Lisa Jensen Online - Express

ART SEEN

2012-02-11T13:49:00.000-08:00

Hey, check this out!

One of Santa Cruz's most entertaining and prolific artists, Beth Allison Gripenstraw, was interviewed a few months ago for the KQED TV arts magazine This Is Us. I missed the original air date, but now Beth's five-minute segment is up on You Tube.

Here's what happened: somebody connected with the show was in Santa Cruz last October, visiting Open Studios artists. She was so taken with Beth's "My Africa" display (from a jeep, a safari tent, and life-sized zebras in the yard, to a trading post—full of Beth's jewelery, ceramics and paintings—and "Dr. Livingston's Study" inside), that Beth was invited to be on the show on the spot. The film crew came back to shoot her segment a couple of weeks later.

Beth doesn't just make and show art, she creates entire environments for visitors to get happily lost in. if you've never visited her Open Studio before, or you're not familiar with her work, watch the clip and see what you've been missing!

Btw, if you happened to visit the new Scotts Valley Library last month, you probably saw three of Beth's life-sized papier maché cheetahs sprawling and stretching atop the bookcases, guarding the front lobby. They were such a hit with library patrons that Beth has been commissioned to make more animals for a permanent display at the library. She's come up with an endangered species theme and was last seen doing preliminary research on crocodiles, polar bears, and the Iberian Lynx. Stay tuned for further details...

HEARTFELT

2012-02-09T14:29:00.000-08:00

Still don't know what to give your sweetie—or yourself—this Valentine's Day? Don't forget, there are still some fabulous deals to be had on small treasures of original art at the Artisans Gallery's ongoing Hearts For the Arts silent auction.

With all proceeds to go to the Cultural Council of Santa Cruz County, to benefit art education programs for local children, the gallery show features a dazzling array of quilt-sized, 10" x 10" pieces, all with a heart motif, from 20 renowned local artists. Work by Marie Gabrielle, Paul Fortis, Beth Purcell, Doug Ross, Maggie Renner Hellmann, and James Aschbacher, among many others, is going for a song as we speak. (Here's a link to one of my favorite pieces, Doug Ross' "Heart-Seal.")

An additional couple of dozen pieces by area children and their art teachers are also available for bidding. It's worth it to drop by just to see how many imaginative variations are possible on the theme of "hearts."

The show will be up through next Tuesday, Valentine's Day, Feb 14, when the bidding will be closed. So pop in soon and put a bid on the heart-work of your dreams.

DANCING QUEEN

2012-02-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

Choreographer Bausch celebrated in wildly invigorating 'Pina'

The late, legendary German dancer/choreographer Pina Bausch is the subject of Pina, an utterly thrilling cinematic tribute by Wim Wenders. "You always felt more than just human, working with Pina," recalls one of her dancers, and this is more than just a documentary, or a dance film, or a memorial. Wenders crafts an extraordinary plunge into the mystery of the creative process, a visionary concept film that reinvents the way dance is viewed onscreen, and a wildly invigorating expedition into the soul of an artist.

It may be part documentary, part concert film in format, but Wenders tweaks everything we think we know about these genres. Members of Bausch's acclaimed, multinational Tanztheater Wuppertal dance company speak of their friend and mentor, but there are no talking heads; the dancers gaze enigmatically into the camera while their remarks are heard in voice-over. Bausch herself is seen in archive footage, dancing onstage or working with her dancers in the rehearsal room, but there's no conventional third-person narration. Everything we learn about her we glean from her own words, or from the power of her work. (Read more)

A TOAST TO MR. DICKENS

2012-02-06T18:52:00.000-08:00

(Dickens' Dream, unfinished watercolor by Robert William Buss, 1875.)

Let's all raise a glass of something festive to my favorite author, Charles Dickens, on the occasion of his 200th birthday (Tuesday, Feb 7). Funny, he doesn't look a day over 58, the age he was at his untimely death—a tad younger than I am now. I feel like SUCH a slacker!

Check out this website, Dickens 2012, devoted to the year-long celebrations being held in his honor, not only in London and Portsmouth (his birthplace), but all over the world. Not bad for the son of an impecunious Naval Office clerk who spent time in debtor's prison while 12-year-old Charles was taken out of school to work in a draconian blacking (shoe polish) factory—a bitter experience that informed his novels and his sense of justice for the rest of his life.

This acute sense of moral outrage, coupled with his first-hand experience of the vast gulf between the 1% and the other 99 makes his work as relevant today as it ever was. And yet, some modern pundits question whether Dickens is "too hard" to be read at all in the texting and twittering age. (Dickens can't even complete a chapter heading in 144 characters.) To these people, I say: get over yourselves and plunge in. The sheer richness of his alien world is the whole point; getting lost in one of his humongous, vital, character-driven, immensely humane, heartbreaking, savage and hilarious novels is the reason God invented reading.

I can't claim to have read all of Dickens' work; not even close. But certain of his books have been the highlights of my reading life. A Christmas Carol remains my ideal of the perfect book, a simple but ingenious construction that confines the story to a single night, yet expands to include an entire lifetime, indeed, an entire historical era of experience—all with a nifty Gothic ghost story element that's the forerunner of what we now call magic realism. In a word: bravo!

I devoured David Copperfield at age 18 (working for minimum wage at a summer job that was my own "blacking factory," a commercial pottery factory in Manhattan Beach, whose owner bore the Scrooge-like initials "ES"), and the other great coming-of-age saga, Great Expectations. Funny, the books I "had" to read in school—A Tale Of Two Cities; Hard Times—I remember with somewhat less affection than those I discovered on my own. After watching The Royal Shakespeare Company's intense, nine-hour stage production of The Life And Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby on TV, I went on a Dickens binge, polishing off Nickleby, Bleak House, and the sensational Our Mutual Friend (with its brilliant recurring motif of the sinister, powerful, indifferent, and yet lifegiving River Thames) in short order. Okay, it took me a few months, but it was time well spent.

Certainly not as an alternative to actually reading Dickens, but because so many of my own forays into literature have been prompted by seeing a screen adaptation, I offer my Top 5 Favorite Dickens productions:

A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1951) Accept no substitutes! The incomparable Alistair Sim is the Scroogiest possible Scrooge in this spare, spooky, and foreboding British classic. (Note: It was called Scrooge in its initial theatrical release, but don't mistake it for the 1970 Albert Finney musical version.)

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF NICHOLAS NICKLEBY (1982) This immense video capture of The Royal Shakespeare Company's epic stage event overflows with good and evil, high life, lowlife, and every variety of life in between. By turns eloquent and riotously funny, it also offers a pre-Carol take on the Scrooge character in cold, miserly Ralph Nickleby (John Woodvine) doing his utmost to crush the spirit of his resilient nephew, Nicholas (the inexhaustible Roger Rees). A knockout!

DAVID COPPERFIELD (1935) This classic Hollywood Golden Age production unleashed the entire arsenal of MGM stars on one of Dickens' most venerable and popular novels—led by the inimitable W. C. Fields as the lovable, but impoverished Micawber (based on Dickens' own father). Edna May Oliver is a delicious Aunt Betsey, Basil Rathbone oozes evil as the hateful Murdstone, and Freddie Bartholomew plays the young David. (I never saw the more recent TV version with little Danielle Radcliffe as young David; maybe I'll catch up with it some day!)

OLIVER TWIST (1948) Another eerie black-and-white mood piece, this British production is an early film by the great David Lean. Alec Guinness is a sly, larcenous father-figure Fagin, shepherding his team of child pickpockets through the teeming streets of London. A teenage Anthony Newley is the Artful Dodger, and look out for Robert Newton as the murderous, dangerous Bill Sykes (he would play Long John Silver in Treasure Island two years later).

MR. MAGOO'S CHRISTMAS CAROL (1962) Sorry, but I first saw this at an impressionable age and I still adore it! If you must apply songs to a Dickens story, get Jule Styne and Bob Merrill to write them. I've rhapsodized about this one before in this blog; here's what I love about it.

And speaking of Dickens, take a peek at this fabulous art project by Cardiff School of Art and Design student Rachel Walsh, called "Explaining the Kindle to Charles Dickens." It's great to know that books continue to inspire creative thought, one way or another!

(Above, right: Scrooge confronts the restless, moaning phantoms, unable to rest in peace. Arthur Rackham illustration for A Christmas Carol, 1915.)

(Above, left: I drew this cartoon to illustrate my review of the TV production of Nicholas Nickleby for the fanzine Movie Collector's World. "Bonet" was the joint nom de plume under which Art Boy and I perpetrated a cartooning career years ago.)

SECRETS AND LIES

2012-02-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

An odd mix of quaint and edgy, Albert Nobbs has a plot that often smacks of the creakiest kind of Victorian melodrama. Yet at other times, the story feels startlingly modern, with its insights into gender confusion and sexual identity in turn-of-the-century Ireland. Filming this tale of a middle-aged woman who has lived her entire adult life as a man has been a labor of love for executive producer and star, Glenn Close; she also co-wrote the script and provided lyrics for the closing-credits theme song.

What may surprise viewers is that the film is adapted from a novella first published in 1918 by Anglo-Irish, Victorian/Edwardian author and critic George Moore. Some tired fictional conventions from the era in which the story was written linger in Rodrigo García's film version. But the filmmakers come up with some other alterations to make the tale more intriguing for modern sensibilities, while retaining Moore's twin moods of gentle pathos and social satire.

At the center of the tale is Albert Nobbs (Close), a fastidious veteran waiter at a Dublin hotel called Morrison's, ca. 1898. An outcast orphan who adopted a male persona to survive as a lone teenage girl, Albert has identified as male for so long, she no longer has any other sense of herself. It's not like she takes off her disguise in her room at night; she is her disguise.Close captures this essence of Albert, his innocence and ignorance, with heartbreaking rigor.

But Janet McTeer is absolutely extraordinary as a lesbian who cross-dresses as a man to live openly with her wife. Bluff, cheeky, and wryly self-possessed, McTeer gives what might be the performance of the year. Don't miss it! (Read full review.)

FFAT FRIDAY

2012-02-02T09:15:00.000-08:00

Get ready to reconnect with some favorite artists and get inspired by some exciting new ideas pinging around out there at this week's First Friday Art Tour. Looks like our mild winter weather will continue for this second FFAT of the new year, and with the days getting longer, there are plenty of reasons to get out and see what's new on the local art scene.

Here are a few events that look interesting to me. Be sure to visit the FFAT website and design your own tour.

At the County Government Center, you'll find luscious and mysterious watercolor abstracts by Isobel George (above), along with David Fleming's narrative oils with a twist, Laurie Longnecker's precise, photorealistic paintings of iconic local sites, Sandra Cherk's vivid pastel and watercolor landscapes, and the ceramic art of Maren Sinclair Hurn.

The Zen-like meditative quality of repetition is the theme for the new show, REPEAT! at the Santa Cruz County Bank. Parceled out between its five countywide branches, you'll find work from the encaustic mantra series by Fanne Fernow. Other artists whose work plays with the idea of visual repetition include Angela Gleason, Jane Gregorius, Charlotte Kruk, Dotti Cichon, and Daniella Woolf.

Then cruise down to the Rittenhouse Building on Pacifc Avenue for what may be the coolest show of the event, Wet Art 2012. Old wetsuits have been donated by 36 local surfers to 36 local artists to create a gallery show and auction to benefit Boys & Girls Club of Santa Cruz County.

Participating artists include Charles Prentiss, Ann Morehauser, Coeleen Kiebert, D Hooker, Jimbo Phillips, Robynn Smith, Rose Sellery, even The Great Morgani—to name just a few! (That's Fran Battendieri's funky-chic mermaid gown, at right.)

Some of their pieces are figurative, some are fashionable (flirty to steampunk), some are alien life forms, some are deconstructed art pieces in their own right, but all are, in a word, awesome! A partial display of the work will up for FFAT at the Ritt from 5-10 pm. (The complete show will be up in time for the reception and auction, Saturday, February 18. There will also be pre-auction visiting hours 11 am to 5 pm, Saturday and Sunday, Feb 4-5 and 11-12.)

But in the meantime, check out the website, and prepare to be stoked.

Down the road, stop in at Artisans Gallery for this year's Hearts for the Arts exhibition. In her annual homage to the venerable Hearts for the Arts benefit art auction of yore, Artisans owner Linnea Holgers has come up with a new wrinkle: a "Wall of Hearts" featuring a quilt-like display of 10" x 10" square heart-inspired art pieces from local artists.

In addition to James Aschbacher's "Love Is In the Air," artwork includes an original small heart-shaped watercolor landscape by Marie Gabrielle, a Judy Miller ceramic plate, a pique-assiette wall piece from Beth Purcell, a clever collage of hearts by painter Paul Fortis, and just about the most adorable and impudent painted sea lion, ever, from printmaker Doug Ross (working in acrylics for only the second time).

Al in all, over 20 pieces by these local artists will be on display, along with work by students and teachers from the Mariposa Art Project. All these artworks are available for viewing and bidding in a silent auction from Friday through Valentine's Day, Feb 14, so be sure to stop in and bid on your favorite! All proceeds to go art education programs for local children.

On the Westside, the R Blitzer Gallery hosts A Figurative Affair. In addition to the work of curators Sefla Joseph and Susan Hancey, the exhibition includes new work by the fiercely creative Carol Bowie, who is always coming up with exciting new ideas in new media. Look for other renowned artists Barbara Downs, Stephanie Heit, David Fleming, Marvin Plummer, and Andrew Purchin, among many others in the show.

And these are just a smattering of the many venues in SC and Capitola participating in this month's event. So—on your marks, get set — FFAT!

BLIND SPOTS

2012-01-28T11:42:00.000-08:00

Okay, I can't really carp too much about this year's Oscar nominations, since my four favorite movies of 2011 are up for multiple awards. But, oh, heck, I just can't help myself!

Sure, Midnight In Paris, The Artist, Hugo, and The Descendants (which didn't quite make it into my Top 10, but I still really liked) are all Best Picture nominees, with significant nominations in other categories as well. For instance, all four have also scored nominations for their directors, along with (surprise!) Terence Malick for the occasionally brilliant but woefully uneven The Tree Of Life—which suggests the Best Picture category (which also includes four other films) just got smaller.

But in passing out the kudos, how on earth could the Academy overlook Shailene Woodley as George Clooney's elder, teenage daughter in The Descendants? She was phenomenal in the role—poised, edgy, and as subtly nuanced as Clooney himself.

Speaking of subtle, Gary Oldman's Best Actor nomination for Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is a surprise; his performance is so full of muted, wary reserve he practically blends into the wallpaper. Not that he's not good, but actors usually have to do something more showy—put on a dress (William Hurt, Kiss of the Spider Woman), play an alcoholic or a nutcase (Nicolas Cage, Leaving Las Vegas; Jack Nicholson, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), or play (or pass as) a member of the opposite sex (Jaye Davidson, The Crying Game; Linda Hunt, The Year of Living Dangerously)—just to get noticed.

Another interesting surprise: Demian Bichir, nominated for playing a Mexican immigrant trying to keep his son out of gang life in A Better Life, a film that played for about 14 minutes at the Nick, then disappeared. This means either Bichir gave a tremendous performance, or has a tremendous press agent. (I didn't see it, but I suspect the former.)

One more factoid about this year's lineup: only Brad Pitt in Moneyball is nominated for playing an actual historical person. This bucks a trend in recent years where nominees in this category have been cited for playing everyone from Truman Capote, Edward R. Murrow, and Harvey Milk, to Richard Nixon, Nelson Mandela, Johnny Cash, and King George VI.

Vestiges of this trend remain in the Best Actress category, where Meryl Streep and Michelle Williams are poised to go mano-a-mano for playing Margaret Thatcher and Marilyn Monroe, respectively. (I thought Glenn Close would be in the running too, for her cross-dressing Albert Nobbs—see above—but the film seems to be getting a cooler reception than expected.)

It's also interesting to see Rooney Mara nominated in this category for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. She was fine, but it seems like a desperate move by the Academy to still seem, you know, with it, after having overlooked the sensational Noomi Rapace in the same role last year in the original Swedish trilogy.

Meanwhile, going back to the Supporting Actress category for a minute, I'm glad to see Janet McTeer nominated for the year's gutsiest performance in Albert Nobbs. But what, no Judi Dench for My Week With Marilyn? Her gracious Dame Sybil Thorndike kept the whole film grounded. And what about Mary Page Keller as the loyal, but understandably acerbic wife in Beginners?

