To move past standard Earth Day fare, try the exotic “world street food” menu paired with local wines at the first-ever Green Valley Earth Day on Sunday, April 22. It’s a dual celebration, because effective April 23, Green Valley of the Russian River Valley becomes an official wine appellation, one of the smallest in Sonoma County. Eight Green Valley wineries–De Loach Vineyards, Dutton Estate, Dutton-Goldfield, Emeritus, Hartford Court, Iron Horse, Marimar Estate and Orogeny–are hosting this wing-ding in both high and green style. “It’s the Tiffany of Earth Day celebrations,” laughs spokeswoman Dawnelise Regnery. Rather than Tiffany blue, this event is done up in environmental green, with a detailed eye for treading softly on the earth.
The food by Iron Horse chef Christopher Greenwald will be homegrown or come from within a 25-mile radius. Power will be supplied by a portable solar energy unit. Choices for transportation to the event include walking up the oak tree- and vineyard-lined property, riding in a horse-drawn wagon or being a passenger on a biodiesel van. Utensils will be biodegradable. Everything used to prepare and stage the event will be either recycled or composted. The prize in a paperless raffle will be $4,000 worth of energy from PG&E.
Net proceeds benefit Laguna de Santa Rosa Foundation, National Geographic Society, Rainforest Action Network and the Leakey Foundation. Each will have informational booths at the event, and National Geographic is bringing in a team from Washington, D.C., including TV host Boyd Matson. Other honored guests include State Parks commissioner Caryl Hart, San Francisco Chronicle environmental writer Glen Martin and eco-entrepreneur John Scharffenberger, founder of Scharffen Berger Chocolates (samples served at the celebration). Eat, drink and be green, saving the world one glass at a time on Sunday, April 22, at Iron Horse Vineyards. 9786 Ross Station Road, Sebastopol. 1pm to 4pm. $50-$250. 707.887.1507. . . .
Putting the emphasis on those who make local vintages possible, Benziger Family Winery will donate 100 percent of its April 22 tasting room profits to Vineyard Workers Services, a nonprofit dedicated to improving the quality of life for local farmworkers. “Their reverence for nature and connection with the vines continue to inspire me,” Mike Benziger says of his vineyard team. 1883 London Ranch Road, Glen Ellen. 707.490.2739.
Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.
Winery news and reviews.
Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.
Recipes for food that you can actually make.
Ask Sydney
Dear Sydney, I had a falling out with my sister a couple of years ago. I think of her daily and worry about her, but I stop short of e-mailing her because she’ll demand an apology from me before resuming our relationship. I don’t feel I have anything to apologize for, but I’m sure she doesn’t think that’s the case. Even if, just to make her feel justified, I did swallow my pride and apologize, she would constantly bring up the incident that triggered our falling out and would use it to indicate proof of what she regards as my fallibility and “instability.” My life has been peaceful for the last several years without her constant haranguing and complaining, but my heart aches for her and what I know is her lonely, friendless state. I’m worried she’ll die alone and unloved, but at the same time, I don’t want the hassles having a relationship with her implies. Should you always try to reconcile with a sister just because she’s family? Sometimes I feel that just because we were born into the same family doesn’t mean I have to take her verbal abuse and that I have any responsibility for her.–Sad Sis
Dear Sis: Being related by blood doesn’t guarantee closeness or compatibility. However, the nature of your question indicates that you don’t have the sort of detachment that would justify a complete disconnection from your sister. Some feel no attachment to siblings whatsoever, in which case, why would you endure verbal abuse, stress and the misery of a dysfunctional relationship that does nothing but drag you down? But you say things like “my heart aches” and “I’m worried,” which indicates that your sister means more to you than you might want to admit.
Life is short. Why risk perpetuating this alienation over a little pride-swallowing? Don’t e-mail her. This mode of communication is too quick, and it’s too easy to blast comments back and forth without really giving them thought and consideration. Instead, send a letter with a thoughtful gift. Let her know that you care for her, that you’re sorry for this falling out, but that you want to start fresh, without the need for either one of you to grovel and beg forgiveness. Think of it this way: If she were to die next week, would you regret your estrangement? If the answer is no, then maybe you’re just feeling guilty out of a sense of duty, and it’s fine to let things be as they are. But if the answer is yes, consider reaching out, no matter how much of a hassle it might be.
