DJ Shadow at Mill Valley’s Village Music

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10.03.07


On Sunday night, amid the cavorting and eulogizing at Village Music’s closing party, DJ Shadow cues up a 45—”You’ve Made Me So Very Happy.” An appropriate send-off for John Goddard’s 50-year reign behind the counter of his Mill Valley record store, it also marks the final stretch of a unique spinning streak for the world-renowned musician.

“I just wanted to spend as much time here, and absorb as much as I could,” Shadow says, explaining his high-profile decision to spin records every day during Village Music’s final month. “I had a great time here,” he says, “and that means a lot to me.”

At a quarter to midnight, Village Music fills with diehard customers awaiting the store’s final moments, catching a last glimpse of history. Between handshakes and autograph requests, Shadow unsleeves a 45 of “I Second That Emotion” onto the turntable and drops the needle, keeping solemnity at bay.

Shadow (whose legal name is Josh Davis) first shopped these aisles in 1991, but it wasn’t until years later that he and Goddard made a deeper connection. One day, Goddard mentioned the best band he’d ever seen were Baby Huey and the Babysitters, a group legendary in the world of sample-based hip-hop. “I think he thought it was unusual, too,” Shadow says, explaining a kindred link, “that someone my age would even know who Baby Huey was.”

Shadow rifles through records, plays a novelty Doors medley and watches as half the store starts to sing along in the exact sort of communal experience that record stores were once known for. Strangers share stories, serving up potluck red beans and rice; at one point, a blues jam erupts, featuring customers and former employees spontaneously bemoaning the store’s closure. Someone encourages Shadow to sing a verse; he smiles and quietly shakes his head.

“I will miss this store very much,” he attests, just before the Champagne toasts and final goodbyes. Goddard cranks the manual cash register for the last few customers as the Mickey Mouse phone rings intermittently. Someone comes by asking to hear a Cornell Hurd record, and Shadow throws it on while the night winds down at his beloved hometown record store.

“In the last year, I’ve been to every continent on the planet buying records,” he says gratefully, “and I can honestly say that there’s no other place like this.”


Stage preview: SRJC’s New Season

10.13.07

It was violent, it was shocking, it was overflowing with this amazing and beautiful Spanglish language—from beginning to end it was completely, totally irresistible!”

Leslie McCauley, department chair of the Santa Rosa Junior College theater arts program, is describing the first time she read the script for Luis Alfaro’s Electricidad, which was published in its entirety in the pages of American Theater magazine last year. The play, set in the barrio of Los Angeles, is based on the Greek myth of Electra, in which two abandoned siblings, Electra and her brother Orestes, conspire to kill their royal mother and her lover in revenge for the murder of their father. In Alfaro’s version, Electra (Angela Favreau, above) is an angry young chola, the language is a lyrical mix of Spanish and English, and, yes, the big, bad mama gets what’s coming to her.

It’s a bold start to the theater arts season at SRJC, where attention-grabbing kick-offs have become something of a tradition. Last year, the season commenced with Stephen Adly Guirgis’ controversial The Last Days of Judas Iscariot. The rest of this season’s plays bear a similar knack for aggressively spreading modern-day attitudes across classical or historical settings. Following Electricidad is Elton John and Tim Rice’s rock ‘n’ roll adaptation of Verdi’s epic love-and-death opera Aida. On Broadway, the John-Rice version, produced by the Walt Disney folks, dazzled audiences and offended parents, who assumed the Disney brand meant a lack of sex, political intrigue, murder and suicide pacts. “It’s so big,” McCauley laughs, “possibly the most ambitious musical we’ve ever attempted, but if you don’t keep pushing yourself, you grow stale.”

In January, the season continues with another relatively new and potentially challenging play, Jim Leonard’s Anatomy of Gray, in which a small, God-fearing village is thrown into a panic of fear and suspicion when a mysterious plague descends that seems to be killing only the most righteous, Christ-loving citizens. In March, Wendy Wisely directs Dale Wasserman’s popular tragicomic version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and the season concludes with Jon Jory’s new adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

“It’s a brilliant adaptation,” says McCauley of Pride, “set very simply, and told through a series of scenes that take place within the context of an 19th century dance party. It is consistent with a season that presents wonderful, important old stories in new, original ways.”