But overall, it's not a horrible list of contenders, by any means. (At least Melancholia wasn't nominated for anything!) Now all I have to do is figure out how I'm going to dress a Barbie doll to look like Margaret Thatcher...

(Above, right: William Hurt in Kiss of the Spider Woman; above, left: Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady.)

TALKING HEADSHRINKERS

2012-01-26T14:11:00.000-08:00

It's Carl Jung vs. Sigmund Freud in A Dangerous Method, the talky new drama of ideas from David Cronenberg. But despite what you see on the poster and in the preview trailers, the dueling doctors are not involved in a love triangle over a woman.

Yes, there is a woman involved, the historically significant Sabine Spielrein (played with overwrought intensity by Keira Knightley), an early patient who went on to become a doctor in her own right, and a colleague to both men. Here, she's introduced as a patient of the youthful Jung (Michael Fassbender) at a Swiss clinic in 1904, whom he treats using Freud's radical "talking cure," or "psych-analysis."

Later, Jung journeys to Vienna to meet his idol, Freud (a marvelously wry Viggo Mortensen), who anoints the younger man his "heir" in the field. But ultimately, the two men split over the direction of psychoanalysis; the fastidious Jung objects to Freud reducing every disorder to a sexual cause, while Freud scorns the "superstition" of Jung's interest in telepathy and religion.

In this atmosphere dominated by discussions of sex, repression, and libido, the uptight and married Jung's decision to take the eager Sabine as his mistress seems more like a case of going with the flow, rather than an act of desperate passion, despite the "ambivalence" of his relationship with his, wealthy wife. (While Sabine's need to be spanked—vigorously and often—to get excited, dating back to early abuse by her father, seems to bear out Freud's theory.) It's also a little creepy that these sequences seem to validate the 19th Century notion that a "hysterical" woman was best cured in bed.

Interpersonal relationships have never been Cronenberg's strong suit, and what's missing here is an emotional center to sustain viewers through all the theoretical debates (and perfunctory sex). That Christopher Hampton's screenplay is adapted from his own stage play, "The Talking Cure," as well as from John Kerr non-fiction book, "A Most Dangerous Method" also contributes to the screen story feeling both rushed and fragmented. Still, the talk is often interesting, it's fun to watch the doctors psychoanalyze each others' dreams, and Vincent Cassel is terrific in a few brief scenes as bad-boy analyst/patient, libertine, and agent provocateur Otto Gross.

PIGGY IN PINK

2012-01-20T15:21:00.000-08:00

I really do try not to clutter up this blog with too many of my Project Runway opinions, since everybody and his Great Aunt Lucretia already blogs about PR. But, seriously, what were they thinking last night on PR All Stars?

They had a simple enough challenge: design a cocktail dress for a pig. And not just any pig, but that international style icon, Miss Piggy, who also appeared on the dais as a guest judge. Since the designers are always being scolded to design for the client and not let their personal style aesthetic run away with them, I was sure designer Rami Kashou had hit one out of the park with this pink polka dot confection.

"That's the most ridiculous, outlandish thing I've ever seen," cried the diva of porcine pulchritude herself. "It looks like an explosion in a candy factory. I love it!"

So did Rami win for reading his client so perfectly? He did not. The prize went to Michael Costello for this couch-brocade sheath to which someone seems to have thumb-tacked one of those huge, ready-made, accordion Christmas bows.

I suppose it's chic enough in its way (except for that idiotic bow). But it's not s much fun as Rami's dress, nor does it capture the spirit of the flamboyant farmyard fashionista in quite the same way.

And as long as we're strolling down the runway, what about the Red Carpet looks at the Golden Globes? The prom-dress look was in: fitted top over big, voluminous skirt (often involving dyed feathers or other flouncy stuff). There also seemed to be a lot of nude-looking fabrics, sequins, and versions of the mermaid look.

But what happened with poor Kate Winslet? She looked like one of those PR models sent down the runway by a designer who didn't have time to finish the dress. The black satin bodice looked like it was still being pieced together over a white skirt that looked like a sheet grabbed at the last minute to cover her up.

This was so disappointing, since once upon a time, Kate absolutely rocked my all-time favorite awards dress ever.

Then there was Niciole Kidman, in a silver sheath fitted so tight and apparently soldered together with so many brass bolts, she looked like Robot Maria—and not in a good way. Iron Maiden chic.

What I loved was Laura Dern's simple, sleek emerald green sequined waterfall of a dress. In a word, yowza.

GOLDEN GLOBAL VILLAGE

2012-01-16T17:49:00.000-08:00

Last night's Golden Globes Awards ceremony was a study in diplomacy the UN might envy. It wasn't a sweep for any one of the front-running films in contention. Instead, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association doled out individual kudos with even-handed precision—sometimes to a surprising degree.

Biggest surprise of the evening was probably Martin Scorsese winning Best Director for Hugo, even though Hugo did not go on to win Best Picture in its category. (The Globes split the top nominees—Picture, Actor and Actress—into two categories, Drama and Comedy Or Musical. And the divide between the two is often, um, tenuous, as it was this year with the fanciful, slapstick-laden Hugo nominated in the Drama category, and the bittersweet My Week With Marilyn relegated to the Comedy list. Still, semantics aside, I liked Hugo a lot, and a Scorsese win for this love letter to early moviemaking is okay by me.)

Anyway, The Descendants won for Best Picture (Drama), which means its director, Alexander Payne, was shut out. Ditto director Michel Hazanavicius, whose film, The Artist, won Best Picture in the Comedy/Musical category. But I guess it was just their bad luck to be up against Scorsese, who is so beloved by the HFPA that he also won Best Director in 2007 for The Departed, even though something else won the Best Picture award that year too.

(Look out, George and Shailene. Someone might be gaining on you...)

As to this year's winners, looks like it's game-on for a showdown between The Descendants and The Artist for next month's Oscars. Both films scored multiple wins at the Globes, including Best Actor awards for their respective leading men, George Clooney (Drama) and Jean Dujardin (Comedy/Musical).

The Artist also picked up an award for its Jazz Age/romantica musical score by Ludovic Bource (an especially crucial element in a silent film), despite his controversial use of Bernard Herrmann's love theme from Vertigo (all rights legally purchased, Hazanavicius contends).

(The Artist gets ready to muscle into the Oscar nominations.)

Best Actress winners Meryl Streep, for The Iron Lady (Drama) and Michelle Williams, My Week With Marilyn (so-called Comedy/Musical) also seem poised to duke it out at the Oscars. Meanwhile, the HFPA doled out small, considerate appeasements to some of its other multiple nominees. The Help picked up a Supporting Actress award for Octavia Spencer. Woody Allen won a best Screenplay award for my favorite film of the year, Midnight In Paris. In what might have been the nicest surprise, Christopher Plummer won the Supporting Actor prize for the under-nominated Beginners—and delivered an excellent, eloquent acceptance speech into the bargain.

Less happy surprises of the evening: how did Scorsese fail to mention Georges Melies in his acceptance speech about the history of movies and film preservation? (Most of the Hugo film clip featured Scorsese's re-creation of Melies' sequences.) And how did Clooney fail to mention his teenage co-star and fellow nominee, Shailene Woodley? Sure, he thanked his "whole cast," but a lesser actress in the pivotal role of Clooney's eldest daughter would have made the entire film less persuasive.

But overall, I'm content with this year's Globes. Nothing really egregious won in any major category. (Well, I'm not sure about that tinny dance-mix pop tune Madonna wrote for her Edward VIII/Mrs. Simpson movie, W. E., set in the elegant 1930s.) And, for once, a lot of my favorite movies of the year seem ready to make a splash at the Oscars. Those nominations will be announced Tuesday, January 24. Stay tuned ...

(Top: Martin Scorsese. AP Photo/Mark J. Terrill.)

COMMUNITY SPIRIT

2012-01-13T18:21:00.000-08:00

One benefit of the Digital Age is the democratization of the arts. There are more ways than ever before for artmakers to reach an audience—bands can record their own CDs, authors can publish their own ebooks, visual artists can participate in regional Open Studios events, or show their work in online galleries. And every year, aspiring playwrights have a chance to see their work produced onstage, with live actors in front of a real audience, in the annual Eight Tens @ Eight short play festival staged by the Santa Cruz Actors' Theatre.

For this, their 17th season, ET@E Artistic Director Wilma Marcus Chandler solicited submissions from all over the country via their annual spring ten-minute playwriting contest. Chandler and her team of intrepid judges combed through the entries to select the final eight, which are now produced onstage at the Center Street Theatre with local actors, directed by such local theatrical luminaries as Maria Crush, Marcus Cato, and Daria Troxell.

The result is an evening of short, pithy, original plays well-suited to this intimate venue (the original Actors' Theatre, once upon a time), with its intense sense of community spirit. Five of this season's eight plays are comedies, two are dramas. My favorite is the one that falls between genres, "Crossing The Line," by Seth Freemn. Directed by Sarah Albertson, it's a close encounter between a high school math teacher (well-played by Scott Kravitz), a teenage vandal who calls himself "Shooter" (a persuasive Kamaxtli Perez-Granados), and the principles of logic and consequence. The dialogue is funny, the situation tense, it has a complete story arc, and it all comes to a satisfying conclusion.

The comedies tend to be more like sketch pieces, but most have their bright moments. Perhaps the best realized, Earl Roske's "Measure of a Man," directed by Steve Brenner, a sly satire in which a lowly, 18th Century Scottish crofter (Steve Capasso) and his laird, the Colonel (a flamboyantly funny Denny Vierra) discuss the value of a library. ("The more books I have, the smarter people think I am.") Part of the fun here is watching the actors maintain their Scots accents.

"The Unwedding," by Martin Azevedo and directed by Troxell, begins with a funny premise—a divorcing couple divvying up their friends like community property—but it doesn't know how or when to make a graceful exit. Marcia Rudin's "Waiting For Wilma," directed by Joan Van Antwerp, a comedy of colliding values in an overbooked hotel room during a hurricane, also ends a little abruptly.

Diane Patterson's satirical "The Bank," also concludes with more of a whimper than a bang, although director Cato coaxes a wonderful performance out of Kendall Callaghan as a ferociously chirpy bank teller. Jaye Wolfe and Brett Karleen deliver good comic performances as a corporate honcho and a hopeful hiree in Jeffrey Gold's "Fair Shake," directed by Crush, although the comic purpose of the buzzer that keeps interrupting their interview isn't always clear enough.

Both dramatic shorts deal with love and loss. In Elyce Melmon's bittersweet "It Begins With Goodbye," directed by Bill Peters, an angry, blustery widower (Chad Davies) searches for closure with a volunteer grief counselor (MarNae Taylor). Grief is pending in Andrea Fleck Clardy's "Gay Paree," directed by Peter Gelblum, where two lifelong friends (Helene Simkin Jara and the deeply empathetic Gail Borkowski) swap raucous stories while one of them battles cancer.

All the plays look great onstage, with surprisingly detailed sets, and sophisticated lighting and sound. ET@E is community theater at its most elemental, a labor of love in which local actors, directors and tech crews get to share the magic of live theater with the public.

The production continues Thursdays through Sundays at the Center Street Theatre, through January 29. As an extra bonus, the company is also presenting The Best of the Rest, staged readings of the eight runners-up from the ten-minute playwriting contest, to be held the next two Wednesdays (January 18 and 25) at 8 pm.

Read all about the Actors' Theatre here. Click here for tickets and info.

One more thing: the evening show tomorrow night (Saturday, January 14, 8 pm) is an actor's benefit. (Shades of Vincent Crummles!) This is charming practice left over from 19th Century theatre in which all proceeds go directly to the hard-working volunteer actors who make this festival possible. (In the Victorian era, when Charles Dickens' actor/manager Crummles was afoot in the profession, it was also called a "bespeak," in that the proceeds were bespoken for a particular actor or the company of actors.) It's a chance to support live local theater and your favorite players, so get your ducats right now!

(Above, "The Great Bespeak for Miss Snevellici," from Charles Dickens' Nicholas Nickleby. Engraving by Phiz, 1838, scanned by Phillip V. Allingham. As seen on The Victorian Web.)

SING ALONG WITH JAMES

2012-01-12T11:36:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to write about the new James Durbin CD ever since Santa Boy gave it to me for Christmas, but I've only just stopped singing along long enough to sit down at the keyboard.

Here's the thing about James: he's just as much fun to listen to as he was to watch on American Idol. His debut CD, Memories of a Beautiful Disaster, is a lively collection of heavy rockers, power anthems, and a ballad or two. Its eleven selections are peppered with driving rhythms, insanely infectious refrains, and sweet melodies, all the styles that James sings so well.

Since all the songs are new and unfamiliar to me (no covers), I wasn't sure how much I liked it on the first hearing. I even fretted here and there that the vocals were getting lost in the mix. But approximately 1.8 minutes into my second playing of the CD, I was singing along.

(Here's how my personal rating system works. For movies, it's a woefully inexact science: my tastes are eclectic and even I never know what I'm going to love or hate. But the Jensen-o-meter for music is much more direct; I tend to love a song in exact proportion to how quickly I start chiming in.)

Two cuts from this CD are being promoted as singles, the power ballad "Love Me Bad," and the anthem-like, "Stand Up," both big-beat rockers. (Here's a link to the preview trailer for the upcoming "Stand Up" video.) They're both good, but if it were up to me, I'd be pushing the opening track, "Higher Than Heaven" with its irresistible chorus.

Other highlights, for me, are the percolating "Right Behind You," another big anthem, "Screaming" (a rock manifesto for anyone who's ever felt different and/or bullied), and the wistful, bittersweet ballad, "May" (Art Boy's favorite, the old softie). That haunting "She was just like she was" chorus just kills me!

In time, with a few more recordings under his rat-tail, James Durbin will learn how to have more control over his big voice, and to wield it with even more nuance. But for right now, his singing is raw, gutsy, and heartfelt—which is everything we love about him. Jensen-o-meter rating: 8 (out of 10).

Btw: how completely does James Durbin now belong to the world? The story of his New Year's Eve wedding to longtime soulmate, Heidi Lowe, in the Santa Cruz Mountains (above) was carried by Yahoo News, Rolling Stone, People, TV Guide, and CBS News—to name just a few!

DIGITAL SURPRISE

2012-01-08T16:59:00.000-08:00

Most movie technology is wasted on me, as we all know. I've suffered through various bombastic Sensurround, THX, and Dolby Digital sound systems over the years (often with my hands over my ears). And 3D? Oh, please. With the exception of Cave of Forgotten Dreams, which really made a case for a deeper field of vision, I still think of 3-D as a cheesy gimmick from the '50s. It doesn't do anything to enhance a mediocre movie, and a good movie would be just as good—if not better—without all that distracting visual clutter.

("They probably said the same thing about talking movies, once," my friend Michael scoffed at me when we were debating this point. Damn right; if I'd been around in 1927, I would've been one of them! Of course, by now, sound is integral to the storytelling process onscreen (she admits, grudgingly). But not so 3D, not by a longshot.)

However, I have to say even I am impressed by the new digital upgrade that went on over at the Nickelodeon and the Del Mar during the holidays. They managed to make the conversion to all-digital projection and sound pretty seamless for the public, only canceling a few matinees here and there to get the new equipment in.

I assumed a technologically-challenged lay person such as myself would never even notice the difference, but boy, was I wrong! I was amazed at the crystal-clear quality of the image when Art Boy and I popped in last week for a matinee of Young Adult upstairs at the Del Mar; even the pre-trailer commercials were bright and vivid. Speaking as someone who used to work in a movie theater, I imagine it must get kind of lonely up in the projection booth without the comforting clattering of film sprockets, but it's good news for patrons who want to remember why they love movies on a big, beautiful screen. Check it out!

Big kudos to the folks at Nickelodeon/Del Mar for taking the plunge. At last, technology even a Luddite can appreciate.

(Above: Bwana Devil, 1952. The first but, sadly, not the last 3D movie.)

DUELING DRAGONS

2012-01-05T18:26:00.000-08:00

For the majority of English-speaking readers who devoured Stieg Larsson's international bestselling crime thriller trilogy in translation, but never saw the 2009 Swedish film version, this Hollywood reboot from director David Fincher is reasonably compelling.

Kudos to Fincher and scriptwriter Steven Zaillian for maintaining the story's setting in Sweden (not relocating it to, say, New York or LA), and assembling an excellent cast. Daniel Craig plays effectively against heroic type as rumpled, middle-aged muckraking Stockholm journalist Mikael Blomkvist.

