MAVERICKS: COMING SOON

Hey, kids, check it out!

Here's the cool new poster for Chasing Mavericks, which is the new title of the Jay Moriarty surf movie that was shot on location right here in Santa Cruz last summer.

The shooting title at that time was Of Men and Mavericks,  but maybe that one sounded a little too, I don't know, Steinbeck-ian? The new title implies movement and action, and there's sure to be plenty of both in a dramatic fiction film about local hero Moriarty and his quest to challenge the gigantic surf break at Mavericks in Half Moon Bay.

Remember last summer when director Curtis Hanson and the production crew were in town? Sightings of the Hollywood equipment trucks, catering wagon, actors and crew were frequent at the Boardwallk, the harbor, and local beaches. Rumors of star Gerard Butler (he plays Jay's mentor, Frosty Hesson), wandering around Pleasure Point in a wetsuit peeled down to his waist fueled party chitchat for weeks.

Anyway, Chasing Mavericks is coming soon to a theater near you. That's Butler on the right in the poster with Jonny Weston, who plays Jay. Release date is October 26, and it will be interesting to see if, this time, the movies get Santa Cruz right.

Update: here's a link to the new Chasing Mavericks trailer on IMDB!

THE BAT GOES ON

The debate over whether violent movies inspire real-life violence rages on in the wake of the mass murders last week at a midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises. It's important to remember that the suspect had not actually seen the film. Still, it can't help but color one's view of the way movies in general package violent action as mass entertainment.

Nolan is a master of violent action. Long, chaotic vehicle chases, extreme shootouts, and massive explosions (often all part of the same sequence) are the main reasons Nolan's Batman films bloat up to well past two hours in length (The Dark Knight Rises, clocking in at two hours and 44 minutes, contains all of the above). There are also queasy-making scenes when the villain and his paramilitary thugs bust into crowded public places like the Stock Exchange or a football stadium. But at least in the movie the body count accrues mostly from lawmen and villains fighting each other, not innocent bystanders.

As usual, what's best about this final installment of Nolan's brooding trilogy is the evolution of Batman's personal story. Corrupt officials in Gotham City are trying to defang the anti-crime Dent Law, that's been in effect for the eight years since the events of the previous film, The Dark Knight. Meanwhile, billionaire Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) sulks in his mansion with a bum knee and a bad attitude; he's given up the batsuit now that everyone believes Batman is a murdering psycho. (A ruse he concocted to preserve the heroic image of secretly corrupted DA Harvey Dent in the last film.)

But trouble is brewing in the person of Bane (Tom Hardy), heir to the terrorist empire of Ra's al Ghul, who was Bruce Wayne's martial arts mentor, nemesis, and victim back in the first film, Batman Begins. (There's a great density of backstory in this movie, so you have to keep up.) (Read more)

Btw, here's an observation there wasn't room for in my GT review (in print tomorrow and online soon). Yes, I loved Anne Hathaway as Selina Kyle/Catwoman (a cat burglar by trade, so her alter-ego makes a bit more sense); she brings much-needed zip and humor to the otherwise dark, troubling atmosphere of Nolan's Bat films.

But notice how they package sexy Selina for the fanboy public. When Batman rides his souped-up Bat Cycle (or whatever the heck it's called), his cape billows out from his shoulders and swirls over the back of the machine like a moody black cloud. But no cape for Selina; when she's stretched prone over the roaring engine, her pert black-leather derriere is visible to all, aiming for the sky.

I'm just sayin'...

SWASHBUCKLER ALERT

Say you've got a budding young swashbuckler in your life. Maybe she or he has seen too many Pirates of the Caribbean sequels, but when other kids are off at the beach or the skatepark, yours is in the back yard with an old broom handle, shouting, "En garde!" and practicing to thrust, parry and riposte.

Well, here's your chance to earn major brownie points by treating your young pirate-in-training to a live performance of Shakespeare Santa Cruz's rip-snorting new production of The Man in the Iron Mask—for free!

A brand new play penned by SSC stalwart Scott Wentworth, Iron Mask is a sequel to last season's hugely popular production of The Three Musketeers. It's based on a later novel by Alexandre Dumas in which the older Musketeers come out of retirement to join D'Artagnan for one last escapade, replacing the corrupt and heartless King Louis XIV with his compassionate twin brother, who has been imprisoned all his life.

If last season's twin productions of Musketeers and King Henry IV Part 1 are any indication, Iron Mask is sure to kick up some dust in the Festival Glen with plenty of action, clashing swords, and derring-do. And you can and your little swashbuckler can be a part of it when SSC presents Atlantis Fantasyworld Day on Saturday, August 4.

In partnership with the beloved local comic shop, SSC is offering one free child's ticket with the purchase of a full-priced adult ticket for the 2 pm performance of The Man in the Iron Mask on Saturday, August 4, only. Purchase tickets by phone (831 459-2159) or in person at the UCSC Ticket Office. Mention the code word "Atlantis" to get your free child's ticket for this performance; but the offer is only good for tickets purchased in advance before July 29. That's this coming Sunday, so act fast!

But wait, there's more: kids are invited to come in costume as their favorite Musketeer to participate in a pre-show costume contest at 12:30 pm on the 4th. Winner of the costume contest will receive a hardcover graphic novel of The Man in the Iron Mask from Atlantis.

Meanwhile, get in the mood for the new play (it opens this Saturday night), by revisiting my highly subjective history of Three Musketeers adaptations, Dueling Musketeers, which I posted last year at just about this time. En garde!

