolphin Tale 2 (1:48) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

The Drop The late James Gandolfini gets a fitting final feature-film sendoff in this edgy microcosm of a crime movie, set among the small-time hoodies of Brooklyn, but just easily recast in Tony Soprano’s Jersey or the Beantown of 2010’s The Fighter. As Cousin Marv, a onetime dive-bar owner forced to turn his watering hole over to Chechen mobsters as a drop spot for bookmaking loot, he also gets worthy sparring partners in Tom Hardy and Matthias Schoenaerts (star of 2011’s Bullhead, director Michaël R. Roskam’s Oscar-nominated breakout). Hardy’s Bob looks to be the perpetual side guy to his Cousin Marv; he seems sludgy and lacking confidence, until he finds a battered pit bull puppy in a trashcan belonging to Nadia (Noomi Rapace) — and discovers himself in the middle of a brazen robbery at the drop bar. With the puppy and Nadia comes the canine’s purported owner, rumored killer, and neighborhood “nut case” Eric (Schoenaerts). The beauty of Dennis Lehane’s screenplay, spinning off his short story “Animal Rescue,” is embedded in how the most banal niceties (like “Good to see you”) are used with Mamet-like skill to signal the threadbare facade of civilized behavior and convey an almost nihilistic sense of imminent threat. Meanwhile, Roskam walks a tightrope between the drab, wintry everyday and a pervasive mood of menace, creating a downbeat yet almost horrifying effect when the trigger is finally pulled — and the veil between the hidden and the real, the animal and the human, is dropped. (1:45) Californi, Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, Presidio, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Frank Who doesn’t want to be a musical savant, visually riveting, naturally gifted, freed from convention, and liberated of linear thought? The exception might be the doll-headed, damaged namesake of this comedy loosely inspired by the life of late English musician and comedian Frank Sidebottom (real name: Chris Sievey), and real-life Sidebottom sideguy Jon Ronson, who co-wrote the screenplay. And if this loving, very funny, bromantic take on the so-called creative process of rock seems a bit forced at times, that’s only because the movie is so clearly filtered through the archetypal wannabe, made likable by Domhnall Gleeson. His office worker Jon is struggling to write songs when he stumbles across a band, Soronprfbs, after watching their keyboard player attempt to drown himself at the beach. Manager Don (Scoot McNairy) taps the bystander to contribute to the chaos happening onstage, then drags him off for the making of the album. Mysterious leader Frank (Michael Fassbender), who never takes off his massive, faux-happy head, finds inspiration in threads protruding from upholstery. As Jon’s nest egg gets sucked into the recording budget and theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal) rages against the interloper, he posts the band’s, er, artistry to YouTube, obtaining the group a coveted gig at South by Southwest. But who really wants this shot at fame? The sideman with a will to power, or the damaged true talent? Director Lenny Abrahamson and Ronson wisely place Frank squarely in the viral video/GIF/Vine-poisoned multiplatform miasma of today, put across all the more powerfully by Gleeson and particularly Fassbender, who reveals a fine singing voice. While cleverly referencing outsider artists big and small by way of right-on original songs by Stephen Rennicks, Frank asks vital questions about motivation and art-making in an era when it seems like everyone is getting their 15 minutes of fame — and we’re getting increasingly weary of eyeballing it and filtering the wheat from the gone-in-a-nanosecond chaff. Some make music because they want to be stars, while others, Frank says, do it because they have little other choice. (1:34) Balboa, Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Chun)

The Giver Lois Lowry’s classic YA novel gets a veteran helmer for its big-screen adaptation, but Philip Noyce’s ability to attract top adult talent (Meryl Streep, Jeff Bridges) can’t outweigh his heavy-handed interpretation of what was never a subtle work to begin with. In a vaguely post-apocalyptic society so regulated and dulled that nobody has emotions or empathy, a young man named Jonas (Maleficent‘s Brenton Thwaites, bumped up in age from the book’s 11-year-old) is tasked with becoming the “receiver of memories.” Basically this means that he gets to hang out with Bridges’ character and learn things about the world and human history in the form of Koyaanisqatsi-meets-National Geographic montages (music — it’s a thing! Also: war is hell, etc.) This is life-changing stuff, but part of the deal is that he must never, ever tell anyone else about it, at least until he’s as grizzled as Bridges and has his own successor in need of a thorough mind-blowing. Of course, he immediately loops in pretty BFF Fiona (Odeya Rush), who he’s been seeing in a new light since catching wind of a concept called “love.” Soon, his awakening draws the ire of his mother-esque guardian (Katie Holmes), as well as the community’s leader (Streep). If you’re looking for suspense, or any curve balls (duuuude … once Jonas’ mind starts expanding, he starts seeing the black-and-white world in color!), best backtrack to one of Noyce’s 1990s thrillers (1992’s Patriot Games, perhaps). About the only surprise in The Giver is that Taylor Swift’s much-hyped role is smaller than expected, and not nearly as distracting. (1:40) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

Guardians of the Galaxy The trailer that nearly broke the internet didn’t lie: Guardians of the Galaxy is cheeky, hilarious, eye-popping fun. Its plot may be a predictable anti-hero’s journey, but the saga of Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), half-Earthling, half maybe-alien, as he transforms from scavenging scoundrel to rescuer-of-the-universe is so enjoyable nobody seeking a good time at the movies will care. Helping Quill in his battle against baddie Ronan (Lee Pace) are slinky, green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana); rascally raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper); muscle-bound dim bulb Drax (former pro wrestler Dave Bautista); and a tree-like creature named Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel — his best performance in years, if ever, despite the fact that the only words the character ever utters are “I am Groot.”) Director and co-writer James Gunn (2010’s Super), working from a cult comic from the prolific house of Marvel, does a stellar job balancing action and goofiness, with plenty of unexpected touches along the way, including the best use of 1970s soft-rock since Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Cherish (2002). (2:02) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Hundred-Foot Journey Don’t watch Lasse Hallström’s latest film on an empty stomach. Under the film’s rich layers of mouthwatering food closeups and stunning shots of France (which, admittedly, occasionally threaten to steal the show), The Hundred-Foot Journey is a simple feel-good movie, akin to your favorite comfort food. The Kadam family spices up the South of France when they open an Indian restaurant just 100 feet away from a formidable competitor: a ritzy place owned by Madame Mallory (Helen Mirran). Papa (Om Puri) and eldest son Hassan (Manish Dayal) don’t back down when the heat gets turned up. It’s easy to get caught up in Hassan’s optimism, so the film is predictable (even managing to sprinkle a bit of romance in), but not cheesy. The score is the final icing on the cake, but it’s impossible to expect anything less from Slumdog Millionaire (2008) composer A.R. Rahman. (2:02) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Amy Char)

Last Weekend Celia Green (Patricia Clarkson) is the matriarch of a clan gathering to spend a now-rare weekend at their Lake Tahoe vacation home — the last of the summer, and perhaps the last ever, as she and fitness-tycoon spouse Malcolm (Chris Mulkey) are considering selling it. This news is sure to upset their grown sons, even if neither spend much time here anymore. But then, what doesn’t upset them? Roger (Joseph Cross) constantly snipes at mom, no doubt to let off steam from some as-yet-unbroken news of his own about an embarrassing blunder made in his financial-sector job. Theo (Zachary Booth) is just generally hypersensitive, about his own feelings if no one else’s, including the kinda-sorta-boyfriend of the fleeting moment (Devon Graye) he’s dragged here, along with several coworkers from the TV sitcom he works on as a low-rung writer. Other characters include the married groundskeeper and housekeeper (Julio Oscar Mechoso, Julie Carmen) everyone treats with elaborate familiarity as “almost family,” and Roger’s longtime girlfriend (Alexis Rasmussen), who’s very aware that she is not considered family. Presided over by Celia, who sees herself as an unpretentious Earth Mother but is in fact a meddling perfectionist, the Greens are an exasperating lot of self-absorbed, mutually unsupportive brats. Tom Dolby and Tom Williams’ seriocomedy is willing to point out their foibles and chuckle, but not to actively criticize (let alone satirize) them. Instead, we’re ultimately expected to care about these shallow, catty figures of under-appreciated privilege — an emotional connection the movie never remotely earns. If you’re going to make a movie about Rich People Problems, it had better have a lot more bite than this one manages. (1:34) Vogue. (Harvey)

Love is Strange Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina) have been together four decades, so it’s a big celebration for their extended family of friends and relations when they finally, legally get hitched. But news of the marriage reaches the archdiocese in charge of the Catholic high school where George teaches music, and while he’s hardly been in the closet at work or anywhere else, this supposed gesture of public defiance against church doctrine gets the beloved instructor fired. With Ben a not-particularly-successful painter, and George now looking for a new job, the couple can now no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the Manhattan co-op apartment they’ve lived in for 20 years (but only owned for five). Finding an affordable new place is near-impossible. So the pair find themselves split up, forced to crash under different roofs and awkward circumstances. Ben moves in with his workaholic nephew (Darren Burrows), unwittingly heightening tensions with his author wife (Marisa Tomei) and especially their moody teenage son (Charlie Tahan), who deeply resents having to share his bedroom. George lands on the couch of a younger gay couple, two cops (Cheyenne Jackson, Manny Perez) who are very nice but have an active social life that robs him of privacy and sleep. This latest from ever-more-excellent Ira Sachs (2012’s Keep the Lights On), its near-flawless screenplay co-written with Mauricio Zacharias, is a widely relatable drama about precisely observed human nature and increasingly inhumane economic realities. It’s also easily one of the best US films 2014 is likely to offer. Might as well start filling out your Oscar ballots, because this movie is definitely going to be a contender. (1:38) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Lucy Eurotrash auteur Luc Besson’s latest is a mostly fun action fantasy about a party girl (Scarlett Johansson) who runs afoul of gangsters in Taipei and ends up with a leaking packet of futuristic drugs sewn into her shapely stomach. Side effects include super strength and supernatural intelligence — insert pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo about tapping into 100 percent of one’s woefully underused brainpower, etc. etc. — which leads to some satisfying scenes in which Johansson’s Lucy flattens a hallway of cops with a single gesture, or filters through every phone conversation in the Paris metro area to find the one guy she needs to eavesdrop on. She’s also able to beam herself into electronic devices, a nifty trick that convinces kindly scientist Morgan Freeman to help download her magnificently advanced intelligence into a kind of living computer (shades of 2013’s Her and Under the Skin, except this time ScarJo’s wearing a really great dress). South Korean weirdo/superstar Choi Min-sik (2003’s Oldboy; 2010’s I Saw the Devil) is an inspired choice to play the vengeful kingpin intent on tracking down his runaway mule, and Besson adds some arty flair via nature-show footage and Cosmos-esque clips from beyond the infinite — though the film’s Big Ideas wobble precariously amid its other, mostly silly elements. (1:29) Metreon. (Eddy)

Magic in the Moonlight Woody Allen’s latest — after last year’s vodka-drenched Cate Blanchett showcase Blue Jasmine — offers a return to period romance á la 2011 smash Midnight in Paris. Instead of Owen Wilson time-traveling through the artsy 1920s, we get winsome 1920s clairvoyant Sophie (Emma Stone, 25 years old) falling for the skeptic who’s sent to debunk her, played by Colin Firth (who’s 53). Firth’s performance is easily the best part of Magic in the Moonlight; his Stanley Crawford is a theatrical conjurer famed for his yellowface act, in which he solemnly makes elephants disappear. Off-stage, he’s a self-proclaimed genius regarded by most who meet him as a pompous jerkface. When he’s summoned to the South of France to help a longtime friend and fellow magician (Simon McBurney) prove that Sophie — from humble origins, she’s grown fond of high-society living — is hoodwinking the fancy American family that’s taken her in, nothing unfolds as he expects. The whole exercise is lighter than meringue; it’d be passable as lesser Allen except for that obvious, comically huge age gap between the leads. He knows we disapprove, and he does not care. Are you trolling us, Woody? (1:40) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Eddy)

The Maze Runner What better way to allegorically filter the nightmarish battleground of adolescence amid apocalyptic end times, than through the prism of brainteasers and video games? After all those dystopic, divergent, ender-baiting — and more girl-focused — hunger games, The Maze Runner feels like a mixture of Michael Bay blockbuster fare, crypto-Lost conspiracy-fantasy, and classic proto-YA fiction, à la Lord of the Flies. We are bolted — like smart noob Thomas (Dylan O’Brien), waking from an amnesiac slumber in a speeding mystery elevator — into a contained Petri dish of sorts: a bucolic box of forests and fields, a land of lost boys. No Peter Pans here, though. Alby (Ami Ameen) oversees the fragile peace of this budding society, alongside second-in-command Newt (Thomas Brodie-Sangster), opinionated hazer Gally (Will Poulter), and a baby Hurley named Chuck (Blake Cooper). They’re surrounded by a menacing maze filled with deadly, giant spider-like “Grievers,” and the strongest and fastest, led by Minho (Ki Hong Lee), explore its corridors each day in search of a way out. Of course, Thomas, who happens to be smarter, speedier, and more compassionate than most, is destined to run the maze, which evokes a way-too-elaborate guillotine-cum-Skinner-box, the Transformers, and the doomed pathways of The Shining (1980). The arrival of a girl to the glade, of course, changes everything, though not in ways you’d naturally expect. In spite of its intriguing premise and director Wes Ball’s brisk play-by-play, Maze Runner‘s end game is way more pat than anything Kubrick ever laid his digits on. And why any entity would go through the fuss and bother and expense of building out this scenario for the goals finally teased out at the end comes off as utterly absurd, as is the laughable catchphrase that poor Patricia Clarkson is tasked with intoning. (1:53) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio. (Chun)

A Most Wanted Man Director Anton Corbijn’s film may not be the greatest John le Carré adaptation in recent years (see: 2011’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), but it’s still a solid thriller, anchored by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s turn as Günther Bachmann, the once-bitten-but-not-yet-shy head of an top-secret branch of Germany’s FBI/CIA equivalent. Its task: spying on Hamburg’s Islamic groups, where the 9/11 attacks were planned, though the enemies that Bachmann faces come mostly from within the greater intelligence community, including his superiors. Never before has the phrase “the Americans have taken an interest” been so chilling, especially to a guy who is just trying to do his job, if only everyone else (including Robin Wright as one of those meddling Americans) would keep their sticky mitts off his delicately planned surveillance operations. There’s a forward-moving plot, of course, about a Chechen-Russian illegal immigrant with a huge inheritance who might be a terrorist (Rachel McAdams plays his human-rights lawyer), but could also serve a greater purpose by helping bring down an even bigger target. And while A Most Wanted Man‘s twists and turns, involving Willem Dafoe as a banker who becomes a reluctant player in Bachmann’s scheme, are suspenseful, Hoffman’s portrayal of a man trapped in a constant maze of frustration — good intentions cut off at every turn, dumping booze into his morning coffee, breaking up a bar fight, ruefully admitting “I am a cave dweller,” visibly haunted by past errors — is the total package, a worthy final entry in a career that ended way too early. (2:02) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Eddy)

My Old Lady If only the grand dame had more of a say, rather than the whiny, middle-aged offspring. Playwright Israel Horovitz makes his feature-film debut, directing his own play in this potentially fascinating clash of cultures on a generational battlefield populated by some amply endowed acting talents. New Yorker Mathias (Kevin Kline), who grew up privileged with a “silver knife” in his maw, got little else from his deceased, estranged father than a Paris apartment in the coveted Marais district. But his real estate dreams are quashed when it turns out to be a “viager,” a quirk of French law that allows the former owner — in this case, worldly elder Mathilde (Maggie Smith) — to continue dwelling in the property long after the sale, collecting monthly payments from the purchaser until her death. Penniless, troubled Mathias can barely afford those payouts, much less cope with Mathilde’s daughter, Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), in this wearily paced dramedy that turns out to be more sour — and dourily serious — than saucy. One is forced to fantasize: What would Smith’s Violet Crawley do, or better yet, say, about this effort, which makes Downton Abbey look like the picture of crisply edited moviemaking modernity? (1:47) Albany, Clay. (Chun)

No Good Deed (1:24) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

November Man Get typecast much, Pierce Brosnan? Since stepping into the polished footwear of Remington Steel and then James Bond, the actor has exuded such a consistently tidy, civilized bonhomie that it’s tough to believe there’s a seriously unhinged, deadly weapon of a psychopath within, ready to thrash Eurotrash sketch artists at the faintest threat to his offspring, à la Liam Neeson. So look at November Man as a refreshing, if imperfect, departure for Brosnan, who plays a hard-drinking bad man of sorts, who finds himself on the wrong side of former cohorts in the CIA as the bodies pile in slow motion. It wasn’t always so for Peter Devereaux (Brosnan) as we open on the scene of a possible assassination; his sniper partner-in-training Mason (Luke Bracey) is impulsively headstrong and accidentally shoots a child, and Devereaux schools him, hard. Years later, the latter has retired to Lausanne when old boss Hanley (Bill Smitrovich) drags him back in, dangling an old flame who wants to be pulled out of her dangerous role spying on Russian presidential candidate Federov (Lazar Ristovski). Out of a collision with old pupil Mason comes the name of a Chechen mystery woman who could be Federov’s undoing — and only social worker Alice (Olga Kurylenko) has any idea where she might be. Director Roger Donaldson (2008’s The Bank Job) spins November Man‘s twisted tale with a speed that will appeal to those with short attention spans — and an admiration for digital-age whistleblowers, though the brisk clip leaves one with more than a few questions concerning too swiftly dropped characters and story lines. Perhaps a December Man is needed to provide answers. (1:48) Metreon. (Chun)

The One I Love Sophie (Elisabeth Moss) and Ethan (Mark Duplass) have hit a speed bump in their relationship — they don’t have fun together like they used to, and even direct attempts to replicate that past magic fall completely flat. Ergo they take the advice of a couples counselor (Ted Danson) and book a weekend at a country getaway he swears has done “wonders” for all his previous clients in relationship trouble. Things get off to a pleasant enough start, but the duo’s delight at recapturing their old mojo becomes complicated when they realize … well, it’s best to know as little as possible going into The One I Love, a first feature for director Charlie McDowell and scenarist Justin Lader that approaches a fantastical narrative idea with a poker face and considerable ingenuity. Duplass and (especially) Moss are terrific in roles that eventually require some very complicated (and subtle) nuances. (1:31) Four Star. (Harvey)

Sin City: A Dame To Kill For (1:38) 1000 Van Ness.

The Skeleton Twins “I don’t know … maybe we were doomed from the beginning,” muses Maggie (Kristin Wiig) at the beginning of The Skeleton Twins. It’s her voice-over, but the figure onscreen is her brother, Milo (Bill Hader), who mopes to Blondie before flopping into a bathtub that slowly fills with water and blood from his slashed wrists. The twins haven’t seen each other in over 10 years, and the ice takes awhile to break when Maggic appears at his hospital bedside. But we know her secret: On the same day Milo was penning a suicide note, Maggie — trapped in a torturously bland marriage — was on the verge of gobbling a handful of pills in order to make her own permanent exit. Clearly, these siblings have more in common than they realize: They’re both deeply miserable, unable to shake a troubled past that includes their beloved father’s suicide, a distant mother (Joanna Gleason), and the scandalous incident (involving Milo and his high-school English teacher) that caused their estrangement. There’s only one path that these sad-sacks can choose (since if one of ’em actually died, that would make this black comedy a little too black), so they set about trying to mend fences. And it’s obvious — despite their frequent arguments, and the fact that both do some pretty terrible things — that the only bond in The Skeleton Twins that has any chance at repair is Milo and Maggie’s. Produced by indie darlings Jay and Mark Duplass, and directed by Craig Johnson (whose co-writer, Mark Heyman, also co-wrote 2010’s Black Swan), The Skeleton Twins might veer too deeply into melodrama territory were it not for its restrained script, and its deeply appealing cast. Wiig and Hader have been funnier elsewhere — but they’ve rarely been better. (1:33) California, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Years from now, film scholars will look back at these creatively bankrupt (if box office-rich) times and blame Michael Bay for many evils, including a garish Transformers series that won’t die. He also produces this theatrical reboot of a kiddie action series (currently enjoying a TV cartoon renaissance on Nickelodeon) that probably should’ve been left in the sewer after 2007’s TMNT — star Chris Evans thanks you for forgetting that even existed — or, even better, after revealing the secret of the ooze in the 1990s. But Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is here to stomp all over nostalgic goodwill, not to mention take advantage of CG advancements that render its heroes as “real” as pumped-up reptiles with weapons can be, with a 3D coating that does allegedly human but suspiciously plastic co-star Megan Fox no favors. If you can get past that eeriness, you won’t be rewarded for your efforts; the jokes are either unfunny or pointless (are we really still referencing the Lost finale?), and the plot is so insultingly predictable William Fichtner’s character might as well be named “Sinister Rich Guy.” May also contain: fart jokes, butt jokes, pizza. (2:00) Metreon. (Eddy)

This Ain’t No Mouse Music! In an early scene from Maureen Gosling and Chris Simon’s documentary on the life and musical obsessions of their mutual friend Chris Strachwitz of Arhoolie Records, we see Strachwitz behind the wheel of his car, struggling to explain the common thread that joins his wide-ranging musical tastes, from country blues to Cajun zydeco to bordertown conjunto. “It’s just got some guts to it. It ain’t wimpy, that’s for sure. It ain’t no mouse music.” Gosling and Simon make their own attempt to define the term, following Strachwitz from his El Cerrito shop, Down Home Music, on a fascinating road trip through the dusty backroads and anonymous beer joints of “the music of your neighbors.” And the film doesn’t skimp on the soundtrack; there are close to 70 songs used in the 91-minute doc, including historically important recordings — such as Lightnin’ Hopkins’ version of Mance Lipscomb’s “Tom Moore’s Farm,” which led Strachwitz and music historian Mack McCormick (who deserves a documentary of his own) to Lipscomb’s front door in Navasota, Texas. Taking a page from Strachwitz’s own playbook, the directors are also on hand to record a wealth of vernacular music being played on the spot. Keeping the focus on the music and musicians Strachwitz adores rather than the man himself may be the greatest homage Gosling and Simon can offer their subject. However, this choice leaves a sometimes distracting gap at its center, not quite filled by the flashes of Strachwitz’s interior world that do find screen time. But never far from the foreground are the many moments that cement Strachwitz’s role as a conduit through which so many overlooked, homegrown genres and musicians have been passed through to the American public, and Strachwitz emerges as a character in his own right — a “classic record man” who entered the music business with the purest of intentions, to make the records he wanted to hear. (1:32) Roxie, Smith Rafael. (Nicole Gluckstern)

This Is Where I Leave You Jason Bateman plays Judd Altman, the hollow center of a clan of snarky, squabbling siblings — Wendy (Tina Fey), fractiously married with kids and pining for her high school sweetheart (Timothy Olyphant); Paul (Corey Stoll), who runs the family sporting goods store; and Phillip (Adam Driver), a philandering über-fuckup currently dating his former therapist (Connie Britton) — reunited somewhere in eastern seaboard suburbia by the death of their father. This vaguely sketched individual’s last wish, they are informed by their mother (Jane Fonda), a therapist turned author who mined their adolescence for pop psych bestseller gold, was that, his atheism notwithstanding, they conform to Judaic tradition and sit shivah for him. A seven-day respite of quiet reminiscing and clarifying reflection, broken up by periodic babka-and-whitefish-salad binges, could be good for Judd, whose recent misfortunes also include coming home to find his wife (Abigail Spencer) between the sheets with his shock jock boss (Dax Shepard), resulting in a divorce-unemployment double whammy. But there is no peace to be found at the Altman homestead, where fuses blow, siblings brawl, in-laws conduct high-volume international business transactions and reproductive rites, and Wendy’s latchkey toddler wanders the property with his portable potty. Director Shawn Levy (2013’s The Internship, 2010’s Date Night) and writer Jonathan Tropper, who adapted the script from his novel, don’t want any of the siblings, or satellite characters, to feel left out, and the story line is divvied up accordingly. But the results are uneven — lumps of comedy and genuine pathos dropped amid the oppressive exposition, pat resolutions, and swings in pacing from slack to frenetic. (1:43) Marina, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, SF Centre, Shattuck. (Rapoport)