As eponymous heroine Lisbeth Salander, pierced, tattooed, Goth computer hacker extraordinaire, whose self-imposed mission in life is to prevent the abuse of women, Rooney Mara navigates her character's tough, brittle fragility and savvy competence with verve (her guttural howl at the mercy of her slimeball probation officer is bone-chilling). She and Craig develop a convincing rapport.

But what's really missing from this version is the ingrained and pervasive sense of white male entitlement at every level of society that was so deftly portrayed in Niels Arden Oplev's Swedish adaptation. That film shrewdly depicts this subjugation of women, not only by sexual predators, but in the offhand way women are dismissed every day by co-workers, colleagues, government officials, even casual encounters in the street, the climate of perceived feminine inferiority that allows violent, abusive misogyny to flourish.

Noomi Rapace took no prisoners as the original, Swedish Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

The Swedish film was a harrowing roller coaster ride through these themes that left viewers pummeled and exhilarated, chewing on the subtext. Fincher's version reduces this theme to a single string of maniacal serial killings, thus containing and defanging Larsson's intent. (Don't forget, Larsson's original subtitle to the first book is "Men Who Hate Women.") Fincher has made a crisp, suspenseful, extremely well-acted thriller, but it doesn't quite have the substance or the impact of the original. (Read complete review)

IF NOT NOW, WHEN?

2012-01-04T16:18:00.000-08:00

Not to get all Pollyanna on you, but I'm still enough of a romantic to view a brand new year as full of new possibilities. 2012 certainly got off to a promising start here in Santa Cruz; it was a warm, sunny 74 degrees when Art Boy and I took a walk around the harbor about 11:30 in the morning on New Year's Day. Freakish, yes, but not unpleasant.

Last Year about this time, I wrote a column in Good Times about my personal mantra for the then-new year, a single-word talisman to express my attitude for the future. Then, I chose the word "Life."

If I were taking this challenge again this year, I'd need more words. My mantra for this year is: If Not Now, When?

It's not just about getting older. (Although as Art Boy charitably points out, we're not getting any younger.) But at some point, you realize the ugly rumor may be true that time is not, in fact, infinite. And this is before factoring in the Mayan Calendar Theory, which says the year 2012 may be the end of life as we know it.

(Nobody knows why. Maybe it was a Mayan clerical error. Maybe modern doomsayers have no idea how to interpret the data. Maybe the Mayans somehow got a look at this year's crop of Republican Presidential hopefuls.)

The point is, if there are any things you really need to accomplish, what are you waiting for? Do them now. You know the kinds of things—cleaning out the clutter from one's house/life/psyche. Finishing (or even starting) that novel, art project, or other magnum opus. Climbing that mountain, taking that journey, solving that problem, doing whatever you need to do to make the life you have the one you want to live.

There's no time like the present, as the saying goes; for all we know, there's no time BUT the present. Mayans or not, it's always a good time to start making every nanosecond count. If not now, when?

(Btw, remember that awful disaster movie, 2012, that came out a couple of years ago? The promotional synopsis for it always cracked me up. Something like, "After the end of the world, a few survivors struggle to (do something or other)..." What survivors? It's the end of the world; all that comes "after" is space dust.)

(Top: Aztec adaptation of the Mayan calendar, as seen online at WebExhibits.)

IT'S A WRAP

2011-12-30T09:52:00.000-08:00

Big surprise: movies about movies shot to the top of the list of films I loved in 2011. Movies about art, writing, and Paris also earned a place in my Top 10, along with the usual assortment of strange bedfellows—Werner Herzog, Almodóvar, Harry Potter. Aside from those films still playing in town (like The Artist, Hugo, and My Week With Marilyn, which you should run out and see on a big screen right this minute), this list should give you some eclectic ideas for your post-holiday Netflix queue.

One caveat: there are usually one or two embarrassing lapses in my annual Top 10 list, due to the deadline necessity of compiling my list before I've seen all the heavy hitters. So, for the record, at presstime I have not yet seen Shame, The Iron Lady, or Albert Nobbs.

Okay, I know the suspense is killing you, so here's the scoop: Midnight In Paris is my favorite movie of the year (that's Owen Wilson's character being abducted into the 1920s by Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald in a vintage Peugeot roadster). Here's the rest of my list.

In retrospect, I would have added The Descendants to my list of Runners-Up, had I had more room.

And just to dole out debit where it's due, what's my candidate for worst Film of 2011? Melancholia.

In Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier's deeply lugubrious allegorical drama, the end of the world can't happen soon enough for these listless, unexplored, largely unlikeable characters. The overall atmosphere of disdain for humanity, a very slight storyline and a fatally slow narrative make this possibly the most aggravating Von Trier film yet.

I don't care how deep and profound other people think it is. If it works for them, fine. But I call it spinach, and I say the hell with it.

LET'S HEAR IT FOR SILENTS!

2011-12-26T16:57:00.000-08:00

What a great year it's been for silent movies! First, Laurie King plunged her formidable series heroine, Mary Russell, and spouse Sherlock Holmes, into the midst of a silent film shoot, ca. 1924, in her new novel, "The Pirate King." Next, Martin Scorsese introduced a whole new generation of movie fans to the antic oeuvre of French silent film pioneer George Melies in Hugo.

Now, along comes Michel Hazanavicius with The Artist, which recreates the look, texture, and sensibility of a vintage black-and-white silent film with irresistible fidelity.

Just look at stars Jean Dujardin and Berenice Bejo in the film's scrumptious Art Deco finale!

One of the things I love most about The Artist is the way Dujardin replicates the broad, gestural style of silent film acting without resorting to spoof or parody. The generous opulence of his performance never seems corny; it's completely ingrained in the character of the silent movie star he plays, and perfectly suited to the era when popular stars like Douglas Fairbanks (Sr) were acting out big stories to thrilled audiences all over the world.

Here's the real Doug Fairbanks in one of his signature roles, The Thief of Bagdhad (1923), showing off the numero uno attribute in his arsenal of charm—his killer grin. (Dujardn is no slouch in this department, either.) But while he could have coasted through stardom on his smile alone, with Fairbanks, you got the whole package: he usually wrote his own scenarios, stage-managed the onscreen action, and, of course, did all his own stunts.

That's why you really can't appreciate Fairbanks until you see him in action. Here's a brief clip from The Mark of Zorro (1920), which gives you an idea of the joie de vivre and sheer physical prowess that made Doug Fairbanks the most popular man in Hollywood—possibly the world—during the 1920s. Do NOT try this at home, kids!

Everybody remembers Gene Kelly splashing around in those puddles in Singin' In the Rain (decked out in that stylish '50s fedora), so it's sometimes hard to remember that that gloriously Technicolor film was also set in the same '20s era as The Artist, during the transition from silent films to talkies. In Rain, Kelly stars as a Fairbanks-like matinee idol in the midst of shooting a silent swashbuckling costume drama, The Dueling Cavalier, when the advent of sound films suddenly renders that mimetic production style hopelessly passe.

In The Artist, Dujardin's character faces the same dilemma; he releases his silent picture anyway and fails. In Rain, Kelly's character decides not only to incorporate the novelty of sound effects into the film (that's Kelly, above, in a telling moment, in the reconstituted film-within-the-film), he turns it into a musical, re-titled The Dancing Cavalier, and it's a huge success.

Things don't turn out so peachy for Dujardin's character (at least, not at first). I loved the dream sequence in The Artist where he's overwhelmed by fear of the clattering chaos sound will bring to films. (And this decades before Jerry "Boom Boom" Bruckheimer, Michael Bey, and Dolby Digital mega-sound.)

Btw, in all the well-deserved kudos being lobbed at The Artist for it's innovation and originality, most critics suggest this is the first attempted silent film since the general switch to sound, about 1929 (or at least 1936, when Charlie Chaplin, one of the last hold-outs, made his last silent film, Modern Times). Not so. Mel Brooks made the comedy Silent Movie in 1976, entirely without spoken dialogue (except for one, single, well-chosen syllable), but it was shot in color and told a contemporary story of a modern producer trying to make a silent film.

In 1989, writer/director/star Charles Lane made Sidewalk Stories, a sentimental Chaplin-esque urban comedy with a message, shot in black-and-white, without dialogue—which was considered radically experimental for its time.

The movies lost a lot of their storytelling power when they learned to talk. Wouldn't it be great if silent was considered a viable option at the movies again? Not all the time, but once in awhile, the way fearless modern directors still occasionally make a terrific film in black-and-white. But, wait, that's another blog.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN

2011-12-19T16:55:00.000-08:00

The Artist is a witty, splendid homage to silent film era

You can't say French filmmaker Michel Hazanavicius lacks the courage of his convictions. When he set out to make a movie paying homage to Hollywood's silent era, not only did he film in vintage black-and-white, he dared to shoot the entire movie without audible dialogue, relying only on the occasional tile card, music, and the actors' expressiveness to tell the story. The splendid result is The Artist, in which Hazanvicius wields the classic storytelling tools of the silent film era with fresh new exuberance. It may look and feel vintage, but don't be fooled: The Artist is one of the most original movies of the year.

Set in Hollywood, the story revolves around silent film star George Valentin, played with verve and brio by the wonderful French actor Jean Dujardin. As comfortable onscreen wearing a tuxedo as he is wielding a swashbuckler's sword, or flying a spy plane,George enjoys Douglas Fairbanks-style popularity in 1927 Hollywood. But the new phenomenon of talking pictures will soon make George seem antiquated to a public hungry for the innovation of sound.

It's a starmaking performance for Dujardin, who was previously known as a comic actor in a series of French spy spoofs. He owes as much to Gene Kelly in Singin' in the Rain (which covered the same period of Hollywood history) as he does to Fairbanks, with his megawatt smile and effortless athletic grace.

But don't take my word for it. Take a look at this fabulous trailer right now. In the meantime, give yourself an early Christmas treat and make plans to see The Artist on the big screen at the Nick, when it opens on Friday.

CHRISTMAS FROM THE KITCHEN

2011-12-10T09:23:00.000-08:00

The holidays shouldn't have to be a consumerist nightmare of frenzied shopping and canned Burl Ives songs. Once upon a time, before the Christian Church got hold of it, this season was the Feast of Midwinter, a time to gather together in the darkest, coldest time of the year and share food, wine, and camaraderie.

This can still be achieved without a huge expenditure of cash, especially if you like to bake (like moi) or cook. Instead of spending a lot of money buying people more stuff, consider giving your loved ones something, small, personal, and tasty from your kitchen.

This year, I loaned my venerable fruitcake recipe to my pal, Christina Waters. It's her first fruitcake, and you can read all about her progress over on her blog. I haven't made this recipe in awhile, but back when I was an impoverished college student, I used to bake it for my dad every Christmas.

Even after 40+ years in California, Daddy never got the concept of fresh fruit. The son of Danish immigrants who grew up in the chilly Midwest, his idea of fruit was the dried variety—raisins, dates and prunes. He used to rave about a fruitcake jam-packed with all of the above that his eldest sister, Chris, used to bake for the holidays. My mom, who taught me everything I know about baking, did not do fruitcake, so once when Daddy and I were visiting my Aunt Chris at her retirement home at Leisure World, I asked for her fruitcake recipe.

I was expecting her to produce some cherished, hand-scrawled Jensen family heirloom, possibly written in Danish. Instead, she handed me an anonymous printed recipe obviously clipped out of some magazine. I don't know what became of the fabled recipe of yore that my dad remembered, but this was the one Chris said she'd been baking for years, so that was good enough for me.

I made it pretty regularly after that, baking it in a round tube pan the day after Thanksgiving, wrapping it in a cotton dishtowel inside a Tupperware container, and liberally dosing it with alcohol (Aunt Chris insisted on Manischewitz Blackberry Wine) no less than once a week until Christmas.

Even after I moved away permanently to Santa Cruz, I would divide the recipe into smaller loaves and send one down to my dad in Hermosa Beach, and another one to my brother, Mike (nobody else in the household would eat it). This was not doorstop fruitcake, either; it was rich and gooey and luscious!

Daddy and Aunt Chris are both gone now, but just thinking about fruitcake brings them both back to me. Of course, Christina has put her own stamp on the recipe, and it will be interesting to see how it comes out. Stay tuned!

Btw, my Aunt Chris had a fairly wild life. That's her looking very demure up top, Anna Augusta Kirstine Jensen at about age 18 or 19, ca. 1920. This is also her riding a motorcycle in Sioux City, Iowa, at about the same, when she hung out with the boys—most of them police officers—in the local motorcycle club.

Eventually, she married one of them, Tom Brown, and their move to California in the early 1940s launched the clan exodus that resulted in the next generation of Jensens (like my brothers and me) being born here on the Left Coast.

Your aging relatives have surprising stories too, I bet. Why don't you ask them to share some memories at your holiday gatherings? You'll give them an enormous gift of pleasure, and it won't cost you a dime.

(Top: illustration of Mrs. Cratchit and the Christmas Pudding, by Arthur Rackham, from a 1915 edition of A Christmas Carol, as seen online at Project Gutenberg.)

CELLULOID DREAMS

2011-12-07T09:20:00.000-08:00

Hot on the celluloid heels of Hugo, a cinephile's movie if ever there was one, comes another chance to see one of my all-time favorite movies about the movies: Cinema Paradiso. Lucky for us, the Dante Society of Santa Cruz will be screening Giuseppi Tornatore's seductive 1989 love letter to the movies this Sunday, as part of its Winter Italian Film Series, "Set in Sicily," and if you've never seen it on the big screen (or even if you have) give yourself an early Christmas gift and go.

Anyone crazy enough about movies to remember the first one he or she ever saw on a big screen will find Cinema Paradiso irresistible. Set in a postwar Sicilian village, it's about a small, fatherless boy named "Toto," who attaches himself to Alfredo (the great, irreplaceable French actor, Philippe Noiret), the irascible projectionist at the village movie house, the Cinema Paradiso.

Movies rarely reach the public unscathed in Toto's village; each is pre-screened by the priest, who whimpers in dismay and rings a censorious bell whenever he sees something he wants Alfredo to snip out—like kissing scenes. (What becomes of that snipped-out footage is the film's most exhilarating surprise.) Nevertheless, little Toto, and the community at large are bewitched by the magic of movies. When the crowd threatens to riot because they can't all cram into the theater at once, Alfredo angles the glass door over the projector lens to throw the magical image out the window onto a wall in the square below. Teaching Toto to run the projector and handle film stock, Alfredo philosophizes about life, love, and sociology with dialogue he's memorized from the films of Spencer Tracy and John Wayne.

Alfredo has been a love-slave to the moving image ever since the days of hand-cranked projectors. Yet, as Toto evolves from boy to lusty youth to an old man on a last sentimental journey home, it's Alfredo who's the most constant advocate for Toto leaving the village and making a life for himself out in the real world. In its own wise, elliptical way, Cinema Paradiso celebrates movies not as a substitute for real life, but a conduit for dreams—the dreams we all need to build our own lives.

Cinema Paradiso plays one night only, this Sunday, December 11, at Cabrillo College (VAPA Art History Forum, Room 1001). Admission is free, so get in line now.

So, what was the first movie I ever saw in a movie house? Green Mansions, starring (I think) Audrey Hepburn as Rima the Bird Girl (I must have been six or seven years old). Who knows what the heck it was about? It was big and lush, and I thought it was just about the coolest thing ever, to go into a dark room and enter a completely different world. Still do.

What was your first movie?

HAND-MADE FOR THE HOLIDAYS

2011-12-01T08:17:00.000-08:00

Santa Claus has his elves. Here in Santa Cruz, we have artists and craftpersons, many of whom have been working as feverishly as their North Pole counterparts to create unique, original handmade gifts for all your holiday shopping emergencies.

Black Friday is SO last week. But this weekend, festive holiday sales of locally produced art and crafts are popping up like bubbles in a flute of holiday champagne, in venues all over town. (And you don't have to line up at midnight outside the mall with the rest of the sheep to participate.)

Kick off the weekend on First Friday (Dec 2) at Artisan's Gallery downtown. Their current group show, "Home For the Holidays," features a dozen local artists whose work reflects local places and scenes. To commemorate this show, Artisans has compiled a 2012 calendar featuring an image from each artist, on sale at the gallery. (Check out the thumbnails, below.) Reception for the artists 6 to 8 pm, Friday. Click here for more info, or visit Artisan's Facebook page.

Btw, while you're downtown for First Friday this week, check out the Open House at the new offices of the Cultural Council, in the building formerly occupied by University Extension (above Bike Dojo; where Ford's used to be, for all you old-timers). Art Boy and I got the sneak preview tour a couple of weeks ago, when everything was still in boxes; can't wait to see this enormous space all moved-into and decorated for the holidays. The charming, whimsical bird paintings of Chris Miroyan will be decking the halls as well, along with student artwork from the SPECTRA and Mariposa Art programs. Open House/Reception hours are 5 to 8 pm, Friday night.