Electricidad runs Oct. 5&–6 and 10&–14 at the Burbank Auditorium, SRJC campus, 1501 Mendocino Ave., Santa Rosa. Wednesday&–Saturday at 8pm; matinee, Oct. 13&–14 at 2pm. $5&–$15. 707.527.4343.


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News Briefs

10.03.07

Smile, Santa Rosa! You’re on camera. Surviellance in the North Bay.

For future reference, don’t pick your nose in downtown Santa Rosa—even if no one else is in sight. Buoyed by the success of last year’s undercover sting operation using mobile cameras, the Santa Rosa Police Department recently received the go-ahead to install eight permanent cameras in and around Old Courthouse Square. “The areas that we will be videotaping are public areas,” says Santa Rosa Police captain Tom Schwedhelm. “The Supreme Court has ruled that there is no expectation of privacy in a public area.”

However, access to the live camera feed (seen on monitors in dispatching) and to the resulting tapes will be limited. “We’re very sensitive to this issue,” Schwedhelm responds when asked about the “Big Brother” aspect of the project. “We don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, but there are some police concerns in the downtown area. We want to make it a safer place, and this will enhance our ability to do that.” He adds, “I firmly believe this is a very efficient use of our tax dollars.” The project’s total budget is $150,000; the eight cameras are expected to cost $3,000 to $7,000 each for a total of no more than $56,000. They should be installed by the end of this year.

Santa Rosa already has two cameras in its transit mall and several in its parking garages. The Petaluma Downtown Association is installing eight cameras, using a system with a capacity for 12. The goal, says association executive director Maire McCusker, is to prevent vandalism and protect property. Installation is planned for November.

A number of schools throughout the North Bay use surveillance cameras; many operate only after school or on weekends, to prevent or record acts of vandalism. Other campuses use them during school hours as well, but only review the tapes after an incident. A spokeswoman for the city and county of Napa and the city of American Canyon said those municipalities do not use surveillance cameras in public locations. Neither does the county of Marin. The city of San Rafael has live cameras in some high-traffic intersections, but not in predominantly pedestrian public areas.

One community that has embraced surveillance cameras in a big way is Ripon, near Modesto. This city of approximately 14,500 people and 28 police officers spent more than $500,000 in 2005 for an extensive mesh network with 54 cameras. “It’s been a pretty good deterrent for us,” says Lt. Ed Ormonde. “People pretty much know that there’s going to be a camera nearby if they’re committing a crime.”


Gaia Hotel and Spa Napa Valley

10.03.07

I almost always leave later than I plan to, with too little gas in the car. Now here I sit, stuck in traffic, unable to crawl forward or to switch lanes, my tiny car engulfed in the shadow of a truck that is hauling two stories’ worth of calves. This is how I make my way to Gaia Napa Valley Hotel and Spa, the world’s first Gold LEED Certified (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) hotel and spa: having had no lunch, late for an appointment, the tank almost on E and seriously considering vegetarianism. The smell emanating from the cattle truck is strong, and the adrenaline-filled eyes of the calves seek me out through the manure-covered holes in the sides of the truck, as if to say, “You, meat eater! This is your fault.”

Running on fumes, I at last reach my destination, the town of American Canyon in Napa County. Due to two accidents on Highway 29, I have had plenty of time to take in the local scenery, and while American Canyon may harbor some hidden nooks of beauty, they are not readily apparent. Maybe if there were some trees, anything, a bush even, this strip of wasteland would be more palatable, but as it is, there is little to see that one might want to call home about.

Once inside Gaia, however, I am soothed. If anything, the lack of natural beauty outside serves to emphasize the sensation of relief once one is embraced by the hotel walls. Thank God, I find myself thinking, I’m not out there anymore.