THEY WALK THE LINE

It's back-to-basics in Cabrillo Stage's vivid, heartfelt 'Chorus Line'


Talk about a singular sensation.

When A Chorus Line debuted in 1975, it broke all the rules for what a Broadway musical is supposed to be. There are no elaborate sets or scene changes; it all takes place on a bare rehearsal stage with one mirrored wall. Playing out in more or less real time, with no intermission, the storyline—you couldn't call it a plot, exactly—concerns a score of young dancers auditioning for the chorus of a Broadway show. Costumes? The kind of practice clothes every dancer has in his or her wardrobe. It also presents various gay and ethnically diverse characters in frankly sympathetic terms.

But everything that was supposed to be wrong with the show was evidently right on—it won nine Tonys, numerous Drama Desk and Obie Awards, and a Pulitzer Prize. It also ran on Broadway for 19 years.

Cabrillo Stage veteran Janie Scott was a young dancer in 1977 when she won a place in one of the first touring companies of A Chorus Line, cast by the show's original director and choreographer, the legendary Michael Bennett. And now she recaptures the stripped-down, no-frills, emotionally exposed vibe of the original show as director-choreographer of her own vivid production of A Chorus Line, the flagship event in the 2012 Cabrillo Stage summer musical season. (Read more)

(Photo: Jana Marcus)

GOOGLE DOES KLIMT

Check it out! Today's Google Doodle is an homage to Gustav Klimt!

As I mentioned in my recent post (see below), July 14 is the 150th anniversary of the great Klimt, leader of Vienna's Secession movement ca. 1900. They've been going nuts over Klimt in Vienna all year, in honor of this auspicious occasion, and I guess they're not the only ones!

For more on Klimt (and, seriously, you can't get enough of Klimt!) take a look at the video Bruce Bratton posted next to my little blurb in his online column this week.

Scroll about halfway down the page (it's under the blue Anchor in Antarctica box) for the video, "Klimt 2012. A kiss changes the world." To get the full effect, make sure you play it at full screen size.

Thanks, Bruce! And big thanks to Google for a lovely homage.

WATER BABY

6-year-old heroine galvanizes magical bayou survival fable, 'Beasts of the Southern Wild'


It's one of the most common plotlines there is: finding one's place in the universe. But rarely has a coming-of-age story been told with such engrossing originality as in Beasts of the Southern Wild. This remarkable first feature from Benh Zeitlin takes a potentially gritty tale of a philosophical six-year-old Southern bayou girl forged in the crucible of extreme circumstance, and infuses it with elements of fairy tale, folklore and magic realism in a way that has won hearts and earned accolades from Sundance to Cannes.

At the center of the storm (both metaphorically and literally, plot-wise) is a tiny dynamo named Quvenzhané Wallis, the non-professional actress who stars in the film. As its unlikely heroine, a girl called Hushpuppy, Wallis is onscreen in every scene, and we never get tired of her expressive face; she's a poignant little vessel soaking up experience at every turn, reacting with wonder, rage, or determination as circumstances continue to shift. As poetic or surreal as the story may become, she keeps things firmly grounded in reality.

Hushpuppy lives with her daddy in a lowland region of the Southern Delta nicknamed "The Bathtub" for its susceptibility to flooding. Over on "the dry side" of the levee, says Hushpuppy, "they afraid of the water like a bunch of babies." But she and her daddy, Wink (the excellent Dwight Henry), love the water, navigating the bayou in their pontoon fishing boat built from spare junk parts. (Read more)

EVER MOORE

Christopher Moore is a merry madman. To call the Bay Area novelist a comic author does not begin to address the richness of his outrageous and singular oeuvre.

Moore can take a sacred plot (literally, like the Gospels, in Lamb, or figuratively, like King Lear in Fool) and profane it with scatological knavery, gleeful anachronisms and undistilled irreverence. The result is rudely, raucously funny, and yet weirdly true to the spirit of the source material.

(I can imagine Will Shakespeare laughing himself into a state of derangement over Fool, then stealing some of the funniest bits for his own future reference.)

Early in his career, Moore came to town for a book event at the Capitola Book Cafe, and he's been a staunch friend and supporter of the store ever since. This Saturday, in support of the Book Cafe's ongoing Survive and Thrive campaign, Moore returns for a 2 p.m. reading and signing of his latest assault on history and culture as we know it, Sacre Bleu.

In this new novel, Moore takes on modern art (the Post-Impressionists, in particular), and the French, for a tale in which Henri de Toulouse L'autrec and a young apprentice artist delve into the unknown story behind Vincent van Gogh's apparent "suicide."

More than this I can't reveal, mainly since I have yet to read Sacre Bleu. I'm waiting to buy my copy at the Book Cafe on Saturday, hear what the author has to say about it, and maybe score an autograph.

To reiterate, that's 2 in the afternoon, Saturday July 14. The Book Cafe is promising lots of fun activities yet to be announced, so keep checking their event page for further details.

DESPERATELY SEEKING GUSTAV

Searching for Klimt in Vienna with The Inconstant Traveler


This week (July 14, 2012, to be exact) is the 150th anniversary of the birth of hometown boy Gustav Klimt, and the museums in Vienna are hosting special Klimt events all year. I love Klimt, leader of the Secession Movement at the turn of the last century that broke away from traditional, conservative classicism to pioneer a new sensual, decorative, and expressionistic painting style.  We couldn't wait to get to Vienna last month to see the Klimts.

But like the waters in Casablanca, I found I was misinformed. It's not that there aren't any Klimts in Vienna, I just didn't always know the right places to look.