Speaking of checking out new spaces, bop over to The Tannery on First Friday for a preview of the "Art Hang" weekend holiday exhibit and sale. D. Hooker curated the show, in the new co-op studio she shares with Stephanie Heit and Anita Elliot. 20 local artists—from Faye Augustine to Laamie Young—will be showing gift-worthy pieces in the newly opened Tannery Studio, space # 110. Reception hours are 5 to 9 p.m., Friday. Holiday exhibit continues 11 am to 5 pm, Saturday and Sunday.

One of the county's most venerable holiday art gift shows, Bargetto's "Art in the Wine Cellars," in Soquel, returns for its 20th anniversary this weekend. Art Boy and I had a booth together at this show years ago (back when I was making my fabric art dolls, called "Weird Sisters," like the one at the top of this post), and it is quite the celebration of art, wine and the holiday season, complete with twinkling lights and strolling carolers. It can get nippy in the wine cellar, but nothing that an extra layer of warm clothes and a couple of tots of Chaucer's Mead at the tasting bar won't fix. Here are the 30 artists involved. Hours are 11 am to 5 pm, Saturday and Sunday (Dec 3 and 4). Wine tasting available with the purchase of a $10 Festival Glass.

The Aptos Saturday Farmer's Market at Cabrillo College is also getting into the spirit. Their Home and Hearth Holiday Fair features a rotating group of local artists and craftspeople exhibiting at the market every Saturday through Dec 17. Market hours are 8 am to noon, so plan to pick up something fun and gifty while shopping for your holiday meals.

The 4th Annual Local Artisans Hand-Made Gift Sale features work guaranteed to ring up at $25 or less. It's a moveable holiday feast this year, Saturday only at the old Velvet Underground building, downtown Santa Cruz, and Sunday only at the Art Factory in Aptos' Redwood Village. Hours both days are 10 am to 5 pm.

And on Sunday only, the 17th Avenue Studios collective in Live Oak presents its Winter Show of artwork and gifts. Seven resident artists and four guests will be showing their work; here's who they are. Exhibit hours are 11 am to 5 pm, Sunday only, Dec 4.

Whew! Still standing? I don't advise anyone to shop til they drop, especially during the holidays. After all, this is the season to pause and reflect; it was never meant to be an endurance marathon. But if you want to treat someone you love to some special, hand-made memento, consider any of these venues as a fine way to shop locally AND support the arts in one grand holiday gesture.

("Yule Columbina," Weird Sisters doll by Lisa Jensen. "Decorating With Style" by Liz Lyons Friedman, who will be showing at both Bargetto's (Dec 3 and 4) and the Aptos Farmers Market (Dec 10 and 17).)

BOOK NOTES

2011-11-30T10:00:00.000-08:00

Local authors are doing it for themselves this week, meeting the public at a couple of choice book events.

Robert Sward, a longtime fixture on the Santa Cruz poetry scene, will be reading from his new book, "New and Selected Poems, 1957-2011"," on Tuesday, December 6, at the Capitola Book Cafe. Robert has taught at Mt. Madonna School, Cabrillo College and UCSC. He calls this new collection from Red Hen Press (his 20th book) "my life's work, really."

Robert gave a private reading for a houseful of enthusiastic well-wishers a couple of weeks ago. Now it's time to launch this collection of new and vintage poems for the public at large. Join the celebration Tuesday, 7:30 pm.

(Btw, that cool book jacket features the painting, "Words, Words, Words," by Robert's wife, artist Gloria Alford.)

Also at the Capitola Book Cafe, Monday, Dec 5, plan to catch local authors Thad Nodine, reading from his new novel, "Touch and Go," and Claudia Sternbach, reading from her memoir, "Reading Lips: A Memoir of Kisses." Besides being SC locals, Thad and Claudia also have a publisher in common, the small literary press Unbridled Books. A third UB author, Katherine Kindred, will also be at the Book Cafe event, reading from her memoir, "An Accidental Mother." Reading begins at 7:30 pm.

MARTIN LOVES GEORGES

2011-11-25T17:42:00.000-08:00

Even if you think you don't know anything about French film pioneer Georges Melies, chances are you've seen this iconic image from his best-remembered film. In A Trip To the Moon (La Voyage Dans le Lune) (19-0-TWO, thank you very much), this is how the Man in the Moon reacts when those upstart Earthlings shoot a rocket at him. And it just gets wilder, funnier, and crazier from there.

I love it that Martin Scorsese's new family-friendly film, Hugo, is such an unabashed valentine to Melies. (Read my review here.) It takes its time getting started, as the pacing stutters along in the first half, but when the movie finally settles down to focus on the elderly Melies and celebrate his past as the irrepressible wizard/court jester of early silent films, well, it's just irresistible.

The story concerns the orphan boy, Hugo, who lives in hiding in a Paris railway station, ca. 1930, whose life changes when he meets a crusty old man who runs a toyshop at the station. This is Georges Melies, forgotten by a more sophisticated film industry that's passed him by. The movie is based on the novel, "The Invention of Hugo Cabret," written and illustrated by Brian Selznick (himself a descendant of movie royalty; his distant cousin was David O. Selznick, producer of Gone With the Wind, among many, many others).

Hugo himself is a fabrication of Selznick's ripe imagination, but what I love about the story (and Scorsese's reverent film) is that all the details of Melies' life are actually true. He really did run a shop for mechanical toys in the Gare Montparnasse in the late '20s. Here's what it looked like:

And here's how the shop is reimagined in Scorsese's films. (That's Ben Kingsley as the elderly Melies).

Melies started out as a stage magician who loved creating illusions. After he saw one of the first "cinematographe" presentations by the Lumiere Brothers in 1895, he was hooked on the new medium. In flashback, the film shows us Melies and his muse/mistress/actress Jeanne d'Alcy (who later became his wife) building a production studio made of glass for the creation of movie magic; it housed a working stage, complete with flats and trapdoors for Melies' onscreen illusions. This studio was actually built outside Paris in 1897; here's Melies himself (left, foreground) painting sets within its glass walls.

Scorsese goes into loving detail, showing how Melies and company produce their giddy short films, chock-full of dragons, mermaids, moon explorers and chorus girls. We learn how Melies created depth shooting into layers of sets, added color by hand-tinting each frame, and created special effects by pioneering the stop-motion technique, or snipping out frames of film with a scissors.

This is what the glorious excesses of Melies' unfettered imagination looked like onscreen at the turn-of-the-century:

And here's Scorsese's evocative homage in Hugo:

Best of all, what seems like a Hollywood ending in the film actually happened to Melies. With or without the intervention of a plucky little orphan boy, Melies was discovered at his toy kiosk by a film journalist, ca 1929. When a cache of some of his supposedly lost films (he made over 500 shorts, in his day) was discovered and painstakingly restored, Melies was feted with a retrospective in Paris, and awarded the Legion d'Honneur for his body of work. What's more (it being civilized France), he and Jeanne were granted a pension and moved into a country chateau for cinema veterans for the rest of their days.

It's Scorsese's recreation of the Melies retrospective at the end of Hugo that really knocked me out, when a lengthy montage of real, vintage Melies footage fills the screen. For a few moments, we can imagine what it must have felt like for a moviegoer of that era to enter into the fantastical Melies universe for the first time. I saw the movie in 3-D, which I don't necessarily recommend (although the 3-D process at the Del Mar is the best I've seen in town). I don't think I would have missed anything seeing Hugo in 2-D—except for the thrill of seeing the Melies footage on the giant screen in the Grand Auditorium. Which is where Georges Melies so richly deserves to be.

FAMILY MATTERS PART 2

2011-11-24T13:58:00.000-08:00

As we know here in Santa Cruz, no one is "immune to life"—not even in Paradise. This is well understood by Matt King, a Hawaiian-born lawyer and father on the island of Oahu facing a particularly thorny patch of life in The Descendants, Alexander Payne's incisive, entertaining, tender and life-sized family drama. Shot on location in the luscious Hawaiian islands of Oahu and Kauai, it's a tale of a family in crisis, a culture in flux, and the issue of legacy between the generations, told with wry humor and honest emotion.

Adapted by scriptwriters Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, from the novel by Hawaiian author Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants revolves around the King family. George Clooney once again proves himself one of the most watchable and subtle of actors in the role of beleaguered father Matt, who has evidently pursued a successful law career while neglecting his duties to his thrill-seeking wife, Elizabeth, and their two daughters. But he gets a big dose of payback when a boating accident lands Elizabeth in a coma.

It's up to Matt to pull the family together, even though he calls himself "the back-up parent, the understudy," who has no idea even how to talk to his girls. (Read more)

FAMILY MATTERS

2011-11-23T09:55:00.000-08:00

Take a wild ride with a post-modern family in local author Thad Nodine's wry, compassionate new novel

There may be none so blind as those who will not see, as the old adage goes. But in Santa Cruz author Thad Nodine's bracing debut novel, "Touch And Go" (Unbridled Books), there is also no one more perceptive than the blind narrator/protagonist, Kevin Layne. In a patchwork, largely dysfunctional post-modern family related by need, not blood, on an ill-conceived cross-country road trip, blind Kevin is the one with the surest grasp on (and empathy for) the desires and compulsions that motivate the others' actions—motivations they often keep hidden, even from themselves.

It takes a certain amount of audacity—not to mention skill— for a sighted author to write an entire novel from a blind character's, er, viewpoint. For one thing, there are no elaborate visual descriptions to fall back on—interiors, city streets, the changing landscape on the road, not even the characters' faces. None of which daunts Nodine, who makes a vivid sensory feast out of everyday activities as Kevin relates his experience of the physical world. ("Footsteps spat across concrete at odd angles. A stroller nearly clipped me...I blustered across alcoves as the heels of my Western boots echoed the recesses.") From Kevin's perspective, Nodine's descriptions of the other characters are so alive—the emotional pitch of voices, how a shoulder or elbow feels to the touch, a fleeting scent of perfume, or sweat, or chlorine, fidgety hands, intimate confessions—the reader may not even realize he doesn't know what they actually look like. (Read more)

PRE-HOLIDAY CHEER

2011-11-21T17:09:00.000-08:00

Let the Revels begin with delightful new SSC holiday production

You don't have know the "Frog and Toad" series of children's books by Arnold Lobel to fall in love with A Year With Frog and Toad, the new holiday production from Shakespeare Santa Cruz. In a fleet, satisfying (and very child-friendly) 70 minutes—sans intermission—this lively production keeps kids and adults rapt with jazzy songs, inventive design, good humor, and heart. They might as well tie a giant red ribbon around the UCSC Mainstage Theater, this production is such a big, happy holiday gift to the community.

Adapted from Lobel's books by brothers Robert Reale (music) and Willie Reale (book and lyrics), A Year With Frog and Toad received three Tony nominations on Broadway in 2003. Staging the SSC show is Art Manke, who directed last summer's rip-roaring Three Musketeers in the Festival Glen. Manke tailors the play to the intimacy of the Mainstage, and keeps the action moving briskly, abetted by a hard-working, nine-person acting company who will steal your heart.

But the show belongs to its stars. As Frog, Nick Gabriel has a lovely singing voice and a warm-hearted sense of fun, maintaining a perfectly froggy stance and gestures in every scene. As Toad, Mike Ryan delivers yet another endearing, uproarious comic performance that can make you weep on a dime. They are enormous fun to watch; round up a couple of kids and get your tickets right now. Why are you still sitting there? (Read more.)

(The SSC production, A Year With Frog and Toad plays through December 11 at the Mainstage Theater, UCSC. Click here for ticket info.)

(Above: Mike Ryan and Nick Gabriel. Photo by rr jones.)

MORT: THE ARCHIVE

2011-11-15T09:40:00.000-08:00

Just a reminder that the 2nd Annual Morton Marcus Memorial Poetry Reading will take place this Sunday, November 20. Pulitzer Prize-winner and recent MacArthur Fellow Kay Ryan is the featured poet. And don't forget the change of venue and time: this year, the event will be held at the Music Recital Hall up at UCSC, 3 pm. (The idea is to switch venues between co-sponsors Cabrillo and UCSC on alternate years.)

And while you're up there, stop by the exhibit of material from the new Morton Marcus Archive, to be unveiled on the afternoon of the reading. From noon to 3 pm, Sunday, the public is invited to visit the Mort exhibit in Special Collections at UCSC's newly revamped McHenry Library. Mort's widow, Donna Mekis, has been working with Special Collections curators for weeks furnishing the exhibition cases with personal mementos from Mort's study, where he was wont to prowl around in the middle of the night, working on new poems.

Not that Mort couldn't write anywhere, at any time. On the first trip to France we took with Mort and Donna and the McDougals, after a few days in the countryside, haunting the village boulangerie, Mort disappeared into his room for an hour or so one morning. When he emerged, he read us all the first draft of the poem, "The Baker's Wife," with its wry, yeasty sensuality. (It's now in his collection, "Pursuing The Dream Bone".)

But Mort did most of his writing in his upstairs study, surrounded by his books, his cigars, his Buddha, and the other objects he loved. Donna has tried to capture the spirit of his writing environment in the Specia Collections exhibit, so come early and check it out on the way to the poetry reading. (Donna also suggests a stop at the new Global Village Café, operated by the Hoffmans, located in the atrium of the new Library.)

The Morton Marcus exhibit will be on view from noon to 3 pm, Sunday, November 20, in Special Collections at the McHenry Library. The Kay Ryan poetry reading, with guest readers Shirley Ancheta and Jeff Tagami, introduced by Santa Cruz Poet Laureate Gary Young, begins at 3 pm. Doors open at 2:30, and admission is free, but seating is limited (first come, first served), so plan to get there early.

(Photo of Mort Writing, as seen on mortonmarcus.com.)

MAD LOVE

2011-11-10T17:46:00.000-08:00

There are moments when Pedro Almodóvar's new movie, The Skin I Live In (La Piel Que Habito) will make you squirm. It has sex and violence—often at the same time—and some very strange relationships, perverse even by Almodóvar standards. In terms of storyline, it's a weird mix of Pygmalion and Frankenstein, with echoes of vintage mad scientist horror movies from the '30s to the '50s. (You could even make a case for this film paying a sort of bizarre homage to my favorite grade-Z '50s horror movie, The Head That Wouldn't Die).

But this is one of those rare movies that gets better and better in retrospect, as the viewer begins to appreciate the scope and intensity of its themes. Very loosely based on the hard-boiled novel, "Tarantula," by the late French author Thierry Jonquet, it becomes, in Almodóvar's expert hands, an outrageous, yet smart and compelling meditation on gender and identity, and how much each depends on the other. Almodóvar asks: what makes us who we are inside? Is it how we look, the surface or skin on the outside? Or is there some unassailable core of identity that determines one's selfhood, no matter what?

These questions come whipped up into a typically lush and spicy Almodóvar cocktail of sex, obsession, gunplay, haunting secrets, merging personas, dubious parentage, and maternal devotion. At the center of it all is Antonio Banderas, making a welcome return to the Spanish auteur's stable of players after a 21-year hiatus.

(Read more)

MAJESTIC CON JOB

2011-11-09T17:51:00.000-08:00

Anonymous is that rare movie from action director Roland Emmerich in which nothing blows up—except the crackpot theory that Edward DeVere, 17th Earl of Oxford, wrote the canon of plays and sonnets historically attributed to William Shakespeare. This hothouse melodrama of Tudor intrigue, sex, and politics, scripted by John Orloff, is based on the most controversial "Oxfordian" theories.

It's all sheer humbuggery, but still an entertaining spectacle: the costumes are exquisite, the overhead shots Elizabethan London are breathtaking, and it's populated by a bunch of attractive young actors on their way up.

Oxford (Rhys Ifans) has penned his plays in secret, ever since he was fostered into the Puritan household of Queen Elizabeth's counselor, William Cecil (an unrecognizable David Thewlis), where poetry was forbidden. However, the dashing young Oxford (Jamie Campbell Bower, in flashback) charmed the lusty, poetry-loving young Queen Bess (Joely Richardson).

But now that the queen is in her dotage (Vanessa Redgrave, playing the formidable Bess as dotty and girlish), Oxford starts leaking his plays to the Globe theater company to influence public opinion (or "the mob," as all the nobles call them) in the matter of the queen's heir. Elizabeth's court is evidently teeming with her bastard children, including the young earls of Essex (Sam Reid) and Southampton (Xavier Samuel), whose doomed rebellion is portrayed as a patriotic attempt to retain the English crown for the English Tudor bloodline.