Dear Sydney, I’m a doctor. When I began working, I failed to mention to my co-workers that neither of my children has vaccinations. What began as a small omission on my part has started to haunt me. Choosing not to vaccinate was a huge decision, made even harder by the atmosphere of being an MD, not to mention seeing every worst-case scenario possible in a hospital setting. Now that I’m becoming friends with some of my fellow doctors, it feels awkward to me that I haven’t told the truth. For one thing, I have to be privy to doctor conversations where parents who haven’t vaccinated their kids are being criticized, at which point I feel obligated to keep my mouth shut, even though I am one of those “irresponsible” parents. Is it my duty to admit to my decision in order to clear the air and then just take the flack like any other parent would have to? Or should I continue to pretend that our shots are all up to date, thereby keeping the peace and avoiding judgment?–Renegade Doc
Dear Renegade: Vaccinating your children is a personal decision, and the fact that you are a doctor does nothing to lighten the burden of this decision. You are a parent first, a doctor second. And as a parent, it’s often better to keep the vaccination decision to yourself. Why deal with other’s judgments on the matter? You’ve done your research, and it’s up to you and you alone to decide what’s best for your kids. I understand that it could be uncomfortable to listen to your doctor friends bash the anti-vaccine sector which you are secretly a part of, but because vaccines are such a personal issue, you are under no obligation to share this information. People who don’t vaccinate learn pretty quickly that this is not good cocktail party conversation. It’s better just to keep it to yourself. What your doctor friends don’t know won’t hurt them. Sleep easy. The health of your children is your only concern here, nothing more.
Dear Sydney, my mom writes a column. Unfortunately, we share a computer. This means, whenever she wants to write her column, I can’t play my computer game. I am very deeply depressed that she takes the computer away from me when I am most wanting to play, when she could work on her column later. Why does she always get first choice? Sydney, could you please answer this problem? Just because I’m 11 doesn’t mean that she should have all the rights to take the computer from me. It’s the family computer.–Mad at My Mom
Dear Mad: This dilemma sounds disturbingly familiar . . . Who gave you permission to go online? And who taught you how to Google? A parental oversight, obviously. However, I do understand your frustration. Having one computer for the family can be a pain. But by being conservative with your computer purchases and having only one in your household, you are doing good things for the future of the planet! While this may not mean much to you now, it will in about 15 years.
The reality is, parents have first dibs on just about everything except food and dessert. I know this may seem unfair to you now, but when you grow up, if you choose to have children, you will soon realize that you just can’t give them everything they want all of the time, because if you do, you will end up living in a tent on the side of the road because your kids have bankrupted and exhausted you with their demands. Your mother’s deadline takes precedence over your computer gaming (that means it’s more important). Now, if you have a report due for school, and it’s due the next day, and she has two days to finish her column, then you have a good reason to demand your turn over hers. But seeing as playing games does not pay the bills, it doesn’t count for much.
Of course, writing a column doesn’t pay the bills either, but still, it falls into the category of work, not play. The only way to resolve this situation is to stop spending all of your money as soon as you get it and start saving. Then you can buy your own computer. But remember, even if you do, your mom will still be able to tell you when to get off. That’s called parental rights. You don’t get free of those until you move out.
‘Ask Sydney’ is penned by a Sonoma County resident. There is no question too big, too small or too off-the-wall. Inquire at www.asksydney.com.
No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.
News Briefs
Not so grateful
Firefighters stopped a blaze that destroyed a mobile home on American Canyon Road April 13, but neighbor Frederick Arritt, 64, wasn’t appreciative; he was arrested on felony assault charges for punching a fire captain. The blaze began inside the home of Mike Wilson, who was severely burned attempting to stop it with his bare hands. When Wilson ran screaming outside, someone called 911. Firefighters and police responded, finding Wilson’s home and car almost completely engulfed. Next-door neighbor Arritt was spraying the conflagration with a garden hose. “He started yelling obscenities at the officers and said he could put it out himself,” recalls American Canyon fire chief Keith Caldwell. Firefighters repeatedly asked Arritt to leave, but he refused. He became verbally abusive, then hit a fire captain on the side of the head. Wilson’s burns were treated at Queen of the Valley Medical Center, and Arritt was arrested and booked into Napa County Jail. “It’s just one of those unfortunate events,” Caldwell notes. “It’s only the second time we’ve had something like this happen in my 31 years as a firefighter.”