The Leopold Museum, in the Museum Quartier (a modern courtyard just south of the Innere Stadt on the edge of the surrounding Ringstrasse) has the most comprehensive exhibit: an entire floor devoted to Klimt's paintings (including this masterful Tod und Leben (Death and Life)), sketches and landscapes. There are partial recreations of lost work and a series of display boxes snaking throughout the entire exhibit space containing Klimt's lifelong correspondence with friend and patron Emilie Floge. (The Klimt exhibit runs through August 27.)

Another entire floor is devoted to the permanent exhibit, Vienna, 1900, featuring the art, graphics, furniture and objects of the Wiener Werkstatte (Vienna Workshop),  the Viennese version of the Arts and Crafts Movement that looks as stunningly modern today as ever. And yet another floor is filled with a special exhibit on Rudolf Kalvach and the next generation of graphic artists inspired by Klimt and the Wiener Werkstatte style. And as if all this wasn't enough, the Leopold also houses the largest collection of Egon Schiele's dark hypnotic, expressionist paintings in the world (and yes, that's another floor).

We all loved the Leopold, but we didn't get there until 2 pm and it closes at 6. If you go, get there early and plan to spend the whole day.

The Kunsthistorisches (Art History) Museum, just across the Ringstrasse from the MQ, heavily promotes its participation in the Klimt festivities. The museum has erected a pedestrian bridge over the staircase in the main rotunda from which to view a series of paintings between columns and over archways executed by the young Klimt as part of the interiors designed by Klimt's colleague Franz Matsch.

These depict the female spirits of Greek and Egyptian Arts in their wonderfully decorated alcoves (gazing out with their impassive, insouciant turn-of-the-century faces), a meditative Dante regarding a wistful angel in a gorgeously patterned gown, and a few other vignettes. They are fabulous, but, sadly, they are the only Klimts in the entire museum.

We were similarly—well, I wouldn't say disappointed, exactly, but surprised—by the Secession Museum, in the Opera district. Designed in 1898 to exhibit the new wave of art, the temple-like building itself is magnificent under its "onion dome" of gilded wrought iron leaves. But our mistaken expectations were disappointed in that we went in expecting the Secession museum to house art of the Secessionists.

Not so. Except for Klimt's marvelous Beethoven Frieze in the basement, the Secession remains stubbornly true to its original design as a showcase for the new and avant-garde—which in this day and age, means mostly (yawn) video installations and the like. History repeats itself; now we Klimt-lovers are the Philistines, longing for the painterly values represented by the (now old-school) Secession artists.


However, the Beethoven Frieze is well worth the price of admission. Painted in 1902 to adorn the walls high above a Secession exhibit devoted to the composer, the piece was never intended to outlive the original exhibition. But some canny collector bought and preserved it, and today the entire restored fresco is on permanent display in the climate-controlled Secession basement—where another handy bridge boosts viewers up to eye-level with Klimt's extraordinary work.

 Detail from the Stoclet House frieze

Inspired by Beethoven's Ninth Symphony (which includes the "Ode To Joy"), the frieze depicts humankind's search for happiness and meaning through arts and poetry. The journey includes an allegorical questing knight all in gold (who bears a not coincidental resemblance to Beethoven himself), who acts as guide through the various sins and horrors that plague humankind, leading at last to a chorus of inspirational angels—all culminating in a "kiss" of connection to the universe and the natural world.

(Here's a look at the Frieze in situ from the Secession website.)

(I saw a very similar allegory in an ancient, peeling 15th Century fresco painted on a wall inside St. Michael's Church a few winding side-streets away in Vienna. Only in that image, it was the Angel Michael leading humble humanity away from the Devil toward the Madonna and Christ Child. Exactly the same allegory; only the savior and the nature of salvation had evolved.)

The kiss is important to Klimt. It's the subject and title of his most famous painting, and embracing couples also figure prominently in the Beethoven Frieze and in  another larger-than-life-size mosaic frieze Klimt designed for the dining room at Stoclet House in Brussels, the private home of a wealthy patron. The enormous full-color sketch "cartoons" of this project are on view at another Vienna museum, the MAK (Museum of Applied Arts), and they're pretty spectacular. They're on the top floor, and it gets a bit stuffy in the MAK, so make sure you start there and work your way down. (And don't miss the Wiener Werkstatte artifacts in the adjoining room.)

 

Back home again, I found out that five of Klimt's major paintings—including The Kiss—are on view at the Belvedere, a garden palace-turned-museum far to the southeast of the Innere Stadt, and it kills me that I missed them.  My advice is, if you go to Vienna to see the Klimts, start with the Belvedere. Give yourself a whole day to soak them in. Then devote the rest of your time to the museums around the Ringstrasse—the Leopold (plan to spend the entire day!), the MAK, the Kunsthistoriches, the Wien (for the famous Portrait of Emilie Floge, which I also missed) and the Secession.

If anything, I guess I was slightly disappointed that it wasn't still 1900 in Vienna, with Klimt swanning around in his blue robe, his women/models posing in their radical, unstructured "reform" gowns, and Secession art and objets in every storefront gallery. But until they invent time travel, the Klimt anniversary celebrations in Vienna are the next best thing.

(This museum pass will get you in at a discounted rate at every Klimt exhibit in Vienna—if you can find them.)

HEART IN THE HIGHLANDS

Mother, daughter bond in fresh, funny, feminist 'Brave'


There are so many fairy tales that feature a wicked stepmother, or absent or negligent parents, it's refreshing to see one devoted to the loving, if sometimes fraught relationship between a mother and daughter.