The Trip to Italy Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon return as “Steve Coogan” and “Rob Brydon” in this sequel to Michael Winterbottom’s 2010 The Trip. Like its predecessor, the premise — a road trip for the purpose of a restaurant-reviewing gig — provides a loose framework upon which these two actor-comedians, portraying exaggerated, fictionalized versions of themselves, hang their easy banter and occasional deeper conversations. The midlife crisis themes are still apparent (Brydon meets a comely expat who tempts him into cheating on his wife, with whom he has a small child; Coogan feels regret over his distant relationship with his teenage son), which tie into career anxieties for both men; references to classic literature also hold over from the first film. Most importantly, also like the first film, The Trip to Italy — blessed with all the gorgeous food and coastal landscapes the change of scenery suggests — is a riot. The impressions (lots of Godfather this time around) flow fast and furiously; while there’s nothing that can top the first film’s Michael Caine battle, it’s still a pleasure watching Brydon “converse” with a historical relic at Pompeii, or the duo’s joyous invocation of The Bounty (1984) during a brief boat journey. (1:55) Albany, Embarcadero, Presidio. (Eddy)

Tusk Michael Parks has a gift for looking like he’s in a different movie than everyone else, and it’s possible that ineffable skill of his has found its best use to date in Kevin Smith’s new fuck-you horror/comedy Tusk. When jerky podcaster Wally (Justin Long) finds a video that begins like “Star Wars Boy” but ends with dismemberment, Wally flies to Canada to interview the “Kill Bill Boy” (so named for the sword wielding and spurting stump). Wallace reaches his destination and is importuned by the funeral. This is one of a handful of scenes that exists to make us happy when Wally meets magical storyteller Howard Howe, an ex-sailor full of sea tales and an dark plan to turn Wally into a Franken-walrus. The story is based on something Smith hashed out in his sModcasts (excerpted during the credits) and when you look for author surrogate (not that you should) Wally’s impossible to distinguish from Smith. Asshole podcaster? Fights for permission to work freely? Body issues? All Wally needs is a dachshund and a jersey. Tusk isn’t up to the level of Smith’s early output, but it’s right in line with the decline in quality he’s been facing since critics broke his spirit, studios turned cold shoulders, and cynicism naturally set in. I hope whatever soul coughing Tusk represents will provide Smith momentum and license to leave any transformative hardships behind him — there are always beacons of hope (an uncredited Johnny Depp provides a good one here). Despite fundamental frustrations, Tusk has some deep and inky moments. When Howe takes Wally’s leg from him (leveling him to a “Kill Bill Kid”-styled punch line) Wally wails impotently, and Howe laughs — at what, it’s not certain (perhaps it’s really Parks, guffawing at Long’s performance?), but whatever that gloriously complicated motivation was, in the mingling of cries emerges an eerie but profoundly communal squall. (1:42) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Vizcarrondo)

A Walk Among the Tombstones The latest in Liam Neeson’s string of films in which he plays a tough guy uncannily adept at hissing orders (or threats) through a telephone is as pitch-black as its eerie title suggests. Set conspicuously in 1999, when Y2K and far more sinister threats loomed (see: a poignant shot of the World Trade Center), Tombstones is the grim tale of Matt Scudder, a loner with both an NYPD career and a prodigious drinking habit wedged 10 years in the past. He maintains his bare-bones lifestyle by doing off-the-books PI work, but none of his dirty-deeds experience can prepare him for his next case, a nightmarish pile-up of missing women sliced to pieces by a van-driving maniacs. Working from Lawrence Block’s novel, writer-director Scott Frank (2007’s The Lookout) emerges with surprisingly layered characters that extend beyond the archetypes they initially seem to be at first; besides Neeson’s Scudder, there’s a street-smart youth who becomes his sorta-helpful sidekick (Brian “Astro” Bradley), and a vengeful drug dealer (Dan Stevens) with a junkie brother (Boyd Holbrook). Even the murderers behave in unexpected ways. And if its story hews a bit too closely to Urban Noir 101, it’s bleak as hell, and has the guts to make relentlessness one of its primary objectives. (1:53) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Eddy)

Wetlands It begins, like many a classic coming-of-age tale, with an unbridled case of hemorrhoids, followed by a barefoot meander through possible sewage to the vilest public restroom captured on film since 1996’s Trainspotting. None of this seems to faze Wetlands‘ outspoken heroine and narrator, 18-year-old Helen (Carla Juri), a skateboarding, sexually adventurous young maniac who admits to having a markedly lax attitude toward personal hygiene. Viewers of director-cowriter David Wnendt’s film, however, may want to refrain from visiting the concession stand just this once — chewing on Milk Duds is likely to become negatively evocative as Helen embarks on a round of tactile explorations involving a tasting menu of bodily excretions. The biotic high jinks continue when she winds up in the hospital in the wake of a viscerally enacted shaving incident, from which vantage point, occasionally under general anesthesia, she revisits scenes from both her fraught childhood and her teenage exploits, wandering between the homes of her divorced parents: an anxious, uptight germophobe mother (Meret Becker) and a checked-out, self-indulgent father (Axel Milberg), whose inadvisable rapprochement she hopes to engineer from her hospital bed. Impressively, amid the advancing waves of gross-out, a poignant story line emerges, and, like Helen’s handsome, bemused nurse Robin (Christoph Letkowski), the object of her wildly inappropriate advances, we find ourselves rolling with the shock and revulsion, increasingly solicitous and bizarrely charmed. (1:49) Four Star, Shattuck. (Rapoport)

The Zero Theorem Two-time Oscar winner Christoph Waltz’s ability to play loquacious characters — some evil, some crusading for justice on horseback — is undeniable. But how has this actor, having been hand-picked to portray characters tailored to his strengths, fared beyond Quentin Tarantino movies? It’s been a mixed bag (see: non-starters like 2011’s The Green Hornet and Water for Elephants). His latest test comes with Terry Gilliam’s The Zero Theorem. The project had been on Gilliam’s radar for years; the script was penned over a decade ago by Pat Rushin, a Florida creative writing professor. Its dystopian themes mirror Gilliam touchstones Brazil (1985) and 12 Monkeys (1995); an overt dig at The Matrix (1999) reflects the era in which it was written, although it’s presumably been updated to include more current-day concerns, like technology’s ability to foster extreme loneliness. Waltz plays computer whiz Qohen, one of “the most productive number crunchers” at mega-corp Mancom. He’s a hairless stress case who dreams about massive black holes and refers to himself using plural pronouns, as in “We are dying.” (The affectation is as annoying to Theorem‘s other characters as it is to the viewer.) The mysterious “Management” (Matt Damon) allows Qohen to work from his home, but this privilege comes with a price: he’s tasked with solving the titular theorem, a maddening beast that would drive even a stable person to the brink of sanity. His madness is in no way assuaged by “Dr. Shrink Rom,” his virtual psychiatrist (Tilda Swinton), though he does get some help from Management’s hacker-genius teenage son (Lucas Hedges), and some welcome distraction from a virtual-reality junkie (Mélanie Thierry) — though that nascent romance proves no more “real” than anything else in Qohen’s world. Ultimately, despite Waltz’s heavy lifting (and not-infrequent nudity), Theorem sputters to sustain all its many whirring parts, including the parts that attempt to convey deep thoughts about the meaning of life. Maybe the meaning is “don’t overthink it.” (1:46) Four Star. (Eddy) *

Golden Gate unions to strike this week, stall commutes

Erica Hanna

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September 22, 2014

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Golden Gate unions to strike this week, stall commutes

The Golden Gate Bridge Labor coalition announced it will strike this week, impacting commutes via bridge or ferries, and perhaps both.

Thirteen unions in the Golden Gate Highway and Transportation District are members of the coalition, whose talks with the district stalled today, representatives told us.

It is still unclear which unions in the coalition will strike, but commutes will definitely be affected, Alex Tonisson, co-chair of the Golden Gate Bridge Labor Coalition said.

“There’ll be an announcement in a day or two,” he told us. As to which unions specifically would strike, “I can’t say exactly who it will be right now, to be honest.”

“None of us wants to be on strike,” said Michelle Shalagin, currently a member of LiUNA!, Local 261 (Laborers) working on landscaping, in a press statement. “But what choice do we have? The District has not moved, and the raises they are offering are completely wiped out by the high cost of the healthcare premiums they are proposing.”

The district and the coalition are deadlocked over healthcare proposals. As we reported last week, the unions maintain that the cost of living in the Bay Area has skyrocketed. Housing prices are up, gas prices are up, everything is up. Though the district’s offer includes a 3 percent wage increase next year, and further increases in subsequent years, the new health care plan would cost 2 percent of workers’ wages, largely nullifying any increases.

The district posted a full response to arguments against their healthcare offer at its blog. The district argues the workers are paid higher than their counterparts in other districts. The unions say the other districts don’t have to contend with local cost of living burdens, warnings which representatives said are largely falling on deaf ears.

“The last strike was purposefully giving [the district] a warning another strike would happen,” Tonisson said. He was referring to last week’s iron workers strike, which garnered a bit of media attention, but for the most part did not move the needle on their contract negotiations. The two parties are still stalled on healthcare talks, despite the first “warning shot” picket line.

“This was their reaction,” Tonisson said. “The sense I had is they want us to strike.”

The impact of a strike depends on which of the 13 unions participate. Toll taking is now automated on the Golden Gate, but the unions still have options to affect commuters and garner attention. Workers changing the lanes on the bridge could snarl traffic during commutes, Golden Gate Transit drivers could strand bus-goers, and ferry workers could strand folks by the water.

“Imagine the backup on Lombard or Van Ness,” Tonisson said, referring to lane changers on strike. “It wouldn’t shut the bridge down entirely but it would make a mess of things.”

The real mess, though, is the state of the workers’ health care. But who’s willing to bet the public cares more about the snarled traffic than a thriving a middle class?

Below we’ve embedded a flyer from the union coalition, demonstrating its argument about cost of living and health care.

Film Listings: Sept 17-23, 2014

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September 17, 2014

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby Writer-director Ned Benson’s The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby began as separate films about a failed marriage, told from the points of view of the husband (James McAvoy), and then the wife (Jessica Chastain). Because Americans will happily binge-watch entire TV seasons but still get the shakes when confronted with a two-part film, the segments (titled Him and Her) are getting wide release in the edited-together Them. (Diehards will have a chance to seek out the complete work eventually, but for now, this review concerns only Them.) As the film begins, Chastain’s Eleanor (yep, named after the Beatles song) flings herself off an NYC bridge. She survives physically, but her mental state is still supremely fragile, so she checks out of her Manhattan life and her marriage to Connor (McAvoy), and digs in at the chic suburban saltbox occupied by her parents (Isabelle Huppert and William Hurt) and sister (Jess Weixler), a single mother with a young son. Meanwhile, Connor mopes around his failing restaurant with his chef BFF (the suddenly ubiquitous Bill Hader), and pays occasional visits to his own moping father (Ciarán Hinds). The estranged couple circles each other, in flashbacks and occasional run-ins, and the audience is slowly made privy to the tragedy that drove them apart and has them both reeling from grief months later. Even in mash-up form, this is a delicate film, enhanced by Benson’s confidence in his audience’s intelligence; what could have been a manipulative tear-jerker instead feels authentically raw, with characters whose emotional confusion leads them to behave in realistically frustrating ways. The casting is note-perfect, with a special nod to Viola Davis as Eleanor’s world-weary college professor. I’ll be seeking out Her just to catch more of that performance. (2:03) (Eddy)

The Iceman A palace guard accused of murder (martial arts star Donnie Yen) and three vengeful brothers are all frozen mid-battle — only to defrost 400 years later and pick up where they left off. (1:46) Four Star.

Los Angeles Plays Itself Remastered and newly cleared for fair use, Thom Andersen’s incisive 2003 film essay on narrative cinema’s many representations and misrepresentations of Los Angeles plays a single night at the Castro. Andersen’s impressively choreographed montage zigzags through a vast litany of film history, submitting erotic thrillers, middlebrow Oscar bait, and avant-garde outliers to the same materialist protocol. Observing Hollywood’s tendency to falsify geography and transform landmarks of modernist geography into villainous hideouts, Andersen’s treatment of mainstream ideology is acidly funny but never condescending. To the contrary: Los Angeles Plays Itself is driven by an unshakeable faith that another kind of film — and with it another kind of world — is possible. In methodically deconstructing countless car chases and phony denouements, the native Angeleno lays groundwork for the fresh appreciation of the diverse neorealisms found in the work of directors like Kent Mackenzie (1961’s The Exiles), Nicholas Ray (1955’s Rebel Without a Cause), Fred Halsted (1972’s LA Plays Itself), Charles Burnett (1979’s Killer of Sheep), and Billy Woodberry (1984’s Bless Their Little Hearts). A true work of termite art and an impassioned argument for “a city of walkers, a cinema of walking,” Los Angeles Plays Itself is the closest thing to a cineaste’s Death and Life of Great American Cities. (2:49) Castro. (Max Goldberg)

The Maze Runner In a post-apocalyptic world, a youth (Dylan O’Brien) finds himself among a group of boys trapped at the center of a mysterious maze. Based on the YA novel by James Dashner. (1:53) Presidio.

This Ain’t No Mouse Music! See “Joyous Blues.” (1:32) Elmwood, Roxie, Smith Rafael.

This Is Where I Leave You Dramedy about a dysfunctional family (Tina Fey, Adam Driver, Jason Bateman, Jane Fonda) that reluctantly reunites for a funeral. Jonathan Tropper adapted the script from his best-seller. (1:43) Marina.

Tusk Michael Parks has a gift for looking like he’s in a different movie than everyone else, and it’s possible that ineffable skill of his has found its best use to date in Kevin Smith’s new fuck-you horror/comedy Tusk. When jerky podcaster Wally (Justin Long) finds a video that begins like “Star Wars Boy” but ends with dismemberment, Wally flies to Canada to interview the “Kill Bill Boy” (so named for the sword wielding and spurting stump). Wallace reaches Canada and is importuned by the funeral. This is one of a handful of scenes that exists to make us happy when Wally meets magical storyteller Howard Howe, an ex-sailor full of sea tales and an dark plan to turn Wally into a Franken-walrus. The story is based on something Smith hashed out in his sModcasts (excerpted during the credits) and when you look for author surrogate (not that you should) Wally’s impossible to distinguish from Smith. Asshole podcaster? Fights for permission to work freely? Body issues? All Wally needs is a dachshund and a jersey. Tusk isn’t up to the level of Smith’s early output, but it’s right in line with the decline in quality he’s been facing since critics broke his spirit, studios turned cold shoulders, and cynicism naturally set in. I hope whatever soul coughing Tusk represents will provide Smith momentum and license to leave any transformative hardships behind him — there are always beacons of hope (an uncredited Johnny Depp provides a good one here). Despite fundamental frustrations, Tusk has some deep and inky moments. When Howe takes Wally’s leg from him (leveling him to a “Kill Bill Kid”-styled punch line) Wally wails impotently, and Howe laughs — at what, it’s not certain (perhaps it’s really Parks, guffawing at Long’s performance?), but whatever that gloriously complicated motivation was, in the mingling of cries emerges an eerie but profoundly communal squall. (1:42) (Vizcarrondo)

A Walk Among the Tombstones Liam Neeson continues his one-man-army career path, this time playing an ex-cop who (inevitably) is quick on the draw and gives no fucks. (1:53)

Wetlands It begins, like many a classic coming-of-age tale, with an unbridled case of hemorrhoids, followed by a barefoot meander through possible sewage to the vilest public restroom captured on film since 1996’s Trainspotting. None of this seems to faze Wetlands‘ outspoken heroine and narrator, 18-year-old Helen (Carla Juri), a skateboarding, sexually adventurous young maniac who admits to having a markedly lax attitude toward personal hygiene. Viewers of director-cowriter David Wnendt’s film, however, may want to refrain from visiting the concession stand just this once — chewing on Milk Duds is likely to become negatively evocative as Helen embarks on a round of tactile explorations involving a tasting menu of bodily excretions. The biotic high jinks continue when she winds up in the hospital in the wake of a viscerally enacted shaving incident, from which vantage point, occasionally under general anesthesia, she revisits scenes from both her fraught childhood and her teenage exploits, wandering between the homes of her divorced parents: an anxious, uptight germophobe mother (Meret Becker) and a checked-out, self-indulgent father (Axel Milberg), whose inadvisable rapprochement she hopes to engineer from her hospital bed. Impressively, amid the advancing waves of gross-out, a poignant story line emerges, and, like Helen’s handsome, bemused nurse Robin (Christoph Letkowski), the object of her wildly inappropriate advances, we find ourselves rolling with the shock and revulsion, increasingly solicitous and bizarrely charmed. (1:49) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

The Zero Theorem See “Waltz Work.” (1:46) Elmwood, Four Star.

ONGOING

As Above, So Below (1:40) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

Boyhood Believe the hype: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is one of the best films of the year. It’d be a towering cinematic accomplishment in any year. By now, you’ve heard the set-up, which borrows elements from Linklater’s Before films, as well as his coming-of-age dramas (1993’s Dazed and Confused in particular). He filmed his cast — including titular youth Ellar Coltrane, Lorelai Linklater as his older sister, and Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke as his divorced parents, on and off over 12 years — with scenes touching on moments both monumental (high-tension moments with ugly stepfathers) and microscopic (the creation of a perfect campfire s’more). The years flow by, signaled not by any obvious gestures like on-screen text, but by changing hairstyles, pop culture references, and evolving video-game consoles. Watching Coltrane’s Mason grow from arrowhead-obsessed tyke to thoughtful college freshman is a rare and remarkable pleasure; among the more experienced actors, Arquette is particularly moving as a fiercely loving single mom determined to advance in her career despite continual, mountain-sized roadblocks in her personal life. (2:40) Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Calvary John Michael McDonagh made a splashy cinematic entree both writing and directing 2011’s acerbic The Guard, which starred Brendan Gleeson as a willfully perverse small-town cop. Filmmaker and actor are back with Calvary, a film just as good, in which Gleeson’s priest is the discreetly gruff moral center of a coastal Irish hamlet that surely would have none otherwise. His parishioners are all skeptics, heretics, nonbelievers, and blatant sinners — cast members include Chris O’Dowd, Aidan Gillen, and Brendan’s real-life son Domnhall — who take particular pleasure in ridiculing the uprightness of this one man no one has a legitimate gripe against, save resentment. As if all this weren’t enough, at Calvary‘s start, an unseen confessor tells James he was abused for years by a (now-dead) Catholic priest, and as recompense will kill his current, admittedly blameless confessor in a week’s time. This set-up would appear entirely, absurdly skewed if not for the gravitational center Gleeson provides; he single-handedly provides the sincere if faint hope of redemption in a scenario that otherwise provides every possible indication of damnation for all. Calvary centrally addresses the question of faith while ultimately dodging the answer. I’d appreciate McDonagh’s ambivalence more if he weren’t quite so pleased about it. He’s got extraordinary taste, no doubt — from its editorial pace to its costume and soundtrack choices, this movie is curated within an inch of too-much-ness. But beyond his understandable disillusionment with the Catholic Church’s crimes, does he truly care about morality, or is it just an authorial chew-toy? (1:45) Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Cantinflas (1:46) SF Centre.

Chef Not to take anything away from the superhero crew, but Chef feels like the closest thing to a labor of love from writer, director, and star Jon Favreau in many a day. As a director, he may have been making doughnuts — fun-filled and teeming with CGI eye candy, but doughnuts nevertheless — when it came to effects-driven blockbusters like 2008’s Iron Man, but this well-meaning play for the heart, by way of the stomach, shows you where Favreau’s head is really at. Chef revolves around Carl Casper (Favreau), a onetime food star, now reduced to serving up predictable crowd-pleasers at the behest of his restaurant’s overbearing owner (Dustin Huffman). It takes the barbs of an influential critic (Oliver Platt) — and an ensuing Twitter war — to set Carl off and send him away on his own, at the coaxing of his glam ex Inez (Sofia Vergara). Hooked up with a dilapidated food truck and former kitchen staffer Martin (John Leguizamo), and aided by ably Tweeting son Percy (Emjay Anthony), Carl ties his dreams — and lost passion — to the classic Cuban sandwich. The ensuing road trip from Miami to LA, and Carl’s journey toward self and a renewed relationship with his son, is a fun (if, in the end, a bit too speedily sketched) vault through the joys of eating your way through America’s new culinary heartland. Amid the volley of sign-of-the-times social-media swinging and cameos by the uncostumed Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johansson, and the like, Favreau’s main dish is that a family that eats, cooks, and runs a business together, stays together — child labor laws or no. (1:55) Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Le Chef Before you fire up Twitter to alert Jon Favreau that he’s been ripped off, know that this French comedy came out in 2012. Also, it’s highly unlikely to garner even a quarter-teaspoon of the praise racked up by Favreau’s food-truck tale. Even the formidable presence of Jean Reno can’t save Le Chef; he plays veteran celebrity chef Lagarde, who’s about to have his professional reputation toppled by the money-hungry mogul who owns his signature restaurant. (Yuppie scum wants him to switch to uber-trendy molecular cuisine; traditionalist Legarde ain’t having it.) Enter eager apprentice Jacky (Michael Youn), whose Rain Man-like ability to recall all of Legarde’s recipes makes him a valuable secret weapon in this high-stakes gastronomical battle, which will culminate when a food critic decides whether to dock one of the stars in Legarde’s rating — thus opening a contract loophole that’ll allow his boss to kick him out of the kitchen. BYO food clichés to describe this too-lightweight yet overly hammy affair, which also folds domestic dramas (Jacky’s exasperated, heavily pregnant GF doesn’t understand his cooking dreams! Legarde’s neglected daughter might as well be named Sullen McEyeroll!) into the batter. And if you can’t figure out the ending within the first act, no dessert for you. (1:24) Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes As usual, a heady hybrid of anticipation and dread accompanies all Planet of Apes installments: you brace yourself for the abused, righteously rebellious apes; the apocalyptic mise-en-scène laden with symbolism; and more overt messaging concerning animal testing, civil rights, and gun control. But why worry? In line with 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the PG-13 high-fives go to new Apes director Matt Reeves (2008’s Cloverfield) for sparing us animal kills, gore, and graphic violence, despite its Dawn of the Dead-evoking title. Really, this Dawn is all about the bitterly fought beginnings of a civilization among the primates north of the Golden Gate Bridge in Muir Woods, complete with community building, social structure, and alas, a burgeoning war with the humanoids amid vaguely familiar SF ruins, setting off an epic showdown that challenges not only the oft-repeated commandment “ape shall not kill ape” but takes advantage of our anthropomorphized pals’ ability to swing with the C4 explosions. The viral drug ALZ 113 that led to super-intelligent primates like chimp hero Caesar (motion-captured Andy Serkis) has decimated the human population, leaving the field wide open for enterprising and vengeful creatures like scarred lab survivor Koba (motion-captured Toby Kebbell). Neither quite trusts the band of desperate human survivors — including friendly Jason Clarke, nurturing Keri Russell, and token asshole Kirk Acevedo — that ventures into the apes’ woods to harness the power of nature, namely a dam, to electrify their SF compound. You know what side of the evolutionary span we’re on when the humans seem much more interchangeable than the chimps, and the movie can barely wait to end on its contemporary version of a Touch of Evil (1958) crane shot, as it zooms to an extreme close-up of a certain chimp’s carefully crafted eyes. (2:10) Metreon. (Chun)

Dolphin Tale 2 (1:48) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio.