Refusing to claim authorship of the work because it's simply not done, or something, Oxford tries to get playwright Ben Jonson to front for him. But when the first performance of Henry V sends the crowd into an ecstatic frenzy, Will Shakespeare, a buffoonish comic actor in the company, sneaks in to put his name to the unsigned manuscript—a charade Oxford finds it politically expedient to maintain, bankrupting himself to buy the upstart Will's complicity.

This portrait of Shakespeare as a smarmy, boorish, scheming illiterate is irksome (although Rafe Spall plays him with vivid comic brio); so is the elitist idea that only a nobleman could possibly be capable of such brilliance. It's hard to believe that Oxford (or anyone) could have written A Midsummer Night's Dream at age 12, as is suggested here. And would the canniest monarch of her age farm out such a litter of bastard children among the noblest houses of England to be manipulated later by her enemies?

Meanwhile, the filmmakers cheerfully massacre the facts of English history and the allegorical meaning of the plays themselves, in a vain attempt to fit their idle speculation. I disliked the portrait of Christopher Marlowe (Trystan Gravelle) as an oily, conniving malcontent (especially since Marlowe was long dead by the time events in this movie take place). Ifan's mature Oxford is anonymous indeed; circumspect and elegant, but lacking in passion or presence. (Sebastian Armesto's courageous Ben Jonson emerges as the hero.)

Still, for all its faults, the film conveys the Elizabethan era in all its messy splendor, and backstage glimpses of the Globe in its heyday and snippets of the plays in performance are often thrilling.

It's too bad such majestic production values are wasted on such a hopeless con job. If you must fool around with Shakespearean history, I much prefer novelist Elizabeth Bear's audacious Stratford Man Duology, in which Will Shakespeare succeeds Kit Marlowe in weaving magical spells into their brilliant verse for the protection of the realm—after Marlowe has been whisked off to eternal life in the land of Faery. It's far more imaginative, and plausible, than the fairy tale of Anonymous.

ART AND SOLE

2011-11-08T18:51:00.000-08:00

Feeling shoe-ish? Why not hotfoot it down to the Sockshop in downtown Santa Cruz this Friday night (November 11) for the Sockshop and Shoe Art, Wine and Shoes Benefit. Back by popular demand (they initiated the first event of this kind back in 2009), it's a celebration of art, shoes, and wine, built around a silent art auction to benefit the Homeless Services Center.

And we're not taking about just any old art auction. It's all about the shoes, with all donated work from local artists revolving around everyone's favorite fetish object. Printmaker Liz Lyons Friedman offers a giclee of her popular linocut, "Change Your Shoes, Change Your Attitude." As usual, James Aschbacher (aka Art Boy) has a slightly different take on the subject in his original painting, "Good Taste In Shoes."

In addition to art about shoes, the auction also features some pretty amazing artwork painted ON shoes. Check out the Santa Cruz Patch page on this event, and be sure to look at Judi Oyama's slideshow of shoe art being featured in the auction. Don't miss Jimbo Phillips' rad, hand-painted "Santa Cruz" surfer Vans, and his companion painting of a mermaid on the rocks near Lighthouse Point.

Other shoe art painters include Kori Thompson, Danny Sun, and Joey Vela. Much of the artwork is on display for your perusal at the Sockshop right now, so go check it out. The event is scheduled for 6 to 9 pm, Friday evening, November 11, at the Sockshop, 1515 Pacific Avenue. (In the old ID Building, for all you old-timers.) Food and drink will be provided by Chocolate; music provided by Blake Redding. Be prepared for a festive evening of art and sole.

CLOTHES MAKE THE MOVIE

2011-11-03T18:50:00.000-07:00

Nobody ever accused me of being a fashion plate, but I'm a sucker for a great costume. Maybe it was all those Barbies I dressed in my misspent childhood, especially in the outfits I made up. (I once dressed up my brunette Midge doll in a blue overcoat, flat black hat, and umbrella, like Mary Poppins, and attached her to the curtain mechanism above my bedroom window so she could "fly" back and forth over the bed.)

A front-runner in next year's Best Costume Oscar race is sure to be Anonymous, with luscious Elizabethan-era costumes by German designer Lisy Christl. Here are a couple of costumes from the movie on display as we speak at the Century Centre 9 Theater in San Francisco (where the film opened last week). Check out the detailing, especially those slashed, beribboned, and embroidered pantaloons in the foreground. Yowza.

Anonymous opens tomorrow here in Santa Cruz, on the big screen at the Del Mar, and I can't wait. I don't expect to be converted to the idea that anyone other than Will Shakespeare wrote the plays historically attributed to him, but the movie is sure to look fabulous.

Here's a costume sketch from Christl, complete with fabric swatches, suggested stitching and notions details, and painterly inspiration. Notice how the sleeves in the sketch are influenced by the voluptuous, bell-shaped gathered sleeves of the blue madonna on the left.

Many thanks to Daniella Taormina-Keenan at Allied Media in SF for sending out these images. Nothing could make me more excited to see this movie!

ALL FOR NOTHING

2011-11-02T17:22:00.000-07:00

Almost everything that could possibly go wrong, did, in Paul W. S. Anderson's misbegotten attempt to turn Alexandre Dumas' elegant classic, The Three Musketeers, into a cheesy, CGI-laden superhero franchise. If you love Dumas' rousing tale as much as I do (as you might remember from my previous blog), you'll cringe at the concept of Athos as an underwater ninja, Aramis wrapped in a cape swooping off tall buildings like Batman, Porthos as a Hulk-like strongman pulling his chains out of stone walls to attack his prison guards. These guys are assassins, committing mayhem with soulless efficiency; it's half an hour into the movie before anybody even draws a sword.

Anderson makes an oily bouillabaisse out of Dumas's sprightly storyline. In this version, childish King Louis XIII (Freddie Fox) and his poised young Queen Anne (Juno Temple) are in love with each other, but too shy to speak of it. Gone is the neglected queen's dangerous liasion with the Duke of Buckingham, played by Orlando Bloom as a fop in an Elvis pompadour, now temporarily in league with the villainous Milady de Winter (Milla Jovovich). (There's a dreary Pirates of the Caribbean-like sameness to the way all the villains keep double-crossing each other.)

Most egregious is the notion that Milady was once a veritable Fourth Musketeer, and Athos' true love. Anyone who actually understands what the story is about will recoil at the idea of Athos, the noblest, most honorable and ruthless of all the Musketeers, ever allying himself with the faithless, opportunistic Milady—especially as she's portrayed by Jovovich as a pouty little tart. (This movie is so amped up, Milady can't simply enter a room by stealth; she has to bungee-jump off the top of a stone angel on the roof—in a corset, yet—in broad daylight, to a balcony below.)

Another pointless addition to the plot is a set of plans stolen out of a secret "Da Vinci Vault," for a flying warship, a ferociously armed wooden sailing ship under an enormous balloon. This could be a very cool thing if handled with any kind of panache, but let's face it, the movies haven't gotten steampunk right since 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. (Remember The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen? Or, worse, Van Helsing?) When this warship lumbers into view and starts raining down random destruction from an arsenal of cannon that blast away like machine guns, it's just ugly. And when two of them go into battle against each other, it's ridiculous how much time is wasted in the ships strafing each other's decks before someone finally gets the bright idea to blow a hole in the other's balloon.

Equally full of hot air is the jokey, creaky dialogue, stuffed with lugubrious, faux-arch witticisms. (Although I did smile when Constance (Gabrielle Wilde) tells Logan Lerman's gauche young puppy of a D'Artagnan, "In the battle of wits, you, sir, are unarmed.")

What else did I like in this movie? Matthew Macfadyen, Ray Stevenson and Luke Evans are terrific as Athos, Porthos, and Aramis—in the fleeting moments they get to play the characters Dumas wrote. And there are some evocatively imagined CGI vistas of 17th Century Paris.

The great Danish actor Mads Mikkelsen plays antagonist Count de Rochefort exactly as the material demands—as a cartoon—fortunately disguised in a plumed hat and eyepatch most of the time. Less fortunate in Christoph Waltz as evil Cardinal Richelieu, who seems more peevish than dangerous, and about as sinister as Snidely Whiplash. Any director who can't get purring menace out of Christoph Waltz, of all people, playing Cardinal flipping Richelieu, obviously doesn't know what he's doing.

There's nothing here to challenge Richard Lester's classic 1973 film adaptation. And it certainly won't make anyone forget the dash and brio of last summer's live SSC production.

SEASONAL FESTIVITIES

2011-10-31T10:16:00.000-07:00

Wishing one and all a Happy Halloween!

Don't forget to make a shrine to your departed loved ones today, or leave an offering down at the Dia de los Muertos altar at the MAH to welcome them back between now and Wednesday, All Souls Day. If you're not already partied out from the weekend, enjoy the gift of this beautiful day and what promises to be another clear, starry night for all your Halloween festivities.

Speaking of parties, how cool did the Rio Theatre look Friday and Saturday nights for New Music Works' Metropolis event? Take a look at artist Dag Weiser presenting the 8' x 20' Art Deco Berlin cityscape he and partner Leslie Murray crafted out of cardboard for the Rio lobby (complete with a little silver biplane circling overhead).

It was the perfect backdrop to the opening night reception on Friday, celebrating the World Premiere of Phil Collins' new musical soundtrack, which was performed live by the NMW Ensemble as Fritz Lang's 1927 Deco-Futurust masterpiece unspooled. Major kudos to Maestro Collins for his evocative and thoroughly integrated score (not to mention the Herculean task of conducting it live throughout the film's daunting two-hour length).

Simmering electronic effects used to underscore the building tension in the first half gave way to sweeping themes of sustained drama and power in the climactic second half. I especially liked the sly and inventive use of choral voices throughout, performed by the Ariose Singers, and soprano Colleen Donovan.

Meanwhile, out in the lobby, concertgoers were encouraged to attend in 1920s chic, Futurist, or Steampunk costumes. I did my bit, posing here in front of the Weiser-Murray wall, just to give you a sense of scale. Even though the piece is technically flat, notice how the layering of cardboard surfaces (not to mention the extraordinary painting techniques) give it all a 3-D effect.

Overall, it was a great launch for a wonderful score that, in a just world, ought to be permanently attached to all future screenings of Metropolis. (It certainly blows Giorgio Moroder's patchwork score of '80s pop tunes right out of the water.) Hearing it performed live was a special pleasure. My only suggestion for future NMW events would be to have someone come out to welcome the audience, thank the sponsors, and introduce the performers before the show, to amp up the sense of community and excitement. A live performance is an adventure the performers and audience take together, and it's nice to acknowledge everyone as part of the team.

REINVENTING BUTCH

2011-10-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

Suppose legendary outlaw Butch Cassidy didn't die in a hail of gunfire in Bolivia, but lived on in retirement for years, until circumstances drew him out for one last reckoning. That's the premise of Blackthorn, Spanish director Mateo Gil's spare, soulful tone poem on the iconography of the West, honor among thieves, and redemption.

The fiercely iconic Sam Shepard is perfectly cast as the outlaw formerly known as Cassidy, now calling himself James Blackthorn. It's decades since Etta Place (Dominique McElligott, in flashback) took the train back to the states (carrying the child Blackthorn still occasionally writes to, signing himself "Uncle Butch"), and the Sundance Kid (Padraic Delaney) died in his arms. (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau is also excellent as the younger Butch in these flashbacks.) Now he lives peacefully in a tiny, mud-brick ranch house in the Bolivian countryside, enjoying a loving relationship with Indian woman, Yana (Magaly Solier).

But crusty, grizzled Blackthorn is ready to go back to the states. "If I was gonna die of old age," he says, "I might as well do it at home." A chance encounter with Spanish bandito, Eduardo (Eduardo Noriega), however, costs him his life savings. Eduardo promises to split the loot if Blackthorn will help him recover a hidden bag of money he robbed from a mining company. On the way, Blackthorn takes the younger outlaw under his wing and shares his views on honor, friendship, and life. (Asked why he gave up robbing trains before he got rich, Blackthorn replies, "I've been my own man. Nothing richer than that.") But trust me: there's nothing warm and fuzzy about where this movie is going.

In a nod to the classic George Roy Hill movie, the two men are pursued by a relentless posse, forever kicking up dust just over the horizon, although the character of this posse is very different (a showdown between three women is particularly hair-raising). Meanwhile, ex-Pinkerton detective Mackinley (a terrific Stephen Rea), turns up as a drunken old gringo who's wasted his life in fruitless pursuit of Butch and Sundance, but now embraces the quiet life away from the "war" the corporate railroads waged against the outlaws. Director Gil has previously been known as a screenwriter (Open Your Eyes; The Sea Inside), although here he works from a script by Miguel Barros. He moves the action smoothly along through some luscious Bolivian landscapes to the stark, yet righteous conclusion of this moody, elegiac film.

MIXED MEDIA METROPOLIS

2011-10-25T09:10:00.000-07:00

Fritz Lang's silent Art Deco futuristic masterpiece, Metropolis, has been the gold standard for sci-fi film design since its release in 1927. The visuals are absolutely stunning for their era, or any era since, and with an added 25 minutes of "new" footage recently found in a film museum in Buenos Aires, the plot finally makes complete sense.

Now, the Rio Theatre and New Music Works invite you to immerse yourself in a total, mixed-media Metropolis experience this Friday and Saturday nights.

Accompanying these two special screenings of The Complete Metropolis will be the World Premiere of a new original musical score composed by Phil Collins (Santa Cruz County Artist of the Year, 2011), Performed live by the NMW Ensemble and guest artists Timba Harris, Colleen Donovan, and Ariose Singers. What's more, the lobby of the Rio Theatre will be transformed into a Deco Expressionist Berlin cityscape courtesy of cardboard artists Dag Weiser and Leslie Murray.

Here's a sneak peek. Now picture yourself swanning through this delicious backdrop in basic black and a rope of pearls, or robotic silver paint, because for the Gala Opening Night Reception, Friday night, you, The Public, are invited to come in costume. Dress up as your favorite character from the movie, or in an outfit inspired by the Art Deco era, or don your best Industrial-Age Steampunk chic. The Friday night reception begins at 6:30. The film screens each night at 8 pm.

Tickets available in advance at NMW online, or in person at Streetlight Records, or at the door. Check out the slideshow on the NMW page, or visit the IMDb Metropolis photo page, or just Google Metropolis, 1927, images, to get some very cool costume ideas.

(LITERARY) LION KINGS

2011-10-22T09:31:00.000-07:00

It's been two and a half years since Jim Houston lost his battle with cancer, and Santa Cruz lost one of its most treasured icons (as well as one of its most beloved favorite sons). So it's quite an unexpected pleasure to hear that a new Houston book is coming out, complete with a star-studded launch party and reading this Sunday at Cabrillo College.

"A Queen's Journey" is the historical novel on the life of Hawa'ii's last sovereign queen, Lili'uokalani, that Jim was working on at the time of his death. The book is unfinished, but the 120 pages of solid storytelling left behind will see publication via Heyday Books, an independent publisher in Berkeley, as a gift to Houston fans everywhere.

Sunday's kickoff event begins at 2:30 p.m. at the Cabrillo College Music Recital Hall. Among Jim's friends and colleagues who will be reading from his work are Alan Cheuse, Maxine Hong Kingston, Al Young, Karen Joy Fowler, Wallace Baine, Geoffrey Dunn and Stephen Kessler. Jeannie Houston will also speak, and live Hawa'iian music will be provided by Braddah Timmy.

Admission is free, but advance tickets are required. Go here and print yours out right now. I'll see you there!

Speaking of lost literary lions, this month also marks the second anniversary of the passing of Morton Marcus. Although, in Mort's case, I'm sure he'd rather be remembered as a brown bear, his totem animal.

(Here he is, looking very debonair, on the road in France. The first time we went to France with Mort, his wife, Donna, and our pals Bruce and Marcia McDougal, Art Boy and I took the train to Switzerland for a couple of days and brought Mort back a Swiss chocolate bear from Bern, whose city mascot is the bear. The next time we went to France, we all went to Bern together, which became Mort's favorite medieval city—until he and Donna discovered Prague a couple of years later. That we never had a chance to all visit Prague together is one of the great regrets of my life.)

Anyway, it's ironic that we lost both Mort and Jim Houston in the same year, two very different men with different sensibilities, but longtime friends whose lives and careers were entwined for some 50 years. And as Jim has been memorialized by the annual James D. Houston Award established by Houston's family and Heyday Books, Mort is remembered in the annual Morton Marcus Poetry Reading established in his honor by Poetry Santa Cruz, Cabrillo College, UCSC, and Ow Family Properties.