 That would be Brave, the latest animated collaboration between the Disney and Pixar studios, an entertaining story of a girl, her bow and arrow, and her destiny. But underlying the elements of magic and adventure is a quiet family tale in which a girl's best friend proves to be her mother—and vice-versa.

Like its feisty, appealing young heroine, a medieval Scottish princess called Merida, Brave dances to its own drummer in many ways. It's the first Pixar film to feature a female protagonist, whose job it is to carry the story. It's one of the few Disney cartoons in recent memory spun from a completely original story (by Brenda Chapman, who also receives co-director and co-writing credits), and not based on a classic fairy tale, historical vignette, or previous film.

And it's the first "Disney Princess" movie (yes, Merida dolls are on the way) that doesn't feature a romantic interest. This girl isn't waiting for her prince to come; she's too busy finding herself.

Merida (voice of Kelly Macdonald) grows up in a craggy hillside castle with sweeping ocean views on one side and a deep, dense forest on the other. Her father, King Fergus (Billy Connolly) is a big, blustery, fun-loving force of nature who gives his daughter her first bow and arrow as a wee lass. Her mother, Queen Elinor (Emma Thompson) is an elegant, refined lady who despairs of ever teaching her teenage daughter proper princess decorum.

When her mother deems the time has come to gather the lairds of the outlying clans to come present their sons as potential suitors, Merida has a fit. Custom demands a competition for the princess' hand in marriage, but when archery is chosen as the contest, Merida scandalizes her mum by entering the lists and "shooting for ma own hand."

Of course, she out-shoots all the men, and after she and her mother quarrel, Merida flees into the refuge of the forest. There, she begs a witch (Julie Walters) for a spell to "change her destiny" by changing her mother. But, as so often happens, the spell doesn't go exactly as planned.

Chapman and her team (writing partner Irene Mecchi and co-writer/directors Mark Andrews and Steve Purcell) trade in classical fairy tale situations—the old witch in the wood, a magical spell to be broken, animal transformation. But the feminine/feminist viewpoint gives the story a cheeky, modern YA vibe, and the character comedy is good-hearted, sophisticated, and funny. (Whenever the women are away from the castle—which looks appropriately vast, drafty, and rough-hewn—the king and the clansmen quickly descend into brawling chaos without their civilizing presence.)

And while Merida does ultimately ride to the rescue, she's not obliged to don armor and become a warrior to save the day (the fatal flaw of the recent Snow White movie). She can be "brave" without  turning into a killer, while her mother demonstrates her mettle (and her love) in no uncertain terms as well.

Gorgeous Celtic-inspired faux tapestries are another highlight

BOOKS TO GO

Bookshop Santa Cruz unveils the Espresso Book Machine

Coming soon to a bookstore near you: the future of bookselling.

That's what Casey Coonerty Protti, owner of Bookshop Santa Cruz, calls the Espresso Book Machine. It's a piece of technology about the size of an old-fashioned Xerox copy machine that's capable of creating a professionally printed, perfect-bound, and trimmed paperback book in minutes—books to go, while you wait. And it's being unveiled to the public at a special launch party at Bookshop Santa Cruz next Wednesday, July 11.

Bearing the weighty technical name Espresso Book Machine® (EBM)—A Xerox Solution, the device is produced by parent company On Demand Books, and positioned to send the beleaguered book industry reeling into the future—ready or not.  Can't find the book you want on the shelves? No need to make a special order (or order it online), and wait days, or weeks, for it to arrive. The EBM will print one up for you on the spot—so long as the desired title is available through EspressNet®, the EBM's digital catalog of content. With major-player publishers such as McGraw-Hill, Simon & Schuster, and HarperCollins (among others) making their in-print backlists available, and public domain titles provided through the Google Books program, there are currently some eight million titles available in any language via the EBM. As more publishers and book providers sign on, those numbers will only increase.

But wait—there's more. In addition to ushering in a brave new world of instant book access for readers, the EBM is poised to be a boon for authors, as well. The same technology that makes it possible to format and print a book on the spot will also allow an author to upload his or her manuscript and turn it into book form in a matter of minutes. Hard copy—an actual book!—that most elusive Holy Grail of so many unpublished authors is now within everyone's grasp. (Read more)

WALTZING THROUGH VIENNA

More adventures with The Inconstant Traveler


Since we were going to be as close as Prague, Art Boy also wanted to visit Vienna. His main objective was to make a pilgrimage to Kunst Haus Wien, the museum devoted to 20th Century artist/designer/architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser.


This was a man who abhored the straight line. His museum (along with the residential apartment building he designed a few blocks away) is a riot of opposing colors, organic shapes, patterned tiles and mosaics, sloping floors, mismatched windows, and sudden bursts of greenery (including trees and shrubbery planted on the roof).


In the gallery rooms upstairs (walls painted deep blue, hunter green, cinnamon, steel grey, anything but boring "gallery white"),  we saw the incredibly subtle to vivid coloration and craftsmanship of Hundertwasser's "mixed media" originals (watercolor, pen, ink, gouache, gold and silver leaf, and who knows what else). Ideas and images cascade, execution is playful and passionate, and we were simply staggered by the power of the work in real life.

Art Boy in Heaven: Kunst Haus Wien

We strolled for about half an hour in a light drizzle along the south bank of the Danube Canal to get to the Hundertwasser museum, which is located a few blocks east of Vienna's central Innere Stadt (Inner City) section. (You could probably get there by tram in about ten minutes). But it was so worth it!