The Drop The late James Gandolfini gets a fitting final feature-film sendoff in this edgy microcosm of a crime movie, set among the small-time hoodies of Brooklyn, but just easily recast in Tony Soprano’s Jersey or the Beantown of 2010’s The Fighter. As Cousin Marv, a onetime dive-bar owner forced to turn his watering hole over to Chechen mobsters as a drop spot for bookmaking loot, he also gets worthy sparring partners in Tom Hardy and Matthias Schoenaerts (star of 2011’s Bullhead, director Michaël R. Roskam’s Oscar-nominated breakout). Hardy’s Bob looks to be the perpetual side guy to his Cousin Marv; he seems sludgy and lacking confidence, until he finds a battered pit bull puppy in a trashcan belonging to Nadia (Noomi Rapace) — and discovers himself in the middle of a brazen robbery at the drop bar. With the puppy and Nadia comes the canine’s purported owner, rumored killer, and neighborhood “nut case” Eric (Schoenaerts). The beauty of Dennis Lehane’s screenplay, spinning off his short story “Animal Rescue,” is embedded in how the most banal niceties (like “Good to see you”) are used with Mamet-like skill to signal the threadbare facade of civilized behavior and convey an almost nihilistic sense of imminent threat. Meanwhile, Roskam walks a tightrope between the drab, wintry everyday and a pervasive mood of menace, creating a downbeat yet almost horrifying effect when the trigger is finally pulled — and the veil between the hidden and the real, the animal and the human, is dropped. (1:45) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

The Expendables 3 Patrick Hughes — the guy tapped to helm the remake of 2011’s The Raid — directs a cast of thousands (more or less) in this third installment of Sylvester Stallone’s retro action franchise. By now, the Expendables movies have their formula down, not that it was particularly original to begin with, and all the marks are duly hit in part three: sinister bad guy (Mel Gibson — a solid choice, since who doesn’t love to hate him?) angers mercenary Barney (Stallone) and his team of graying, gun-wielding, shit-talking badasses (Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren, Randy Couture, and Terry Crews). Revenge is sought, bullets fly, buildings explode, a government operative sticks his nose in (here, it’s Harrison Ford), and Arnold Schwarzenegger shows up to save the day. Fortunately, Expendables business as usual also happens to be stupidly enjoyable, especially with the addition of a just-out-of-prison (onscreen and off) Wesley Snipes. There are also fun roles for Antonio Banderas, Kelsey Grammar, and Robert Davi, but the crew’s next-generation recruits (rebel Kellen Lutz, hacker Glen Powell, weapons master Victor Ortiz, and ladybro Ronda Rousey) seem rather unnecessary. Isn’t the point of these movies to remind us that old guys still rule? (2:07) SF Centre. (Eddy)

Frank Who doesn’t want to be a musical savant, visually riveting, naturally gifted, freed from convention, and liberated of linear thought? The exception might be the doll-headed, damaged namesake of this comedy loosely inspired by the life of late English musician and comedian Frank Sidebottom (real name: Chris Sievey), and real-life Sidebottom sideguy Jon Ronson, who co-wrote the screenplay. And if this loving, very funny, bromantic take on the so-called creative process of rock seems a bit forced at times, that’s only because the movie is so clearly filtered through the archetypal wannabe, made likable by Domhnall Gleeson. His office worker Jon is struggling to write songs when he stumbles across a band, Soronprfbs, after watching their keyboard player attempt to drown himself at the beach. Manager Don (Scoot McNairy) taps the bystander to contribute to the chaos happening onstage, then drags him off for the making of the album. Mysterious leader Frank (Michael Fassbender), who never takes off his massive, faux-happy head, finds inspiration in threads protruding from upholstery. As Jon’s nest egg gets sucked into the recording budget and theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal) rages against the interloper, he posts the band’s, er, artistry to YouTube, obtaining the group a coveted gig at South by Southwest. But who really wants this shot at fame? The sideman with a will to power, or the damaged true talent? Director Lenny Abrahamson and Ronson wisely place Frank squarely in the viral video/GIF/Vine-poisoned multiplatform miasma of today, put across all the more powerfully by Gleeson and particularly Fassbender, who reveals a fine singing voice. While cleverly referencing outsider artists big and small by way of right-on original songs by Stephen Rennicks, Frank asks vital questions about motivation and art-making in an era when it seems like everyone is getting their 15 minutes of fame — and we’re getting increasingly weary of eyeballing it and filtering the wheat from the gone-in-a-nanosecond chaff. Some make music because they want to be stars, while others, Frank says, do it because they have little other choice. (1:34) Opera Plaza. (Chun)

The Giver Lois Lowry’s classic YA novel gets a veteran helmer for its big-screen adaptation, but Philip Noyce’s ability to attract top adult talent (Meryl Streep, Jeff Bridges) can’t outweigh his heavy-handed interpretation of what was never a subtle work to begin with. In a vaguely post-apocalyptic society so regulated and dulled that nobody has emotions or empathy, a young man named Jonas (Maleficent‘s Brenton Thwaites, bumped up in age from the book’s 11-year-old) is tasked with becoming the “receiver of memories.” Basically this means that he gets to hang out with Bridges’ character and learn things about the world and human history in the form of Koyaanisqatsi-meets-National Geographic montages (music — it’s a thing! Also: war is hell, etc.) This is life-changing stuff, but part of the deal is that he must never, ever tell anyone else about it, at least until he’s as grizzled as Bridges and has his own successor in need of a thorough mind-blowing. Of course, he immediately loops in pretty BFF Fiona (Odeya Rush), who he’s been seeing in a new light since catching wind of a concept called “love.” Soon, his awakening draws the ire of his mother-esque guardian (Katie Holmes), as well as the community’s leader (Streep). If you’re looking for suspense, or any curve balls (duuuude … once Jonas’ mind starts expanding, he starts seeing the black-and-white world in color!), best backtrack to one of Noyce’s 1990s thrillers (1992’s Patriot Games, perhaps). About the only surprise in The Giver is that Taylor Swift’s much-hyped role is smaller than expected, and not nearly as distracting. (1:40) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Eddy)

God Help the Girl Perhaps it’s not subtle that the first words we hear in the indie pop musical God Help the Girl — the writing and directing debut of Stuart Murdoch, Belle and Sebastian’s lead singer–songwriter — come out of the mouth of a DJ, evoking Nick Drake, no less, in a riff about the mystique of dead musicians. The influences and aesthetic of Murdoch and the beloved Scottish chamber pop group float through the film, a sort of moody live-action manifestation of 15-plus years’ worth of Belle and Sebastian albums. We hear the DJ through the headphones of our nervy, melancholy heroine, Eve (Emily Browning, of 2011’s Sleeping Beauty), a young Australian living in Glasgow, whom we first meet narrating in song her night flight from a psychiatric institution, where she’s under care for anorexia. Music keeps her moving, to a rock club, for starters, where she watches a band awkwardly implode and befriends the guitarist, James (Olly Alexander), who introduces her to aspiring musician Cassie (Hannah Murray), who reckons they should start a band. Easily half of the movie, and the better half, is told in song — largely by Eve, a talented songwriter with a sweetly captivating voice. The songs, written by Murdoch over the last decade, feel lush and fully realized, and pull us along through the story in infectiously giddy and affecting interludes, but tend to drop us off in vague, meandering terrain, among agreeable but sketchy acquaintances, when they end. (1:51) Roxie. (Rapoport)

Guardians of the Galaxy The trailer that nearly broke the internet didn’t lie: Guardians of the Galaxy is cheeky, hilarious, eye-popping fun. Its plot may be a predictable anti-hero’s journey, but the saga of Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), half-Earthling, half maybe-alien, as he transforms from scavenging scoundrel to rescuer-of-the-universe is so enjoyable nobody seeking a good time at the movies will care. Helping Quill in his battle against baddie Ronan (Lee Pace) are slinky, green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana); rascally raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper); muscle-bound dim bulb Drax (former pro wrestler Dave Bautista); and a tree-like creature named Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel — his best performance in years, if ever, despite the fact that the only words the character ever utters are “I am Groot.”) Director and co-writer James Gunn (2010’s Super), working from a cult comic from the prolific house of Marvel, does a stellar job balancing action and goofiness, with plenty of unexpected touches along the way, including the best use of 1970s soft-rock since Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Cherish (2002). (2:02) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Hundred-Foot Journey Don’t watch Lasse Hallström’s latest film on an empty stomach. Under the film’s rich layers of mouthwatering food closeups and stunning shots of France (which, admittedly, occasionally threaten to steal the show), The Hundred-Foot Journey is a simple feel-good movie, akin to your favorite comfort food. The Kadam family spices up the South of France when they open an Indian restaurant just 100 feet away from a formidable competitor: a ritzy place owned by Madame Mallory (Helen Mirran). Papa (Om Puri) and eldest son Hassan (Manish Dayal) don’t back down when the heat gets turned up. It’s easy to get caught up in Hassan’s optimism, so the film is predictable (even managing to sprinkle a bit of romance in), but not cheesy. The score is the final icing on the cake, but it’s impossible to expect anything less from Slumdog Millionaire (2008) composer A.R. Rahman. (2:02) Balboa, Marina, 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Amy Char)

If I Stay Place If I Stay alongside The Fault in Our Stars, and wonder: Is the time right to begin to define the tweepie, or teenage weepie? If I Stay speaks to the emo girl snifflers and intimate tween dystopians in the crowd, though it’s not compelling enough to make them forget to check their texts mid-movie. Excruciatingly shy cello prodigy Mia (Chloë Grace Moretz) is the oddball in her happy rocked-out family (mom and dad are Mireille Enos and Joshua Leonard). Her underlying, relatable dilemma: Should she should reach for her Juilliard dreams or stick close to her Portland, Ore., home to be with her own budding rock star boyfriend Adam (Jamie Blackley, he of the dilated wooden gaze)? But fate intervenes, as a head-on car accident slams Mia into a coma and into an out-of-body battle over deeper questions concerning survival, identity, or simply, as her punk drummer dad might quip, should she stay or should she go? Further, how to depict this without reducing Mia’s out-of-body spirit to Alice in Flashbackland, sprinting comically through hospital halls? One would think she’d run into a stray family member or two on their way to the light, but alas, If I Stay never rises to the occasion — or imaginative possibilities — and its multiple flashbacks and disembodied interludes add an ungrounded, talky sheen to the overall earnestness. Perhaps unfairly, the efforts by documentarian R.J. Cutler, working with Gayle Foreman’s popular YA novel, pale in comparison to, say, the far more psychedelic Enter the Void (2009), with its traumatic crash crash, shattered family, and wandering protagonist. Unlike that film, however, there’s never any question where If I Stay‘s heart lies: In the all-too-familiar construct of suburban America, rather than an ecstatic afterworld. (1:47) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Chun)

Last Weekend Celia Green (Patricia Clarkson) is the matriarch of a clan gathering to spend a now-rare weekend at their Lake Tahoe vacation home — the last of the summer, and perhaps the last ever, as she and fitness-tycoon spouse Malcolm (Chris Mulkey) are considering selling it. This news is sure to upset their grown sons, even if neither spend much time here anymore. But then, what doesn’t upset them? Roger (Joseph Cross) constantly snipes at mom, no doubt to let off steam from some as-yet-unbroken news of his own about an embarrassing blunder made in his financial-sector job. Theo (Zachary Booth) is just generally hypersensitive, about his own feelings if no one else’s, including the kinda-sorta-boyfriend of the fleeting moment (Devon Graye) he’s dragged here, along with several coworkers from the TV sitcom he works on as a low-rung writer. Other characters include the married groundskeeper and housekeeper (Julio Oscar Mechoso, Julie Carmen) everyone treats with elaborate familiarity as “almost family,” and Roger’s longtime girlfriend (Alexis Rasmussen), who’s very aware that she is not considered family. Presided over by Celia, who sees herself as an unpretentious Earth Mother but is in fact a meddling perfectionist, the Greens are an exasperating lot of self-absorbed, mutually unsupportive brats. Tom Dolby and Tom Williams’ seriocomedy is willing to point out their foibles and chuckle, but not to actively criticize (let alone satirize) them. Instead, we’re ultimately expected to care about these shallow, catty figures of under-appreciated privilege — an emotional connection the movie never remotely earns. If you’re going to make a movie about Rich People Problems, it had better have a lot more bite than this one manages. (1:34) Vogue. (Harvey)

A Letter to Momo Morbid obsessions — and the ghouls and goblins of Japanese ghost stories — are rarely as sweet as they are in A Letter to Momo, the second hand-drawn animated film directed by Hiroyuki Okiura (1999’s Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade). Shy tween Momo is tagging along on her mother’s journey home to an island on Japan’s Inland Sea, but even that remote, beauteous locale can’t dissipate Momo’s sorrow and guilt about the death of her father, who she fought with just before he passed. She doesn’t realize that she’s being followed as well — by three water droplets or spirits that assume the grotesque forms of an Edo-era ghostly manga. Only Momo can see and hear these mischievous, forever-hungry visitors, who put the “gobble” in “goblin,” steal pudding and produce, and are likely the only guardians in the galaxy weaponized with cannon-blast flatulence. The spirits’ goofy shenanigans, rather than the neighborhood kids’ diving adventures, succeed in distracting Momo from her last message from her father — an unfinished letter with simply the words “Dear Momo” — and her own neglect. Layering his tender-hearted story with creepy-crawlies, scatological humor, and a palpable humanity, Okiura turns what could have been a sentimental journey into something more sprawling, freakier, and friendlier than one would ordinarily find on a hometown visit — or a feature-length anime exploring grief. (2:00) Shattuck. (Chun)

Love is Strange Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina) have been together four decades, so it’s a big celebration for their extended family of friends and relations when they finally, legally get hitched. But news of the marriage reaches the archdiocese in charge of the Catholic high school where George teaches music, and while he’s hardly been in the closet at work or anywhere else, this supposed gesture of public defiance against church doctrine gets the beloved instructor fired. With Ben a not-particularly-successful painter, and George now looking for a new job, the couple can now no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the Manhattan co-op apartment they’ve lived in for 20 years (but only owned for five). Finding an affordable new place is near-impossible. So the pair find themselves split up, forced to crash under different roofs and awkward circumstances. Ben moves in with his workaholic nephew (Darren Burrows), unwittingly heightening tensions with his author wife (Marisa Tomei) and especially their moody teenage son (Charlie Tahan), who deeply resents having to share his bedroom. George lands on the couch of a younger gay couple, two cops (Cheyenne Jackson, Manny Perez) who are very nice but have an active social life that robs him of privacy and sleep. This latest from ever-more-excellent Ira Sachs (2012’s Keep the Lights On), its near-flawless screenplay co-written with Mauricio Zacharias, is a widely relatable drama about precisely observed human nature and increasingly inhumane economic realities. It’s also easily one of the best US films 2014 is likely to offer. Might as well start filling out your Oscar ballots, because this movie is definitely going to be a contender. (1:38) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Lucy Eurotrash auteur Luc Besson’s latest is a mostly fun action fantasy about a party girl (Scarlett Johansson) who runs afoul of gangsters in Taipei and ends up with a leaking packet of futuristic drugs sewn into her shapely stomach. Side effects include super strength and supernatural intelligence — insert pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo about tapping into 100 percent of one’s woefully underused brainpower, etc. etc. — which leads to some satisfying scenes in which Johansson’s Lucy flattens a hallway of cops with a single gesture, or filters through every phone conversation in the Paris metro area to find the one guy she needs to eavesdrop on. She’s also able to beam herself into electronic devices, a nifty trick that convinces kindly scientist Morgan Freeman to help download her magnificently advanced intelligence into a kind of living computer (shades of 2013’s Her and Under the Skin, except this time ScarJo’s wearing a really great dress). South Korean weirdo/superstar Choi Min-sik (2003’s Oldboy; 2010’s I Saw the Devil) is an inspired choice to play the vengeful kingpin intent on tracking down his runaway mule, and Besson adds some arty flair via nature-show footage and Cosmos-esque clips from beyond the infinite — though the film’s Big Ideas wobble precariously amid its other, mostly silly elements. (1:29) Metreon. (Eddy)

Magic in the Moonlight Woody Allen’s latest — after last year’s vodka-drenched Cate Blanchett showcase Blue Jasmine — offers a return to period romance á la 2011 smash Midnight in Paris. Instead of Owen Wilson time-traveling through the artsy 1920s, we get winsome 1920s clairvoyant Sophie (Emma Stone, 25 years old) falling for the skeptic who’s sent to debunk her, played by Colin Firth (who’s 53). Firth’s performance is easily the best part of Magic in the Moonlight; his Stanley Crawford is a theatrical conjurer famed for his yellowface act, in which he solemnly makes elephants disappear. Off-stage, he’s a self-proclaimed genius regarded by most who meet him as a pompous jerkface. When he’s summoned to the South of France to help a longtime friend and fellow magician (Simon McBurney) prove that Sophie — from humble origins, she’s grown fond of high-society living — is hoodwinking the fancy American family that’s taken her in, nothing unfolds as he expects. The whole exercise is lighter than meringue; it’d be passable as lesser Allen except for that obvious, comically huge age gap between the leads. He knows we disapprove, and he does not care. Are you trolling us, Woody? (1:40) Four Star, Marina, Opera Plaza. (Eddy)

A Most Wanted Man Director Anton Corbijn’s film may not be the greatest John le Carré adaptation in recent years (see: 2011’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), but it’s still a solid thriller, anchored by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s turn as Günther Bachmann, the once-bitten-but-not-yet-shy head of an top-secret branch of Germany’s FBI/CIA equivalent. Its task: spying on Hamburg’s Islamic groups, where the 9/11 attacks were planned, though the enemies that Bachmann faces come mostly from within the greater intelligence community, including his superiors. Never before has the phrase “the Americans have taken an interest” been so chilling, especially to a guy who is just trying to do his job, if only everyone else (including Robin Wright as one of those meddling Americans) would keep their sticky mitts off his delicately planned surveillance operations. There’s a forward-moving plot, of course, about a Chechen-Russian illegal immigrant with a huge inheritance who might be a terrorist (Rachel McAdams plays his human-rights lawyer), but could also serve a greater purpose by helping bring down an even bigger target. And while A Most Wanted Man‘s twists and turns, involving Willem Dafoe as a banker who becomes a reluctant player in Bachmann’s scheme, are suspenseful, Hoffman’s portrayal of a man trapped in a constant maze of frustration — good intentions cut off at every turn, dumping booze into his morning coffee, breaking up a bar fight, ruefully admitting “I am a cave dweller,” visibly haunted by past errors — is the total package, a worthy final entry in a career that ended way too early. (2:02) Embarcadero, Presidio. (Eddy)

My Old Lady If only the grand dame had more of a say, rather than the whiny, middle-aged offspring. Playwright Israel Horovitz makes his feature-film debut, directing his own play in this potentially fascinating clash of cultures on a generational battlefield populated by some amply endowed acting talents. New Yorker Mathias (Kevin Kline), who grew up privileged with a “silver knife” in his maw, got little else from his deceased, estranged father than a Paris apartment in the coveted Marais district. But his real estate dreams are quashed when it turns out to be a “viager,” a quirk of French law that allows the former owner — in this case, worldly elder Mathilde (Maggie Smith) — to continue dwelling in the property long after the sale, collecting monthly payments from the purchaser until her death. Penniless, troubled Mathias can barely afford those payouts, much less cope with Mathilde’s daughter, Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), in this wearily paced dramedy that turns out to be more sour — and dourily serious — than saucy. One is forced to fantasize: What would Smith’s Violet Crawley do, or better yet, say, about this effort, which makes Downton Abbey look like the picture of crisply edited moviemaking modernity? (1:47) Clay. (Chun)

No Good Deed (1:24) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

The Notebook With her husband (Ulrich Matthes) off at the front and bombs raining down on Budapest in mid-1944, a young mother (Gyöngyvér Bognár) takes the desperate step of depositing twin sons (András and László Gyémánt) on the isolated rural doorstep of their grandmother (Piroska Molnár), in the hopes that they will have a better chance of surviving the war. It’s a desperate move because mother and daughter haven’t communicated in 20 years (it’s hinted the elder might’ve fatally poisoned the younger’s father), and this corpulent harridan is so mean that fearful villagers call her “the witch.” She calls the approximately 10-year-old boys “bastards” (we never do find out their actual names) and schools them into a brutal daily existence of beatings and hard farm labor that they take to with surprising, masochistic dedication. They even embark on their own ruthless program of “training” the body (to withstand pain and hunger) as well as the soul (to be pitilessly unsentimental), so they might survive in a foreign environ of extreme privation and near-universal hostility. This adaptation of late expat writer Agota Kristof’s classic 1986 novel would be an unwatchable catalog of horrors — has any movie featured so much vivid violence toward children? — if not handled with consummate skill by veteran Hungarian stage and film director János Szász. He balances the tale’s grotesque, cruel, ironic, historical, and allegorical qualities in imaginative cinematic terms that are often aesthetically beautiful without softening the novel’s bitter heart one whit. (1:44) Shattuck. (Harvey)

November Man Get typecast much, Pierce Brosnan? Since stepping into the polished footwear of Remington Steel and then James Bond, the actor has exuded such a consistently tidy, civilized bonhomie that it’s tough to believe there’s a seriously unhinged, deadly weapon of a psychopath within, ready to thrash Eurotrash sketch artists at the faintest threat to his offspring, à la Liam Neeson. So look at November Man as a refreshing, if imperfect, departure for Brosnan, who plays a hard-drinking bad man of sorts, who finds himself on the wrong side of former cohorts in the CIA as the bodies pile in slow motion. It wasn’t always so for Peter Devereaux (Brosnan) as we open on the scene of a possible assassination; his sniper partner-in-training Mason (Luke Bracey) is impulsively headstrong and accidentally shoots a child, and Devereaux schools him, hard. Years later, the latter has retired to Lausanne when old boss Hanley (Bill Smitrovich) drags him back in, dangling an old flame who wants to be pulled out of her dangerous role spying on Russian presidential candidate Federov (Lazar Ristovski). Out of a collision with old pupil Mason comes the name of a Chechen mystery woman who could be Federov’s undoing — and only social worker Alice (Olga Kurylenko) has any idea where she might be. Director Roger Donaldson (2008’s The Bank Job) spins November Man‘s twisted tale with a speed that will appeal to those with short attention spans — and an admiration for digital-age whistleblowers, though the brisk clip leaves one with more than a few questions concerning too swiftly dropped characters and story lines. Perhaps a December Man is needed to provide answers. (1:48) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

The One I Love Sophie (Elisabeth Moss) and Ethan (Mark Duplass) have hit a speed bump in their relationship — they don’t have fun together like they used to, and even direct attempts to replicate that past magic fall completely flat. Ergo they take the advice of a couples counselor (Ted Danson) and book a weekend at a country getaway he swears has done “wonders” for all his previous clients in relationship trouble. Things get off to a pleasant enough start, but the duo’s delight at recapturing their old mojo becomes complicated when they realize … well, it’s best to know as little as possible going into The One I Love, a first feature for director Charlie McDowell and scenarist Justin Lader that approaches a fantastical narrative idea with a poker face and considerable ingenuity. Duplass and (especially) Moss are terrific in roles that eventually require some very complicated (and subtle) nuances. (1:31) Four Star. (Harvey)

Sin City: A Dame To Kill For (1:38) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