Last year's inaugural poetry event with Robert Hass at the Cabrillo Recital Hall was a sellout. This year's 2nd Annual Morton Marcus Poetry Reading will spotlight Kay Ryan, Pulitzer Prize-winner and U.S. Poet Laureate, 2008-2010. Gary Young, Shirley Ancheta, and Jeff Tagami will also be on the program. But take note: this year the venue has changed to the UCSC campus, at the Music Recital Hall, 3 pm, Sunday, November 20. Admission is free, but seating is limited, so plan to get there early. As a special incentive, selected items from the new Morton Marcus Archive will be open for viewing at Special Collections in the newly refurbished McHenry Library from 1-3 p.m. on the day of the reading.

BOT-ITUDE

2011-10-19T08:26:00.000-07:00

Here's the thing about Hugh Jackman. (Well, there are several things, but I'm trying to focus, here.) I'm still waiting for him to get a movie role as charming, exuberant, and versatile as he is himself, as an interview subject (on Inside the Actor's Studio, for instance) and as an awards show host. In the meantime, we get Real Steel, a workmanlike saga of tarnished dreams and redemption from director Shawn Levy. It's by-the-numbers in every possible way, plot-wise, but it coasts along on the considerable appeal of Jackman, playing both tough and tender as Charlie Kenton, a broken-down fight promoter who gets one last chance to turn his life around.

The story is set in the very near future when fighting robots have replaced humans in the boxing ring. Charlie was a contender once, until the bots took over; now he lives a gypsy life on the road, trucking around an old robot called Ambush on the county fair circuit while trying to stay one step ahead of his numerous creditors. (In the film's ugliest scene, Ambush fights a live rodeo bull at a cheesy fair. Art Boy, my charming moviegoing companion, suggested the bot should have been fighting a mechanical bull, which would have been a much more clever idea, and less icky to watch.)

Anyway, just when Charlie hits bottom, with no bot, no cash, and no prospects, he gets word that a former girlfriend has died in an accident—leaving behind their 11-year-old son, whom Charlie has never known. Intending to sell his custody rights to the boy's wealthy aunt, Charlie instead gains temporary guardianship of young Max (Dakota Goyo) for the summer. Their relationship is adversarial in every way until Max, a videogame junkie, gets a load of his first life-sized fighting bot.

When another of Charlie's fighters is pummeled to scrap metal in the ring, and they raid a recycling center (ie: junkyard) for spare parts, Max discovers Atom under a pile of debris. A small, early-model "sparring bot," Atom is made to take a lot of punishment. His vintage circuitry is out of date, and his control box is funky, but there's something soulful about him, and as Charlie and Max start refurbishing their little underdog and winning bouts with him, father and son, of course, begin to bond as well. Thus, Charlie begins to reclaim himself, and salvage his relationship with Bailey (Evangeline Lilly), the plucky daughter of his former trainer who still run's her father's crumbling old gym.

Every crisis, every bad guy, and every triumph plays out exactly as you expect, but I still found the movie almost ridiculously entertaining. I liked the just-a-few-weeks-from-now milieu: the bots themselves are well articulated and distinctive, and all the tech toys are a little more streamlined, sleek and glowing, but clothing and vehicles & weathered old buildings in the low-rent districts still pretty much look the same. (A nice touch is all the green-power windmills in the distant landscape.)

I especially liked all the different levels of Purgatory suggested by the various fighting arenas: the bleak, tawdry fair, the renegade "zoo," where bikers, punks & lowlifes build their own DIY junker bots to fight for peanuts, the sleazy "Crash Palace," where has-been pro bots go for their melancholy last hurrah (with its great, industrial Metropolis-like posters out front), and the way more upscale first pro League Fight. And at last, the Valhalla (maybe I should say Olympus) of the superdome where Atom fights champion mega-bot Zeus.

Jackman is fun to watch. (Although for his Charlie, "broken-down" is meant to be taken spiritually, not literally; Bailey's misty rhapsody on how, in his fighting prime, Charlie was "lean" and "beautiful," would have more impact if Jackman wasn't standing right there in such ferociously good shape.) And the CGI is well-integrated into the visuals; it always looks like the human and robot characters are side-by-side in the same spatial plane.

What it all boils down to is a tale about a little bot with heart managed by a fighter vs big, hulking, hi-tech muscle machines controlled by geeks with joysticks. In Real Steel's universe, heart wins out. Who could argue with that?

PAINTER OF LIFE

2011-10-13T19:12:00.000-07:00

Enter a teeming Bruegel painting in audacious, exciting 'The Mill and the Cross'

I don't know much about Polish filmmaker Lech Majewski, but he's made one wild, weird-ass movie about art and the artmaking process in The Mill and the Cross. It's a fairly awful title for such a grand, edgy cinematic experiment. Yes, a mill and a cross figure prominently in the painting under construction in the movie, but this title not only makes the film sound dull and plodding, it suggests none of the originality and sheer visual audacity that makes this movie so exciting.

In general, it's about the 16th Century Flemish painter Pieter Bruegel the Elder, caught in the act of creating his vast masterwork, "The Way To Calvary," in 1564. Majewski's film is inspired by a non-fiction book on the subject by art historian Michael Francis Gibson, but Majewski's approach is completely unconventional. We never see the artist actually painting; instead, Majewski creates an onscreen landscape that already looks like a Bruegel painting, especially the background, with its sky full of roiling clouds and the distant hills.

The foreground is occupied by the local peasants that Bruegel always painted with such gusto going about their daily business. Bruegel himself (played by the iconic Rutger Hauer) trudges about in the extreme foreground, deciding how he will marshal these people for allegorical purposes within his composition. He shares these ideas with the audience, sometimes in private voice-over contemplation, at other times in conversation with his wealthy patron, Nicolaes Jonghelinck (Michael York). Now and then, the busy activity onscreen stops dead in its tracks while Bruegel and Jonghelinck prowl around on the outskirts, discussing the various images and what they mean.

But this is in no way a dry history lesson or art critique. And forget about narrative: Majewski isn't interested in telling a linear story. Instead, life sprawls across his cinematic canvas, in all its messy, teeming, tragi-comic, absurd humanity. A weathered miller looks down on it all from his millhouse perched high on a craggy hill, as his windmill blades slowly churn, and the massive gears grind away.

Bruegel explains that the miller, high on his hill, represents God in his painting, "the Great Miller of Life." In Majewski's view, the painter himself (and by extension, the filmmaker) is also a godlike figure, grinding the raw grain of life and human activity into art. Those enormous wooden gears and cogs grinding away inside the millhouse are like the artist's imagination, set to work by the full sails of inspiration. (Read more)

You won't believe how amazing this movie looks. But don't take my word for it; here's the trailer.

Whatever you do, don't miss seeing this wonderful, questing, radical art film on a big screen, where it belongs! Why are you still sitting there?

WHAT'S UP, DOC?

2011-10-13T15:02:00.000-07:00

Real-life stories take center stage in 23rd Annual Pacific Rim Film Festival

Truth may not be stranger than fiction, but reality is every bit as compelling in this year's edition of the Pacific Rim Film Festival. Now in its 23rd year, Santa Cruz's favorite free film festival unspools October 14-19, at three locations: The Del Mar Theatre, the Rio Theatre, and Cabrillo College Watsonville Center. As usual, the festival presents films from all around the Pacific Rim, from China, Japan, the Philippines, India, South Korea, New Zealand and Australia to Mexico, Hawaii and the U. S. mainland.

And of the 19 films served up in this year's festival, nine are documentaries, including the opening night kickoff event and the closing night benefit. Three other films in the lineup are fact-based stories, lightly fictionalized accounts of real people and real-life events.

What sort of real-life stories are we talking about here? Hot doc topics include music, in many variations, Japanese-American soldiers in WWII, a Korean mother reuniting with her American son, murder in the Himalayas, and circumnavigating the entire Hawaiian Islands via outrigger canoe. In particular, the opening night film (Last Paradise) and closing night film (Patagonia Rising) concern extreme sports, eco-activism (and exteme eco-activism). (Read more)

And speaking off offbeat movies, here are two words you might not expect to see in the same sentence: Norwegian comedy. But that's Happy, Happy, a tart, acerbic domestic satire about two modern couples who don't know what they want and don't want what they have. A big winner at Sundance, and Norway's official entry to the 2012 Academy Awards, it's not exactly a laff riot, but rookie director Anne Sewitsky trades in a laugh-to-keep-from-crying sort of worldview.

City couple Elisabeth (Maibritt Saerens), a lawyer, and Sigve (Henrik Rafaelsen), along with their adopted young African son, rent a small guest house from warm, ebullient schoolteacher Katja (Agnes Kittelsen) and her sullen hubby, Erik (Joachim Rafaelsen) for a winter vacation. The cool Elisabeth thinks "Katja is desperate to be my friend," but it's Sigve and Katja who bond; both are lonely in the same way. Elisabeth was cheating on Sigve back in the city, and Katja is emotionally battered by Erik—who has demons of his own.

Director Sewitsky punches up these dark themes with ironic appearances by a quartet of white, Nordic males, singing a capella American gospel. (After a montage of illicit sex, the chorus comes back with a deadpan, yet somehow salacious "Good Religion.") In this way, Sewitsky develops her larger themes. When Erik and Katja's son, Theodor, starts playing "slave" games with the African child (including faux flogging with a towel), Sewitsky and screenwriter Ragnhild Tronvoll introduce the idea iof a bad marriage as a kind of enslavement for couples unhappily shackled together. This is alluded to again in a concert scene by the community chorus that the characters all join, where the oppressed Katja is chosen as a soloist on "Amazing Grace"—a hymn originally penned to support the anti-slavery movement in 19th Century Britain.

The narrative strays into some weird, off-putting moments as these characters attempt to find "tenderness and joy." And they can be alarmingly clueless. (Katja yearns to have more children, but if the results are more demon spawn like Theodor, we're glad she's been thwarted.) But Kittelsen delivers a mostly endearing performance as Katja; the viewer becomes invested in her emotional journey. And Sewitsky displays a droll sensibility (ironic, if not strictly comic) that keeps her feature debut interesting, however strange it may get. Catch up with it at the Nick before it disappears.

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

2011-10-06T17:54:00.000-07:00

It was all about narrative when Art Boy and I headed out to tour some Open Studios last Sunday. Maybe it's the writer in me, but I like artwork that tells some sort of story, and draws the viewer into some intriguing alternate world.

That's certainly true of Anna Oneglia, prolific painter, printmaker, and draughtswoman. Her live/work space in the Tannery was our first stop; we got there just a few minutes after 11, to avoid the inevitable crowd, later.

Anna has been traveling a lot in India over the last couple of years, and her new work (like "Ganesha On a Bike," left) reflects not only her interest in Indian culture, but how smitten she is with the bicycle. Ask her why, and she'll praise the bicycle as the most democratic and ecological mode of transportation.Yet, the bike is more and more often seen as the symbol of poverty in India; anyone with any pretensions at all to upward mobility invests in a scooter. Anna thinks this is a shame. In her world, the Hindu gods reject snobbery and celebrate the fun and functionality of the lowly bike.

Anna's bold, colorful paintings in acrylics and oils line the hallway leading to her studio. Inside surfaces are covered with stacks of irresistible small studies done in vibrant colors on sheets of brown paper. But if you ever get a chance, page through her wonderful sketchbooks, a compulsive recording of everything—people, plants, animals, clothing food—encountered on her travels to places like France, Hawaii and India, over the years. Prepare to be charmed!

While at the Tannery, we checked out the brand new studio spaces, adjacent to the live/work apartments. (The building isn't technically finished yet, but designated OS artists were let in Friday to set up for the weekend show.)

Some painters and mixed media artists were ensconced between the empty spaces soon to house a dance studio and a cafe. Over in the Clay wing, I liked Carol Eddy's fanciful, hand-built amphora vases with their graphic sgraffito surfaces. But I have to admit, my favorite thing that I saw was a history of the Tannery and other local industries running along the corridors between studios, from a great blown-up map of Santa Cruz, ca 1877, through log and limestone exhibits and on to the rebirth of the Tannery as an Arts Center.

Back across the highway, we stopped in to see what was new with fiber sculptor Susan Else. This year, several of her pieces are being exhibited at the National Quilt Museum in Paducah, Kentucky, but there's still plenty to see in her home/work space on Escalona Drive—like this amazing chess set, titled "Your Move." The largest pieces are about 8 inches tall; the "pawns" about 4 inches tall, and, yes, the pieces are separate from the board so in theory you could play a game with them, if you could stop being dazzled long enough to pay attention.

Susan says she didn't know how she was going to interpret the Bishop pieces, not being particularly inspired by traditional bishop figures. But when she found out the French name for this chess piece is fou, fool or jester, everything fell into place; on her board, her kings and queens are flanked by a tumbler, a juggler, and a clown. I especially love the mime in the black bowler hat and striped fabric on the blue side.

She also has a new piece on display. With my typical crackerjack reporter's instincts, I've already forgotten the clever title, but in the work, a lone figure is struggling heroically to row a huge, listing rowboat weighted down with family members and all the implied metaphorical baggage that suggests. Now that's a great story!

Of course, no Open Studios weekend would be complete without a visit to Beth Gripenstraw. A longtime ceramicist of distinctively fun tableware, a jewelerymaker, and an accomplished watercolor painter, Beth doesn't just open her studio/home: she creates entire interactive environments that transport visitors into her alternative reality. And, boy, is it a fun place to be!

Last year, she and her daughter, Allison, collaborated on a multi-media extravaganza inspired by the whimsy of Alice in Wonderland. This year, Beth decided to conduct visitors on an African safari—complete with a tent set up outside next to a jeep, an incredibly detailed "Dr. Livingston's Study" set up in her sunroom inside, and a "Botswana Trading Company" room devoted to her wares. Along the way, the walls were decked with large watercolors depicting Beth and her dog, Benny, on (imaginary) safari in the wilds of Africa.

As if all this wasn't enough, she decorated her grounds with life-sized wildlife—papier maché cheetahs, towering giraffes, and this herd of zebras, who generously allowed Beth and me to join them around the old watering hole.

Beth is a one-woman explosion of creative energy. And talk about narrative! She invents a new scenario every year, and the lucky public gets to come along for the ride. But she only does OS for one weekend, so mark your calendars now to go see her next year. Who knows where she'll take us next?

We had a bunch of other artists to visit, but an unfortunate tire malfunction on the ArtBoyMobile put the kibosh on our plans before we got to the Westside to see Glenn Carter, Peggy Snider, and a few others. It's too bad, since this was our only chance to see other artists; we'll be home here in Live Oak hosting Art Boy's own Open Studios the next two weekends. Oh, well, wait'll next year...

In the meantime, Open Studios runs for the next two weekends, so plot your course, rotate your tires, and go!

BASIC BLACK (AND WHITE)

2011-10-03T16:38:00.000-07:00

I thought there was something wrong with the color on my monitor the other day when I logged onto IMDb and got a load of these posters for upcoming movies. Looks like black-and-white is the new black in movie poster chic—at least for this fall.

What's Hollywood trying to tell us, here? The message seems to be: okay, kids, summer is over, so wipe those goony grins off your faces, sit up straight, and pay attention. Forget about those bubble-gum-colored superheroes of summer. These movies are serious business!

But, wait: gigantic boxing robots? An outer space alien who crash lands in Antarctica? Okay, maybe not SO serious. Only the Geoge Clooney film, Ides of March, a political drama, has any pretensions to grown-up subject matter. But this is always the time of year when Clooney appears in his Oscar-contending movies. Check out the similarly color-challenged posters for Syriana, Up In the Air, and Good Night and Good Luck. (At least the latter was actually shot in gorgeous black-and-white, so the poster is more appropriate.)

Anyway, at least half of the movies coming out between now and Christmas go in for stark black-and-white sobriety in their posters. Chalk it up to another sign of the changing seasons, like longer nights and rain washing away our Indian Summer.

Btw, this new version of The Thing bills itself as a prequel to John Carpenter's 1982 "classic." I say, classic, schmassic. Carpenter's horror thriller had it's moments, but it was basically a more graphic reboot of an older property for the post-Alien age.

The original The Thing, directed by Howard Hawks in 1951, is the genuine classic, and not just in the genre; it's one of my all-time favorite movies! Sure, it sounds silly: a pre-Marshall Dillon James Arness resembles a giant carrot from outer space who menaces a team of Arctic researchers and military personnel.