Jobs well-done
Seamus Ramsey and Chris Throp, who rescued a four-year-old boy from a burning vehicle in January, are among 11 people being honored April 25 at the Real Heroes Breakfast by the American Red Cross Sonoma and Mendocino Counties. Those being singled out as deserving thanks and praise include Sebastopol police officer Dennis Colthurst, who spent months getting help for a family of nine neglected children; Marjorie Davis, 85, who founded and runs Fawn Rescue; Salt Point State Park lifeguard Osh McNulty, 21, who made two lifesaving rescues in one day; and Army Pfc. Caesar Viglienzone, who died Feb. 1 in Baghdad.
Lost labyrinth
Marin County Open Space District rangers stirred up a controversy recently when they removed the small stones outlining a circular labyrinth at the top of Oak Manor fire road near Fairfax. So far, 448 people have signed an online protest petition calling the labyrinth path, reportedly constructed in 2004, “a landmark, public meeting place, sacred space and object of natural beauty.” Ron Paolini, deputy director for the open space district, says man-made structures are routinely removed from the district’s lands, which are kept as natural as possible. A complaint about the labyrinth prompted district rangers to visit the site, remove the rocks and plant native grass seeds covered by straw. “We basically manage the land for the resources. That’s our role,” Paolini explains. He says the district has not received the petition about the labyrinth. “I’m sure our management will look at anything that comes in.”
News of the Food
We’ve all seen the boring admonition a thousand times: “Instead of sour cream, substitute yogurt for a low-cal alternative.” But yogurt, that low-fat diet standby, that sugared-up supermarket slurry, is also vulnerable to the advancing forces of gourmet artisanship. Yogurt has another side. A richer, woollier side.
Bellwether Farms, Sonoma County’s family-run sheep-milk creamery, is poised to release a sheep-milk yogurt. That’s likely to pique interest, at the least because sheep are cute and woolly. And, as it turns out, there’s more than novelty to sheep dairy products.
For all the reasons that goat has long been touted as the alternative milk, sheep milk is even better. It’s higher in nutrients, protein and other solids. Although 50 percent higher in fat, the fat globules are smaller, almost “naturally homogenized,” as Bellwether’s co-owner and cheese maker Liam Callahan puts it. Sheep’s milk may be tolerated by some people who can’t digest other milk. And it’s mild tasting, an incentive to those for whom fine goat products are just too . . . goatee.
For this to be available in our own backyard is rare, indeed. There are a handful of sheep dairies in the United States, mainly in the east. Bellwether has no samples yet on hand, but a cup of New York’s Old Chatham Sheepherding Co. yogurt, found tucked away in a Whole Foods dairy case, proved to be rich indeed, with a distinct tanginess. It’s said to be something like a Greek-style yogurt. Bellwether will make plain and vanilla, as well as natural fruit flavors with strawberry, blueberry, and blackberry preserves sourced from Oregon.
Look for Bellwether Farms yogurt some time later this month or in May. Because of the vagaries of nature, the Callahan’s 200 ewes didn’t lamb for three months, thus had no milk, so they are now busy restocking their San Andreas and Pupate aged sheep cheeses. www.bellwethercheese.com.
Quick dining snapshots by Bohemian staffers.
Winery news and reviews.
Food-related comings and goings, openings and closings, and other essays for those who love the kitchen and what it produces.
Recipes for food that you can actually make.
Wine Tasting
Even with Battlestar Rancheria looming above, the town of Geyserville retains a rural Western character. Tractors chug down Highway 128, past the men’s haberdashery and hardware store. If the local deli sells artisan truffle oil, they must be keeping it under the counter. Here, in the historic Bank of Geyserville building, you’ll find the Meeker Vineyard tasting room. Given a flexible chronology, you could easily picture Black Bart hanging out here, casing stagecoaches. In fact, it looks like Meeker has only lately traded places with green-visored clerks. To buy your wine, step up to the original teller window. Behind that is their jumbled office, and the wine, of course, is in the vault.
You might expect Meeker to be more slicked-out, what with its big-time Hollywood origins (co-owner Charlie Meeker is a former movie executive). But that’s clearly not the case. Almost seems like the work of zonked-out, hoary ex-hippies. It formerly operated out of a tipi on what is now Bella Vineyards. The quirky labels feature images of, for instance, John Lennon as a walrus playing billiards with, um, zombie Elvis from the crypt? No, it’s hound-dog Elvis. But make no mistake from these quips and nudges, we love the Meeker vineyard.