The Skeleton Twins “I don’t know … maybe we were doomed from the beginning,” muses Maggie (Kristin Wiig) at the beginning of The Skeleton Twins. It’s her voice-over, but the figure onscreen is her brother, Milo (Bill Hader), who mopes to Blondie before flopping into a bathtub that slowly fills with water and blood from his slashed wrists. The twins haven’t seen each other in over 10 years, and the ice takes awhile to break when Maggic appears at his hospital bedside. But we know her secret: On the same day Milo was penning a suicide note, Maggie — trapped in a torturously bland marriage — was on the verge of gobbling a handful of pills in order to make her own permanent exit. Clearly, these siblings have more in common than they realize: They’re both deeply miserable, unable to shake a troubled past that includes their beloved father’s suicide, a distant mother (Joanna Gleason), and the scandalous incident (involving Milo and his high-school English teacher) that caused their estrangement. There’s only one path that these sad-sacks can choose (since if one of ’em actually died, that would make this black comedy a little too black), so they set about trying to mend fences. And it’s obvious — despite their frequent arguments, and the fact that both do some pretty terrible things — that the only bond in The Skeleton Twins that has any chance at repair is Milo and Maggie’s. Produced by indie darlings Jay and Mark Duplass, and directed by Craig Johnson (whose co-writer, Mark Heyman, also co-wrote 2010’s Black Swan), The Skeleton Twins might veer too deeply into melodrama territory were it not for its restrained script, and its deeply appealing cast. Wiig and Hader have been funnier elsewhere — but they’ve rarely been better. (1:33) SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Take Me to the River Memphis is a battered, gracious lady of a music town and she deserves her due, though she doesn’t get it in this well-meaning yet unfocused doc in need of a deep edit. Directed by veteran musician-turned-filmmaker Martin Shore, Take Me to the River lifts its name from a song by the otherwise-ignored Memphis denizen Al Green and hangs its hat in the city so pivotal in the birth of the blues, R&B, soul, and rock ‘n’ roll, under the pretense of witnessing the making of an album that brings together music makers new and old. Among them are unsung lights like songwriter William Bell and guitarist Charles “Skip” Pitts, icons like Bobby “Blue” Bland, and rappers (including Snoop Dogg). Overseeing the project are North Mississippi Allstars band mates and brothers Luther and Cody Dickinson, in tribute to their dad, producer Jim Dickinson. We do get a taste of the love, respect, and long history between, say, Mavis Staples and the Dickinson brudders, but somewhere along the way, River removes itself away from the making of the record and gets drawn into the dramatic vortex centered on the rise and tragic fall of Stax Records, intertwining it with the Civil Rights era — although considering the muddy explication surrounding the label’s demise, Shore appears ill-equipped to piece out its tale. Mucking it up further are sporadic appearances by star narrator Terrence Howard, whose weak smooth-jazz performance is given way too much play. (1:35) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Years from now, film scholars will look back at these creatively bankrupt (if box office-rich) times and blame Michael Bay for many evils, including a garish Transformers series that won’t die. He also produces this theatrical reboot of a kiddie action series (currently enjoying a TV cartoon renaissance on Nickelodeon) that probably should’ve been left in the sewer after 2007’s TMNT — star Chris Evans thanks you for forgetting that even existed — or, even better, after revealing the secret of the ooze in the 1990s. But Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is here to stomp all over nostalgic goodwill, not to mention take advantage of CG advancements that render its heroes as “real” as pumped-up reptiles with weapons can be, with a 3D coating that does allegedly human but suspiciously plastic co-star Megan Fox no favors. If you can get past that eeriness, you won’t be rewarded for your efforts; the jokes are either unfunny or pointless (are we really still referencing the Lost finale?), and the plot is so insultingly predictable William Fichtner’s character might as well be named “Sinister Rich Guy.” May also contain: fart jokes, butt jokes, pizza. (2:00) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

The Trip to Italy Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon return as “Steve Coogan” and “Rob Brydon” in this sequel to Michael Winterbottom’s 2010 The Trip. Like its predecessor, the premise — a road trip for the purpose of a restaurant-reviewing gig — provides a loose framework upon which these two actor-comedians, portraying exaggerated, fictionalized versions of themselves, hang their easy banter and occasional deeper conversations. The midlife crisis themes are still apparent (Brydon meets a comely expat who tempts him into cheating on his wife, with whom he has a small child; Coogan feels regret over his distant relationship with his teenage son), which tie into career anxieties for both men; references to classic literature also hold over from the first film. Most importantly, also like the first film, The Trip to Italy — blessed with all the gorgeous food and coastal landscapes the change of scenery suggests — is a riot. The impressions (lots of Godfather this time around) flow fast and furiously; while there’s nothing that can top the first film’s Michael Caine battle, it’s still a pleasure watching Brydon “converse” with a historical relic at Pompeii, or the duo’s joyous invocation of The Bounty (1984) during a brief boat journey. (1:55) Balboa, Embarcadero. (Eddy)

When the Game Stands Tall (1:55) 1000 Van Ness. *

Waltz work

Erica Hanna

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September 16, 2014

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cheryl@sfbg.com

FILM The New York Times called Col. Hans Landa — the sinister yet gleefully polite Nazi played by Christoph Waltz in Quentin Tarantino’s 2009 Inglourious Basterds — “the ultimate Tarantino creation.” In the same article, Tarantino admitted that if he hadn’t found the perfect person to play Landa, he wouldn’t have made the film at all. (Can you blame him?) The supremely likable Waltz’s elevation from German TV regular to movie star was cemented when he won Best Supporting Actor for the role. Three years later, he picked up a matching statuette for Tarantino’s Django Unchained. (In his acceptance speech, he called Tarantino a “hero” — can you blame him?)

Waltz’s ability to play loquacious characters — some evil, some crusading for justice on horseback — is undeniable. But how has this actor, having been handpicked to portray characters tailored to his strengths, fared beyond Tarantino? It’s been a mixed bag. In 2011, he did bad guys three ways, in three forgettable films (The Green Hornet, Water for Elephants, and The Three Musketeers). His best that year was Roman Polanski’s Carnage, as a tightly-wound father who’d rather check his BlackBerry than worry about his son.

His next test comes with Terry Gilliam’s The Zero Theorem. The script was penned over a decade ago by Pat Rushin, a Florida creative writing professor. Its dystopian themes mirror Gilliam’s Brazil (1985) and 12 Monkeys (1995); an overt dig at The Matrix (1999) reflects the era in which it was written, although it’s presumably been updated to include more current-day themes, like technology’s ability to foster faux relationships and extreme loneliness.

Waltz, as gleamingly bald as his Oscars, plays computer whiz Qohen, one of “the most productive number crunchers” at mega-corp Mancom. Qohen is a stress case who dreams about black holes and refers to himself using plural pronouns, as in “We are dying.” (The affectation is as annoying to Theorem‘s other characters as it is to the viewer.) His immediate supervisor (a bewigged David Thewlis) refers him to the enigmatic “Management” (a bewigged Matt Damon), who allows Qohen to work from his home — an old church quirked up to the extreme, because, as the film’s press notes hilariously understate, “a very high standard of production design is expected from every Terry Gilliam film.” (The film’s slender budget means that most of the film takes place in this location.)

This privilege comes with a price, and Qohen is tasked with a “special project:” solving the titular theorem, a maddening beast that would drive even a stable person insane. His madness is in no way assuaged by “Dr. Shrink Rom,” his virtual psychiatrist (a bewigged Tilda Swinton), though he does get some help from Management’s genius teenage son (Lucas Hedges), who shows up at Qohen’s man cave of despair to eat pizza and share his own thoughts on the “Zip-Tee.” There’s also a romance — with Mélanie Thierry, resplendent in virtual-reality beachwear — though it proves no more “real” than anything else in Qohen’s world. Ultimately, despite Waltz’s heavy lifting (and not-infrequent nudity), Theorem sputters to sustain all its many whirring parts, including those that attempt to convey deep thoughts about the meaning of life. Maybe the meaning is “don’t overthink it.”

As for Waltz, his future slate contains a few worrisome choices (the fifth Pirates of the Caribbean movie? Nein!), but also some intriguing ones. This Christmas brings Tim Burton’s Big Eyes, scripted by the duo who penned Burton’s 1994 Ed Wood, in which Waltz and Amy Adams play kitsch-art impresarios Walter and Margaret Keane. To paraphrase Waltz’s Django Unchained character, how could you resist? *

THE ZERO THEOREM opens Fri/19 in Bay Area theaters.

Water with a price tag

Erica Hanna

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September 16, 2014

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Rebecca@sfbg.com

At the tail end of a dry, dusty summer, California continues to weather the effects of an extraordinary drought.

Wildfires have swept through forestlands in the Sierra Nevada foothills, Mendocino County, and near Yosemite recently, making for smoky skies and glaring red sunsets. Meanwhile, shrinking reservoirs have prompted the state to issue formal crackdowns on watering lawns and washing cars.

These extreme circumstances may be linked to why voter support for Proposition 1, a $7.5 billion general obligation bond for water-related projects, has initially registered high. Elected officials have trumpeted Prop. 1 as a measure that will alleviate the worst impacts of the drought.

In the Bay Area, 62 percent of likely voters said they’d vote in favor Prop. 1, while that support came in at 52 percent statewide, according to a recent Field Poll. The bill that became Prop. 1 won bipartisan support in the Legislature after lawmakers struck a deal to kill an earlier $11 billion proposal and replace it instead with the slimmed-down version.

Despite the rare consensus, opponents charge that Prop. 1 won’t actually address the water crisis.

“We really don’t deal with the drought here,” said Connor Everts, executive director of the California Watershed Alliance, after reviewing the details.

Everts spoke during a Sept. 11 conference call organized by opponents of Prop. 1. They reject the water bond mainly because it dedicates a significant chunk of funding, $2.7 billion, toward new dam projects. They view this as an unacceptable tradeoff.

“We can’t conjure water out of thin air with new dams,” pointed out Barbara Barrigan-Parilla, the opposition campaign director, who runs a grassroots organization advocating for sustainable management of the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta. More should go toward conservation measures, she said.

The Delta has suffered hefty ecological impacts from freshwater pumping to feed the state’s water-delivery system. “Protect the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta” is the first guiding principle to appear in a policy document establishing the basis for Prop. 1, but Barrigan-Parilla and others remain skeptical. Friends of the River has also come out against Prop. 1, as have many members the Environmental Water Caucus, a statewide coalition of grassroots organizations.

State lawmakers have been trying to pass a water bond since 2009, but earlier versions were shot down as bloated and pork-laden, failing to gain traction.

In June, Gov. Jerry Brown called for a $6 billion bond that would throw $2 billion toward dam projects, but the needle moved after Republicans — taking advantage of the fact that it needed a two-thirds majority vote to pass — withheld support unless they were promised more money for dams.

Water storage is a high priority for agribusiness farmers, whose sprawling croplands soak up vast quantities of water. A whopping 70 percent of all water rights claims issued by the State Water Resources Control Board are for agriculture, according to a University of California at Davis study.

“If these dams actually get built, we believe they will take more water out of the rivers that are dammed, and there will be less to come out of all of the environmental benefits,” envisioned by other provisions in the bill, said Carolee Krieger, executive director of the California Water Impact Network (C-WIN). “In the long run, we believe it would be way worse for the environment.”

Adam Scow, speaking during the conference call on behalf of San Francisco-based Food and Water Watch, pointed out that California desperately needs to invest in basic water needs, like fixing old leaky pipes. Nevertheless, Prop. 1 is “just prolonging these fights over new, silly dam projects,” Scow said.

Significant Prop. 1 funds would also be committed toward cleaning up groundwater, restoring damaged watersheds, advancing water-treatment technology, and ensuring safe drinking water access for low-income communities. The Sierra Club issued a statement announcing that while it’s supportive of these good programs, its official stance on Prop. 1 is “no position.”

Opponents of Prop. 1 noted during the call that California faces a fundamental problem that won’t be addressed by the water bond: The amount of water allocated by water rights claims is five times higher than what actual river flows provide in an average year.

“The one thing that must be done is to balance water rights claims to actual supplies,” Krieger said. The difference between real supplies and what’s promised in a contract, she added, is called “paper water.” This means many users receive less water in practice than what they’re technically promised, but those unrealistic promises make for confusing and conflict-heavy management of scarce water resources. The bizarre dysfunction is well-documented in a UC Davis study published in February. Of 27 major rivers, the study found, 16 had allocation levels “greater than 100 percent of natural supplies.”

The state “simply does not have accurate knowledge of how much water is being used by most water rights holders,” the UC Davis study noted, making it “nearly impossible” to reduce consumption or manage water supplies in a way that’s more equitable and environmentally responsible.

If voters grant their stamp of approval for the $7.5 billion water bond, the state may well move forward with important environmental initiatives, as well as multi-billion dollar dam projects that will take decades to build.

But no matter what happens, money still can’t buy snowfall in the Sierras, and it’s going to take more than cash to get to the root of California’s water woes.

Deal reached in Transbay Tower tax district showdown

Erica Hanna

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September 10, 2014

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Deal reached in Transbay Tower tax district showdown

The deal almost sounds too good to be true. After threats of lawsuits, frantic backdoor dealmaking and a very harried week for the Board of Supervisors, a deal was finally reached yesterday on a dispute over taxes in the area around the new Transbay Terminal and the Salesforce Tower.

The initial dispute started over the amount of taxes devlelopers around the new Transbay Terminal were required to pay for the project. A special tax district established in the area would require the developers to pay up to $1.4 billion for public infrastructure in the area, including San Francisco’s high-speed rail connection, in exchange for upzonings that allow them to exceed city building height limits.

This was a critical deal. That $1.4 billion sticker-shock is based on recent property values, which as any San Franciscan not living under a rock knows, have shot up with our housing boom. But the developers balked at the numbers, saying the higher taxes were not part of the original deal. The city, the supervisors, and the mayor disagreed, saying the original agreement was clear. At yesterday’s hearing, Sup. Jane Kim repeatedly hinted at a deal they had reached, saying “I’m excited for what we’ll be able to announce after the closed session.”

The stakes were high. If the developers managed to stall the deal, they may have managed to not pay any of these taxes at all.

“When I woke up this morning, I said there’s no way I’d let this stall,” Sup. Scott Wiener, who has taken the lead on trying to hold the developers to the original deal, told us.

But the deal actually turned out to be pretty rosy for the city, he said, at least at first blush.

The developers will still end up paying up to $1.4 billion (officials say the actual figure will be closer to $1 billion) in the special tax district, but now will pay over 37 years instead of 30, allowing them to make smaller payments. The developers would also be bound to a later vote, further cementing the tax deal. The developers may also forefit their right to sue the city over the negotiations.

Pressure on the supervisors was strong. At yesterday’s hearing on the tax deal, advocates and developers alike showed up in force. Patrick Valentino, a staunch advocate of market-rate housing development in the city, reminded the supervisors that the initial agreement wasn’t exactly mystifying.

“It was made very clear in (the initial contract) that the fees could go up and down based on the market,” he said. “We certainly aren’t spending millions of dollars for just a bus station.”

Tom Radulovich, executive director of Livable City, threw some barbs the supervisors’ way as well. “There’s no time for waffling,” he told them, in public comment. He then made an argument for the high developer fees. “Why don’t people make 1,000-foot skyscrapers in the Nevada desert? There’s no society there, no infrastructure, no water. The value for the land is created by the infrastructure from the Bay Area’s pockets, which added billions of dollars to downtown land. We need more capacity.”

But supervisors didn’t waffle, and a deal was reached. But to be clear, it is still preliminary, with the devil in the myriad details.

The Board of Supervisors issued a continuance on the final vote for the deal for two weeks, in order to give Mayor Ed Lee and the developers time to cement all the details.

So far, the deal looks great, Wiener said. “It’s not even a compromise,” he told us. “The phrase I used was, ‘this is too good to be true.'”

But, he said, “We’ll learn new details in two weeks.”

SOS: A bill to protect oil refineries also threatens public access rights

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September 9, 2014

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Gov. Brown. Veto SB 1300

This bill would establish a stealth template for how to gut the California Public Records Act one economic and political sector at a time.

By Bruce B. Brugmann (with a First Amendment Coalition emergency message and a button for readers to request a Gov. Brown veto)

Possibly the bill most damaging to the public interest in years is sitting on Gov. Jerry Brown’s desk for signature. It is SB 1300, which amounts to an oil refinery protection bill proposed by Sen. Loni Hancock (D-Berkeley) and Assemblyperson Nancy Skinner (D-Berkeley), two legislators living in the shadow of the East Bay oil refineries who ought to know better. It was supported by oil companies, organized labor, and the California’s Division of Occupational Safety and Health (DOSH) and was passed by the Assembly on a 68-5 vote and by the Senate on a 34-0 vote. No debate, no discussion, no questions asked.

The gist of the damage is that SB 1300 was amended at the last minute to force a CPRA requester to pay fees if a court rules against disclosure. As the California Newspaper Publishers Association explained in its current legislative bulletin, SB 1300 “would expand the definition of what constitutes a trade secret and erect an insurmountable barrier to any effort by a member of the public to obtain information about DOSH’s performance in its role as a consumer watchdog over a refiner’s conduct.”

Peter Scheer, executive director of the First Amendment Coalition (FAC), warned in a special message that “it’s safe to say that no one will ever file a CPRA request for refinery information once it becomes known that a mere request may thrust the requester involuntarily into a costly battle against oil companies.” But just to be sure no one even contemplates filing a CPRA request, Scheer noted that the last minute amendments to the legislation also provide that the requester will have to pay his/her own fees as well as the fees of the oil company’s lawyers if he/she loses the suit.

CNPA General Counsel Jim Ewert and Staff Attorney Scott Merrill worked furiously to try to negotiate with Hancock’s staff and DOSH representatives to eliminate the toxic effect on CPRA requesters. But all CNPA amendments were rejected before the bill was taken up by both houses. Hancock told the CNPA advocates repeatedly that she would rather have the information in DOSH’s hands even if that meant that the public wouldn’t have access to it.

Scheer wrote that “some may say that these changes to existing law, while terrible, are not such a big deal since they only curtail access to information about refineries. (This is presumably the view of organized labor, which cynically backs SB 1300 after getting a special carveout for refineries’ employment and financial data that unions want.)

“Try telling that to the families who live downwind of refineries. But more than that, SB 1300 establishes a template for how to gut the CPRA one economic and political sector at a time. First, it’s information about oil companies; next it will be information about schools or about law enforcement or about water supplies. SB 1300 creates a dangerous precedent for other industries and special interets to follow.

“Don’t let that happen. Tell Governor Brown to veto SB 1300.”

Below is the full text of Scheer’s message on the FAC website with a response button to email, fax, or phone requesting Gov. Brown to veto SB 1300. CNPA is emailing Scheer’s message to its member papers in its Sept.12 Legislative Bulletin, several are preparing stories and editorials, and public access activists are mobilizing opposition across the state. Brown was expected to sign the bill, until CNPA and FAC blew the bugles and started blasting away.

Meanwhile, ask Hancock and Skinner and DOSH how they came up with this abomination and ask your local senators and assemblypersons why they voted for it without gulping. You can start with the San Francisco delegation, all of whom voted for the bill (Assemblymen Ammiano and Ting and Sen. Leno). On guard, b3

Gov Brown, Veto SB 1300. Ostensibly about oil refineries, SB 1300 threatens public access rights.

P.S. CNPA laid out this Kafkaesque scenario for people who have the gall to request information on emissions from a nearby oil refinery fire:

“ A mother and her family driven from her home by the emissions from a fire at a nearby refinery submits a CPRA request to DOSH for information that she believes is disclosable about the next turnaround at the refinery to determine how safe the refinery is. Because her request could include trade secret information as now defined, DOSH notifies the refinery that a request for the refiner’s information has been received.

“The refinery files an action against DOSH for injunctive relief to prevent the disclosure of the information and, since the bill requires the refiner to name the requester as a real party in interest, the requester is named as a party in the lawsuit filed by the refinery.The requester, who may or may not have been willing to go to court to enforce her rights under the CPRA, now finds that she is an unwilling party in a lawsuit.

” If she decides to participate in the action to pursue the information she believes she has a right to obtain she will have to pay her own expenses for a lawyer and the costs associated with the action. If she decides not to pursue her rights she risks that a default judgment could nonetheless be entered against her.

“If the court denies her request, or a default judgment is entered against her, the court would be required to order her to pay the refinery’s attorney’s fees and costs.

“SB 1300 was also amended to provide ‘the public agency shall not bear the court costs for any party named in litigation filed pursuant to this section.'” Incredible. Simply incredible. b3

For the CNPA letter asking Gov.Brown to veto the bill, click the link below

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B8sxRIlFa7G4Ql8xRExkT095cU1tbzdOeHRNLTZaRDIwUkMw/edit

(The Bruce blog is written and edited by Bruce B. Brugmann, editor at large of the San Francisco Bay Guardian. He was the editor and he and his wife Jean Dibble co-founded and co-published the Guardian, 1966-2012.)

What’s up, doc?

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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culture@sfbg.com

TABLEHOPPING Columbus Avenue in North Beach continues to rise as an exciting dining destination with the opening of Doc Ricketts (124 Columbus, SF; www.docricketts.com). It’s a historic location, with two different areas: there’s the restaurant, Doc Ricketts, and the basement (the former Purple Onion) is where you’ll find Doc’s Lab, opening this Friday; the space is keeping its history alive and will feature live entertainment, from music to comedy to literary events. It’s a strong team: owner Christopher Burnett of Darwin Café, chef Justin Deering (15 Romolo, Café des Amis, Conduit), and Charlie Brown, previously at Prospect, are in charge of operations.

The menu is casual but packs layers of flavor, like in a dish of cauliflower three different ways, and Half Moon Bay bass with fregola, clams, and fumet; there are some hearty picks like a short rib burger, and roast chicken with liver toast as well. There are 32 seats plus eight at the bar, where you can hang out and check out the list of $6 snacks and a plate of housemade charcuterie. Sidewalk seating is coming too, just in time for the Bay Area’s summery fall days. There’s a list of classic cocktails, a wine list with food-friendly picks, and four beers on tap. Whether you’re coming by for dinner or a show, they’ve got you covered.

There seems to be a storm brewing around the new Bandidos (2200 Market, SF; www.bandidosinsf.com) that just opened in the Castro in the former Leticia’s space, with commentors on social media, local food blogs, and Yelp decrying the offensive name. A note on its Facebook page says: “Hi all, we are working with the people who have contacted us personally regarding this issue. Until then we are turning off all posting ability on FB. Thanks.” Bit of a rough start there. We’ll have to see what’s communicated next from the team. Although it’s not as rough as the opening of the brand-new Capone’s Speakeasy (1400 Park, Alameda; www.caponesspeakeasy.net) in Alameda, whose owner was arrested the night of the grand opening party for alleged public drunkenness, resisting arrest, and whoa there, guess who tried to bite an officer on the leg? At least he’s on-brand with his restaurant’s mascot.

A drama-free opening is Bistro L’Aviateur (2850 21st St., SF; 415-757-0272), starting service in the Mission tonight (Wed/10). The owners, husband-and-wife team Maha and Vincent Laforge (with Maha’s sons helping out in the kitchen!) will be serving French cuisine with Tunisian and Mediterranean influences. The menu will be small, but will change daily. It’s an intimate neighborhood spot, with room for 25, plus a bar and communal table. Not only is it open for lunch and dinner — you can come by for Tunisian-style tea and pastries available in the afternoon, too (like marzipan with rose water and North African spices). Hours will be Mon, 11:30am–7pm; Wed–Fri, 11:30am–9:30pm; Sat, 5:30–9:30pm; Sun, 11am–3pm; and closed Tue. Hours may change in the coming weeks as the owners figure out what works for the neighborhood.

Also in the Frenchie camp and opening today, across town in the Marina, is the bistro half of the newly expanded Le Marais Bistro and Bakery (2066 Chestnut, SF; www.lemaraisbakery.com). You’ll be able to add dinnertime to your breakfast and lunch visiting times — chef Nicolette Manescalchi is serving Mediterranean dishes like socca with herb jam and rosehip- and cumin-spiced chicken roasted on an oak grill. Delicious. Executive pastry chef Emily Riddell will have you covered with some fab plated desserts, so save some room. And there are some Euro wines and beers, too. Dinner is served Sun–Thu, 5:30–10pm and Fri–Sat, 5:30–11pm. *

Marcia Gagliardi is the founder of the weekly tablehopper e-column; subscribe for more at www.tablehopper.com. Get her app: Tablehopper’s Top Late-Night Eats. On Twitter: @tablehopper.

Theater Listings: September 10 – 16, 2014

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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

THEATER

OPENING

The Barbary Coast Revue Sub/Mission Gallery, 2183 Mission, SF; www.barbarycoastrevue.com. $28. Opens Sat/13, 8pm. Runs Sat, 8pm. Through Nov 29. Join Mark Twain on an interactive musical tour of Gold Rush-era San Francisco.

Old Hats ACT’s Geary Theater, 415 Geary, SF; www.act-sf.org. $20-120. Previews Wed/10-Sat/13 and Tue/16, 8pm (also Sat/13, 2pm); Sun/14, 7pm. Opens Sept 17, 8pm. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm and Sept 30 (also Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2pm; Sept 23, 7pm. Through Oct 5. American Conservatory Theater presents Tony winners Bill Irwin and David Shiner in the West Coast premiere of Signature Theatre’s story of “clowns getting older — and even crazier.”

BAY AREA

House and Garden Pear Avenue Theatre, 1220 Pear, Mtn View; www.thepear.org. $10-35. Previews Thu/11, 8pm. Opens Fri/12, 8pm. Runs Thu-Sat, 8pm (check website for Sat matinee dates); Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 5. Pear Avenue Theatre performs Alan Ayckbourn’s two interlocking but separate comedies, a unique theatrical experience in which the audience stays put and the actors travel between adjacent theaters, performing each play at the same time.