Being Gold LEED Certified means that the hotel is designed and operated following strict guidelines for environmental sustainability. The building materials have been harvested responsibly, and/or recycled; the paints, coatings, adhesives and sealants are low VOC (volatile organic compound); recycled tiles and granite are used throughout; and the large koi pond is filled with recycled water from the premises. As finishing touches, Gaia uses chemical-free landscaping practices, environmentally friendly cleaning products, bulk soap and shower dispensers, and, as a testament to its mission, provides a copy of Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth in addition to the Gideon Bible in every room.

Despite all of these details, Gaia just looks like a nice hotel, but once I start poking around, I discover an array of green innovations. For instance, the bathrooms, the lobby and the upstairs areas are lit by skylights that act as little portholes to the outside world, filled with glass prisms that reflect down sunlight. In the lobby, three computer screens keep a constant measure of the hotel’s water and electricity use and CO2 emissions. Next to every trash can is a recycle can. The drought-resistant landscaping promises visual riches in the years to come. The Gaia restaurant, though not yet complete, promises to provide local and organic foods. The hotel linens are exclusively cotton, and down comforters, as opposed to polyester throws, grace the beds.

Spa manager Kate Riley gives me a tour of the premises, and then we discuss the ultimate reason for my visit, the spa. Riley tells me her vision of creating a wellness retreat using only the purest ingredients possible and providing the highest quality service. She envisions Spa Gaia as a place where locals and travelers will be able to take the time to care for themselves. To this end, locals (which to Riley means anyone living in the North Bay) can purchase a yearly pass that provides a 15 percent to 20 percent discount on all spa services, along with use of the pool, the unforgettable seven-headed shower and the steam room.

I am given a robe, a pair of slippers and led into one of the massage rooms. Here, I am lulled almost to sleep while I receive a combination of massage and a Thai coconut scrub. This was the first scrub I’ve ever had in my life, and I only get a massage about once every three years, which, considering how wound up I am, is pretty sad. (The last time I was lulled to sleep anytime before midnight was when I rode the public transit for a previous Green Zone column.)

As the treatment began, I could feel Riley’s words, combined with the massage therapist’s hands, working their voodoo, and I soon found myself thinking, “I deserve this. Poverty should not be allowed to get in the way of me and my spa treatments. It’s just not right.”

The truth is, I am not one who can usually afford to go to spas—no matter how green, no matter the locals discount—and receive body treatments. Yet here I am, getting my back scrubbed with some sort of organic, freshly prepared coconut concoction, and suddenly all of the bad things shrink away: the staring calves, the gas station attendant who didn’t want to give me my change, the shock of arriving at the world’s first Gold LEED Certified hotel only to find it so awkwardly placed. None of this matters anymore, and as I lay there, soft music floating out of a speaker, warm unbleached cotton towels draped around my neck and over my eyes, I am filled with a temporary sense of serenity that whispers in my inner ear: You should start doing this every month.

Just charge it.

Gaia Napa Valley Hotel and Spa, 3600 Broadway, American Canyon. 707.674.2100. To contact Spa Gaia directly, call 707.674.0168.


News: Young Men’s Ultimate Weekend

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Photograph by Richard Quinn
Stand up, line up and shut up: Marin’s Mark Schillinger introduces the radical notion that young men are already just fine as they are.

First came the women’s movement, followed by the men’s movement, the first seeking to redress generations of inequality and oppression, the second working to salve the emotional wounds and role confusions caused by decades of newly empowered women telling jokes about how men are just the worthless piece of skin at the end of a penis.

While no one was looking, the men’s movement and the women’s movement had a baby (lots of them, actually), and that exuberant burst of tentative, testosterone-powered hollering and soulful wailing you hear is the sound of that offspring taking its first complicated steps away from the nest and out into the world. Call it the boys’ movement (there’s a girls’ movement too, but that’s another story), and you’d better cover your ears, because the freshly unleashed howl that all those young men are making—the whoops and hollers of socially orphaned boys morphing uneasily and unstoppably into manhood—is about to get much, much louder.