We also had a light lunch at the museum cafe and goggled at the extravagantly tiled bathrooms. At the end, we visited the gift shop, although all I bought was the postcard above. This wasn't about collecting souvenirs from Hundertwasser-Land. It was about diving into the experience and coming away awed!

The INCONSTANT TRAVELER: AGOG IN PRAGUE

Just back from two weeks in the Old World, and I have something to declare: I am in love with Prague!

If you ever get the chance to visit this magical place, just drop everything and go.

Prague's downtown section, Old Town, is a well-preserved, never-bombed medieval city whose ancient buildings (often grafted together from different eras) feature gargoyles, outdoor frescoes and stencil paintings, unexpected statues tucked into odd spaces, and exuberant carvings like this fanciful mermaid, floating serenely above a cobbled side-street.

We traveled with our friend, Donna Mekis, who had spent a lot of time in the city with her husband, Morton Marcus, a trip we had all hoped to take together some day. Donna and Art Boy and I made this pilgrimage in his honor; we visited Mort's favorite haunts, followed his route to Charles University (where he taught a month-long summer course one year), and ate in some of Mort's favorite cafes, toasting him all the way.

With Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral on the hill overlooking the town, and dozens of green patina domes, spires and medieval towers in all directions, Prague has a dreamy fairy tale look—especially when everything is lit up at night.

 Czech history, of course, has been anything but a fairy tale—which may account for Prague's thriving puppet culture. Here are some very cool hand-carved wooden specimens I found in the shop Marionety, in Nerudova Street. (Here's a link to their online shop, although you may have to run it through Google Translator, unless your Czech is better than mine.)

The best, like these, are carved by artisans from families who have been making puppets for generations. You can find plenty of shops and vendors hawking the cheap, molded plaster variety to tourists to take home to the kiddies, but it's not really kid-stuff.

Back in the various eras of repression (in the 20th Century alone, the Czech people were occupied by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Nazis, the Soviets and the Communists), it was humble marionette shows traveling through rural towns and villages that lampooned the powerful and spread the audacity of hope among the people in allegorical terms only the natives would understand.

No wonder the Czech national symbol is the wily jester, as one puppet-seller told us, and jesters—benign, arch, or downright scary—appear in every puppet shop. Of course these days, along with the usual kings, princesses, clowns, Pinnocchios, devils, and puppets in traditional Czech costumes, you also find Harry Potter marionettes, Captain Jack Sparrows, a smattering of Obamas, and—freakiest of all—Michael Jacksons.

For centuries before the Czechs had their own Republic, Prague was the capitol of old Bohemia, from which we get the notion of "bohemians" as arty iconoclasts. Prague is still a hotbed of spontaneous, interactive street art.

The John Lennon wall near Kampa Island (a couple of blocks from where we were staying in Malá Strana, the Little Quarter) started going up as soon as the Communists rolled out; graffiti artists and passers-by have been layering on political slogans, peace signs, Beatles lyrics, Lennon portraits, and who-knows-what-all ever since.

I decided to go native and leave my own mark on the wall with a handy Magic Marker some previous tenant left in our rented apartment. Two days later, my endeavor was almost completely covered up by another guerrilla artist wielding pink day-glo paint. Ah, the transitory nature of art!

Here's art with a little more permanence: the Love Lock Bridge over the Certovka  (The Devil's Stream), a narrow canal that separates Kampa Island from the rest of the Little Quarter. Nobody knows who started this one, but for about eight years,  couples have thronged to this bridge to declare their love by locking padlocks around the railing.

By now, the bars and cross beam of the railing are so thick with locks, lovers have started padlocking other bridges nearby. But the ever intrepid Art Boy found a space on the original bridge for our lock, which he painted red, and which I decorated with our names and dates.


It was tricky, but he managed to secure it, then he threw the key into the canal. So I'll always feel we left a part of ourselves in Prague—and vice versa!

SUMMER MOVIES: THE SEQUEL

Gems to look out for in the second wave of summer blockbusters


We're still cleaning up the debris after the first tidal wave of blockbuster summer movies—the one that began last month with The Avengers, and subsided last week with Moonrise Kingdom. But another tsunami is on its way, a second wave of diverse summer movies before the inevitable doldrums of August set in.

In a crowded field, here are some interesting contenders to look out for, from big budget to wildly offbeat; from a stout-hearted Scottish princess and a goofball wannabe time traveler (Brave and Safety Not Guaranteed, both in theaters this week), to the latest from Woody Allen, the beginning of one superhero franchise and the conclusion of another, and the new comedy from the directors of Little Miss Sunshine. (Read more)

(FAIRY) TALE from the DARK SIDE

Only those whose entire idea of fairy tales comes from sugary Disney cartoons will be shocked by the dark, violent edge in Snow White and the Huntsman, a revisionist reimagining of the oft-told tale. Those familiar with the horrific nature of the original tales from Grimm and Perrault, et al—morality plays with a vengeance—will get the vibe in Rupert Sanders' brooding, often gorgeous-looking film.

Not that Sanders' plot has anything to do with the original Brothers Grimm story that we know; scriptwriters Evan Daugherty, John Lee Hancock, and Hossein Amini shift much of the focus to the Evil Queen and her backstory, while reinventing Snow White herself as an action heroine. But after the slapstick comedy of the season's first Snow White vehicle, Mirror Mirror, this is a refreshing attempt to retell the tale as dark fantasy—and for about two thirds of the film's considerable length, Sanders does a bang-up job of it. True, he falters in a few key areas, including a disappointing finale, but most of the film works as a gripping and imaginative adventure.