But the movie is not only relentlessly scary (building acute tension out of shadows and dread, instead of gore), it features spirited camaraderie and snappy dialogue that would be right at home in any other Hawks movie, like His Girl Friday, or The Big Sleep. (It also features a great performance by my favorite unknown character actor, Douglas Spencer, as a wisecracking reporter on the base.) Trust me, Hawks' version is the real Thing.

And speaking of media messaging, did you see The Emmys a couple of weeks ago? Here are some interesting stats:

Number of times an image of James Durbin flashed onscreen during the Reality TV montage: 3.

Number of times an image of putative "winner" Scotty McCreery flashed onscreen: 0.

I'm just sayin' ...

ART AND ABOUT

2011-09-29T14:14:00.000-07:00

Get ready to hit the road for Open Studios 2011

Don't forget, the Open Studios Art Tour starts this weekend! A whopping 295 local artists—painters, collagists, ceramacists, sculptors, printmakers, photographers, jewelery-makers, fabric artists, you name it—will open the mystic portals to their work spaces to YOU, the art-loving public, over the next three weekends.

North County artists step up to the plate first this year. 139 studios will be open from north of the Santa Cruz Yacht Harbor through downtown and the Westside all the way to Davenport. While you're out there, don't miss Doug Ross (312 Poplar Ave, SC), one of my favorite OS artists. His clean, colorful silk screen prints often depict seals and other marine life, but don't you just love this fanciful little hummingbird?

Sure, there's a staggering number of artists to see, but remember, this is not an endurance test. Nobody is expected to visit EVERY studio; you just have to pace yourself. And the best way to do this is to visit one of the OS Preview Exhibits in advance, to get a feel for the actual art pieces, up close and personal.

As usual, the Art League is now hosting a show featuring one work by every single participating artist. New this year is a companion exhibit at the R. Blitzer Gallery, on the Westside, featuring work by North County artists from Davenport, Bonny Doon, San Lorenzo Valley, and Scotts Valley. Both exhibits will be up through the last day of OS, October 16. (A public reception will be held for the Blitzer show on Friday, October 7, 5-9 pm.)

Many local favorites are participating in OS again this year. That's ceramic sculptor Peggy Snider's Preview Exhibition piece at the Art League on the left. I'm pretty sure the title is "Being My Muse," but I might have gotten it wrong, what with 6.2 gazillion people crammed into the exhibit space at last Sunday's opening reception. Anyway, I just love that inquisitive little face! (Peggy shows this weekend at 680 Meder Street, SC.)

There are plenty of newcomers to the event this year, as well. I was very intrigued by the little woven piece by fabric artist Doug Masury at the Art League. It's a small, square, framed piece with tight rows of hand-dyed yarn in an abstract, archaeological/landscape design. (Doug is open this weekend at 128 Mason Strert, SC.) I forgot to take note of the title, but if you're headed down there, check it out.

And speaking of fabric art, Susan Else (126 Escalona Drive) is back this year with her beautifully crafted fabric sculptures of whimsical figures in unexpected landscapes. This piece is called "On the Rocks," and yes, it's ALL stuffed and quilted fabric—even that perfectly rendered abalone shell in the foreground!

Open Studios is a free event, but potential art tourists are strongly advised (by me!) to pick up the official OS Calendar and Artist Guide. ($20 online or at outlets countywide.) Not only does the Calendar provide addresses and maps to help you locate even the most remote studios, it also features thumbnail images of the work of every single participating artist, in a useful 16-month calendar format.

The OS Art Tour continues next weekend, October 8 & 9, with South County artists opening their studios from south of the Yacht Harbor through Live Oak, Soquel, Aptos, and down to Watsonville. The following weekend, October 15 & 16, is Encore Weekend, when both North and South County artists can opt for opening their studios. (Check the OS Calendar for information on which artists will be open Encore Weekend.) So plot your course, grab an art buddy and hit the road!

PLEASURE CRUISE

2011-09-14T11:50:00.000-07:00

Acclaimed Corralitos mystery writer Laurie R. King has shepherded her husband-and-wife detective team through some dark, sobering themes in her last couple of books—religious fanaticism, moral corruption, even human sacrifice. Her latest novel, Pirate King, takes another tack entirely. For this eleventh outing in her popular mystery series, King places her intrepid heroine, Mary Russell, and her equally redoubtable husband, Sherlock Holmes, smack in the middle of a witty, lighthearted romp of an adventure involving the early days of the silent film industry, Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, and, of course, pirates.

King combines the usual scholarship, travelogue, feminism and skullduggery readers have come to expect from her Russell-Holmes mysteries with swashbuckling on the high seas and a healthy dose of absurdist hilarity—along with the ever-deepening affection and camaraderie between Russell and her much older, yet still vigorous spouse. The combination is just about irresistible. Fans can get a taste of this tall tale when King reads from her new novel next Tuesday, September 20, at Bookshop Santa Cruz.

Pirate King begins with Russell craving nothing more than a few weeks of leisure among the books and bees at the Sussex cottage she and Holmes share. Instead, she is invited by Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard to insinuate herself into the employment of a London motion picture company that appears to be leaving a trail of mayhem in its wake. Maddeningly encouraged by Holmes, and fearing the imminent arrival of Holmes' alarming brother, Mycroft, for an extended visit, she reluctantly takes the assignment. (Read more)

(Laurie King will read from and sign copies of Pirate King Tuesday, September 20, at Bookshop Santa Cruz, 7:30 pm.)

THE GIRLS CAN HELP IT

2011-09-13T15:41:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, Art Boy and I decided to be the last kids on our block to go see The Help. Now into its second month on local screens, it's had longer legs than any other summer "blockbuster," except for the last Harry Potter movie.

And I can see why. For one thing, it appeals strongly to women, in a movie season traditionally written off for teens and fanboys only. Based on Kathryn Stockett's bestselling novel, it depicts a femme-o-centric universe where men scarcely exist at all (onscreen, anyway), and delivers a female-empowering story in which a handful of women stand together to change the status quo in their community—in this case, racial inequality in the deep south, ca. 1960, on the cusp of the Civil Rights movement.

It also has that Mad Men, '60s-era fashion show thing going on, which doesn't hurt. And it provides lots of juicy roles for a variety of actresses—Hollywood's most neglected commodity—of all ages and varieties: starlets Emma Stone, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Jessica Chastain as the young white belles, the divine Viola Davis, sassy Octavia Spencer, and the legendary Cicely Tyson as neighborhood maids, Allison Janney as somebody's mother, even Sissy Spacek as a tippling granny.

It took a long time for this movie to work on me. The fashions seemed too Barbie Doll-perfect, the bitchy Junior League girls too over-the-top brittle, the dialogue too forced and hokey, the emotional situations too scripted and obvious. But I liked the pert Stone as tomboyish protagonist "Skeeter," whose friendship with the black women sets the plot in motion, (although I didn't buy for a second that she couldn't get a date because her hair was too kinky). And I loved Chastain as the sweet, "trampy" outcast. (This year's It Girl, the versatile Chastain changes her persona with each different onscreen hair color: ethereal redheaded mother in The Tree of Life, serious brunette undercover op in The Debt, and her blonde, Monroe-ish waif, here.) And as usual, Davis brought grace and emotional resonance to the proceedings.

(Emma Stone, Octavia Spencer, and Viola Davis in The Help.)

Here's what I hated: the way this story reduces the entire complex issue of civil rights—generations of racism, himiliation, murder, and courage in the face of all of the above— down to something that can easily be resoved by putting a few token white snooty bigots in their place. And the comeuppances doled ot to the film's designated villainess, bitchy Hilly (Howard) are both idiotic and pointless. (Seriously, how do two dozen old, broken toilets delivered to her front lawn strike a blow for racial equality?)

But here's the thing: in the ladies' room afterwards, a woman I don't know started telling me a story. When she lived in North Carolina from 1962-66, she told me, all the women had grown up on tobacco plantations and they all smoked—but never in public (as depicted in the film). Otherwise, she thought the setting was pretty accurate. At which point, another woman came out of a stall and chimed in that when she, a Northerner, went to the South for the first time at about this era, she was shocked to find "Whites only" bathrooms.

And that's when I realized how this movie is working on its audiences. Whether or not they've ever actually lived in the South (but especially if they have), women are finding reflections of their own life experiences in this broad canvas of issues filtered through the female perspective—not only race and politics, but motherhood, marriage, social status, work, friendship, injustice and loss. The Help not only speaks to, but validates the experiences of this vast, untapped audience of women. With a steady $137 million racked up at the box office to date, you'd think this would be an audience worth cultivating, if only Hollywood would get a clue.

COMING SOON...

2011-09-10T18:22:00.000-07:00

When sharks, apes, Barbarians, and (yawn) teens in peril dominate local screens, we know we're stuck in the post-Labor Day movie doldrums. But fear not: the fresh breezes of fall are on the way, bringing with them a batch of eclectic and interesting new films. Here are a select few of the most promising (we hope):

DRIVE Onetime Oscar nominee Ryan Gosling steps out of his perceived comfort zone with a vengeance in this majorly buzzed action thriller, based on the James Sallis novel.

THE THREE MUSKETEERS It would be tough to top Richard Lester's fresh, rollicking two-part production of the early '70s, so why am I so intrigued by this new film version? The cast, for one thing, starting with Christoph Walz as the scheming Cardinal Richelieu.

ANONYMOUS Okay, I get a little peeved at these conspiracy theories that anyone other than the artist historically known as William Shakespeare wrote the canon of plays attributed to him. This film purports to argue in favor of Edward De Vere, Earl of Oxford. But the movie stills look lush and expensive, and with Vanessa Redgrave and real-life daughter Joely Richardson on board as Good Queen Bess (in youth and age), I'm there.

THE RUM DIARY Johnny Depp returns to Fear-and-Loathing mode in this adaptation of the Hunter S. Thompson novel (begun in 1959, but not published until the late '90s), a lightly fictionalized account of the author's early stint as a reporter for a run-down newspaper in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

MY WEEK WITH MARILYN Worlds collided in 1957 when glamorous Hollywood movie star Marilyn Monroe, and acclaimed British thespian Laurence Olivier made a movie together. A memoir about that film shoot inspires this film, starring the ever-gutsy Michelle Williams. (Read complete article)

(Above: Joely Richardson and Jamie Campbell Bower dance around the question of who wrote Shakespeare's plays in Anonymous.)

INTO THE WOOD

2011-09-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

Hot on the heels of its excellent Big Creek Pottery retrospective exhibit last spring, the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History continues its commitment to local art and artisans with its current show, Studio Made: Santa Cruz Woodworkers. The show is already into its second month, but I just caught up with it at First Friday last week, and what exciting work it is. If you just love woodwork, that most soulful medium, or if you're a fan of expert hand crafting in general, you need to run out and see this show, like, now.

10 members of the SC Woodworkers collective are featured in the exhibit. You may have noticed some of their pieces decorating the storefront windows of the cavernous Rittenhouse Building downtown, but there's nothing like seeing this work up close, brightly lit, and in detail, to appreciate all the nuances.

Work ranges from massive cabinetry and media centers in vibrant, contrasting wood grains by Om Anand, to an absolutely amazing collection of teeny tiny vessels of wood, palm nuts, and seed pods by Joshua Salesin. (Turned on antique lathes, Salesin's incredibly intricate and diverse pieces, ranging from fingernail-size to about and inch or two high, may be the most breathtaking objects in the show.)

In between, feast your eyes on the dashing, organic lines of Roger Heitzman's chairs, the glorious unfolding wood burl sculptures of Gary Stevens (above), and the lovely inlay work of Matthew Werner, on a variety of pieces.

I was especially knocked out by this three-legged corner jewelry cabinet by Michael Singer. It's a deceptively simple, even demure piece, until you open the doors and discover the layers upon layers of tiered, swing-out drawers and irresistible cubbyholes within. Functional and gorgeous; I loved it!

Singer's glass-topped Fandance Coffee Table is pretty impressive too, with its sweeping, fan-shaped bamboo base.

I'm also a huge fan of Ronald Cook, whose lovely, hand-crafted replications of antique instruments like dulcimers and rebecs (decorated with his signature tiny carved faces) have been thrilling Santa Cruzans for years. An assortment of these are on view at the MAH show, but so are some completely unexpected delights. Like this hand-carved chess set (look at the character in all those faces!), along with the chessboard, the formidable gaming table on which it sets, a pair of medieval-style trestle stools, and the wooden chandelier that hangs down over the entire ensemble!

And these are just a few highlights of a fascinating and inspiring exhibit. (While you're there, don't miss the companion exhibit, Furniture Design, up on the third floor. I liked the strong, rakishly asymmetrical Black Mamba chairs by Fred Hunnicut, and John Baer's ingenious Jet Cone cocktail table and wine bucket made of found metal objects.)

Also, big kudos to Nina Simon for continuing to open the MAH not only to local artists, but the community as well (especially kids). The interactive play stations she's set up throughout the museum are an interesting way to conquer visitors' fear of art and get them to engage with and enjoy the exhibits.

(The Santa Cruz Woodworkers show is up at the MAH through Novembr 13.)

WHEN RUSSELL MET HOLMES

2011-09-06T09:01:00.000-07:00

Oh, the audacity of Laurie King.

In only her second novel, The Beekeeper's Apprentice (1994), she had the nerve to tinker with one of the greatest legends in all of mystery fiction. The beekeeper in question was Sherlock Holmes, a greying, but no less acute and acerbic man in his mid-fifties retired to a country cottage on the Sussex Downs ca. 1915 to raise bees, under the watchful eye of his faithful housekeeper, Mrs. Hudson.

His apprentice-to-be was a 15-year-old orphan from a neighboring cottage who was about to enter Oxford University. This precocious youth was independent, analytical, fiercely intelligent—and female. Her name was Mary Russell. Holmes, along with King's soon-to-be-legion of readers were pleased, if astonished, to recognize an intellect as fine, prickly, and impatient as Holmes' own, and the young woman was glad to rise to the challenge of his tutelage.

Over the course of King's popular mystery series, Russell and Holmes (as they always refer to each other, comrade-style) have become not only best friends and partners in wit and detection, they are plausibly married as well. That Russell embodies the generation of "new" women rising phoenix-like out of the ashes of the war-ravaged Old World adds another subtle layering to the delicate balance of their relationship as they strive for common ground and equal footing.

Many of their adventures have been dark, indeed. But in her new novel, Pirate King, the eleventh outing in the series, King combines the usual scholarship, travelogue, feminism and skullduggery readers have come to expect with swashbuckling on the high seas and a healthy dose of absurdist hilarity. The combination is just about irresistible! Fans can get a sneak preview when Laurie reads from her new novel this Thursday (September 8) at Capitola Book Cafe, 7:30 pm.

(Above: UK paperback cover for The Beekeeper's Apprentice, looking very Erte!.)

LET THE TREASURE HUNT BEGIN!

2011-09-02T11:22:00.000-07:00

Listen: that whooshing sound you hear is Time's Wingéd Chariot, hurtling us into the Santa Cruz Fall arts season.

And, believe it or not, Open Studios is just around the corner. The official catalogue for the Open Studios Art Tour 2011 goes on sale today, and how cool is that green art glass vase by Jim and Connie Grant on the cover? Just the thing to get your juices flowing for another round of OS treasure hunting. This $20 catalogue also functions as a 16-month calender featuring artwork by all 300+ OS artists. You can order online, as we speak, or click here to find a catalogue-selling outlet near you.

Btw, Jim and Connie are South County OS artists whose marvelous one-of-a-kind glassworks combine clean lines and echoes of Deco with organic, Native American shapes and patterns. Check out their Celestial Art Glass website for more examples.

Open Studios starts early this year. North County artists (north of the Yacht Harbor to Davenport) open their doors the weekend of October 1 and 2. South County artists (south of the Yacht Harbor to Watsonville) open up October 8 and 9. Encore Weekend (countywide) is Oct 15 and 16. The catalogue will tell you which artists are participating in the Encore Weekend (in addition to providing a sample of work from each OS artist, and maps to their locations).

Also, last year's Silver Ticket gambit was such a hit, the Cultural Council is doing it again this year. Six individual Silver Tickets are hidden inside OS catalogues at various locations around the county. Each ticket is as good as cash toward the purchase of artwork from any OS artist. There are three tickets valued at $100 each, two tickets at $200 each, and one ticket worth $300. Feeling lucky? Buy a catalogue now and avoid the rush later on.