“For years, young men have been in a state of crisis because their needs have not been met, and they have not been properly instructed in how to become young men,” says Dr. Mark Schillinger, a San Rafael chiropractic physician and the founder of the Young Men’s Ultimate Weekend, a rapidly expanding rites-of-passage program designed to encourage mentorship of teens and to initiate young men into adulthood with a sense of integrity, respect, energy and community involvement.

“We’ve tried and failed,” explains Schillinger, “to control young men’s impulses and force them to be good, well-behaved boys, and when they’ve acted out, we’ve tried to control that behavior with psychological procedures that don’t always work, like talk therapy. If we are going to be effective in getting our young men to be respectable and responsible adults, to be responsible for their own youthful energies, then we have to start from a position of respecting them, recognizing that there is nothing wrong with them, that they are already free and enlightened, that being male is not a liability, that testosterone is not a disease.”

The first Young Men’s Ultimate Weekend (www.ymuw.org) was held in Marin County in 2000, and now Schillinger oversees several similar weekends all over the state (the next weekend takes place in Fairfax the weekend of Oct. 19–21). According to Schillinger, YMUW is visible evidence of a powerful national trend in which boys, after years of societal neglect, are benefiting from an increased focus on their healthy transition into manhood. In August, a provocative cover story in Time magazine made the case that generations of boys have suffered from a kind of national disregard, a situation that, according to Time, is now finally being corrected.

“It is men’s obligation to initiate young men, to pass down to them their role in society, which is to make the world safe and secure—that’s the primary role of the male, and it has been for thousands of years,” Schillinger says. “Initiating young men is not just some nice thing to do; we’re saying it’s a necessary thing to do. When a community is safe and secure, when the world is safe and secure, then all men and all women are free to creatively express who they are.

“This is not coming from some chauvinistic perspective. Not even close! We tell these boys that men and women are absolutely equal, but we express ourselves in very different ways, and that’s OK. We are saying that it’s the job of the men to make the world safe and it’s the job of the older men, the mentors, to initiate the young men to do that in their place when they are gone.”

Impressed by a similar initiation event he witnessed in Canada in the late 1990s, Schillinger, a single parent of two grown children, organized the original 2000 YMUW in part so that his own son would have the opportunity to express his fears and concerns about becoming a man, to witness examples of older men expressing their emotions and to learn basic leadership skills he would need for responsible male adulthood. At that first weekend, Schillinger and a core group of mentors—all YMUW mentors must now undergo a thorough training process—developed what Schillinger calls the R.I.G.H.T. Way. R.I.G.H.T (and, yes, that’s been trademarked) stands for “Respect, Intelligence, Gallantry, Humor and True.”

While some assume that the YMUW is aimed at “at-risk” boys, low-income or otherwise “troubled” kids who’ve been referred by the authorities, Schillinger says that the average attendee of the weekend—and there have been thousands over the last seven years—is your average young man, age 13–20. Many of them come from stable families with modest to high incomes.

“The thing is, in our society, every young man needs to be initiated into adulthood, not just the boys whose parents think they have problems. All children are at risk, and every boy needs men who are not his parents to organize an initiation. These kids are bursting with energy they are told to suppress, stewing in a bath of testosterone they don’t know how to handle, bursting with feeling and emotions that are too big for them and certainly too big for their parents. I’ve traveled all around the world. I’ve watched how other cultures initiate their young men, and the parents are never around when that initiation thing is going down. It is done by the wider community in which the young man lives.”

With the YMUW, boys are initiated by experienced older males who know what they are going through and who are trained and prepared to give those boys a weekend crammed with the one thing they most crave: the unconditional respect of adults, especially elder males.