 Charlize Theron is marvelously sinister as Ravenna, the predator beauty who beguiles young Snow White's recently widowed father, the King. She weds and dispatches him in short order, takes over the palace and the kingdom, and imprisons the little princess. While the new Queen's draconian policies and ruthless armies lay waste to the realm, she leaves a trail of desiccated virgins in her wake, whose souls she sucks out to maintain her eternal beauty. Theron takes no prisoners in the role, parading about with claws on her thumb and forefinger with which to extract the hearts of her enemies, accelerating her lines from purr to shriek in a heartbeat.

When her molten gold mirror inevitably tells her someone in the land is fairer than she, we meet the grown-up Snow White (Kristen Stewart) just in time for her to escapes captivity and flee into the wood, a place of dark sorcery full of black, scrabbling, scuttling things and tree limbs that claw and catch. The Huntsman (a persuasive Chris Hemsworth), is a dissolute drunkard with a tragic past; the Queen orders him into the wood to find and kill the princess, but he becomes her ally instead.  Then there's William (Sam Claflin), son of a neighboring Duke, and Snow White's childhood friend; when he hears she's loose in the wood, he joins the Queen's hunting party in hopes of finding and rescuing  her.

 

 The film conveys a powerful visual sense of its own mythos, from the pageantry of a medieval wedding to a profound interlude among a community of women and girls who have scarred their faces to escape the Queen's notice, to an enchanted fairy forest full of flying sprites and gamboling wildlife. With all this going on, it's an hour before the Dwarves are even introduced, stalwart actors all—Ian McShane, Toby, Jones, and Ray Winstone, to name but a few—reduced to dwarf-size via CGI. (Although Bob Hoskins has little to do but look beatific as Muir, the blind visionary in the group.)

           

But the film could have used a warmer, more empathetic actress than angsty Stewart in the lead. (Muir rhapsodizes that "She is Life!" who will "heal the land," but Stewart doesn't possess that kind of radiance.) And despite its fabulous beginning, the story falls apart in its idiotic battle-siege finale, when Snow White dons armor and leads an army into the Queen's castle keep. Since the princess knows she's the only one who can defeat the Queen, a stealthy approach would have made much more sense, cost fewer lives, and been just as dramatic.

Still, there is much to like in this movie—especially the way the cherished idea of True Love's Kiss is handled, which may not be what you expect.

THEIR AIM IS TRUE

Early production sketch of Princess Merida in Brave

I admit, I'm not a big fan of weaponry. When the Southern guy on Antiques Roadshow starts relating the long, complex history of somebody's great grandaddy's Civil War sabre, I go out and do the dishes. There's no surer way to persuade me not to see a movie than to show me a trailer full of cannons, six-shooters, machine guns, flame-throwers, Uzis, and/or space guns firing off in all directions.

Yet there is one weapon whose mythos appeals even to me. Humble, yet elegant, it's something I have even used on occasion (although not in self-defense). I refer to the bow and arrow, a weapon practically as old as humankind itself,  which is experiencing a sudden resurgence in "cool" right now.

First, it was Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games, racing through the forest in survival mode, armed with only a bow, a quiver of arrows, and true grit. Then came Hawkeye in The Avengers, taking aim with cold precision while the rest of the team were hurtling off into space in their jet-propelled suits or smashing things to smithereens. Next up is Brave (we've all seen the trailer), a Disney/Pixar adventure where a spirited young Scots princess puts the kibosh on an archery competition for her hand in marriage by out-shooting the menfolk.

Jeremy Renner (Hawkeye) & pals, The Avengers

What could be more simple, stealthy, and reliable than a bow and arrow? It doesn't make any noise, except for a subtle sproing and whoosh, it doesn't require any kind of internal combustion or ignition, and it doesn't explode on contact (unless you're shooting a flaming arrow into a powder magazine).

And it's all about individual skill—one person, one bow, one arrow; a keen eye, a sure grip, and the steely composure to go into the zone in the midst of utter chaos and choose your moment. Best of all, it's not gender-specific; it can be wielded just as surely by a woman as a man.

Jennifer Lawrence as Katniss, The Hunger Games

I took a semester of Archery back in junior college. I loved that it wasn't a team sport, and it didn't require a uniform; you could do it in street clothes. (And, OK, since I couldn't take more than two semesters of Modern Dance for credit, it fulfilled my dreaded P.E. requirement.)


It takes a lot more strength to draw back the bowstring than you think. To nock the arrow into place, feel the fletch pass by your cheek, stay focused on the target—let me tell you, it's a Zen-like experience.

Of course, I trace it all back to those early Robin Hood, movies of my misspent youth, especially the Errol Flynn version (scroll down to the bottom of the page). With his usual brio, Flynn made archery look like fun, not a warrior's tool, but  a character-building skill to be mastered for the sheer joy of it.

I thought Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe did an admirable job with the material 70 years later, except for one thing: for a story whose heroes were employed in the king's company of archers, there wasn't enough, you know, archery. (Although there was plenty of cannon fire, siege weaponry, and things blowing up, which is always considered more macho.)

Archery is an anti-macho discipline; it takes skill and smarts, not brawn. No wonder archery lessons are becoming popular again, especially among women. Personally, I'm looking forward to a Disney Princess doll who comes equipped with something more useful than a tiara.

HOMETOWN HERO

A reader wrote that she'd like me to comment on the James Durbin's concert at the Boardwalk on May 19, and boy, would I love to oblige—if ONLY I had been there!