Here’s why: the tasting was free, efficient and wry. We found the 2003 Mendocino County Syrah ($28) very agreeable, vanilla cola and a bite of fresh cherries. Not much like other California Cabs, the 2002 Mendocino County Cabernet Sauvignon is light, with a hint of sweet sherry. Drier, bigger, more Cab-like, the 2004 Winemaker’s Handprint Merlot ($36) has chewy fruit and a couple of goopy handprints. The 2002 Barberian is a dry super-Tuscan style built with Barbera and Zin. There’s an inoffensive Chardonnay ($11), and the silky 2004 FroZin dessert wine ($24), which leads one’s nose into the depths of a pungent, dark wine cellar.
The real treat was actually one of the starters, a wine so gorgeous it’s hard to believe it’s that cheap and easy (it’s topped with a screw cap). To echo the tasting sheet, the liquid energy of the 2003 “Rack ‘n’ Roll” Zinfandel ($14) swirls in the glass like revelers in a rock-concert crowd. On acid. Whether it’s phenolic acid or volatile phenols that wildly broadcast heady aromas of jammy fruit, I couldn’t tell you. Call a fermentation scientist. The point is, untamed by oxyphobic squares, these are the seductive vinous scents that flirt with misadventure while promising paradise, and give you that million-kilowatt smile. You can take that to the bank.
(The walrus wasn’t Paul) at the Meeker Vineyard, 21035 Geyserville Ave., Geyserville. Open 10:30am to 6:00pm, Monday-Saturday; noon to 5pm, Sunday. 707.431.2148.
Season Greetings
Short shakes: The Marin Shakespeare Fest kicks off with the Bard ‘(abridged)’ this July.
By David Templeton
For those of us who feel their pulses quicken whenever someone asks them to turn off their cell phones and consider becoming a subscriber, spring is one of the most exciting times of the year.
This is the time of year when we theater lovers can begin to dream of plays to come, to anticipate and make educated guesses about those rare dramas and old musicals and fresh comedies that will be launched before us next year. This is when many North Bay theater companies make their final decisions, take deep breaths and publicly release the lineup of shows for the upcoming season, in this case, the 2007-2008 season. The fact that most theater companies don’t begin their seasons until the fall does not curb the enthusiastic uproar we feel when theater folk begin to announce their future plans in April and May.
In the 2007-2008 season, Santa Rosa’s ever-evolving Sixth Street Playhouse will finally drop its dual identities as Actors Theatre and the Santa Rosa Players and just be the plain old Sixth Street Playhouse. The recently announced schedule of plays looks to be another somewhat safe balance of new and old musicals, original plays and fresh spins on old classics.
That said, Sixth Street has also announced something unexpected: a brand-new second venue, a smallish studio theater, to be constructed in the adjacent dance center. The studio will be devoted to the kind of small experimental shows that Actors Theatre (can we still say that name?) originally made its reputation with.
Next, executive director Beth Craven will chase the ghost of Tom Joad in John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, and in a co-production with the Sonoma County Repertory Theater, Ken Sonkin will direct Jason Robert Brown’s super-popular two-person musical The Last Five Years (which the Rep will also stage as part of its current season). The rest of the main-stage lineup includes Ashman and Menken’s Little Shop of Horrors, David Mamet’s seldom-seen, turn-of-the-century lesbian drama Boston Marriage, the classic Depression-era musical 42nd Street and the relatively new comedy Leading Ladies by Ken Ludwig (author of Lend Me Tenor, Moon Over Buffalo and Shakespeare in Hollywood).
In the intimate, new black-boxish studio theater, Sixth Street will offer a separate “studio series” of plays, including Becky Mode’s one-person comedy Fully Committed, Robert Reich’s political comedy Public Exposure and two other works yet to be announced, one of which is expected to be another David Mamet piece.
Now in the hands of new artistic director Jasson Minadakis, the Marin Theater Company has been tinkering with its 2007-2008 schedule, but at last report, Minadakis’ first season as the guy who chooses the plays will begin with John Kolvenbach’s offbeat romantic comedy Love Song. The year continues with John Strand’s cross-dressing swashbuckler Lovers and Executioners, the West Coast premiere of Kenneth Lin’s philosophical drama . . . ,” said Saïd, a mounting of Tennessee Williams’ Streetcar Named Desire and with two other plays yet to be decided.