The heart of the YMUW is the initiation ritual itself, a “ceremony of grieving,” which takes place at a bonfire near midnight on the second night. The initiation has come to be known as the Hundred Man Ceremony, because of the presence of a large number of men from the surrounding community. The initiation allows each boy to individually express everything he is angry, sad or unhappy about, and to grieve loudly and openly, with as much intensity as necessary, for the losses and sorrows he has known and to mourn the end of his childhood.

“It’s all very Lord of the Rings–ish,” Schillinger laughs, “but I can’t tell you how powerful it is to watch these young men be welcomed into manhood by this ring of men, to watch boys stepping up to adulthood and changing into responsible, respectful men right before our eyes.”

Perhaps the most significant part of the weekend occurs the next day, when Schillinger meets with the attendees’ parents, charging them to try to see their sons with new eyes.

Says Schillinger, “I always tell them, the mothers and fathers who’ve come to pick up their kids, ‘Your sons have just gone through a life-changing experience. This wasn’t easy. Can you look past the boys they’ve been and respect them for the men they are? They are only 20 or 30 years younger than you, and in a 15-billion-year-old universe, that ain’t very much. Can you stop making your kid your therapist, can you stop taking out your life frustrations on them, can you model what is right for you all the time? Can you inspire them to live the right life?’

“Young men want to make their communities and their families and their world safe,” he continues. “They have been suffering because society, in general, has come to look down on young men, viewing them as potentially dangerous, as lazy, as stupid. So why are we so surprised when our sons start acting that way?”

Schillinger, who sees YMUW as the blueprint for a kind of alternative Boy Scouts that he predicts will be developed over the next decade, and who plans to launch a Young Women’s Ultimate Weekend in 2008, believes that these structured initiations are just one more sign that the days in which boys were left to fend for themselves, or to find their own initiation though gangs, drugs or violence, are coming to an end. It’s up to the adults, he says, to force themselves to see the man in the boy, and to make a conscious effort to give the young men of their communities the benefit of their own experiences.

“Young men don’t need to be fixed,” he says. “They need to be told that they are already fixed, that they are fine, that there is nothing wrong with them. Young men today need to feel that they are worthy of respect—because they are.”

To learn more about the upcoming Young Men’s Ultimate Weekend, to inquire about volunteering, or to ask about joining the ritual as one of the ‘hundred men,’ visit www.ymuw.org or call 800.719.9302.


Scissors Cut Paper

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I looked into my opponent’s eyes, and they weren’t kind. His right fist, resting on his left palm—what would it do? The referee threw his hand in the air, and the pounding began; one count, two counts and then—oh, as sharp as a knife in the chest!—two outstretched fingers, pointed victoriously in the direction of my feebly flattened palm.

“Scissors cut paper!” declared the referee, and with a swift hole-punch on my competitor’s badge, I had been cruelly eliminated in the first annual Rock Paper Scissors Championship at Roshambo Winery.

That was five years ago, but the memory still burns. Not since I’d played Little League had I felt such a surge of adrenaline, a crazed rush of competitive vigor, and then a complete deflating of the ego. After all, if you can’t win at Rock Paper Scissors, what in God’s name can you win at?

No one with anything even remotely resembling a sense of humor can deny the brilliance of an actual Rock Paper Scissors championship; the only strategy is to pretend, so hard and so convincingly, that there is, in fact, a strategy, therefore intimidating the opponent into throwing the wrong hand. Or the right one. It is luck, after all, right?

Graham Walker, co-author of the Official Rock Paper Scissors Strategy Guide, doesn’t think so. His tips involve a blend of simple statistics (most rookies, for example, throw rock first, while paper is thrown the least overall) and tactical psychoanalysis of opponents’ moves (watching for patterns, counting throws, anticipating moves based on prior outcomes). There’s even a whole category of ways to mentally suggest a throw into the opponent’s mind.

These tips may work—or they might not. Last year’s champion, Philadelphia’s Kristen Lantz, was returning from a Hawaiian honeymoon with her husband when, on a layover whim, the newlyweds decided to drive to Healdsburg to compete. She outlasted 256 other opponents and took home the $1,000 purse, prompting Roshambo president Naomi Brilliant to declare, “This just proves that guys have no idea what’s going on in a girl’s mind, while the ladies know exactly what guys are thinking.”