ONGOING

Cock New Conservatory Theatre Center, 25 Van Ness, SF; www.nctcsf.org. $25-45. Previews Wed/10-Fri/12, 8pm. Opens Sat/13, 8pm. Runs Wed-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Oct 12. New Conservatory Theatre Center performs Michael Bartlett’s comedy about a man who meets the woman of his dreams — while on a break from dating his boyfriend.

Each and Every Thing Marsh San Francisco Main Stage, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $20-50. Thu-Fri, 8pm; Sat, 5pm; Sun, 2pm. Extended through Oct 4. The latest solo show from celebrated writer-performer Dan Hoyle (Tings Dey Happen, The Real Americans) winds a more random course than usual across the country and abroad but then that’s the idea — or at least Hoyle warns us, right after an opening encounter with a touchy young white supremacist, that the trip he’s taking us on is a subtle one. Displaying again his exceptional gifts as a writer and protean performer, Hoyle deftly embodies a set of real-life encounters as a means of exploring the primacy and predicament of face-to-face communication in the age of Facebook. With the help of director Charlie Varon (who co-developed the piece with Hoyle and Maureen Towey), this comes across in an entertaining and swift-flowing 75-minute act that includes a witty rap about “phone zombies” and a Dylan-esque screed at a digital detox center. But the purported subject of connection, or lack there of, in our gadget-bound and atomized society is neither very original nor very deeply explored — nor is it necessarily very provocative in a theater, before an audience already primed for the live encounter. Far more interesting and central here is Hoyle’s relationship with his old college buddy Pratim, an Indian American in post-9/11 America whose words are filled with laid-back wisdom and wry humor. Also intriguing is the passing glimpse of early family life in the Hoyle household with Dan’s celebrated artist father, and working-class socialist, Geoff Hoyle. These relationships, rather than the sketches of strangers (albeit very graceful ones), seem the worthier subjects to mine for truth and meaning. Indeed, there’s a line spoken by Pratim that could sum up the essence of Hoyle’s particular art: “It’s so much better,” he says, “when you find yourself in other people than when you just find yourself.” Hoyle’s real frontier could end up being much more personal terrain, much closer to home. (Avila)

Foodies! The Musical Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter, SF; www.foodiesthemusical.com. $32-34. Fri-Sat, 8pm. Open-ended. AWAT Productions presents Morris Bobrow’s musical comedy revue all about food.

The Haze ACT Costume Shop, 1117 Market, SF; http://bit.ly/thehazeplayACT. $20. Thu, 7pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm. Through Sept 27. Heather Marlowe performs her solo show, a sharp-witted, autobiographical play about recovering from rape — and the way rape cases are mishandled by the justice system.

King Fool Various locations TBA to reservation holders; www.weplayers.org. $30-50. Fri-Sun, times TBA. Through Sept 28. We Players presents a new, intimate, site-specific work inspired by King Lear.

LongShotz: The Things That Separate Us Tides Theatre, 533 Sutter, Second Flr, SF; http://amios.wordpress.com. $25. Program A: Wed/10 and Tue/16, 8pm; Program B: Sept 17, 8pm. Amios presents two separate programs of three 30-minute plays, each written by a different author. Each play is inspired by the Radiohead lyric, “Just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.”

Motown the Musical Orpheum Theatre, 1192 Market, SF; www.shnsf.com. $45-210. Tue-Sat, 8pm (also Wed and Sat, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Sept 28. Over 40 hits (“My Girl,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”) pack this tale of Motown founder Berry Gordy’s career in the music biz.

Noises Off! Shelton Theater, 533 Sutter, SF; www.sheltontheater.org. $38. Thu-Sat, 8pm. Through Oct 25. Shelton Theater performs Michael Frayn’s outrageous backstage comedy.

San Francisco Fringe Festival Exit Theatreplex, 156 Eddy, SF; www.sffringe.org. $10 or less at the door; $12.99 or less online (passes, $45-75). Daily through Sept 20 (no shows Mon/15). Unique, daring indie theater (murder mysteries! Tech tales! Dating dramas! Clowns!), with 35 shows and 150 performances over 14 days.

Semi-Famous: Hollywood Hell Tales from the Middle New venue: Marsh San Francisco, 1062 Valencia, SF; www.themarsh.org. $20-100. Sat, 8:30pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Oct 19. Don Reed’s latest solo show shares tales from his career in entertainment.

The Taming of the Shrew This week: Presidio, Marin Post Parade Grounds, between Graham and Keyes, SF; www.sfshakes.org. Free. Sat/13-Sun/14, 2pm. Continues through Sept 21 at various Bay Area venues. Free Shakespeare in the Park presents this take on the Bard’s barb-filled romance.

Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind Boxcar Theatre, 505 Natoma, SF; www.sfneofuturists.com. $11-16. Fri-Sat, 9pm. Ongoing. The Neo-Futurists perform Greg Allen’s spontaneous, ever-changing show that crams 30 plays into 60 minutes.

BAY AREA

An Audience with Meow Meow Berkeley Repertory Theatre, Roda Theatre, 2015 Addison, Berk; www.berkeleyrep.org. $29-89. Previews Wed/10, 7pm; Thu/11, 8pm. Opens Fri/12, 8pm. Runs Tue and Thu-Sat, 8pm (also Sat, 2pm but no matinee Sept 20; also Sept 19 and Oct 16, 2pm); Wed and Sun, 7pm (also Sun, 2pm). Through Oct 19. British singer-comedian Meow Meow world-premieres her new show at Berkeley Rep, under the direction of Kneehigh’s Emma Rice.

Berlin to Broadway with Kurt Weill Masquers Playhouse, 105 Park, Point Richmond; www.masquers.org. $22. Fri, 8pm; Sat, 7pm; Sun/14, 2pm. Through Sept 20. Masquers Playhouse performs a revue celebrating the life and work of Kurt Weill.

“Breaking Chains Festival” Various venues, Oakl (one venue in SF); www.ubuntutheaterproject.com. $15-25. Through Sept 27. New company Ubuntu Theater Project presents this festival of six site-specific works. Authors include Marcus Gardley, Tim Price, Clifford Odets, George Brant, Bennet Fisher, and N’Jameh Camera.

Cops and Robbers Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. $20-100. Fri/12, 8pm; Sat/13, 8:30pm. Hip-hop artist and law enforcement officer Jinho “The Piper” Ferreira performs his 17-character solo show.

Flower Drum Song Woodminster Amphitheater, Joaquin Miller Park, 3300 Joaquin Miller, Oakl; www.woodminster.com. $18-59. Thu/11 and Sun/14, 7pm; Fri/12-Sat/13, 8pm. Woodminster Summer Musicals performs the “new” version of the classic Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, with a fresh script by Tony-winning playwright David Henry Hwang.

Funny Girl Hillbarn Theatre, 1285 East Hillsdale, Foster City; www.hillbarntheatre.org. $23-42. Thu-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 2pm. Through Sept 21. Hillbarn Theatre performs the classic romantic musical comedy, with music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Bob Merrill, and book by Isobel Lennart.

An Ideal Husband Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 890 Belle, Dominican University of California, San Rafael; www.marinshakespeare.org. $12-35. Runs in repertory Fri-Sun through Sept 27; visit website for specific performance dates and times. Marin Shakespeare Company performs Oscar Wilde’s witty tale.

The Last Days of Judas Iscariot Flight Deck, 1540 Broadway, Oakl; brownpapertickets.com/event/780550. $15-25. Thu-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Sept 21. Stephen Adly Guirgis’ courtroom drama takes on the fate of the New Testament turncoat.

Life Could Be a Dream Center REPertory Company, Lesher Center for the Arts, 1601 Civic, Walnut Creek; www.centerrep.org. $37-66. Wed, 7:30pm; Thu-Sat, 8pm (also Sept 20 and 27, 2:30pm); Sun, 2:30pm. Through Oct 5. CenterREPertory Company performs Roger Bean’s doo-wop musical.

The New Electric Ballroom Ashby Stage, 1901 Ashby, Berk; www.shotgunplayers.org. $20-30. Wed-Thu, 7pm; Fri-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 5pm (Oct 5, show at 2pm). Through Oct 5. Shotgun Players perform Enda Walsh’s poetic nightmare about three sisters who are obsessed with their memories.

O Best Beloved Parker Street Odditorium, 2310 Parker, Berk; www.obestbeloved.org. Free (donations accepted). Sat/13, 2pm. Also Sun/14, 2pm, location TBA; check website for updates. Idiot String’s Joan Howard and Rebecca Longworth bring their SF Fringe Festival hit, an adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s Just-So Stories, to local public spaces aboard a mobile stage.

Rapture, Blister, Burn Aurora Theatre, 2081 Addison, Berk; www.auroratheatre.org. $32-50. Tue and Sun, 7pm (also Sun, 2pm); Wed-Sat, 8pm. Through Sept 28. Aurora Theatre Company opens its 23rd season with Gina Gionfriddo’s drama about three generations of women “struggling with feminism’s foibles.”

Romeo and Juliet Forest Meadows Amphitheater, 890 Belle, Dominican University of California, San Rafael; www.marinshakespeare.org. $12-35. Runs in repertory Fri-Sun through Sept 28; visit website for specific performance dates and times. Marin Shakespeare continues its 25th season with the Bard’s timeless tragedy.

The Tempest Old Mill Park Amphitheatre, behind the Mill Valley Public Library, 375 Throckmorton, Mill Valley; www.curtaintheatre.org. Free. Sat/13-Sun/14, 4pm. Curtain Theatre returns with the Bard’s magical romance for its 14th outdoor performance.

Water By the Spoonful Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts, 500 Castro, Mtn View; www.theatreworks.org. $19-74. Wed/10, 7:30pm; Fri/12-Sat/13, 8pm (also Sat/13, 2pm); Sun/14, 2 and 7pm. TheatreWorks performs Quiara Alegría Hudes’ Pulitzer Prize-winning drama about strangers who meet in an online chat room.

Wonder of the World Douglas Morrisson Theatre, 22311 N. Third St, Hayward; www.dmtonline.org. $10-32. Fri-Sat and Sept 18, 8pm (also Sat/13, 2pm); Sun, 2pm. Through Sept 21. Douglas Morrison Theatre opens its 35th season with David Lindsay-Abaire’s comedy about self-fulfillment.

Year of the Rooster La Val’s Subterranean, 1834 Euclid, Berk; http://impacttheatre.com. $10-25. Thu-Sat, 8pm; Sun, 7pm. Through Oct 12. Impact Theatre performs Eric Dufault’s comedy, told from the point of view of a rooster that enters cockfights.

PERFORMANCE/DANCE

Aura Fischbeck + Deborah Karp Dance Projects Home Season 2014 Joe Goode Annex, 401 Alabama, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri/12-Sat/13, 8pm; Sun/14, 2pm. $15. New dance works from Aura Fischbeck Dance (Time Studies) and Deborah Karp Dance Projects (Standing On One Leg).

“BATS Summer Improv Festival” Bayfront Theater, B350 Fort Mason, SF; www.improv.org. Through Sept 20. $20. This week: “San Francisco Streets,” Fri/12-Sat/13, 8pm.

“Blush Comedy Night” Blush! Wine Bar, 476 Castro, SF; www.blushwinebar.com. Wed/10, 8pm. Stefani Silverman hosts comedians Clara Bijl, Kevin Munroe, Ronn Vigh, Johan Miranda, and more.

Caroline Lugo and Carolé Acuña’s Ballet Flamenco Peña Pachamama, 1630 Powell, SF; www.carolinalugo.com. Sat/13, Sept 21, 28, Oct 4, 11, 18, 26, 6:30pm. $15-19. Flamenco performance by the mother-daughter dance company, featuring live musicians.

“Cinema Sirens: A Jazz and Film Cabaret” La Salle Pianos and Events, 1632 Market, SF; www.shannonmariewolfe.com. Thu/11, 7:30pm. $5-10. Celebrate Hollywood from the Jazz Age through the Art Deco era at this performance, featuring vocalist Shannon Wolfe and bassist Dean Riley with Grant Levin playing an antique piano.

Comedy Day Sharon Meadow, Golden Gate Park, SF; www.comedyday.com. Sun/14, noon-5pm. Free. This year’s incarnation of the free, all-day comedy festival is dedicated to the memory of supporter (and frequent surprise performer) Robin Williams.

“Dances of the Sacred and Profane” Cowell Theater, Fort Mason Center, Marina at Buchanan, SF; www.mfdpsf.org. Sat/13 and Sept 18-20, 8pm; Sun/14 and Sept 21, 3pm. $18.50-28.50. Mark Foehringer Dance ProjectSF presents an ambitious world premiere as the Cowell Theater re-opens following an extended closure for seismic retrofitting.

Doc’s Lab 124 Columbus, SF; www.docslabsf.com. This week: Opening Night with Eric McFadden and the Clowns in Orbit with Andrew St. James, Scott Capurro, Joe Klocek, and Bunny Pistol, Sat/13, 8pm, $30-35; Doc’s Comedy open mic, Mon/15, 8pm, free.

“Dream Queens Revue” Aunt Charlie’s Lounge, 133 Turk, SF; www.dreamqueensrevue.com. Wed/10, 9:30pm. Free. Drag with Collette LeGrande, Ruby Slippers, Sophilya Leggz, Bobby Ashton, and more.

Feinstein’s at the Nikko 222 Mason, SF; www.feinsteinssf.com. This week: “Broadway Bingo,” Wed/10, 7pm, $15. Seth Rudetsky, Sat/13-Sun/14, 7pm, $35-50.

“Hubba Hubba Revue’s 8th Anniversary Burlesque Spectacular” DNA Lounge, 375 11th St, SF; www.dnalounge.com. Fri/12, 9:30pm. $15-30. The burlesque and variety show marks eight years with special guests Queen of the Quake, Kitten DeVille, Stormy Gayle, and others.

“The Imperfect Is Our Paradise” ODC Theater, 3153 17th St, SF; www.odcdance.org. Thu/11-Sat/13, 8pm; Sun/14, 2pm. $15-35. Liss Fain Dance presents a world premiere, an exploration of the stream-of-consciousness technique that uses text from William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.

“Magic at the Rex” Hotel Rex, 562 Sutter, SF; www.magicattherex.com. Sat, 8pm. Ongoing. $25. Magic and mystery with Adam Sachs and mentalist Sebastian Boswell III.

“Mortified” DNA Lounge, 375 11th St, SF; www.getmortified.com. Fri/12, 7:30pm. $20. Also Sat/13, 7:30pm, $20, Uptown, 1928 Telegraph, Oakl. Brave adults read from their own teenage diaries, letters, poems, and other hilarious and outrageous documents of their younger, more naïve selves.

“Multiple Mary and Invisible Jane” US Hastings College of the Law, 333 Golden Gate, SF; www.flyawayproductions.com. Fri/12-Sat/13 and Sept 19-20, 8 and 9pm; Sept 17-18, noon and 8pm. Free. Choreographer Jo Kreiter’s Flyaway Productions presents a world premiere aerial dance work exploring the experiences of homeless women in the Tenderloin.

“Out of Line Improv” Stage Werx, 446 Valencia, SF; outoflineimprov.brownpapertickets.com. Sat, 10:30pm. Ongoing. $12. A new, completely improvised show every week.

“People in Plazas” Various locations, SF; www.peopleinplazas.org. Through Oct 3. Free. Lunchtime concerts in various downtown locations showcasing jazz, world, funk, and other styles of music.

“San Francisco Comedy College” Purple Onion at Kells, 530 Jackson, SF; www.purpleonionatkells.com. Ongoing. $5-15. “Weekly New Talent Shows,” Wed-Thu, 7pm. “Purple Onion All-Stars,” Wed-Thu, 8:15pm. “The Later Show,” Wed-Thu, 10pm. “The Cellar Dwellers,” Fri-Sat, 7:30pm.

San Francisco Improv Festival Eureka Theatre, 215 Jackson, SF; www.sfimprovfestival.com. Sept 10-20. $5-35. An array of comedy talent takes the stage at this all-improv festival.

“SF Stand-Up Comedy Competition” Second Act Marketplace and Events, 1727 Haight, SF; www.secondactsf.com. Thu/11, 8:30pm. $10. Sixteen comedians compete in this first show in the annual contest.

“Terminator Too: Judgment Play” and “Point Break LIVE!” DNA Lounge, 375 11th St, SF; www.dnalounge.com. Oct 3, Nov 7, and Dec 5, Terminator at 7:30pm; Break at 11pm. $20-50. The raucous, interactive staged recreations of two of 1991’s greatest action films return to the DNA Lounge.

“This is the Girl” Dance Mission Theater, 3316 24th St, SF; www.brownpapertickets.com. Fri/12-Sat/13, 8pm; Sun/14, 7pm. $15-25. Christy Funsch’s Funsch Dance Experience presents a new full-length work, with accompaniment by the Grrrl Brigade Taiko Drummers, guitarist Dory Ellis, and a chorus singing PJ Harvey songs.

“Yerba Buena Gardens Festival” Yerba Buena Gardens, 760 Howard, SF; www.ybgfestival.org. Through Oct 26. Free. This week: The Gonifs, Thu/11, 12:30-1:30pm; Shotgun Wedding Quintet and associates, Sat/13, 1-2:30pm; “Poetic Tuesday,” Tue/16, 12:30-1:30pm.

BAY AREA

“First Person Singular’s Open to Interpretation: Beck’s Song Reader‘ Pegasus Books Downtown, 2349 Shattuck, Berk; www.1stpersonsingular.com. Thu/11, 7:30pm. Free. The dramatic reading series takes on Beck’s book of unrecorded sheet music as part of Downtown Berkeley MusicFest.

“MarshJam Improv Comedy Show” Marsh Berkeley, 2120 Allston, Berk; www.themarsh.org. Fri, 8pm. Ongoing. $10. Improv comedy with local legends and drop-in guests.

“Monsieur Chopin” Berkeley Repertory Theatre, 2025 Addison, Berk; www.berkeleyrep.org. Tue/16 and Sept 18-20, 8pm (also Sept 18 and 20, 2pm); Sept 17 and 21, 2 and 7pm. $29-87. Hershey Felder returns for the farewell presentation of his acclaimed solo show. *

Film Listings: September 10 – 16, 2014

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Dennis Harvey, Lynn Rapoport, and Sara Maria Vizcarrondo. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock.

OPENING

Dolphin Tale 2 The heroic dolphin with the prosthetic tail returns for more aquarium adventures in this family drama starring Harry Connick, Jr., Ashley Judd, Morgan Freeman, and Kris Kristofferson. (1:48)

The Drop The late James Gandolfini gets a fitting final feature-film sendoff in this edgy microcosm of a crime movie, set among the small-time hoodies of Brooklyn, but just easily recast in Tony Soprano’s Jersey or the Beantown of 2010’s The Fighter. As Cousin Marv, a onetime dive-bar owner forced to turn his watering hole over to Chechen mobsters as a drop spot for bookmaking loot, he also gets worthy sparring partners in Tom Hardy and Matthias Schoenaerts (star of 2011’s Bullhead, director Michaël R. Roskam’s Oscar-nominated breakout). Hardy’s Bob looks to be the perpetual side guy to his Cousin Marv; he seems sludgy and lacking confidence, until he finds a battered pit bull puppy in a trashcan belonging to Nadia (Noomi Rapace) — and discovers himself in the middle of a brazen robbery at the drop bar. With the puppy and Nadia comes the canine’s purported owner, rumored killer, and neighborhood “nut case” Eric (Schoenaerts). The beauty of Dennis Lehane’s screenplay, spinning off his short story “Animal Rescue,” is embedded in how the most banal niceties (like “Good to see you”) are used with Mamet-like skill to signal the threadbare facade of civilized behavior and convey an almost nihilistic sense of imminent threat. Meanwhile, Roskam walks a tightrope between the drab, wintry everyday and a pervasive mood of menace, creating a downbeat yet almost horrifying effect when the trigger is finally pulled — and the veil between the hidden and the real, the animal and the human, is dropped. (1:45) (Chun)

God Help the Girl Perhaps it’s not subtle that the first words we hear in the indie pop musical God Help the Girl — the writing and directing debut of Stuart Murdoch, Belle and Sebastian’s lead singer–songwriter — come out of the mouth of a DJ, evoking Nick Drake, no less, in a riff about the mystique of dead musicians. The influences and aesthetic of Murdoch and the beloved Scottish chamber pop group float through the film, a sort of moody live-action manifestation of 15-plus years’ worth of Belle and Sebastian albums. We hear the DJ through the headphones of our nervy, melancholy heroine, Eve (Emily Browning, of 2011’s Sleeping Beauty), a young Australian living in Glasgow, whom we first meet narrating in song her night flight from a psychiatric institution, where she’s under care for anorexia. Music keeps her moving, to a rock club, for starters, where she watches a band awkwardly implode and befriends the guitarist, James (Olly Alexander), who introduces her to aspiring musician Cassie (Hannah Murray), who reckons they should start a band. Easily half of the movie, and the better half, is told in song — largely by Eve, a talented songwriter with a sweetly captivating voice. The songs, written by Murdoch over the last decade, feel lush and fully realized, and pull us along through the story in infectiously giddy and affecting interludes, but tend to drop us off in vague, meandering terrain, among agreeable but sketchy acquaintances, when they end. (1:51) Roxie. (Rapoport)

Last Weekend Celia Green (Patricia Clarkson) is the matriarch of a clan gathering to spend a now-rare weekend at their Lake Tahoe vacation home — the last of the summer, and perhaps the last ever, as she and fitness-tycoon spouse Malcolm (Chris Mulkey) are considering selling it. This news is sure to upset their grown sons, even if neither spend much time here anymore. But then, what doesn’t upset them? Roger (Joseph Cross) constantly snipes at mom, no doubt to let off steam from some as-yet-unbroken news of his own about an embarrassing blunder made in his financial-sector job. Theo (Zachary Booth) is just generally hypersensitive, about his own feelings if no one else’s, including the kinda-sorta-boyfriend of the fleeting moment (Devon Graye) he’s dragged here, along with several coworkers from the TV sitcom he works on as a low-rung writer. Other characters include the married groundskeeper and housekeeper (Julio Oscar Mechoso, Julie Carmen) everyone treats with elaborate familiarity as “almost family,” and Roger’s longtime girlfriend (Alexis Rasmussen), who’s very aware that she is not considered family. Presided over by Celia, who sees herself as an unpretentious Earth Mother but is in fact a meddling perfectionist, the Greens are an exasperating lot of self-absorbed, mutually unsupportive brats. Tom Dolby and Tom Williams’ seriocomedy is willing to point out their foibles and chuckle, but not to actively criticize (let alone satirize) them. Instead, we’re ultimately expected to care about these shallow, catty figures of under-appreciated privilege — an emotional connection the movie never remotely earns. If you’re going to make a movie about Rich People Problems, it had better have a lot more bite than this one manages. (1:34) Vogue. (Harvey)

The Man on Her Mind Little wonder that this comedy about a woman who prefers an adult version of an imaginary friend to real-life suitors feels so hermetically sealed: writer and Soho Press co-founder Alan Hruska co-directs (with Bruce Guthrie) this hardly filmic version of his play, starring its original UK cast. All assembled wrap careful NYC accents around Hruska’s verbiage, which takes center stage in this overtly theatrical, very talky — albeit not especially witty — vanity indie. Bookish publishing staffer Nellie (Amy McAllister) possesses the seemingly enviable life of an independent working woman in NYC, until one finds out, through naggy sister Janet (Georgia Mackenzie), that Nellie’s slick supposed beau (Samuel James) is not all he’s cracked up to be. Though Hruska dallies with some intriguing ideas about the way we idealize, project upon, and even create our love objects, this cinematic realization feels as sophomoric and long-winded as an undergraduate seminar. (1:38) Opera Plaza. (Chun)

Metro Manila See “Urban Decay.” (1:40) Roxie.