“Yet to be Decided” describes some of the plucky Ross Valley Players upcoming schedule, which opens May 11 with Steve Martin’s adaptation of a German play, The Underpants. In another example of inter-theater talent sharing, Sixth Street’s Argo Thompson will commute to Ross to direct Fully Committed, opening July 13, before bringing the same show to his house.
Porchlight Theatre Company launches Enchanted April June 22 at the Marin Art & Garden Center and the Marin Shakespeare Festival blasts off this July with the always-popular Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged). (Note: this show opens on the same day as the Sonoma County Repertory Theatre’s outdoor production of The Bible: The Complete Word of God (abridged).) The rest of the festival is filled out (in so many ways) by simultaneous productions of Shakespeare’s Henry IV parts one and two, featuring Stephen Reynolds as the rotund con man Sir John Falstaff.
Talking of Shakespeare, the eccentric and innovative Shakespeare at Stinson Beach, is being forced from Stinson Beach after 14 years due to a disagreement with the town regarding portable toilets, or something. SAS director Jeffrey Trotter recently announced that the company will be moving to the outdoor amphitheatre in Novato’s refurbished Hamilton Air Force base; beginning mid-August, the only show to be announced so far, will be Twelfth Night, fitting enough given that Shakespeare’s funniest comedy is all about being displaced.
With no announcements as yet from Sonoma County’s only Equity company, the Pacific Alliance Stage Company holding forth at the Spreckels Performing Arts Center, likewise for the mighty Cinnabar Theatre in Petaluma (about to open its own version of Enchanted April), we jump back to the Sonoma County Rep, one of two North Bay companies that follows a January-to-December season instead of the traditional fall to summer approach. After this summer’s Shakespeare Festival in Ives Park (pairing the reduced Bible show with the enduring let’s-go-be-hippies-in-the-forest comedy As You Like It), the Rep will rip into a Northern California premiere, the new stage adaptation of Mitch Albom’s bestselling Tuesdays with Morrie.
The North Bay’s other January-August company is Napa’s Dreamweavers Theatre, getting ready to give us Edward Albee’s fantastical Seascape beginning in June, followed by yet another production of David Auburn’s overburdened Proof (Monte Rio’s Pegasus Theatre opens the same play this weekend). Rounding out the season is Ivan Menchell’s Cemetery Club and the little seen Answers by On Golden Pond‘s Ernest Thompson.
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.
First Bite
“Wow, you think this is so good because we’re so hungry?” my friend asked. Four of us had just spent a sunny Sunday afternoon hiking from Green Gulch to the beach. We were ready for some hearty grub and suds in a place that had a warm atmosphere but wasn’t too elegant for grubby hikers.
We settled on Rafters Grille and Brewery in downtown San Rafael, an airy, woody brewpub with a relaxed vibe. Rafters is refined and quiet enough to have a conversation without raising your voice, but not stuffy. A jazz quintet, fronted by a woman who sounded a bit like Norah Jones, played in the corner (on other nights the pub features rock, soul or Latin music). On warm days, most of the front wall slides open, giving the dining area the feel of a streetside cafe.
Our server, who was friendly and didn’t make us feel out of place in our sweatshirts and shorts, quickly brought the first round. We quaffed a well-balanced and quenching amber ale that had traces of caramel. The beer was just right: rich with malt flavors but not heavy or overly carbonated. The first one went down so easily, I had to order a second to accompany my chicken pesto pizza ($11.95 for a 10-inch pie).
The pizza was generously layered with slices of chicken, sun-dried tomatoes, spinach and mozzarella. The pesto stood out, its bright basil flavor enhancing the other toppings. The crust was nicely toasted, not brittle, just chewy enough to sink my teeth into. As hungry as I was, it was too much to finish.
My friend had a guacamole burger ($12.95 with avocado, bacon and pepperjack cheese), which she described as “very juicy.” I had a few of her fries, which for me are a litmus test; they were served scaldingly hot (as they should be), nicely browned on the outside and fluffy on the inside.
As the evening wound down and we became sated, we returned to the question: Is Rafters’ food as good as it seemed, or were we just famished from hiking? The clear consensus is that Rafters is the full package with great beer and satisfying food. And here’s the rare part: it’s a Marin restaurant where you can have a big plate and a pint in a comfortable room for under $20. I’ll be back.