Circumstances way beyond my control prevented me getting to the beach for Durbin Day # 2, and I'm not happy about it. But now, through the miracle of modern technology, those of us who missed it can catch up. There's an entire menu of tasty selections from the show on You Tube, an opportunity for all of us to see James in his new short, bleached blond 'do rocking out with his new band (Dylan Rosenberg, Blake Bunzel, Jeff Fabb, and Tyler Molinaro) with a playlist of numbers mostly culled from his debut CD, Memories of a Beautiful Disaster.

 I recommend you start by watching them power through "Stand Up," then segue over to the links menu to sample some of the others—"Love In Ruins," "Higher Than Heaven," and a fine, emotional acoustic version of "May."

But here's my favorite (further down the page): James rocks the National Anthem before a LA Kings/SJ Sharks hockey game in L.A. He doesn't just hit the dreaded high notes in the notoriously tough-to-sing anthem, he smokes 'em—and then he goes higher. Yowza.

The Boardwalk has also posted an album of still photos from the event on its Facebook page (like the one above, snapped by Sherry Wise). That's a million-dollar smile, right there. We're always happy to see you too, James! Come back soon.

ON THEIR TOES

The marvelous 14-year-old Michaela DePrince in First Position

Future ballet stars shine in irresistible dance doc 'First Position'


Anyone addicted to Smash, or any of the so-called "reality" talent shows on TV will find First Position irresistible. Bess Kargman's suspenseful and entertaining documentary captures the real-life drama of exceptional teen ballet students from around the world training for the prestigious Youth America Grand Prix dance-off in New York City. 

The YAGP is not exactly a competition, in the sense that the last contestant standing wins all the glory. Instead, it's a showcase that allows all the young dancers who qualify for the finals to perform in front of a panel of 30 judges representing ballet companies from all over the world. Their five minutes onstage might earn these kids a medal, a scholarship to a ballet school, or a professional contract—or send them back to the barre in obscurity. Kargman doesn't impose a narrative on the film; she lets the dancers, their families and trainers tell their own stories. But as her focus narrows to six finalists, the filmmaker invites us to ponder the collision of childhood with the grueling, terrible beauty and exaltation of the ballet life.

One can only imagine the thousands of hours of film Kargman and her globetrotting crew must have shot in the act of choosing their "stars." Every year, more than 5,000 dancers between the ages of 9 and 19 enter the YAGP, out of which only 300 make it into the finals. Kargman casts a wide net to come up with a handful of youthful contenders who exemplify what one judge describes as the ideal and necessary combination for a professional dancer: "Beauty, training, passion, and personality." (Read more)

CABRILLO STAGE LOVES NEW YORK

Cabrillo Stage is getting into a New York state of mind for its upcoming 2012 musical theater season. On deck for summer are two musical classics and one exciting world premiere, each with a connection to the Big Apple.

If you've been eating up Smash on TV, you'll love A Chorus Line, the much-lauded Marvin Hamlisch musical about a bunch of Broadway ''gypsies" (singers and dancers looking for their big break) auditioning for the chorus of a new Broadway show. Cabrillo veteran Janie Scott directs the show, opening July 13.

Anything Goes is an updated revival of a classic Cole Porter musical from the '30s. The frothy plot about a mismatched group of New Yorkers setting sail for madcap comedy and romance on board a luxury ocean liner bound for England is the merest sketch on which to hang such vivid Porter tunes as "It's De-Lovely," "You're the Top," and "Let's Misbehave," as well as the title song. This production will feature the book from the Tony-winning 1987 revival. Directed and choreographed by Kikau Alvaro, it opens July 27.

The world premiere comes from none other than Santa Cruz's own restaurateur, caterer, and foodie gadabout, Joe Ortiz. Testing his chops as composer, author, and co-librettist, Ortiz presents Escaping Queens, an autobiographical musical memoir about a boy growing up in an immigrant Puerto Rican-Italian family in the shadow of the Queensboro Bridge. Greg Fritsch is director-choreographer on this one, which launches August 10 with a gala kickoff party; of course, there's food involved, provided by Gayle's Bakery and Rosticceria. Watch this space for further details.

Further down the road, Cabrillo's holiday show will be A Night at The Nutcracker, a modern musical based on classic Marx Brothers comedies in which zany characters inspired by Grouch, Harpo, and Chico invade a ballet company at Christmastime. Cabrillo's secret weapon, the irrepressible Andrew Ceglio, has the helm for this one, and I can't wait!

So it should be quite the season. Click here for more info.

ART FOR ART'S SAKE

Art Alert: only one month remains to catch up with a terrific traveling exhibit at the Legion of Honor, Golden Gate Park in SF.

The Cult of Beauty: The Victorian Avant-Garde, 1860-1900, is a sensuous, multi-media freefall into the Aesthetic Movement, the ornate and highly decorative rebellion in the arts that played out in counterpoint to the propriety and the artistic formalism of the late Victorian Age. The show opened in February and closes one month from today, June 17.

We went up for the Pre-Raphaelite paintings that I've loved since my misspent youth, with their stylized medieval, Arthurian, and faux-classical imagery. And, of course, the illustrations of master draughtsman Aubrey Beardsley. He's best known for his bold, clean images (some reprints of his famed Salome illustrations are on display),  but despite his sensuality of line, his work is incredibly composed.

Take a look at this one, (The Abbe, 1894). It looks like an etching, but it's a pen and ink original in the show. Look at the detail! Until you see it in person (it's only about 6" x 12"), you can't really get a sense of the work involved.