My Old Lady If only the grand dame had more of a say, rather than the whiny, middle-aged offspring. Playwright Israel Horovitz makes his feature-film debut, directing his own play in this potentially fascinating clash of cultures on a generational battlefield populated by some amply endowed acting talents. New Yorker Mathias (Kevin Kline), who grew up privileged with a “silver knife” in his maw, got little else from his deceased, estranged father than a Paris apartment in the coveted Marais district. But his real estate dreams are quashed when it turns out to be a “viager,” a quirk of French law that allows the former owner — in this case, worldly elder Mathilde (Maggie Smith) — to continue dwelling in the property long after the sale, collecting monthly payments from the purchaser until her death. Penniless, troubled Mathias can barely afford those payouts, much less cope with Mathilde’s daughter, Chloe (Kristin Scott Thomas), in this wearily paced dramedy that turns out to be more sour — and dourily serious — than saucy. One is forced to fantasize: What would Smith’s Violet Crawley do, or better yet, say, about this effort, which makes Downton Abbey look like the picture of crisply edited moviemaking modernity? (1:47) Clay. (Chun)

No Good Deed A sinister man (Idris Elba) terrorizes a mother (Taraji P. Henson) and her kids in this crime thriller, helmed by Elba’s frequent Luther director Sam Miller. (1:24) Shattuck.

The Pirates Beautiful, badass pirate Yeo-wol (Son Ye-jin) leads a mutiny against her ship’s cruel captain (Lee Geung-young) at sea. Meanwhile, on land, an outspoken soldier (Kim Nam-gil) battles his own cruel commander (Kim Tae-woo) before escaping into the hills and remaking himself as a semi-successful bandit known as “Crazy Tiger.” These worlds crash together in Lee Seok-hoon’s lavish CG extravaganza, set during a time in Korea’s history when leadership was so unstable, the loss of a royal seal could mean certain chaos — and it does, when a whale gobbles up said golden symbol when it topples overboard. Racing to retrieve it, for various reasons, are the four parties described above, with cross-clashes between all involved. There are savage sword fights; explosive chase scenes through seaside villages; hair and make-up that would make Captain Jack Sparrow swoon (and exaggerated acting that makes latter-day Johnny Depp look subtle); fiercely denied romantic attractions; heroes diving away from explosions and villains howling to the heavens; and epic arguments over which brand of outlaw — pirate or bandit? — is tougher. Very silly indeed. But also, it must be said, very fun. (2:09) Century 20 Daly City. (Eddy)

Second Opinion The emphasis should be on “Opinion” in the title of this doc directed by Burzynski (2010 and 2013) maker Eric Merola, who seems to be building a career on movies about cancer-treatment controversies. Here his hero with an ax to grind is Ralph W. Moss, a science writer working in public relations at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center in the ’70s, who discovers a cover-up concerning laetrile research. The single-source effect, however, of relying primarily on Moss’ on-camera interviews to carry this project — and the lack of current voices willing to weigh in with, surprise, second opinions — makes it feel less like a fully-realized, thoughtfully-balanced film and more like a inadequately reported TV newsmagazine segment. (1:15) Roxie. (Chun)

The Skeleton Twins See “Falling Apart Together.” (1:33)

Take Me to the River Memphis is a battered, gracious lady of a music town and she deserves her due, though she doesn’t get it in this well-meaning yet unfocused doc in need of a deep edit. Directed by veteran musician-turned-filmmaker Martin Shore, Take Me to the River lifts its name from a song by the otherwise-ignored Memphis denizen Al Green and hangs its hat in the city so pivotal in the birth of the blues, R&B, soul, and rock ‘n’ roll, under the pretense of witnessing the making of an album that brings together music makers new and old. Among them are unsung lights like songwriter William Bell and guitarist Charles “Skip” Pitts, icons like Bobby “Blue” Bland, and rappers (including Snoop Dogg). Overseeing the project are North Mississippi Allstars band mates and brothers Luther and Cody Dickinson, in tribute to their dad, producer Jim Dickinson. We do get a taste of the love, respect, and long history between, say, Mavis Staples and the Dickinson brudders, but somewhere along the way, River removes itself away from the making of the record and gets drawn into the dramatic vortex centered on the rise and tragic fall of Stax Records, intertwining it with the Civil Rights era — although considering the muddy explication surrounding the label’s demise, Shore appears ill-equipped to piece out its tale. Mucking it up further are sporadic appearances by star narrator Terrence Howard, whose weak smooth-jazz performance is given way too much play. (1:35) Embarcadero, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Chun)

ONGOING

As Above, So Below (1:40) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness.

Boyhood Believe the hype: Richard Linklater’s Boyhood is one of the best films of the year. It’d be a towering cinematic accomplishment in any year. By now, you’ve heard the set-up, which borrows elements from Linklater’s Before films, as well as his coming-of-age dramas (1993’s Dazed and Confused in particular). He filmed his cast — including titular youth Ellar Coltrane, Lorelai Linklater as his older sister, and Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke as his divorced parents, on and off over 12 years — with scenes touching on moments both monumental (high-tension moments with ugly stepfathers) and microscopic (the creation of a perfect campfire s’more). The years flow by, signaled not by any obvious gestures like on-screen text, but by changing hairstyles, pop culture references, and evolving video-game consoles. Watching Coltrane’s Mason grow from arrowhead-obsessed tyke to thoughtful college freshman is a rare and remarkable pleasure; among the more experienced actors, Arquette is particularly moving as a fiercely loving single mom determined to advance in her career despite continual, mountain-sized roadblocks in her personal life. (2:40) Embarcadero, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

Calvary John Michael McDonagh made a splashy cinematic entree both writing and directing 2011’s acerbic The Guard, which starred Brendan Gleeson as a willfully perverse small-town cop. Filmmaker and actor are back with Calvary, a film just as good, in which Gleeson’s priest is the discreetly gruff moral center of a coastal Irish hamlet that surely would have none otherwise. His parishioners are all skeptics, heretics, nonbelievers, and blatant sinners — cast members include Chris O’Dowd, Aidan Gillen, and Brendan’s real-life son Domnhall — who take particular pleasure in ridiculing the uprightness of this one man no one has a legitimate gripe against, save resentment. As if all this weren’t enough, at Calvary‘s start, an unseen confessor tells James he was abused for years by a (now-dead) Catholic priest, and as recompense will kill his current, admittedly blameless confessor in a week’s time. This set-up would appear entirely, absurdly skewed if not for the gravitational center Gleeson provides; he single-handedly provides the sincere if faint hope of redemption in a scenario that otherwise provides every possible indication of damnation for all. Calvary centrally addresses the question of faith while ultimately dodging the answer. I’d appreciate McDonagh’s ambivalence more if he weren’t quite so pleased about it. He’s got extraordinary taste, no doubt — from its editorial pace to its costume and soundtrack choices, this movie is curated within an inch of too-much-ness. But beyond his understandable disillusionment with the Catholic Church’s crimes, does he truly care about morality, or is it just an authorial chew-toy? (1:45) Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Chef Not to take anything away from the superhero crew, but Chef feels like the closest thing to a labor of love from writer, director, and star Jon Favreau in many a day. As a director, he may have been making doughnuts — fun-filled and teeming with CGI eye candy, but doughnuts nevertheless — when it came to effects-driven blockbusters like 2008’s Iron Man, but this well-meaning play for the heart, by way of the stomach, shows you where Favreau’s head is really at. Chef revolves around Carl Casper (Favreau), a onetime food star, now reduced to serving up predictable crowd-pleasers at the behest of his restaurant’s overbearing owner (Dustin Huffman). It takes the barbs of an influential critic (Oliver Platt) — and an ensuing Twitter war — to set Carl off and send him away on his own, at the coaxing of his glam ex Inez (Sofia Vergara). Hooked up with a dilapidated food truck and former kitchen staffer Martin (John Leguizamo), and aided by ably Tweeting son Percy (Emjay Anthony), Carl ties his dreams — and lost passion — to the classic Cuban sandwich. The ensuing road trip from Miami to LA, and Carl’s journey toward self and a renewed relationship with his son, is a fun (if, in the end, a bit too speedily sketched) vault through the joys of eating your way through America’s new culinary heartland. Amid the volley of sign-of-the-times social-media swinging and cameos by the uncostumed Robert Downey Jr., Scarlett Johansson, and the like, Favreau’s main dish is that a family that eats, cooks, and runs a business together, stays together — child labor laws or no. (1:55) SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Chun)

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes As usual, a heady hybrid of anticipation and dread accompanies all Planet of Apes installments: you brace yourself for the abused, righteously rebellious apes; the apocalyptic mise-en-scène laden with symbolism; and more overt messaging concerning animal testing, civil rights, and gun control. But why worry? In line with 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes, the PG-13 high-fives go to new Apes director Matt Reeves (2008’s Cloverfield) for sparing us animal kills, gore, and graphic violence, despite its Dawn of the Dead-evoking title. Really, this Dawn is all about the bitterly fought beginnings of a civilization among the primates north of the Golden Gate Bridge in Muir Woods, complete with community building, social structure, and alas, a burgeoning war with the humanoids amid vaguely familiar SF ruins, setting off an epic showdown that challenges not only the oft-repeated commandment “ape shall not kill ape” but takes advantage of our anthropomorphized pals’ ability to swing with the C4 explosions. The viral drug ALZ 113 that led to super-intelligent primates like chimp hero Caesar (motion-captured Andy Serkis) has decimated the human population, leaving the field wide open for enterprising and vengeful creatures like scarred lab survivor Koba (motion-captured Toby Kebbell). Neither quite trusts the band of desperate human survivors — including friendly Jason Clarke, nurturing Keri Russell, and token asshole Kirk Acevedo — that ventures into the apes’ woods to harness the power of nature, namely a dam, to electrify their SF compound. You know what side of the evolutionary span we’re on when the humans seem much more interchangeable than the chimps, and the movie can barely wait to end on its contemporary version of a Touch of Evil (1958) crane shot, as it zooms to an extreme close-up of a certain chimp’s carefully crafted eyes. (2:10) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

The Expendables 3 Patrick Hughes — the guy tapped to helm the remake of 2011’s The Raid — directs a cast of thousands (more or less) in this third installment of Sylvester Stallone’s retro action franchise. By now, the Expendables movies have their formula down, not that it was particularly original to begin with, and all the marks are duly hit in part three: sinister bad guy (Mel Gibson — a solid choice, since who doesn’t love to hate him?) angers mercenary Barney (Stallone) and his team of graying, gun-wielding, shit-talking badasses (Jason Statham, Dolph Lundgren, Randy Couture, and Terry Crews). Revenge is sought, bullets fly, buildings explode, a government operative sticks his nose in (here, it’s Harrison Ford), and Arnold Schwarzenegger shows up to save the day. Fortunately, Expendables business as usual also happens to be stupidly enjoyable, especially with the addition of a just-out-of-prison (onscreen and off) Wesley Snipes. There are also fun roles for Antonio Banderas, Kelsey Grammar, and Robert Davi, but the crew’s next-generation recruits (rebel Kellen Lutz, hacker Glen Powell, weapons master Victor Ortiz, and ladybro Ronda Rousey) seem rather unnecessary. Isn’t the point of these movies to remind us that old guys still rule? (2:07) Metreon. (Eddy)

Frank Who doesn’t want to be a musical savant, visually riveting, naturally gifted, freed from convention, and liberated of linear thought? The exception might be the doll-headed, damaged namesake of this comedy loosely inspired by the life of late English musician and comedian Frank Sidebottom (real name: Chris Sievey), and real-life Sidebottom sideguy Jon Ronson, who co-wrote the screenplay. And if this loving, very funny, bromantic take on the so-called creative process of rock seems a bit forced at times, that’s only because the movie is so clearly filtered through the archetypal wannabe, made likable by Domhnall Gleeson. His office worker Jon is struggling to write songs when he stumbles across a band, Soronprfbs, after watching their keyboard player attempt to drown himself at the beach. Manager Don (Scoot McNairy) taps the bystander to contribute to the chaos happening onstage, then drags him off for the making of the album. Mysterious leader Frank (Michael Fassbender), who never takes off his massive, faux-happy head, finds inspiration in threads protruding from upholstery. As Jon’s nest egg gets sucked into the recording budget and theremin player Clara (Maggie Gyllenhaal) rages against the interloper, he posts the band’s, er, artistry to YouTube, obtaining the group a coveted gig at South by Southwest. But who really wants this shot at fame? The sideman with a will to power, or the damaged true talent? Director Lenny Abrahamson and Ronson wisely place Frank squarely in the viral video/GIF/Vine-poisoned multiplatform miasma of today, put across all the more powerfully by Gleeson and particularly Fassbender, who reveals a fine singing voice. While cleverly referencing outsider artists big and small by way of right-on original songs by Stephen Rennicks, Frank asks vital questions about motivation and art-making in an era when it seems like everyone is getting their 15 minutes of fame — and we’re getting increasingly weary of eyeballing it and filtering the wheat from the gone-in-a-nanosecond chaff. Some make music because they want to be stars, while others, Frank says, do it because they have little other choice. (1:34) Opera Plaza. (Chun)

The Giver Lois Lowry’s classic YA novel gets a veteran helmer for its big-screen adaptation, but Philip Noyce’s ability to attract top adult talent (Meryl Streep, Jeff Bridges) can’t outweigh his heavy-handed interpretation of what was never a subtle work to begin with. In a vaguely post-apocalyptic society so regulated and dulled that nobody has emotions or empathy, a young man named Jonas (Maleficent‘s Brenton Thwaites, bumped up in age from the book’s 11-year-old) is tasked with becoming the “receiver of memories.” Basically this means that he gets to hang out with Bridges’ character and learn things about the world and human history in the form of Koyaanisqatsi-meets-National Geographic montages (music — it’s a thing! Also: war is hell, etc.) This is life-changing stuff, but part of the deal is that he must never, ever tell anyone else about it, at least until he’s as grizzled as Bridges and has his own successor in need of a thorough mind-blowing. Of course, he immediately loops in pretty BFF Fiona (Odeya Rush), who he’s been seeing in a new light since catching wind of a concept called “love.” Soon, his awakening draws the ire of his mother-esque guardian (Katie Holmes), as well as the community’s leader (Streep). If you’re looking for suspense, or any curve balls (duuuude … once Jonas’ mind starts expanding, he starts seeing the black-and-white world in color!), best backtrack to one of Noyce’s 1990s thrillers (1992’s Patriot Games, perhaps). About the only surprise in The Giver is that Taylor Swift’s much-hyped role is smaller than expected, and not nearly as distracting. (1:40) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Eddy)

Guardians of the Galaxy The trailer that nearly broke the internet didn’t lie: Guardians of the Galaxy is cheeky, hilarious, eye-popping fun. Its plot may be a predictable anti-hero’s journey, but the saga of Peter “Star-Lord” Quill (Chris Pratt), half-Earthling, half maybe-alien, as he transforms from scavenging scoundrel to rescuer-of-the-universe is so enjoyable nobody seeking a good time at the movies will care. Helping Quill in his battle against baddie Ronan (Lee Pace) are slinky, green-skinned Gamora (Zoe Saldana); rascally raccoon Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper); muscle-bound dim bulb Drax (former pro wrestler Dave Bautista); and a tree-like creature named Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel — his best performance in years, if ever, despite the fact that the only words the character ever utters are “I am Groot.”) Director and co-writer James Gunn (2010’s Super), working from a cult comic from the prolific house of Marvel, does a stellar job balancing action and goofiness, with plenty of unexpected touches along the way, including the best use of 1970s soft-rock since Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Cherish (2002). (2:02) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

The Hundred-Foot Journey Don’t watch Lasse Hallström’s latest film on an empty stomach. Under the film’s rich layers of mouthwatering food closeups and stunning shots of France (which, admittedly, occasionally threaten to steal the show), The Hundred-Foot Journey is a simple feel-good movie, akin to your favorite comfort food. The Kadam family spices up the South of France when they open an Indian restaurant just 100 feet away from a formidable competitor: a ritzy place owned by Madame Mallory (Helen Mirran). Papa (Om Puri) and eldest son Hassan (Manish Dayal) don’t back down when the heat gets turned up. It’s easy to get caught up in Hassan’s optimism, so the film is predictable (even managing to sprinkle a bit of romance in), but not cheesy. The score is the final icing on the cake, but it’s impossible to expect anything less from Slumdog Millionaire (2008) composer A.R. Rahman. (2:02) Balboa, 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre, Sundance Kabuki. (Amy Char)

If I Stay Place If I Stay alongside The Fault in Our Stars, and wonder: Is the time right to begin to define the tweepie, or teenage weepie? If I Stay speaks to the emo girl snifflers and intimate tween dystopians in the crowd, though it’s not compelling enough to make them forget to check their texts mid-movie. Excruciatingly shy cello prodigy Mia (Chloë Grace Moretz) is the oddball in her happy rocked-out family (mom and dad are Mireille Enos and Joshua Leonard). Her underlying, relatable dilemma: Should she should reach for her Juilliard dreams or stick close to her Portland, Ore., home to be with her own budding rock star boyfriend Adam (Jamie Blackley, he of the dilated wooden gaze)? But fate intervenes, as a head-on car accident slams Mia into a coma and into an out-of-body battle over deeper questions concerning survival, identity, or simply, as her punk drummer dad might quip, should she stay or should she go? Further, how to depict this without reducing Mia’s out-of-body spirit to Alice in Flashbackland, sprinting comically through hospital halls? One would think she’d run into a stray family member or two on their way to the light, but alas, If I Stay never rises to the occasion — or imaginative possibilities — and its multiple flashbacks and disembodied interludes add an ungrounded, talky sheen to the overall earnestness. Perhaps unfairly, the efforts by documentarian R.J. Cutler, working with Gayle Foreman’s popular YA novel, pale in comparison to, say, the far more psychedelic Enter the Void (2009), with its traumatic crash crash, shattered family, and wandering protagonist. Unlike that film, however, there’s never any question where If I Stay‘s heart lies: In the all-too-familiar construct of suburban America, rather than an ecstatic afterworld. (1:47) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre. (Chun)

The Identical I love sinking my incisors into a meaty Elvis Presley fantasy as much as the next rock ‘n’ roller, but the collision of semitransparent ulterior motives and agendas going down in this off-key independent ain’t nothing but distracting. What if the Pelvis’s twin brother had lived? What if an earnest impersonator turned out to be something more than a great pretender? How does Christianity stand alongside Zionism — or the power of the King beside the potency of a pathetic wig? Here, Ryan Wade (Blake Rayne, aka Elvis impersonator Ryan Pelton) has a fire burning within for proto-rock, blues, R&B, and honkytonk — he’s just not cut out to follow in the footsteps of his passionate preacher dad Reece (Ray Liotta). Instead, help from his drummer friend Dino (Seth Green) and encouragement from his dream-girl-turned-perfect-wife Jenny (Erin Cottrell) leads the earnest Ryan to enter a tribute contest dedicated to the late-period-Elvis-esque Drexel “The Dream” Hemsley (also played by Rayne). Is it a coincidence that Ryan so closely looks and sounds like Drexel? Despite the good faith acting chops brought to the enterprise by Liotta, Ashley Judd, and Joe Pantoliano, the effort is largely wasted, thanks to a flabby script by pop fantasist Howard Klausner, stale music-biz play-by-plays by first-time director Dustin Marcellino, and the painfully non-period, poorly written music and off-point production. When the ’60s-era “Dream” — not to be confused with The-Dream — croons a tune that’s closer in style to ’80s Lionel Richie than “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” rock’s true believers will be scratching their noggins in disbelief, wondering why anyone would even bother making a Cross and the Switchblade version of the Elvis myth. (1:47) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Innocence (1:36) 1000 Van Ness, SF Centre.

The Last of Robin Hood Richard Glatzer and Wash Westmoreland’s The Last of Robin Hood is one of those movies that should be great, given the material and talent on tap, but instead falls flat for nearly intangible reasons. For much of his career, movie star Errol Flynn (Kevin Kline) flourished in a series of Westerns, war movies, and exotic adventures, until audiences tired of his ever-more routine exploits — and the highly public roué reputation that ballasted them offscreen. Late in his life, he met aspiring dancer-singer-actor Beverly Aadland (Dakota Fanning). According to this film’s version of events, he’d already seduced her before realizing that she was actually just a very precocious 15-year-old — carefully groomed to look older by Florence Aadland (Susan Sarandon), a onetime dancer who projected her own ambitions on her daughter. When Mrs. Aadland realizes that their relationship is hardly innocent, she’s furious. But she’s vain and flattered enough to fall for the star’s charm offensive. Kline is a resourceful actor whose characterization is ingenious and layered, but it still falls into that category of celebrity impersonation, which always feels a bit like a clever stunt. (He’s somewhat upstaged by Sarandon, who nails the comedy and pathos of terminal celebrity aspiration.) The Last of Robin Hood also feels constrained budget-wise — and while you can get the heady mixture of glamour, melancholy, barbed humor, and romance that the writer-directors were going for, it always falls a little short. As with so many Hollywood biopics, a great real-life story feels diminished onscreen, the legend still more potent than the dramatized re-creation. (1:30) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

A Letter to Momo Morbid obsessions — and the ghouls and goblins of Japanese ghost stories — are rarely as sweet as they are in A Letter to Momo, the second hand-drawn animated film directed by Hiroyuki Okiura (1999’s Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade). Shy tween Momo is tagging along on her mother’s journey home to an island on Japan’s Inland Sea, but even that remote, beauteous locale can’t dissipate Momo’s sorrow and guilt about the death of her father, who she fought with just before he passed. She doesn’t realize that she’s being followed as well — by three water droplets or spirits that assume the grotesque forms of an Edo-era ghostly manga. Only Momo can see and hear these mischievous, forever-hungry visitors, who put the “gobble” in “goblin,” steal pudding and produce, and are likely the only guardians in the galaxy weaponized with cannon-blast flatulence. The spirits’ goofy shenanigans, rather than the neighborhood kids’ diving adventures, succeed in distracting Momo from her last message from her father — an unfinished letter with simply the words “Dear Momo” — and her own neglect. Layering his tender-hearted story with creepy-crawlies, scatological humor, and a palpable humanity, Okiura turns what could have been a sentimental journey into something more sprawling, freakier, and friendlier than one would ordinarily find on a hometown visit — or a feature-length anime exploring grief. (2:00) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Chun)

Love is Strange Ben (John Lithgow) and George (Alfred Molina) have been together four decades, so it’s a big celebration for their extended family of friends and relations when they finally, legally get hitched. But news of the marriage reaches the archdiocese in charge of the Catholic high school where George teaches music, and while he’s hardly been in the closet at work or anywhere else, this supposed gesture of public defiance against church doctrine gets the beloved instructor fired. With Ben a not-particularly-successful painter, and George now looking for a new job, the couple can now no longer afford to pay the mortgage on the Manhattan co-op apartment they’ve lived in for 20 years (but only owned for five). Finding an affordable new place is near-impossible. So the pair find themselves split up, forced to crash under different roofs and awkward circumstances. Ben moves in with his workaholic nephew (Darren Burrows), unwittingly heightening tensions with his author wife (Marisa Tomei) and especially their moody teenage son (Charlie Tahan), who deeply resents having to share his bedroom. George lands on the couch of a younger gay couple, two cops (Cheyenne Jackson, Manny Perez) who are very nice but have an active social life that robs him of privacy and sleep. This latest from ever-more-excellent Ira Sachs (2012’s Keep the Lights On), its near-flawless screenplay co-written with Mauricio Zacharias, is a widely relatable drama about precisely observed human nature and increasingly inhumane economic realities. It’s also easily one of the best US films 2014 is likely to offer. Might as well start filling out your Oscar ballots, because this movie is definitely going to be a contender. (1:38) Embarcadero, Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Lucy Eurotrash auteur Luc Besson’s latest is a mostly fun action fantasy about a party girl (Scarlett Johansson) who runs afoul of gangsters in Taipei and ends up with a leaking packet of futuristic drugs sewn into her shapely stomach. Side effects include super strength and supernatural intelligence — insert pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo about tapping into 100 percent of one’s woefully underused brainpower, etc. etc. — which leads to some satisfying scenes in which Johansson’s Lucy flattens a hallway of cops with a single gesture, or filters through every phone conversation in the Paris metro area to find the one guy she needs to eavesdrop on. She’s also able to beam herself into electronic devices, a nifty trick that convinces kindly scientist Morgan Freeman to help download her magnificently advanced intelligence into a kind of living computer (shades of 2013’s Her and Under the Skin, except this time ScarJo’s wearing a really great dress). South Korean weirdo/superstar Choi Min-sik (2003’s Oldboy; 2010’s I Saw the Devil) is an inspired choice to play the vengeful kingpin intent on tracking down his runaway mule, and Besson adds some arty flair via nature-show footage and Cosmos-esque clips from beyond the infinite — though the film’s Big Ideas wobble precariously amid its other, mostly silly elements. (1:29) Metreon. (Eddy)