Rafters, 812 Fourth St., San Rafael. Open daily from 11am for lunch and dinner. 415.453.4200.
Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.
American Movie
I‘ve been sitting at the counter of Mr. Mom’s cafe in Petaluma for three hours. The crossword puzzle in front of me is a giant splotch of ballpoint ink in 19 layers. I’ve discovered 12 new ways to scratch my head, and my coffee cup has been refilled eight times. My mind is racing but my body must stay still. I figure I’ve got about an hour of inward motionlessness before I can get up and leave.
So goes the crash course I received in the world of independent filmmaking, having agreed to appear in Darwin Meiners’ feature film Fairfield, Idaho.
OK, OK, it’s not really a starring role. There are no awards for Best Guy in the Background with His Head Turned Away. But Meiners assures me that if I want to truly understand the experience of shooting a movie, there’s no other way but to jump right in. And sit.
The setting here is down-home. Country music plays on the stereo while a frizzy-haired waitress in a pink sequined T-shirt wipes down the counter. But surrounding a vinyl booth in the corner are Meiners and his crew clustered around film cameras, light filters and boom mics. Producer Jeremy Moore rushes around between takes, shooting Polaroids for continuity, while director of photography Jon Lohne and production manager Steve Aja try to rescue a fizzled microphone cord with gaffer’s tape.
It’s not exactly an expensive-looking set, until one of the actors pulls some props from a duffel bag: a gun, a bag full of white powder and an enormous wad of bills, all twenties. It must be $5,000, at least. Sensing my surprise, Meiners leans over and lets me in on one of the resourceful tricks for shooting a film on a threadbare budget.
“We needed a bunch of money,” he whispers, “so we Xeroxed it. If we get pulled over on the way home, we’re fucked.”
The modus operandi for making Fairfield, Idaho has been this exact sort of do-it-yourself approach. But with no budget or formal film training, Meiners and his tireless crew have produced a film of remarkable depth and impact. The film premieres April 21 in Santa Rosa.
Fairfield, Idaho opens with a slow pan across an empty field of tall, dry weeds. The camera closes in on a white house, and while the sun sets, a quiet moment is allowed to hang, suspiciously. What breaks this opening silence sets in motion the story of Dayton Miller–his distressed relationship with girlfriend, Maddie, his desire to be a hero and, overridingly, his belief that because of what happens in the white house, he is shackled with a family curse from which there is no escape. When we meet him, he is completely broke, behind on the rent and drowning in a sea of alcohol.
In a last-ditch attempt to salvage everything, Dayton–portrayed to boozy perfection by Paul Hoffmann–raids his estranged mother’s trailer. A wide-angle lens and an effective score provided by the Velvet Teen’s Judah Nagler give the heist an added Rififi-like tension. Dayton is looking for money, but when he ransacks the trailer, he makes off instead with a large bag of crystal meth.
The story that unfolds of Dayton’s quest for redemption achieves a maturity and subtlety rarely seen in no-budget independent film. Even when nothing very much at all is happening onscreen, the viewer feels the tense state of mind of the movie’s characters. Flourishes of focus and angle act as a cracked window into Dayton’s scrambled conflict, and montages abound for a sense of time and atmosphere.
In rounding up a serviceable cast, Meiners has found some unknown gems. As Maddie, Larissa Kasian is excellent, particularly in her pleading with Dayton to return the meth and come home. In these scenes, Hoffman’s natural detachment works perfectly. (“You just said that you loved me, and I just said that I knew I was wrong,” he tells her in the middle of a heated argument, hoping to settle the issue. Ah, the logic of the jilted male.)
Of course, those who live locally will find plenty to recognize, including Grizzly Studios owner Roger Tschann as Dayton’s drug-dealing friend Kyle. Tschann literally drops into the frame to counter Dayton’s festering psychosis with his wise-cracking composure. Two bumbling hit men come into play, and in a dingy hotel room the conflict builds to a nail-biting climax.
Fairfield, Idaho will undoubtedly be applauded at its premiere this weekend. But Meiners is hoping for a different kind of reaction.
“If someone could get in an argument about what the ending means,” he hopes, “that would be awesome.”
Darwin Meiners, 36, has dark brown hair and a lean, healthy gait. A jack-of-all-trades songwriter, promoter, husband, company vice-president, father, singer, guitarist and now filmmaker, he embodies the ideal of accomplishing anything simply by putting one’s mind to it. By turns insightful and sardonic, he talks with an almost impossible confidence, even when addressing his own limitations.