Part competition, part theater of the absurd, the Rock Paper Scissors Championship has drawn lovers of good, clean fun for five years now. But not everyone is amused. Josh Drake, erstwhile promoter of the Supreme Pro Wrestling matches at Petaluma’s Phoenix Theater, was overheard condemning the Championship recently. “Let me just go on record,” the wrestling honcho declared, “by saying that that’s not actually a sport.”

The fifth annual Rock Paper Scissors Tournament takes place on Saturday, Oct. 6, at the Flamingo Hotel. 2777 Fourth St., Santa Rosa. Noon to 6pm. $20 competitors (advance registration a must); $10 spectators. www.roshambowinery.com.


Profile: The Subdudes

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10.03.07

You have to pay attention.

A casual listen to the (lowercase-loving) subdudes’ newest recording, Street Symphony, will catch the easygoing virtues the New Orleans&–rooted band is known for: the effortless grooves, the keening accordion and slicing slide guitar, the soulful vocals and tight group harmonies. But you might overlook the pain.

This is the quintet’s first release since Behind the Leveein early 2006, so it contains their first post-Katrina songs. In some cases, notably “Thorn in Her Side,” the reaction is overt and angry. But most of Street Symphony‘s lyrics are more reflective than reactive, laced with bittersweetness and carried by the subdudes’ casually assured musicality. They appear Oct. 5 at the Sebastopol Community Center.

The hurricane and its aftermath “affected us all pretty heavily,” says bass player Jimmy Messa, one of three band members who grew up in or around the Crescent City. “The band came together there, and it’s still a very special, spiritual home for us.”

A sense of lingering loss and dismay is tucked away behind the upbeat first impressions offered by key songs on Street Symphony. Messa says it was a deliberate choice to engage the body first and the intellect second.

“As times goes by, you’re angry about certain points and you’re saddened about certain points, but people don’t want to hear you moan about it or protest, so you gotta kinda veil what you want to say in a nice little sugarcoating,” he says. “It might be a little introspective lyric that’s trying to get a point across in a bouncy, peppy musical package. It has to be kinda, ‘You figure it out.’ So I’m hoping people will read between the lines, which they have so far.”

“Stranger,” “Fair Weather Friend,” the elegiac “Brother Man” and “I’m Your Town” can each be read as an oblique call for broader compassion and action for the band’s beleaguered hometown and its denizens. But that sober subtext fades alongside the warm, empathic portraits offered in “Work Clothes,” “Poor Man’s Paradise” and the title track.

Of course it helps that the CD as a whole brims with the genial intimacy that is the subdudes’ onstage calling card. Street Symphony was recorded in the Nashville studio of producer George Massenburg (Linda Ronstadt, Little Feat, Earth Wind & Fire), using an unusual approach.

“We all sat in a circle facing each other,” Messa recalls, “and normally the producer is in a booth, behind a big sheet of glass, but he was sitting right there next to us with the mixing board. And it ended up being so relaxed and nice and intuitive, it was just like playing live, live in your living room. Which yielded a real good performance.”

This is the eighth recording in the subdudes’ catalogue and the third since the band regrouped in 2002. They initially formed as a quartet in 1987, three-quarters of the members (guitarist and vocalist Tommy Malone, accordion and keyboard player John Magnie and original bassist Johnny Ray Allen) coming from another New Orleans band, the Continental Drifters, which also included Messa. Teaming up with Steve Amedeé, whose tambourine is the band’s main percussion, the band soon elected to hone their sound elsewhere, and migrated to Colorado. Messa stayed in touch, but stayed behind.

“Bad career move,” he grins. “They went on and immediately got a record contract with Atlantic, and I was hitting myself in the head: ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.'”

Over the next 10 years and five albums, the subdudes built a sizable following, then decided to take a little break. It lasted five years.