All the usual suspects have paintings in the show—Dante Gabriel Rossetti,  Frederick Leighton, Lawrence Alma-Tadema, John William Waterhouse, William Holman Hunt—and those are just the ones I remember off the top of my head! But there's a lot more going on here than paintings and illustrations. Dozens of artists and craftsmen are represented, whose "Art For Art's Sake" aesthetic produced decorated cabinets, sideboards and chairs, ceramics and tiles, gilded fireplace surrounds, painted screens, jewelry, wallpaper, and two or three saucy, streamlined silver tea sets that presage Art Deco, and 1950s Atomic Moderne.

(There's even a mini-exhibit of luscious faux-medieval costumes from Liberty House of London, commissioned for wealthy patrons who wanted to dress the like the languorous characters in the paintings.)

This is just about my favorite piece in the show, the Ladies and Animals Sideboard painted by Edward Burne-Jones (1860). It's done in oil paint with gold and silver leaf applied to pine wood. In person, the paint is so thick in some areas, it almost looks 3-D, like mixed-media or decoupage, but it's just applications of paint, leaf, and patterns.

The figure on each panel is about 18" tall, and there are more female figures with animals painted on each side of the cabinet, as well. Apparently, Burne-Jones made this for his own home, and although he was a highly sophisticated painter, this piece has the expressive energy of folk art. I love it because it invites you to take something as simple and unassuming as a piece of plain wood furniture and make it into something unique and alive.

There are several of James McNeill Whistler's sumptuous portraits of women in white in the show, but this is a side of Whistler I'd never seen before! It's called The Gold Scab: Eruption in Frilthy Lucre (The Creditor) (1879), and it's oil on canvas.

It's a huge painting (the figure is just about life-size), the gold elements really pop out of that teal background, and look at those scaly claws masquerading as hands and feet. (One art historian believes this picture is a lampoon of Whistler's former patron, Frederick Leyland, a man who wore frilly shirts, which accounts for the odd title.)

I was drawn to its graphic, illustrative quality (it could be out of an Arthur Rackham fairy tale book), so unusual for a painting of this size. Talk about Avant-Garde!

It shames me to admit I had never heard of Simeon Solomon before. But I found this  sweet little piece, The Sleepers and the One that Watcheth (1870) strangely haunting. It's very small (maybe 14" x 11 " or so), and although I would have sworn it was done in pastels, it's actually watercolor on paper.

The arrangement of the hands is a bit problematic, but I love the sense of dreamlike serenity. And see how the tiny star flowers (echoing the stars above) seem to weave a visual web around the two sleepers, while the watcher remains wakeful, and pensively removed.

This exhibit taps into a lot of the ferment that was going on in the arts during the rise of the Pre-Raphaelites and their circle. So much of the work of Aesthetic Movement artists was a hands-on response (if not reproach) to the Industrial Revolution, and the conformity of mass-produced objects. This artistic moment erupted at almost the same time as the anti-establishment Vienna Secession of the 1890s, and the turn-of-the-Century Arts and Crafts movement, and it is SO worth seeing these pieces up close and personal!

(And while you're there, don't miss the concurrent exhibit of Victorian Illustrated Children's Books in the tiny Logan Gallery (it's right next door to the museum cafe).  Examples culled from the museum's large collection of illustrated art books include splendid picture books by Walter Crane, Kate Greenaway, Randolph Caldecott and William Nicholson—and what a treat they are!)


This is the only US venue on the Cult of Beauty tour. (The other whistle stops are the Victoria and Albert Museum, London and the Musee D'Orsay, Paris, so this is a pretty big deal.) Here's the preview on the Legion of Honor website, although if you go up mid-week, like we did, you can avoid the crowds AND the online ticketing fee.

RETURN of the JAMES GANG

It was almost exactly one year ago today that Santa Cruz's own James Durbin came home to rock the Boardwalk with a vengeance after finishing fourth on American Idol.

30,000 fans thronged the Boardwalk for the first concert of the rest of James' career. If you weren't one of them (or even if you were), now's your chance to catch up.  This Saturday, James returns to the band shell to kick off the Boardwalk's summer season.

Once again, the concert is free to the public, so get in line now to snag a good spot on the beach! But unlike last year, this time James won't be limited to three songs. He'll be performing with his new band, so be prepared to hear your favorite songs from his first CD, Memories of a Beautiful Disaster, as well as a sprinkling of classic rockers. They take the stage at 5:30 pm.

James is even more fun live than he was on the tube, so don't you dare miss him!


And speaking of the Santa Cruz music scene, check out  Under the Boardwalk: a Ukulele Love Story, coming back to town Saturday afternoon, on the last day of the Santa Cruz Film Festival.

Starting out as an informal monthly gathering in the home of local book artists Peter and Donna Thomas, the Ukulele Club of Santa Cruz has morphed into a 2000-member cult, as documented in Nina Koocher's entertaining film. It's full of music, uke lore, and interviews with founders Thomas and Andy Andrews, and members like Rick 'Ukulele Dick' McKee, Jayme Kelly Curtis (showing of her custom Hawaiian Koa wood uke with Santa Cruz redwood top), Ian Whitcomb, and many others.

The late James Houston notes the "big-time connection" between Santa Cruz and Hawaii, and everyone celebrates the easiness of uke-playing in democratizing the making of music—"a participatory event, not a spectator sport," says member Dave Egan. Peter Thomas calls the Uke Club "a place where people make bonds of friendship that weave their way out into the community."

Koocher's film captures that fun and magical Santa Cruz vibe. It screens at 4:45 pm, Saturday, May 19, at the Del Mar Theatre) Tix available here.