Prior to Fairfield, Idaho, Meiners had made exactly one feature film, an over-the-top secret-agent kung-fu zombie farce called Lance Sterling: Off the Case. He’ll be the first to admit it was intended solely to amuse. “Instead of trying to hide the fact that we had bad actors, bad lighting and a bad story,” he recalls, “we just made it even more apparent by embracing our weaknesses.” The movie looked as if it cost a few hundred dollars to make.
Though Meiners had made short films before, filming Lance Sterling gave him an itch for something more serious and dramatic. He immediately announced a new project, and had started writing a screenplay, recruited a dedicated crew and assembled a cast in less than six months. He still had no money.
“We’ve all seen multimillion dollar movies that are just horrible,” figures Meiners, sitting in a homemade studio in his Santa Rosa garage during a final cut of Fairfield, Idaho. “So it seems like if you get good people–actors, writers, crew and artists–then it’ll be way better than if you get a bunch of money.” Between Meiners and Moore, the project was entirely self-financed, with the exception of two “investors” worth $100 each (one of them was Meiners’ dad). “That’s how I know I’ll probably never be a ‘real’ filmmaker,” he insists. “I don’t like asking people for money.”
With nothing but raw talent, the crew began a weekly regimen of writing, shooting, rewriting, shooting, editing, shooting, mixing, editing and finalizing. The process accumulated its share of sticky situations–a motel owner required bribe money for the use of a dilapidated room replete with real black mold on the walls and an all-too-real discarded hypodermic needle on the floor; makeup artist Dustin Heald applied bloody contusions to an actor who had inadvertently passed out from whiskey. But the toughest obstacle, Meiners says, was realizing what he had gotten himself into.
“I was so unprepared to answer questions from professional actors,” he explains. “You have to find these ways to evoke emotions and portrayals from people without actually asking for it. I had no clue, no idea, and then I had to do it on the spot. And it was really hard. It was totally hard.”
The other down side to having just a four-man crew, Meiners says, is that his own creative flow was often disrupted during shooting to keep everyone on task–acting, he jokes, as “the class clown and the principal at the same time.” But he never felt like throwing in the towel on Fairfield, Idaho. “I just felt like this was a good story,” he insists, “and I wanted to see it through.”
Meiners hasn’t counted up the receipts yet, but he estimates that the 76-minute film cost about $5,000. Nightmares of dealing with Hollywood agents and attorneys are not on his radar; instead, he mentions the enthusiasm he’s received from the chamber of commerce in the actual city of Fairfield, Idaho. The film will hopefully screen at eventual festivals, but as of yet Meiners has no plans to even release it on DVD.
“I’d be happy to show it one time and never show it again, to be honest with you,” he says. “Some people play poker on the weekends, some people play golf. We make movies. It’s just what we like to do.”
‘Fairfield, Idaho’ premieres on Saturday, April 21, at the Roxy Stadium 14, 85 Santa Rosa Ave., Santa Rosa. 7:30pm; $10 advance tickets only, available at the Last Record Store in Santa Rosa and at www.fairfieldmovie.com.
New and upcoming film releases.
Browse all movie reviews.
The Demented
Moping over his personal and financial success, Woody Allen commented, “Comedy sits at the children’s table.” He meant that only drama gets respect, and that’s what led Allen into the field of faux Scandinaviana.
But when it comes to pure cinematic invention, nothing beats comedy. Comedy is the laboratory where visual ideas are tested; drama picks up on them later, after they’ve been proven to work.
Hot Fuzz is director Edgar Wright and writer Simon Pegg’s follow-up to Shaun of the Dead. It represents movie comedy at its best, an irresistible high-low mix of gross slapstick, whip pans and whiplike wordplay.
Wright and Pegg have built their film in the way the best British comedy is built. Maybe nothing since Fawlty Towers has had such terrific comedic structure to it–the sense of a heavily worked-out plot to make the gags all click in the last reel.
As an action director, Wright has learned from Martin Scorsese and John Woo, but he has subtracted the relentless het-up-ness of such directors. In Hot Fuzz, the speed of the technique looks less desperate and more confident. And the movie boasts stars, too. Seeing Nick Frost and Pegg makes you think more about Laurel and Hardy than Will Ferrell and whomever he is co-starring with this week.