Gradually, time and circumstances brought Malone and Magnie together again, and soon a retooled version of the band was back in action, this time with Messa aboard. Another five years in, and an older and wiser subdudes are hitting their stride.

This time, Messa says, “I don’t see us stopping. It’s too ingrained, it’s too fun, it’s pretty much what our lives are. We’ll probably continue in this pattern for quite a while, until something drastic happens down the road.

“But for the moment, it’s just too good, too good to let go.”

The subdudes play the Sebastopol Community Center on Friday, Oct. 5, at 8pm. 390 Morris St. $25; premium seating sold-out. 707.823.1511.


Review: ‘December Boys’

10.13.07

Since Australia is a pipeline of huge female talents, there’s some likeliness that December Boys‘ Teresa Palmer (above) is the next big thing. She has a self-assured walk and a drastic way with men. The problem is one of intensity. In a seaside cave—Remarkable Rocks on Kangaroo Island, off the coast near Adelaide—Palmer, playing a lass named Lucy, seduces the untried Daniel Radcliffe (that’s Harry Potter to you).

Radcliffe portrays an orphan nicknamed Maps. In his chance to break out of the role of Young Mr. Wizard, Radcliffe falls back on the same shy, pale and slightly blocked manners he has at Hogwarts; it’s not clear if he has any other speed. And since Palmer’s Lucy has to do all the work in seduction, she seems convinced she’s burning a hole through the screen. That’s not an idea any actor should allow themselves. (That said, Michael Powell’s last movie, 1969’s Age of Consent, had a similar beachside Oz odalisque. No one would have expected the gawky blonde beachcomber to grow up to be Helen Mirren, which is exactly what happened.)

Set in the late 1960s, Boys follows four denizens of a Catholic orphanage in the Outback who are sent out to spend a holiday by the sea. Their foster father for the summer holidays is a portly, jovial old ex-Navy sailor (Jack Thompson), who blows a bosun’s whistle and refers to his wife as “Skipper.”

The resort is a series of half-painted shacks linked by a small boardwalk and by a pair of electric wires climbing up hill to a clanky gas generator. It’s a funky background to the adventures of Misty, Sparks, Maps and Spit. Puppies by name, they’re pretty much puppies by nature. The real highlight of their summer vacation is the boys’ glimpse of a naked girl. She’s their neighbor Teresa (Victoria Hill), the French wife of “Fearless,” a trick motorcycle rider at the local carnival. (Sullivan Stapleton plays him, with the tepid brooding of the thug on a soap opera.)

Misty (Lee Cormie), a shy artistic kid with thick spectacles, is the narrator of this “summer we became men” story. Early on, he hears that the childless Fearless and Teresa are considering adopting a child, and he tries to be as good as possible so that he’ll get the position.

The Catholic strain in the story is both lampooned and honored. There’s a fantasy sequence about cartwheeling nuns, as well as a serious guest appearance by the glowing Virgin Mary herself. This piousness is counterpointed with more gutsy material, but a Disney story with breasts and butts is still a Disney story. It’s just the sun, the sea, the landscape and the summer girl that end up justifying this movie, if anything justifies it.

December Boys opens on Friday, Oct. 5, at the Rialto Lakeside Cinemas. 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. 707.525.4840.


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Wines: Harvest Fair Gala

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When at the track, it’s popular to stand by the show ring and study the horses in the next race. Why this is popular remains unclear. Most people find that they can’t tell anything about the winner simply by looking at the horses. It could be the frisky horse or the one with taller shoulders. Some people just like a gray and white spotted horse.

Similarly, over 500 wines were lined up at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds for last weekend’s Harvest Fair Gala, and who could pick the winner from among them? Notwithstanding the occasional aroma of “sweaty saddle,” winemaking isn’t a horse race—is it? Under the darkened dome of Grace Pavilion, a well-dressed crowd bathed in twinkly, flattering, gold-hued lights meandered among winery tables. It’s a locals night, albeit a bow-tie and high-heels locals night. Some were in social high gear, others grazed down the line of local food purveyors. Unlimited winetasting at Sonoma County’s largest tasting room was almost an afterthought. Fregene’s exotic mushroom and Gorgonzola pizza, a must.