New this year, in addition to the preview exhibit of all OS artists at the Art League, downtown, there will also be a preview exhibit featuring the work of North County OS artists (from Davenport, Bonny Doon, San Lorenzo Valley, and Scotts Valley) at the R. Blitzer Gallery on the West Side. Both preview shows will be open September 24 through October 16, to allow the public face time with OS artists' work up close and personal.

In the meantime, check out these slideshows of this year's participating OS artists: North County and South County.

Last year, I blogged extensively about my OS adventures. Here's one of my favorite treasures that I found last year, a little ceramic angel by Peggy Snider, who greets me in my kitchen every morning with a poignant rustling of her wings. New treasures are out there, waiting to be found at this year's event. Click here for all the details. And happy hunting!

THE RETURN OF HERE AFTER HERE

2011-08-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

Tandy Beal is one of the most enduring treasures of Santa Cruz County. An internationally recognized dancer, choreographer, and teacher who has performed on four continents, she's like our own personal Cirque de Soleil; her productions offer a feast of dance, music, comedy, drama, and soaring imagination.

Her ongoing work-in-progress, Here After Here played to packed houses at Cabrillo's Crocker Theater last fall. I loved it, and I'm delighted to report that the ensemble show is coming back to the Crocker next weekend, Sept 9, 10 and 11.

Subtitled "A self-guided tour of eternity," it's a wry, intriguing, poignant, never depressing, often hilarious inquiry into the idea of death and what may or may not come after. It's a multi-media affair with 25 performers live onstage, three screens of film and video projections, and a propulsive, haunting, finely nuanced original musical score by Jon Scoville, Beal's longtime accomplice and partner in creative rapture. There are moments of eloquent pondering throughout, but this thoughtful, probing show is never mournful. Rather, it celebrates the adventure of life, this grand stage on which every single one of us is called upon to perform without a net. (Read more)

Click here for ticket info.

New this year is a full slate of extracuricular events and workshops on life and beyond, held in conjunction with the Here After Here performances, from a televised interview with Tandy and Bruce Lee on the the new community arts program, "Art In the Loop," running all month on Community TV, to end-of-life workshops around town, to post-show Q&A sessions with Ann Pomper of Hospice, and Rev. Deborah L. Johnson of Inner Light Ministries.

Here are all the details.

LIVE THEATER: AND HOW!

2011-08-23T18:24:00.000-07:00

You say there's an unseasonable chill in the air? My suggestion is to grab a loved one and a bottle of something fortifying and hie thee off to Shakespeare Santa Cruz for a bracing late-summer evening (or matinee) of live theater. SSC's 30th Anniversary season continues for one more week, with all three of its excellent productions playing in repertory from tonight through this Sunday (August 28).

I highly recommend Danny Scheie's hilarious reboot of The Comedy of Errors for the indoor Mainstage—8 intrepid performers, 20 speaking parts, and a gazillion laughs. I also had a blast at Art Manke's dynamic production of The Three Musketeers outside in the Festival Glen, impressive in its fidelity to the breadth of the original Dumas novel, and rousing good fun.

Meanwhile, I finally caught up with the third SSC production, Henry IV: Part 1. Like all Shakespeare's history plays, this one is a bit troublesome to modern audiences who may not be well-versed in the arcanae of 15th Century English politics. But Scott Wentworth's smart and often innovative production keeps viewers informed and entertained.

Wentworth has the bright idea to start with a little backstory in a montage of key scenes from Richard II (the previous play in Shakespeare's history cycle, about the previous monarch), which is slyly introduced, TV series-style, as "Previously, in Richard II..." It doesn't really sort out the plot all that effectively, but at least we get a visual program to help identify the players in the drama to come.

And the players are the thing in this drama. While the usual suspects (here, principally the rebellious Welsh) jockey for power around old King Henry IV, the king's wastrel son, Prince Hal (Erik Heger) is haunting the brothels and taverns of Cheapside with the rascally old reprobate, Sir John Falstaff (Richard Ziman), his mentor in sin. This is the first appearance of Falstaff in Shakespeare's ouvre, and Ziman (above) plays him with plenty of swaggering bonhomie, crisp diction, and an acute sense of how to make every laugh count. And while unafraid to show "Plump Jack" in all his cowardice and greed, Ziman's delivery of the speech on "honor" is as persuasive as it is drily comic.

Heger plays Prince Hal like a charismatic rock star on holiday. He's wise to the way Falstaff is playing him (in hopes of currying favors from the future king), and lets us know right up front it's all part of his plan to spring back into his father's good graces when the old king, and their enemies, least expect it. But in the meantime, he's enjoying himself hugely, among the fawning tarts and whoremongers of Cheapside, particularly in a very funny scene when Hal and Falstaff take turns enacting the part of Hal's disapproving father. (In his spare time, Heger even plays the harp in one of the lovely musical interludes Wentworth weaves into the drama.)

But best of all is J. Todd Adams as Hal's cousin, Harry Percy, or "Hotspur," who gets so ticked off at the old king's abuses that he joins the Welsh rebels. Adams is such a one-man dynamo, he commands attention every time he's onstage —even if he's only lurking in the shadows, looking on (although this live wire is not content to be an observer for long). Not only does Adams manage a lubricious North Country accent throughout, his aggressive, and yet wryly witty Hotspur is the spark that make the whole production go. He's a warrior on a mission; even his relationship with his wife (a feisty Katie MacNichol) is a lusty battlefield campaign between evenly-matched competitors.

Adams has been a Festival favorite since 2009, when he played a splendidly acrobatic Puck in Richard E. T. White's vivacious production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. (He had me at Puck's first careless backflip off the stage.) This season, he's also playing the romantic Aramis in Three Musketeers (which shares the same cast and the same outdoor set in the Glen with Henry IV), and it's enormous fun to see him playing two such opposite roles.

In fact, that's always been one of the great treats of SSC; watching company members double up to play diverse parts in two productions each season. Ziman juggles both Falstaff and the scheming, formidable Cardinal Richelieu in Musketeers. Allen Gilmore, Musketeers' noble Athos, rocks out as a pimp-like cutpurse, Poins, and the raging rebel Scot, Douglas, in Henry IV; MacNichol also plays the crafty villainess, Milady de Winter, in Musketeers. As the titular king Henry IV, V Craig Heidenreich is a bit more dyspeptic than kingly, but he plays villain Rochefort with silky, purring menace in Musketeers.

(And once again, B. Modern's costumes are a delight, from the faux-medieval black leather tunics and discreet chain mail accessories of the warrior men, to the tavern tarts' time-traveling dishabille. (Modern says she conjured "five centuries' worth of underwear" for her tarts.) To go backstage with Modern and Comedy designer Brandin Barón for a behind-the-scenes look at this year's SSC costume challenges, click here.)

Wentworth himself is best known to SSC audiences as an actor; he played Bottom in Dream and Brutus in Julius Caesar in the 2009 season. A s a director, he makes some intriguing choices in Henry IV: Part 1. Music is paramount, particularly some gorgeous vocal solos by Sepideh Moafi as both the wife of a Welsh rebel, and leader of a chorus of robed women whose rich, soulful chanting is offered up in counterpoint to the martial male action of the play. Owen Glendower, leader of the Welsh rebels, is played by Phil Hubbard as a robed mage and mystic, his court a half-fey, otherworldly stronghold full of eerie music and lilting Welsh dialogue. And when the climactic battle comes, Wentworth borrows a trick from the movies and stages it in slo-mo; it pays off—the effect is far more elegiac than the expected sword-clanking melee.

So forget about the confusing politics and soak up Henry IV: Part 1 for its entertaining performances and vivid stagecraft. (Tickets available here.) Remember, this is the last week!

PIRATE KING PREVIEW

2011-08-21T13:51:00.000-07:00

Want to get in the mood for Laurie King's new Mary Russell-Sherlock Holmes novel, The Pirate King? Here's the new trailer for the book recently posted on Laurie's site, full of atmosphere, wry wit, and of course, pirates!

Btw, how hysterical is it that movie-style trailers are now made to sell books? It's totally appropriate in this case; Laurie's book is about the silent movie industry, and this trailer incorporates plenty of vintage B&W pirate movie footage to provide the necessary action. (Even in trailer form, the point of a moving picture is to move.)

So long as you have a plot dripping with intrigue, an irresistible character or setting, or some other hook that can be effectively exploited, visualized, and sold in a 2-minute trailer, you're good to go in the brave new world of book promotion.

Meanwhile, not only authors and other creative artists, but their characters and/or subjects are now required to have a blog, a Facebook page, and a Twitter account. It's one thing to discover a FB presence for historical figures like William Shakespeare, King Henry VIII, or the Plantagenet Edward II (who has an active Wall full of pics and comments, even though he's been dead since 1327). But fictional characters are swarming all over social media like bees on Holmes's hives.

I discovered this with a vengeance when I posted a blog about the Disney cartoon feature Tangled last December—in which I riffed on how Disney princesses and their heroes (in this case, Rapunzel and her rascally thief-turned-hero Flynn Rider) have evolved over the decades. Within a couple of months it had more hits on this site than anything else I'd ever posted. I couldn't figure out why until I followed a couple of links backward to their sources and discovered that Flynn Rider, has his own thriving Facebook page, complete with cocky updates from the virtual man himself, and swooning pre-teens (one assumes) writing mash notes on his Wall. Who knew? These days, real-life reality is just another option (and not a very popular one) on the massive virtual smorgasboard.

SUMMER THRILLERS

2011-08-19T09:22:00.000-07:00

Most war movies are made for and by men—violent, testosterone jubilees about courage under fire, incredible battlefield heroics, and hard-fought victories. Canadian-born Ukrainian filmmaker Laysa Kondracki takes a different approach in her intense and harrowing drama, The Whistleblower. Not only does she view the process of war from a feminine perspective, she explores the lingering and devastating consequences of warfare on women long after the mission has supposedly been accomplished and the fighting troops have gone home.

The film is based on the true story of Kathryn Bolkovac, a police officer from Nebraska who joined the UN peacekeeping forces in war-ravaged Bosnia in 1999. While there, she uncovered a horrifying sex-trafficking ring involving teenage Balkan girls that her superiors were surprisingly uninterested in doing anything about. Kondracki and her writing partner Ellis Kirwan traveled around Europe for two years, researching the facts and writing the script. The resulting film leaves the viewer breathless with both suspense and outrage.

Playing against type as a de-glamorized, working-class Yank, Rachel Weisz gives us an earnest, perfectly life-sized Kathy whose fierce moral courage both propels and grounds the film. (Read more)

Forget La Tour Eiffel. The back alleys and industrial warehouses of Paris are the backdrop for the electrifying chase thriller, Point Blank, from French action maestro Fred Cavayé. Gilles Lellouche is wonderful as Samuel, a male nurse plunged into a desperate mission to save his pregnant wife (an appealing Elena Anaya), and their unborn child; she's been kidnapped by thugs to force him to spring a notorious criminal (Roschdy Zem) from the hospital.

As he struggles to outwit crooks, cops, and crooked cops, appearances deceive, alliances shift, and tensions mount by the nanosecond. But what I really loved about it is the degree of characterization, unusual for such a breakneck-paced thriller. Lellouche's Samuel is a scruffy average guy, and the playful degree to which he and his spirited Spanish wife are mutually besotted and delighted over their impending child is limned in just a few, deft scenes.

Factor in tensions between rival police detectives and their teams vying to catch the fugitives, a scandalous frame-up, and an incriminating videotape—none of which matters to Samuel as he does whatever he must to save his wife—and voila! 84 of the most turbo-charged minutes you'll spend at the movies all summer.

So hold on to your ratatouille; this is one fierce, wild ride.

10 ROLLICKING YEARS WITH THE WITCH

2011-08-16T16:19:00.000-07:00

Laurie King writes to say that "Pirates are the new Vampires" in pop culture. Does this mean I was 10 years ahead of my time?

This week, my pirate novel, The Witch From the Sea celebrates its tenth anniversary. Back in those pre-Captain Jack Sparrow days, pirate stories were considered strictly kid stuff, or else the province of capital-R Romance novels with brawny, half-naked rogues fondling their flintlocks splashed across the covers.

It must have seemed like a pretty radical idea, a grown-up historical adventure novel with pirates, told from a woman's perspective. My heroine, Tory Lightfoot, twice damned as a woman without family or prospects, and a runaway orphan of mixed white and Native American blood, joins a crew of pirates in 1823 to escape her constricted female life ashore. But I was fortunate enough to find an intrepid small publisher, Beagle Bay Books, who believed in my story and midwifed my novel into existence.

Speaking of covers, this was my original concept sketch for The Witch cover art. Pretty atmospheric, no? The full moon, the pirate vessel, a woman, um, evidently rising up out of the middle of the ocean like Esther Williams in one of those gigantic MGM aquatic musical numbers. Well, think of it as metaphor, just as the pirates in my book function as a metaphor for the freedom Tory craves.

I'm a little superstitious about rendering my character's faces; I don't want to interfere with the reader's imagination. But when I published a chapter out of The Witch as a short story in the pirate fanzine No Quarter Given, I drew this illustration to go with it.

It's a moment of psychological tension, wherein the pirates attempt to coerce information from the crew of a merchant vessel they've captured. That's Tory, on the left, looking apprehensive—until she (and the reader) realize what's really going on in this scene. (Oh, no, I'll never tell—you'll have to read the book!)

(Hmmm...looking at this image again, I wonder if it's too late to re-do The Witch as a graphic novel...)

But both of these images are vast improvements over my early attempt to collage together a cover, way back when my novel was titled Blesséd Providence (the name of the pirate ship in the tale). Talk about a bad case of TMI!

Notice how I tried to cram in every plot point: gold doubloons, pirate ship, Tarot cards (they figure in the plot and color Tory's view of the world), a map of the Indies, my protagonist's femaleness. Whew! I'm exhausted just looking at it now!

I'm too embarrassed to show you the very first cover I ever attempted, which also included a volume of Shakespeare and a Harlequin figure, in honor of my second protagonist, Jack, expatriate Englishman, acrobat, and failed Shakespearean actor-turned-pirate.

You can see how the Beagle Bay book cover turned out up there in the menu bar. The artist did a good job overall —I just love that burning ship! But I don't think he quite captured the spirit of Tory and Jack. Here's the detail:

Is it just me, or does Tory look about 12 years old in this image? (In the book, she's 18.) As for Jack, he must by the most neatly barbered buccaneer in the history of piracy. Just call him Metrosexual Jack, the Scourge of the Indies.

INSPIRED BY MUSE

2011-08-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

The Outside Lands music festival is going on in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park as we speak. Three-day and VIP single-day tickets are still available if you want to see a mind-boggling assortment of indie rock acts: Phish, Arcade Fire, The Shins, The Decembrists, OK Go, John Fogerty, The Arctic Monkeys—and that's not even a fraction of the enormous three-day lineup. Think of a West Coast Woodstock, for established bands and newbies alike (and hopefully without all that mud).

The reason I bring it up is Muse. I'm nuts about this British indie alt-rock band, as you may know if you read my previous column, and I'm delighted to spread the word that Muse will be the headliners Saturday night at Outside Lands. (That's Muse frontman Matt Bellamy over there, on guitar.) With discernible trace elements of Radiohead and Queen, mixed in with some Rachmaninoff, Gershwin, and surf/space guitar, this powerhouse trio puts on a killer of a live show. (Check 'em out on You Tube and see what I mean.)

Art Boy and I went to see them four years ago, on a previous trip to SF. They were already headliners back in Britain, routinely filling places like Wembley Stadium and playing enormous venues like the Glastonbury Festival. But we were lucky enough to see them at the relatively homey Bill Graham Civic, where we thronged with the crowd about 20 feet from the stage. It was just about the most fun I ever had at a live music concert.

Looking back, my only regret is that we caught their live show before they'd produced their exceptional "Resistance" album (a song cycle so insidiously listenable, it played in its entirety on a loop inside my brain for weeks after we first got the CD. Who needs an iPod?) However, they played just about everything else from their previous four albums that night at the Bill Graham, every lick, every harmony and falsetto as deft and textured as the original recordings. Folks heading out to hear them at the Outside Lands fest are in for a big treat.

I couldn't be more thrilled that Muse is finally getting the attention they deserve, not just in the Bay Area, but in the USA as well. And I think it's great that we have James Durbin to thank in part for introducing the band to mainstream Middle America via American Idol. His cover of Muse's "Uprising" (from "Resistance") was a highlight of AI Season 10, and continues to be a big solo for James during the AI summer tour.

(Btw, did you read June Smith's great Sentinel review when James and the AI tour played San Jose last month? Here it is, in case you missed it.)