Magic in the Moonlight Woody Allen’s latest — after last year’s vodka-drenched Cate Blanchett showcase Blue Jasmine — offers a return to period romance á la 2011 smash Midnight in Paris. Instead of Owen Wilson time-traveling through the artsy 1920s, we get winsome 1920s clairvoyant Sophie (Emma Stone, 25 years old) falling for the skeptic who’s sent to debunk her, played by Colin Firth (who’s 53). Firth’s performance is easily the best part of Magic in the Moonlight; his Stanley Crawford is a theatrical conjurer famed for his yellowface act, in which he solemnly makes elephants disappear. Off-stage, he’s a self-proclaimed genius regarded by most who meet him as a pompous jerkface. When he’s summoned to the South of France to help a longtime friend and fellow magician (Simon McBurney) prove that Sophie — from humble origins, she’s grown fond of high-society living — is hoodwinking the fancy American family that’s taken her in, nothing unfolds as he expects. The whole exercise is lighter than meringue; it’d be passable as lesser Allen except for that obvious, comically huge age gap between the leads. He knows we disapprove, and he does not care. Are you trolling us, Woody? (1:40) SF Centre. (Eddy)

A Most Wanted Man Director Anton Corbijn’s film may not be the greatest John le Carré adaptation in recent years (see: 2011’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy), but it’s still a solid thriller, anchored by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s turn as Günther Bachmann, the once-bitten-but-not-yet-shy head of an top-secret branch of Germany’s FBI/CIA equivalent. Its task: spying on Hamburg’s Islamic groups, where the 9/11 attacks were planned, though the enemies that Bachmann faces come mostly from within the greater intelligence community, including his superiors. Never before has the phrase “the Americans have taken an interest” been so chilling, especially to a guy who is just trying to do his job, if only everyone else (including Robin Wright as one of those meddling Americans) would keep their sticky mitts off his delicately planned surveillance operations. There’s a forward-moving plot, of course, about a Chechen-Russian illegal immigrant with a huge inheritance who might be a terrorist (Rachel McAdams plays his human-rights lawyer), but could also serve a greater purpose by helping bring down an even bigger target. And while A Most Wanted Man‘s twists and turns, involving Willem Dafoe as a banker who becomes a reluctant player in Bachmann’s scheme, are suspenseful, Hoffman’s portrayal of a man trapped in a constant maze of frustration — good intentions cut off at every turn, dumping booze into his morning coffee, breaking up a bar fight, ruefully admitting “I am a cave dweller,” visibly haunted by past errors — is the total package, a worthy final entry in a career that ended way too early. (2:02) Embarcadero. (Eddy)

No No: A Dockumentary Was Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Dock Ellis high on LSD when he threw his no-hitter June 12, 1970? We may openly debate it, while secretly hoping it’s true. But as No No aims to make clear, that exploit — flabbergastingly insane though it was — hardly sums up Ellis’ entire life and career. Jeff Radice’s film, bolstered by a funky score from Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz, strives to be a well-rounded portrait beyond Ellis’ rep as “the acid guy;” it’s filled with unguarded, honest interviews with both Ellis and scores of friends, family members, and former teammates, who trade necdotes with affection (“He always started shit,” chuckles a childhood friend). His contentious behavior on the field rarely extended to his teammates, with whom he shared deep bonds, particularly the 1971 Pirates team that won the World Series. That same year, the organization started Major League Baseball’s first all-minority lineup, with the outspoken, flamboyant Ellis as pitcher. His antics were usually motivated in the service of a greater cause — “He took stands,” a teammate remembers — and along the way, he become a media darling and one of baseball’s first pop-culture icons. After battling addictions for decades, he finally became sober prior to his 2008 death, though as No No suggests, this and his other accomplishments have taken a back seat to the one indiscretion that lifted him into the folk-hero pantheon. (1:40) Roxie. (Eddy)

The Notebook With her husband (Ulrich Matthes) off at the front and bombs raining down on Budapest in mid-1944, a young mother (Gyöngyvér Bognár) takes the desperate step of depositing twin sons (András and László Gyémánt) on the isolated rural doorstep of their grandmother (Piroska Molnár), in the hopes that they will have a better chance of surviving the war. It’s a desperate move because mother and daughter haven’t communicated in 20 years (it’s hinted the elder might’ve fatally poisoned the younger’s father), and this corpulent harridan is so mean that fearful villagers call her “the witch.” She calls the approximately 10-year-old boys “bastards” (we never do find out their actual names) and schools them into a brutal daily existence of beatings and hard farm labor that they take to with surprising, masochistic dedication. They even embark on their own ruthless program of “training” the body (to withstand pain and hunger) as well as the soul (to be pitilessly unsentimental), so they might survive in a foreign environ of extreme privation and near-universal hostility. This adaptation of late expat writer Agota Kristof’s classic 1986 novel would be an unwatchable catalog of horrors — has any movie featured so much vivid violence toward children? — if not handled with consummate skill by veteran Hungarian stage and film director János Szász. He balances the tale’s grotesque, cruel, ironic, historical, and allegorical qualities in imaginative cinematic terms that are often aesthetically beautiful without softening the novel’s bitter heart one whit. (1:44) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

November Man Get typecast much, Pierce Brosnan? Since stepping into the polished footwear of Remington Steel and then James Bond, the actor has exuded such a consistently tidy, civilized bonhomie that it’s tough to believe there’s a seriously unhinged, deadly weapon of a psychopath within, ready to thrash Eurotrash sketch artists at the faintest threat to his offspring, à la Liam Neeson. So look at November Man as a refreshing, if imperfect, departure for Brosnan, who plays a hard-drinking bad man of sorts, who finds himself on the wrong side of former cohorts in the CIA as the bodies pile in slow motion. It wasn’t always so for Peter Devereaux (Brosnan) as we open on the scene of a possible assassination; his sniper partner-in-training Mason (Luke Bracey) is impulsively headstrong and accidentally shoots a child, and Devereaux schools him, hard. Years later, the latter has retired to Lausanne when old boss Hanley (Bill Smitrovich) drags him back in, dangling an old flame who wants to be pulled out of her dangerous role spying on Russian presidential candidate Federov (Lazar Ristovski). Out of a collision with old pupil Mason comes the name of a Chechen mystery woman who could be Federov’s undoing — and only social worker Alice (Olga Kurylenko) has any idea where she might be. Director Roger Donaldson (2008’s The Bank Job) spins November Man‘s twisted tale with a speed that will appeal to those with short attention spans — and an admiration for digital-age whistleblowers, though the brisk clip leaves one with more than a few questions concerning too swiftly dropped characters and story lines. Perhaps a December Man is needed to provide answers. (1:48) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Chun)

Sin City: A Dame To Kill For (1:38) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Years from now, film scholars will look back at these creatively bankrupt (if box office-rich) times and blame Michael Bay for many evils, including a garish Transformers series that won’t die. He also produces this theatrical reboot of a kiddie action series (currently enjoying a TV cartoon renaissance on Nickelodeon) that probably should’ve been left in the sewer after 2007’s TMNT — star Chris Evans thanks you for forgetting that even existed — or, even better, after revealing the secret of the ooze in the 1990s. But Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is here to stomp all over nostalgic goodwill, not to mention take advantage of CG advancements that render its heroes as “real” as pumped-up reptiles with weapons can be, with a 3D coating that does allegedly human but suspiciously plastic co-star Megan Fox no favors. If you can get past that eeriness, you won’t be rewarded for your efforts; the jokes are either unfunny or pointless (are we really still referencing the Lost finale?), and the plot is so insultingly predictable William Fichtner’s character might as well be named “Sinister Rich Guy.” May also contain: fart jokes, butt jokes, pizza. (2:00) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

The Trip to Italy Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon return as “Steve Coogan” and “Rob Brydon” in this sequel to Michael Winterbottom’s 2010 The Trip. Like its predecessor, the premise — a road trip for the purpose of a restaurant-reviewing gig — provides a loose framework upon which these two actor-comedians, portraying exaggerated, fictionalized versions of themselves, hang their easy banter and occasional deeper conversations. The midlife crisis themes are still apparent (Brydon meets a comely expat who tempts him into cheating on his wife, with whom he has a small child; Coogan feels regret over his distant relationship with his teenage son), which tie into career anxieties for both men; references to classic literature also hold over from the first film. Most importantly, also like the first film, The Trip to Italy — blessed with all the gorgeous food and coastal landscapes the change of scenery suggests — is a riot. The impressions (lots of Godfather this time around) flow fast and furiously; while there’s nothing that can top the first film’s Michael Caine battle, it’s still a pleasure watching Brydon “converse” with a historical relic at Pompeii, or the duo’s joyous invocation of The Bounty (1984) during a brief boat journey. (1:55) Balboa, Embarcadero. (Eddy)

When the Game Stands Tall (1:55) Metreon, 1000 Van Ness. *

Under fire

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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culture@sfbg.com

FOOD AND DRINK If you’ve ever tasted a fine mezcal, you know it’s a special thing. Bright, complex, spicy, smooth, smoky, minerally — mezcal is a spirit bursting with character. So it’s no wonder that after more than four centuries of distillation, it’s picked up its share of catchphrases. “Para todo mal, mezcal; para todo bien, también.” (For everything bad, mezcal; for everything good, the same.”) “Sip it, don’t shoot it.” “You don’t find mezcal; mezcal finds you.”

Mezcal seems to be finding a lot of people these days. In San Francisco, restaurants like Loló, La Urbana, and Nopalito — even Magnolia’s Smokestack, a brewery and BBQ spot — have lengthy lists of some of the world’s best mezcals, while cocktail bars would be hard-pressed to not have at least one mezcal drink on the menu. “It’s slow food, made the artisanal way, the way it’s always been made,” says Judah Kuper, a Coloradan who runs the brand Mezcal Vago with his friend and his father-in-law in Oaxaca, the southern Mexican state in which the bulk of all mezcal is made.

Produced in the traditional manner, the way Kuper’s fifth-generation maestro mezcalero father-in-law makes it, mezcal is an expression of true beauty—its basic ingredients quite literally earth, fire, and water. A predecessor to tequila (which is technically a type of mezcal, with its own protected denomination of origin), mezcal is essentially any distillate of the agave plant — although it can only be labeled as such if it’s made in one of eight designated Mexican states.

Its makers (mezcaleros) hand-harvest the heart (piña) of the agave (maguey, as it’s more commonly known in Mexico), roast it underground in earthen pits, crush it by hand or with a beast-drawn millstone, ferment its fibers and juices in wooden vats with airborne yeasts and water, and distill it in clay or copper stills, where it eventually drips off at about 45-55 percent alcohol by volume. These farmyard palenques are small operations, and many of their mezcaleros produce only a few hundred liters per year, making for a very unique and rare product, each batch different from the last.

Today, you can still buy extremely complex, completely organic, artisanally crafted mezcal on the roadside in Oaxaca for a few dollars a bottle. But that may not last forever.

GROWING PAINS

San Francisco’s Raza Zaidi has only been selling his Wahaka Mezcal brand since 2010, yet he’s seen his sales double year over year, and now he can hardly keep up with the demand. His spirits come in at an easier-to-imbibe 40-42 percent alcohol, making them a smooth entry point for those just dipping their toes into the mezcal world, but they still handily hold their own against the more potent stuff.

In the next year, he expects to ship about 32,000 bottles of five different types of mezcal from Wahaka’s palenque in San Dionisio Ocotepec, Oaxaca, all overseen by one maestro mezcalero, an equal partner in the company, who also grows all of his own maguey. Demand outpacing supply is a good problem for any business to have, but Zaidi is concerned nonetheless.

“There’s definitely [an agave] crisis right now. So at the end of this year, we’re going to have to buy from other farmers,” he admits. “The demand and growth was way larger than we expected.”

Mezcal is artisanal by nature, so it isn’t easy scale up. Agave — even its most common, cultivatable espadín variety — needs a minimum of seven years to mature. Some wild species can take upwards of 25 years to ripen, and their management and harvest-rights allocation usually fall to the tiny rural communities on whose property those plants lie.

Over centuries, mezcal’s legacy has been sustainably built around a spiritual and ecological balance of only harvesting what you need, when you need it (for weddings, festivals, funerals, the todo bien and the todo mal) — not for industrial production. But that hasn’t stopped large-scale spirits companies from trying. Bacardi just added Zignum, Oaxaca’s biggest factory producer of mezcal, to its distribution portfolio. Jose Cuervo is rumored to be following suit. And if that doesn’t sound bad enough, Toby Keith (who presumably didn’t get the “sip it, don’t shoot it” memo) has his own mezcal brand called Wild Shot, whose marketing team frequently employs the hashtag #BLAMEITONTHEWORM.

THIRSTY FOR MAGUEY

Drive through the mountains an hour or two outside of Oaxaca City, and you wouldn’t know that an agave shortage is afoot. Agave is seemingly everywhere — lining the roads in clusters, poking out of craggy hillsides, and planted row upon row in fields. But people on the ground there tell a different story.

My tour guide described how each week more and more trucks from the country’s tequila-producing region have been coming down and carting away whatever maguey they can get their hands on, no matter the type or age. This practice not only defies tequila’s own rules and legal standards for production (that it only be made from blue Weber agave, and that it’s grown in Jalisco and some small areas of nearby states), it ravages many Oaxacans’ livelihoods and taxes the region’s immensely complex ecosystem, maybe irrevocably so.

Mezcal’s uptick in popularity isn’t insignificant to its own future, by any means, but the spirit only represents a one percent drip in the still of tequila’s massive 300 million-liter-per-year output. And last year China lifted its ban on tequila importation, spurring even more demand for the mystical maguey.

On a recent trip to visit his uncle, Salomon Rey Rodriguez, who employs an ancestral method of hand-mashing agave and distilling in small clay pots, Kuper noted, “I came around the corner and saw a whole mountainside of agave that had been wiped out by Jalisco the day before. The agave wasn’t even ripe, and that hillside represented what would have been five years of work for Tío Rey.”

While mezcal has made huge strides to shed its reputation as tequila’s “poor country cousin,” in the socio-political sense it still is. Oaxaca is one of Mexico’s poorest states, and the agave shortfall is pitting farmers and mezcaleros against themselves and their communities, forcing them to choose between selling off their agave to tequileros long before it should be harvested or letting their families go hungry.

“There is a nest of issues that boil down to the question of whether Mexico wants to copy the industrialized tequila industry or foster the growth of an industry and product line that expresses the diversity of the agriculture at its base, the many different ideas of the people making the mezcal, and provides a living to a wide swath of society,” says Max Garrone, who co-authors a blog called Mezcalistas with Susan Coss. On Sun/14 at Public Works, Garrone and Coss will host Mezcal: Mexico in a Bottle, which will serve as a tasting extravaganza and summit for all matters mezcal.

“We try to tell [mezcal’s] story on several levels,” says Coss, “How it is produced, the stories of the people producing it, what issues there are impacting the industry — all in the hope to get people to love mezcal and everything it stands for as much as we do.”

MEZCAL AT A CROSSROADS

So what can be done to combat the crisis? Reforestation seems like an obvious place to start. Wahaka not only bought a plot of land for that purpose, but also started a nonprofit, Fundación Agaves Silvestres (Foundation for Wild Agave), to further the cause. “Our philosophy is, if we’re taking away from the land, then let’s give back,” says Zaidi, who’ll be both pouring his mezcal and speaking about the spirit’s history on one of many panels at Mexico in a Bottle. Wahaka grows its typically wild madrecuixe and tobalá varieties from seed, and after a couple of years, replants them in the mountains during the rainy season, in accordance with the strict environmental conditions under which these plants naturally flourish.

“What this comes down to is supporting the artisanal producers,” says Rachel Glueck, a former San Francisco resident and Nopa employee, who is in the process of starting a socially conscious mezcal brand with her husband in Mexico. “Finding a way to help these small mezcaleros register their product and sell it would be huge, because if they’re doing that, then they’re not going to feel like they need to sell their maguey to these industrial companies to make some money.”

Mezcal is really at a crossroads, she says. “Tequila was originally an artisanal product, but it became industrialized, and you look at the quality of tequila — it’s mono-cropped, it’s full of pesticides, it’s cloned from clones of clones of clones, and now the agave is really weak.”

But for all of these artisanal producers, there’s still a kernel of hope when it comes to building a new model for mezcal’s sustainability. “We’re kind of fortunate to have the tequila industry to study,” says Kuper. “But at the same time, never have consumers been more aware of what they’re putting in their bodies and where it comes from.”

Mezcal: Mexico In a Bottle Sun/14, 3pm-7pm, $60. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com

Falling apart together

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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cheryl@sfbg.com

FILM “I don’t know … maybe we were doomed from the beginning,” muses Maggie (Kristen Wiig) at the start of The Skeleton Twins. It’s her voice-over, but the figure onscreen is her brother, Milo (Bill Hader), who mopes to Blondie before flopping into a bathtub that slowly fills with water and blood from his slashed wrists. The twins haven’t seen each other in over 10 years, and the ice takes awhile to break when Maggie appears at his hospital bedside. They’ve been separated by geography (he’s in LA; she still lives in their hometown of Nyack, New York) and lifestyle — recently separated from his most recent boyfriend, Milo’s on his way from being a struggling actor to simply being a failed one; Maggie’s a married dental hygienist whose life seems to be in perfect working order. Seems.

Of course, we share her secret: On the same day Milo was penning a suicide note — “See ya later,” with a smiley face — Maggie was on the verge of gobbling a handful of pills in order to make her own permanent exit. Her marriage, to perfectly oblivious Lance (Luke Wilson), is a snooze, and she’s been secretly been taking birth control despite his much-vocalized desire to have kids ASAP. She also hasn’t, ah, been entirely faithful. Clearly, these siblings have more in common than they realize. They’re both deeply miserable, unable to shake a troubled past that includes their beloved father’s suicide, a distant mother (Joanna Gleason) who prefers New Age clichés to honest communication, and the scandalous incident (involving Milo and his high school English teacher) that caused their estrangement.

There’s only one path for these sad sacks (since if one of ’em actually died, that would make this black comedy a little too black), so they set about trying to mend fences. Milo moves into Maggie’s Pottery Barn catalog of a house, and though the surroundings are twee suburbia, the mood is decidedly desperate. Milo’s former teacher (Modern Family‘s Ty Burrell) is still in town, still closeted, and still as confusing a figure to grown-up Milo as he was to teenage Milo. And Maggie is hardly a calming presence, having realized long ago that her husband is alllll wrong for her, despite the fact that he’s possibly the nicest, most understanding dude on the planet. It’s obvious — despite their frequent arguments, and the fact that both do some pretty terrible things — that the only bond in The Skeleton Twins that has any chance at repair is Milo and Maggie’s.

Produced by indie darlings Jay and Mark Duplass, and directed by Craig Johnson (whose co-writer, Mark Heyman, also co-wrote 2010’s Black Swan), The Skeleton Twins might veer too deeply into melodrama territory were it not for its restrained script, and its appealing cast. Saturday Night Live alums Wiig and especially Hader are mostly known for their comedic talents — we all saw Wiig give good pathos in 2011’s Bridesmaids, but it’s impressive to see the same actor who portrayed flamboyant club kid Stefon bringing depth to a more serious role. (Not to say that Skeleton is entirely grim; there’s an extended lip-sync sequence that fans of the soundtrack to 1987’s Mannequin will find difficult to resist. Plus, this is very much a family that uses sarcasm as a survival method … and, sometimes, nitrous oxide.)

It’s also gratifying to see a relationship movie that’s not solely focused on romance. In fact, the film’s message that squaring away one’s beef with the family members that matter most (once you’ve jettisoned those beyond all hope, like Maggie and Milo’s selfish, Sedona-dwelling mother) is an important step toward healing and finding-your-true-self-ness. And it just so happens that The Skeleton Twins is being released not long before the holiday that holds so much meaning for its protagonists: Halloween. Though many a family drama pivots around Christmas, The Skeleton Twins is a tad too smart for that, and far too aware of the ways life can sneak razor blades into its twists and turns. *

THE SKELETON TWINS opens Fri/12 in Bay Area theaters.

Racing for solutions

Michael Redmond

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September 9, 2014

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rebecca@sfbg.com

Although there are five seats on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors up for reelection this fall, incumbents face few contenders with the requisite cash and political juice needed to mount a serious challenge. The one race that has stirred interest among local politicos is the bid to represent District 10, the rapidly changing southeastern corner of San Francisco that spans the Bayview, Hunters Point, Visitacion Valley, Dogpatch, and Potrero Hill neighborhoods.

Sup. Malia Cohen, who narrowly beat an array of more than a dozen candidates in 2010, has raised way more money than her best-funded opponent, progressive neighborhood activist Tony Kelly, who garnered 2,095 first-place votes in the last D10 race, slightly more than Cohen’s, before the final outcome was determined by ranked-choice voting tallies.

For the upcoming Nov. 4 election, Cohen has received $242,225 in contributions, compared with Kelly’s $42,135, campaign finance records show. But Kelly, who collected the 1,000 signatures needed to qualify for the November ballot and qualified for public financing, has secured key progressive endorsements, including former Mayor Art Agnos, Assemblymember Tom Ammiano, Sups. David Campos and John Avalos, and the Potrero Hill Democratic Club.

Others who’ve filed to run for this office include Marlene Tran, a retired educator who has strong ties to families in the district, especially in Visitacion Valley, through her teaching and language-access programs (she’s known by kids as “Teacher Tran”); Shawn Richard, the founder of a nonprofit organization that offers workshops for youth to prevent gun violence; and Ed Donaldson, who was born and raised in Bayview Hunters Point and works on economic development issues. DeBray Carptenter, an activist who has weighed in on police violence, is running as a write-in candidate.

But the outcome in this dynamic district could be determined by more than campaign cash or political endorsements. That’s because the D10 supervisor faces the unique, unenviable challenge of taking on some of the city’s most intractable problems, which have disproportionately plagued this rapidly changing district.

Longstanding challenges, such as a high unemployment and crime rates, public health concerns, social displacement, and poor air quality, have plagued D10 for years. But now, fast-growing D10 is becoming a microcosm for how San Francisco resolves its growing pains and balances the interests of capital and community.

MIX OF CHALLENGES

While candidate forums and questionnaires tend to gauge political hopefuls on where they draw the line on citywide policy debates, such as Google bus stops or fees for Sunday parking meters, neighborhood issues facing D10 have particularly high stakes for area residents.

While other supervisors represent neighborhoods where multiple transit lines crisscross through in a rainbow of route markers on Muni maps, D10 is notoriously underserved by public transit. The high concentration of industrial land uses created major public health concerns. A Department of Public Health study from 2006 determined that Bayview Hunters Point residents were making more hospital visits on average than people residing in other San Francisco neighborhoods, especially for asthma and congestive heart failure.

Unemployment in D-10 hovers near 12 percent, triple the citywide average of 4 percent. Cohen told us efforts are being made on this front, noting that $3 million had been invested in the Third Street corridor to assist merchants with loans and façade improvements, and that programs were underway to connect residents with health care and hospitality jobs, as well as service industry jobs.

“The mantra is that the needle hasn’t moved at all,” Cohen noted, but she said things are getting better. “We are moving in the same downward trend with regard to unemployment.”

Nevertheless, the high unemployment is also linked with health problems, food insecurity — and violence. In recent months, D10 has come into the spotlight due to tragic incidents of gun violence. From the start of this year to Sept. 8, there were 13 homicides in D10.