All eyes were glued to giant screens as they announced the gold medal winners, and cheers went up from particularly spirited groups. Among the golds were some of my favorite picks from the past year, like the Eric Ross and Sapphire Hill Syrahs, and the Woodenhead Zinfandel. For this schmooze fest, many of the owners and barrel jockeys were on hand, as were dozens of small wineries I’d never heard of; others were notable in their absence. The winning wines were announced live on the center stage after much ado. Later, I stumbled upon the red winner, De La Montanya’s 2005 Christine’s Vineyard Pinot Noir. Drum roll . . . It was rather pleasant. The funny thing is that their table was not mobbed at this event; a different story will likely unfold at the Harvest Fair this weekend. Everybody likes a winner. Hope it’s a big vineyard.

Unlike the free-for-all that is the gala, tastes are metered by pour spout at the Harvest Fair tasting, and available in exchange for tickets (find the sparkling wine folks in a good mood, and you might get half a glass). But general admission is only $6 and—this is a big plus—the Harvest Fair features a daily llama parade. And gambling types, now that the results are in, can at least place a private wager on the winning team at the Grape Stomp.

The Sonoma County Harvest Fair runs Friday–Sunday, Oct. 5–7, at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds. 1350 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa. Friday, 10am to 8pm; Saturday–Sunday, 10am to 7pm. Winetasting hours: Friday, 3pm to 7pm; Saturday–Sunday, 12:30pm to 5pm. Admission, $6; souvenir glass and two tasting tickets, $7. Additional taste tickets are $6 for four. www.harvestfair.org.



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We Could Love that Tractor

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10.13.07

The Joads shocked genteel readers when they first appeared in John Steinbeck’s epic novel The Grapes of Wrath nearly 70 years ago. Now they’re as American as American Idol. Their pilgrimage from Oklahoma to California haunts our national psyche as much, if not more, than the existential quest by Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty in Kerouac’s On the Road.

As part of the countywide Performance Sonoma slate and its “Crossing Borders” theme, veteran theater director Beth Craven brings the humble but awe-inspiring Joad family to the Sixth Street Playhouse in Santa Rosa for a month-long run. Brent Lindsay, above, portrays anti-hero Tom Joad. “The Grapes of Wrath is one of my favorite books,” Craven says. “It means a lot to me personally about human dignity and about people coming together to overcome adversity. Our stage version is all about displaced people crossing borders and fitting into different cultures. It has a lot to say to us today.”

Craven first directed the play at Sonoma State University in 1992, reprising it later at the University of Tennessee. In this exuberant production, she draws heavily on outstanding local talent, including designer David Lear’s set, a fantastic landscape that conveys the sweep of America itself, and original music by composer Tom Martin for banjo, fiddle, guitar and string bass. The battered 1935 Ford jalopy that’s onstage for much of the first act is a major character itself, a hero on wheels. The play, like the novel, the movie and Woody Guthrie’s ballad, never fails to move audiences emotionally.

The Grapes of Wrath runs Thursday&–Sunday, Oct. 5&–27. Thursday&–Saturday at 8pm; matinee, Saturday&–Sunday at 2pm. Sixth Street Playhouse, 52 W. Sixth St., Santa Rosa. $14&–$26. 707.523.4185.


Museums and gallery notes.

Reviews of new book releases.

Reviews and previews of new plays, operas and symphony performances.

Reviews and previews of new dance performances and events.

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10.13.07The Joads shocked genteel readers when they first appeared in John Steinbeck's epic novel The Grapes of Wrath nearly 70 years ago. Now they're as American as American Idol. Their pilgrimage from Oklahoma to California haunts our national psyche as much, if not more, than the existential quest by Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty in Kerouac's On the Road....
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