Fourth of July weekend was particularly deadly in the Bayview and D10 public housing complexes, with four fatal shootings. Cohen responded with a press conference to announce her plan to convene a task force addressing the problem, telling us it will be “focused on preventing gun violence rather than reacting to it.”

The idea, she said, is to bring in expert stakeholders who hadn’t met about this topic before, including mental-health experts and those working with at-risk youth.

“I think we need to go deeper” than in previous efforts, Cohen said, dismissing past attempts as superficial fixes.

But Cohen’s task force plan quickly drew criticism from political opponents and other critics, including Sheriff Ross Mirkarimi, who dismissed it as empty rhetoric.

“How many people are cool with yet another task force?” Kelly said in a press statement challenging the move. “We can’t wait any longer to stem the deadly tide of violence in District 10. Supervisor Cohen’s task force won’t even propose solutions till 2017. We can’t wait that long.”

Kelly told us he’s formulated a five-point plan to tackle gun violence, explaining that it involved calling for a $10 million budget supplemental to bolster family services, reentry programs, job placement, and summer activities aimed at addressing poverty and service gaps. Kelly also said he’d push for a greater emphasis on community policing, with officers walking a beat instead of remaining inside a vehicle.

“How do you know $10 million is enough?” Cohen responded. “When you hear critics say $10 million, there is no way to indicate whether we’d need more or less.” She also took issue with the contention that her task force wouldn’t reach a solution soon enough, saying, “I never put a timeline on the task force.”

Cohen also said she wanted to get a better sense of where all of the past funding had gone that was supposed to have alleviated gun violence. “We’ve spent a lot of money — millions — and one of the things I am interested in doing is to do an audit about the finances,” she said.

She also wants to explore a partnership with the Guardian Angels, community volunteers who conduct safety patrols, to supplement policing. Cohen was dismissive of her critics. “Tony was not talking about black issues before this,” she said. “He hasn’t done one [gun] buyback. There’s no depth to what any of these critics are saying.”

Tran, who spoke with the Guardian at length, said she’d started trying to address rampant crime in Visitacion Valley 25 years ago and said more needs to be done to respond to recent shootings.

“There was no real method for the sizable non-English speaking victims to make reports then,” Tran wrote in a blog post, going on to say that she’d ensured materials were translated to Chinese languages to facilitate communication with the Police Department. “When more and more residents became ‘eyes and ears’ of law enforcement, community safety improved,” she said.

Richard, whose Brothers Against Guns has been working with youth for 20 years and organizing events such as midnight basketball games, said he opposed Cohen’s task force because it won’t arrive at a solution quickly enough. He said he thought a plan should be crafted along with youth advocates, law enforcement, juvenile and adult probation officers, and clergy members to come up with a solution that would bolster youth employment opportunities.

“I’ve talked with all 13 families” that lost young people to shootings this year, Richard said, and that he attended each of the funerals.

CHANGING NEIGHBORHOOD

Standing outside the Potrero Terrace public housing complex at 25th and Connecticut streets on a recent sunny afternoon, Kelly was flanked by affordable housing advocates clutching red-and-yellow “Tony Kelly for District Supervisor” campaign signs. The press conference had been called to unveil his campaign plan to bolster affordable housing in D10.

Pointing out that Cohen had voted “no endorsement” at the Democratic County Central Committee on Proposition G — the measure that would tax property-flipping to discourage real estate speculation and evictions — Kelly said, “This is not a time to be silent.”

While Cohen had accepted checks from landlords who appeared on the Anti-Eviction Mapping Project’s list of worst offenders for carrying out Ellis Act evictions, Kelly said he’s pledged not to accept any funding from developers or Ellis Act evictors. Asked if any had offered, Kelly responded, “Some. They’re not knocking down my door.”

Cohen told us that she hadn’t supported Prop. G, a top priority for affordable housing advocates, because she objected to certain technical provisions that could harm small property owners in her district. As for the contributions from Ellis Act evictors, she said the checks had been returned once the error was discovered. Her formal policy, she said, is not to intentionally take money from anyone involved in an Ellis Act eviction.

Speaking outside Potrero Terrace, Kelly said he thought all housing projects built on public land should make at least one-third of their units affordable to most San Franciscans. He also said renovation of public housing projects could be accelerated if the city loaned out money from its $19 billion employee retirement fund. Under the current system, funding for those improvements is leveraged by private capital.

Mold, pests, and even leaking sewage are well-documented problems in public housing. Dorothy Minkins, a public housing resident who joined Kelly and the others, told us that she’s been waiting for years for rotting sheetrock to be replaced by the Housing Authority, adding that water damage from her second-floor bathroom has left a hole in the ceiling of her living room. She related a joke she’d heard from a neighbor awaiting similar repairs: “He said, Christ will come before they come to fix my place.”

Lack of affordable housing is a sweeping trend throughout San Francisco, but it presents a unique challenge in D10, where incomes are lower on average (the notable exceptions are in Potrero Hill, dotted with fine residential properties overlooking the city that would easily fetch millions, and Dogpatch, where sleek new condominium dwellings often house commuters working at tech and biotech firms in the South Bay).

Home sale prices in the Bayview shot up 59 percent in two years, prompting the San Francisco Business Times to deem it “a hot real estate market adorned with bidding wars and offers way above asking prices.”

One single-family home even sold for $1.3 million. Historically, the Bayview has been an economically depressed, working-class area with a high rate of home ownership due to the affordability of housing — but that’s been impacted by foreclosures in recent years, fueling displacement.

Although statistics from the Eviction Defense Collaborative show that evictions did occur in the Bayview in 2013, particularly impacting African Americans and single-parent households, Cohen noted that evictions aren’t happening in D10 with the same frequency as in the Tenderloin or the Mission.

“When it comes to communities of color in the southeast, it’s about foreclosure or mismanagement of funds,” explained Cohen.

She said that a financial counseling services center had opened on Evans Street to assist people who are facing foreclosure, and added that she thought more should be done to market newly constructed affordable units to communities in need.

“There’s an error in how they’re marketing,” she said, because the opportunities are too often missed.

But critics say more is needed to prevent the neighborhood from undergoing a major transformation without input from residents.

“This district is being transformed,” Richard said. “A lot of folks are moving out — they’re moving to Vallejo, Antioch, Pittsburg. They don’t want to deal with the issues, and the violence, and the cost.”

At the same time, he noted, developers are flocking to the area, which has a great deal more undeveloped land than in other parts of the city.

“The community has no one they can turn to who will hold these developers accountable,” he said. “If the community doesn’t have a stake in it, then who’s winning?”

Taking a cue from SF, California Legislature bans plastic bags and offers paid sick leave

Sasha Cuttler

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September 2, 2014

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Taking a cue from SF, California Legislature bans plastic bags and offers paid sick leave

California lawmakers took two big steps forward last week, passing a statewide plastic bag ban and a measure providing workers with three sick days a year, both issues borrowed from San Francisco. California is the second state to pass each bill, with Hawaii banning plastic bags in January of this year and Connecticut enacting a similar sick leave measure in 2012.

Gov. Jerry Brown pushed hard for the paid sick leave measure, which barely made it through both houses after losing steam following an amendment that excluded in-home health care workers. Passing the plastic bag ban was also uncertain near the end, but it passed the Assembly with a 44-29 vote and then made it through the Senate by a 22-15 count.

“It took six years of advocacy and the building of a grassroots movement to make this happen,” California Director of Clean Water Action Miriam Gordon said in a statement about the plastic bag ban. “But with 121 local ordinances already on the books across California, our Legislature finally followed the will of the people.”

Brown was similarly thrilled about the passing of the sick leave bill, calling the legislation a “historic action to help hardworking Californians…This bill guarantees that millions of workers – from Eureka to San Diego – won’t lose their jobs or pay just because they get sick.”

San Francisco voters passed a similar measure in 2006 called the Paid Sick Leave Ordinance. The law, which made it through with 61 percent of the vote in the November election, requires all employers to provide paid sick leave to employees (including part-timers) working in the city.

The state sick leave bill that passed on Saturday was a notable achievement for labor advocates, but some Democrats weren’t thrilled about the amendments that gave in-home health workers the short end of the stick. Sen. Holly Mitchell (D-Los Angeles) called it “BS” and told The Sacramento Bee, “I resent the fact that we are picking between two sets of workers.”

Lawmakers passed a few other notable measures last week, including a bill regulating groundwater and a gun-restraining measure that would give judges the power to temporarily remove firearms from those deemed dangerous or mentally unstable. The shooting incident in Isla Vista at UC Santa Barbara in May prompted the bill, while California’s extreme drought pushed the groundwater measure forward. Many believe the state is long overdue in making progress on gun control.

The firearm measure is key in preventing many of the mass shootings that have plagued the country in recent years. Assemblywoman Nancy Skinner (D-Berkeley) noted, via the Los Angeles Times, that “none of those individuals had a criminal record or a criminal background. So we need tools such as this.”

Though it also took an extreme event to stimulate the groundwater regulation bill, the new legislation figures to make serious inroads in the effort to stop a drought that is affecting more than 80 percent of the state. If Brown signs off on the bill, making California the last western state with such regulation, the state would have the ability to enforce restrictions, and local governments would be required to develop groundwater regulations.

“A critical element of addressing the water challenges facing California involves ensuring a sustainable supply of groundwater,” said Assemblyman Roger Dickinson (D-Sacramento) in a statement. “Overdrafting our groundwater leads to subsidence and contamination — consequences we cannot afford.”

This Week’s Picks: September 3 – 9, 2014

Michael Redmond

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September 2, 2014

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WEDNESDAY 3

WestWave Dance Festival

In its 23rd year, the WestWave Dance Festival, now under the auspices of SAFEhouse for the Performing Arts, has come up with a simple but ingenious idea: Let the dance communities outside San Francisco step up to the plate on their own terms. While the opening and closing programs of this “Dance Around the Bay” festival throw the spotlight on young artists working in the city, the other three invited dancers from the North, East and South Bay to join in. A choreographer familiar with his or her home turf curated each of those programs. You can expect a mix of new voices — familiar ones, but also rarely heard ones such as those of Jose Limon and Donald McKayle, courtesy of the visitors from San Jose. (Rita Felciano)

Through Sun/7, 8pm, $10-20

Z Space

450 Florida, SF

(415) 626-0453

www.zspace.org

Bear In Heaven

It’s a band from Brooklyn, it’s named after a physically powerful woodland mammal, and it broke through in the late ’00s — around the same time as every other band that fits the former two descriptors. But Bear In Heaven is further out than nearly any of its indie-rock peers, incorporating influences from the gnarliest outskirts of psychedelia and prog rock. Upon listening to the band’s debut Red Bloom Of The Boom, you’ll more likely picture naked hippies running around in terror than well-dressed hipsters walking to the cronut stand. Though band members have taken a more pop approach following their magnum opus, 2010’s excellent Beast Rest Forth Mouth, this is still one of the best bands you can smoke a joint or an American Spirit to and still feel okay. (Daniel Bromfield)

8pm, $15

Independent

628 Divisadero, SF

(415) 771-1421

www.theindependentsf.com

THURSDAY 4

“ATA Lives!”

Gallery and screening venue Artists’ Television Access marks its 30th anniversary with “ATA Lives!”, a month of events honoring a long track record of unique, boundary-pushing, subversive programming. Tonight, the ball gets rolling with a program of works by current and past ATA staffers; tomorrow afternoon, buckle up for a 30-hour marathon curated by Other Cinema programmer and ATA co-founder Craig Baldwin, among others. The weekend closes out with a special edition of Mission Eye & Ear, a live-cinema series that facilitates collaborations between experimental filmmakers and composers. Check the website for a complete “ATA Lives!” schedule, including a Sept. 19 Baldwin double-feature. (Cheryl Eddy)

8pm, $7-10

Artists’ Television Access

992 Valencia, SF

www.atasite.org, www.othercinema.com

Eyes Wide: The Films of Stanley Kubrick

Thirteen films. That’s the total number of features Stanley Kubrick made — but though that number seems small for a career that spanned 1953 to 1999, the legendary perfectionist’s towering, astonishingly diverse filmography may be the ultimate example of “quality over quantity.” The Pacific Film Archive screens each film in chronological order, so it’s a great chance to check out lesser-screened early works (the series opens with a double-feature of 1953’s Fear and Desire and 1955’s Killer’s Kiss) as well as revisit favorites, if you can even choose one: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)? Dr. Strangelove (1964)? A Clockwork Orange (1971)? The Shining (1980)? All of the above? (Cheryl Eddy)

Through Oct. 31, $6.50-$9.50

Pacific Film Archive

2575 Bancroft, Berk.

www.bampfa.berkeley.edu

FRIDAY 5

The Sam Chase

Folk isn’t a genre usually associated with making audiences want to start a riot, but The Sam Chase isn’t your average folk outfit — if the first line of the band’s bio, “The Sam Chase has a voice like a nun on the lam with a mouthful of cigarettes and curse words,” didn’t tip you off already. Singer Sam Chase and his cast of five to seven backup players (on vocals, guitars, strings, horns, percussion, you name it) have been starting dance parties all over the Bay Area for the past half-decade, alternating whiskey-drinkin’ party songs with rough-around-the-edges lullabies. Equal parts sweet and salty (and just as addictive as that sounds), with fellow local fave Rin Tin Tiger as an opener, this lineup was a solid choice for the Mission Creek Oakland Music & Arts Festival’s opening night. (Emma Silvers)

With Rin Tin Tiger, TV Mike & the Scarecrowes, The Heather Jovanelli Band

8pm, free

Uptown Nightclub

1928 Telegraph, Oakl.

www.mcofest.org

SATURDAY 6

The Bruce Lee Band

Mike Park has been one of the most important figures in the Bay Area music scene since founding the legendary ska band Skankin’ Pickle in 1989. Since then, he’s been in countless bands, organized the Ska Against Racism tour, and started one of America’s most respected DIY labels in Asian Man Records. The Bruce Lee Band is an all-star outlet for Park’s musical ambitions, featuring members of several of his former bands in addition to members of MU330 and Bomb the Music Industry! They’ve only been active sporadically, releasing their self-titled debut in 1997 and following up with an EP in 2005 and this year’s EP, Community Support. The band’s upcoming Bottom of the Hill show is a can’t-miss chance to see one of the Bay Area rock scene’s true legends in action. (Bromfield)

9pm, $12

Bottom Of The Hill

1233 17th St, San Francisco

(415) 626-4455

www.bottomofthehill.com

Sugar Pie DeSanto at Hard French

What’s better than the Hard French DJs’ usual daytime soul party on the patio at El Rio? A Hard French soul party featuring a bona fide ’60s soul legend — namely, Sugar Pie DeSanto. Known for duets with Etta James and making a huge impression on audiences when she toured with Johnny Otis and James Brown in the ’50s, the 78-year-old diva is known as “Little Miss Dynamite” for her small stature and oversized charisma. She’s also the subject of a documentary that’s currently in progress, Bittersweet, which chronicles her life as one of the most successful Filipina-Americans in entertainment. Now’s your chance to see her — and boogie to her — before her name is on everyone’s lips. (Silvers)

5:30pm, $10-12

El Rio

3158 Mission, SF

(415) 622-5301

www.hardfrench.com

Drunk Dad

Portland may be known throughout the country as a place where the dream of the ’90s is alive and adorable, but Drunk Dad aims to change that perspective. Describing its style as “fuck-you-all-wave,” Drunk Dad is angry, wasted, and loud, representing Portland’s tradition of what guitarist Jose Dee calls “heavy fucking gnarly music.” Think of this band as John Belushi thundering down the frathouse stairs, smashing the well-worn acoustic guitars of anyone who dares to hang around and look sensitive in his presence. There are precedents to the band’s sound (Nirvana, The Melvins, Flipper) — but don’t make such comparisons to band members’ faces. Drunk Dad is a band that eschews nearly every hipster trend but (whether they like it or not) might find a few fans among the Portlandia crowd as well. (Bromfield)

7pm, $8

Oakland Metro

630 Third St., Oakl.

(510) 763-1146

www.oaklandmetro.org

SUNDAY 7

Dita Von Teese

Bringing back the sense of classic style and glamour of the golden days of Hollywood and meshing it with the tantalizing teasing of the old-time burlesque circuit, Dita Von Teese has been at the forefront of reviving a once nearly lost art form for two decades now. With a seductive and sexy nod to the past, modern pin-up and burlesque queen Von Teese returns to the city this week with the final local tour dates of her Burlesque: Strip, Strip, Hooray! show, a live revue featuring not only her own titillating talents, but a host of other performers as well. (Sean McCourt)

Through Mon/8

7:30pm, $45

The Fillmore

1805 Geary, SF

(415) 346-3000

www.thefillmore.com

Autumn Moon Festival

The Moon Festival, a holiday celebrated for more than 1,000 years in some Asian countries, is a time for reflection about the mythology of the Moon Goddess, Chang O, who is thought to regulate fertility, water supply, and other necessities for a successful autumn harvest. This two-day festival, now in its 24th year, is organized annually by the SF Chinatown Merchants Association, and features Taiko drumming, lion dancing, martial arts, an open-air street bazaar, traditional and contemporary Chinese music, and more. New this year: A dog costume contest, at 2:30pm today. We’re there. (Silvers) Begins Sat/6

11am – 5pm both days, free

Chinatown, SF

www.moonfestival.org

MONDAY 8

The Rentals

Despite being best known as a Weezer side project (singer Matt Sharp was the early-era bassist for indie titans), The Rentals have a quietly devoted — and large — fan base of their own, who’ve been eating up sweet melodies and goofy Moog-heavy tendencies since the band re-formed in 2005. After a slew of well-received EPs, this year’s Lost in Alphaville marks the band’s first full-length since 1999, and it basically overflows with guest stars — among them, Black Keys’ drummer Patrick Carney and Lucius’ Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig. One should expect to see a slew of diehards at this show, for good reason. (Silvers)

With Ozma

8pm, $20

Slim’s 333 11th St., SF

www.slimspresents.com

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Rep Clock: September 3 – 9, 2014

Michael Redmond

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September 2, 2014

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Schedules are for Wed/3-Tue/9 except where noted. Director and year are given when available. Double features marked with a •. All times pm unless otherwise specified.

ARTISTS’ TELEVISION ACCESS 992 Valencia, SF; www.atasite.org. $7-10. “OpenScreening,” work by ATA members past and present, Thu, 8. “ATA’s 30-Hour 30th Anniversary Marathon Screening,” works from ATA’s history of screening independent, underground, and experimental film and video, Fri, 1 through Sat, 7. Flatlands (Webber, 1985), with ATA co-founder Marshall Weber in person, Fri, 8.

BALBOA 3630 Balboa, SF; cinemasf.com/balboa. $10. “Thursday Night Rock Docs:” The Zen of Bennett (Moon, 2012), Thu, 7:30.

BAY MODEL 2100 Bridgeway, Sausalito; www.tiburonfilmfestival.com. Free. The Tinaja Trail (Newell, 2014), Tue, 6.

“BERNAL HEIGHTS OUTDOOR CINEMA” Various venues, SF; www.bhoutdoorcine.org. Free. Screenings of works by local filmmakers at unconventional Bernal Heights venues (including outdoors in Precita Park), Thu-Sat.

CASTRO 429 Castro, SF; (415) 621-6120, www.castrotheatre.com. $8.50-11. •Life Itself (James, 2014), Wed, 7, and Harry Dean Stanton: Partly Fiction (Huber, 2012), Wed, 9:15. •Starman (Carpenter, 1984), Fri, 7, and Under the Skin (Glazer, 2013), Fri, 9:10. Frozen (Buck and Lee, 2013), presented sing-along style, Sat-Sun, 1. •Sweet Charity (Fosse, 1969), Sat, 6:20, and All That Jazz (Fosse, 1979), Sat, 4, 9:15. “Remembering Robin Williams:” •Good Will Hunting (Van Sant, 1997), Sun, 7, and Dead Poets Society (Weir, 1989), Sun, 4:40, 9:20.

CLAY 2261 Fillmore, SF; www.landmarktheatres.com. $10. “Midnight Movies:” Pulp Fiction (Tarantino, 1994), Fri-Sat, midnight.

COURTHOUSE SQUARE 2200 Broadway, Redwood City; www.redwoodcity.org. Free. Mr. Peabody and Sherman (Minkoff, 2014), Thu, 8:45.

DELANCEY STREET SCREENING ROOM 600 Embarcadero, SF; www.onlifesterms.org. $10. On Life’s Terms: Mothers in Recovery (Ganz, 2014), Thu, 6:30. Screening followed by a panel discussion with film subjects.

EXPLORATORIUM Pier 15, SF; www.exploratorium.edu. Free with museum admission ($19-25). “Saturday Cinema:” The Mascot (Starewicz, 1934), Sat, 1, 2, 3.

GOETHE-INSTITUT SF 530 Bush, SF; www.goethe.de/ins/us/saf/enindex.htm. $5 suggested donation. “100 Years After WWI:” The Woman and the Stranger (Simon, 1985), Wed, 6:30.

JACK LONDON FERRY LAWN Clay and Water, Oakl; www.jacklondonsquare.com. Free. “Sing-along Cinema:” Chicago (Marshall, 2002), Thu, sundown.

MECHANICS’ INSTITUTE 57 Post, SF; milibrary.org/events. $10. “CinemaLit Film Series: Critics’ Choice, Classic and Quirky Americana:” Melvin and Howard (Demme, 1980), Fri, 6.

MISSION CULTURAL CENTER FOR LATINO ARTS 2868 Mission, SF; www.connectedbycoffee.com. $10 suggested donation. Connected by Coffee (Dennis and Dennis, 2014), Sat, 4, 7. With music, food, art, and coffee samplings between screenings. Proceeds benefit Cooperative Las Marias 93 in El Salvador.

NEW PARKWAY 474 24th St, Oakl; www.thenewparkway.com. Free. “First Friday Shorts,” works by the Bay Area Video Coalition, Fri, 6.

PACIFIC FILM ARCHIVE 2575 Bancroft, Berk; (510) 642-5249, bampfa.berkeley.edu. $5.50-9.50. “Alternative Visions:” “Animation: Laura Heit” (1997-2011), Wed, 7. “Eyes Wide: The Films of Stanley Kubrick:” •Fear and Desire (1953) and Killer’s Kiss (1955), Thu, 7; Paths of Glory (1957), Sat, 6:30; The Killing (1956), Sat, 8:20. Ai Weiwei: The Fake Case (Johnsen, 2013), Fri, 7. “James Dean, Restored Classics from Warner Bros.:” East of Eden (Kazan, 1955), Fri, 8:50.

RED POPPY ART HOUSE 2698 Folsom, SF; www.redpoppyarthouse.org. $10-20. La Salsa Cubana (Johnson and Streng, 2011), Thu, 4. With director Eric Joseph Johnson in person, and a salsa-dance lesson and party to follow.

REVOLUTION BOOKS 2425 Channing, Berk; www.revolutionbooks.org. $5-25 suggested donation. Freedom Summer (Nelson, 2014), Thu, 7. With Freedom Summer volunteer and film subject Linda Wetmore Halpern in person.

ROXIE 3117 and 3125 16th St, SF; (415) 863-1087, www.roxie.com. $6.50-11. Jamie Marks is Dead (Smith, 2014), Wed-Thu, 7, 9. Snowpiercer (Bong, 2013), Wed, 9:15. “Synesthesia Film Festival: Screening #6,” short films, Wed, 7. Canyon Cinema Foundation and SF Cinematheque present: Big Joy: The Adventures of James Broughton (Silha, Slade, and Logsdon, 2011), Thu, 7. With an introduction by performance artist Jason Jenn. Rich Hill (Tragos and Palermo, 2014), Thu, 9:30. No No: A Dockumentary (Radice, 2014), Sept 5-11, 7, 9:15. Trailer Park Boys: Don’t Legalize It (Clattenburg, 2014), Fri-Sat, 11:20.

SMITH RAFAEL FILM CENTER 1118 Fourth St, San Rafael; (415) 454-1222, www.cafilm.org. $6.50-$10.75. The Trip to Italy (Winterbottom, 2014), Wed-Thu, call for times. The Notebook (Szász, 2013), Sept 5-11, call for times. “Alec Guinness at 100:” The Bridge on the River Kwai (Lean, 1957), Sun, 3, 7. *