Hot Fuzz runs in haste from the beginning. A montage outlines the superiority of supercop Nick Angel (Pegg), who shames the rest of the London police with his perfect arrest record. Then his bosses–supercilious (Martin Freeman), supercillier (Steve Coogan) and supercilliest (Bill Nighy)–kick him sideways, transferring him to the postcardy village of Sandford. There, being a policeman consists of rousting loiterers and rounding up a stray swan.
Angel is teamed with Danny, the Charles Laughtonish Frost, last seen playing a fragrant but friendly zombie in Shaun of the Dead. Danny is clearly a constable because his dad (Jim Broadbent) is the chief of police.
The Sandford cop shop is packed with cake-eating idlers, including two tremendously snide plainclothesmen (Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall), louts who think they’re the coolest things in town. A policewoman, Doris Thatcher (Olivia Colman), with a sizable overbite and a fondness for horrible double-entendres, and a tottering geezer, whose most important function seems to be the ability to translate what the inbred local farmers say, round out the roster.
Angel’s arrival precipitates a chain of Agatha Christie-like murders. The policeman pursues the mysterious killer as well as pushing against the dead weight of his fellow police, who consider the murders a series of unfortunate accidents. The most likely suspect: a sniggering grocery store owner, played by a gloriously mean Timothy Dalton.
Hot Fuzz offers more than a Naked Gun collection of jokes; it is a postmodern version of a tender Ealing comedy. (If the film looks particularly affectionate, note that it’s shot in Somerset, where the director grew up.) Wright’s retro-heavy soundtrack also has a keen, loping rhythm that keeps the movie in pace. In , Wright told me that he wanted glam rock on the soundtrack, because the beat suggested to him the plodding of a foot patrolman walking. And in the opening, Angel’s résumé, as well as his social retardation, is outlined against the brassy chorus of “Goody Two Shoes” by Adam and the Ants.
Hot Fuzz is an almost insanely high-spirited film, as cheerful and good-natured as a movie can be when depicting a Grim Reaper-dressed assassin depopulating the countryside. (Be warned: The movie has a high gore quotient.)
The movie celebrates placid village life and realizes that such a vegetating life has to be stirred up a little with evenings of crap movies. And Wright isn’t blind to the discontents of all this cozy, half-timbered living; he knows a streak of intolerance can be found out if one digs a little.
If I have any complaint about Hot Fuzz it is that the title is inane. People look at you like you’re missing marbles when you praise a movie called Hot Fuzz. The title just seems too reductive. And then, the other night, we were flipping channels and stumbled on to a cop show called Cold Squad. Like police work, satire depends on careful research.
‘Hot Fuzz’ opens on Friday, April 20, at select North Bay theaters.
New and upcoming film releases.
Browse all movie reviews.
The Byrne Report
IT WAS FOUR WEEKS to the day that 16-year-old Jeremiah Chass was shot and killed in his Sebastopol driveway by two Sonoma County Deputy Sheriffs. On Monday, April 9, in Roseland, the predominantly Latino neighborhood of Santa Rosa, yet another psychologically troubled person was shot and killed by law-enforcement officers. Richard DeSantis, unarmed, age 30, was gunned down in his driveway by a Santa Rosa police squad.
In both instances, a family member had called emergency services, stating that a loved one was having a mental crisis. In both cases, the responding officers claimed to have tried violent but nonlethal methods before fatally blasting the decompensating men. Chass was of mixed race; DeSantis was apparently Caucasian. Neither posed a life-threatening challenge to the cops who were called to expertly subdue them, not speedily kill them. Many people assume that these are justifiable homicides despite plenty of evidence to the contrary. There is no pattern here, right?
Like hell there is no pattern.
The Sonoma County deputy sheriffs who killed the teenaged Chass are being investigated by the Santa Rosa Police Department. The Santa Rosa Police Department officers who killed DeSantis are being investigated by the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department. The Santa Rosa Police Department officers who shot and killed Oakland murder suspect Haki Thurston on Feb. 27 in Santa Rosa are being investigated by the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department. And finally, the Ukiah Police Department officers who shot to death the mentally ill Cesar Mendez on April 2 are being investigated by the Mendocino County Sheriff’s Department.
This type of official back-scratching is a recipe for the cover-up of possible law-enforcement misconduct in all four homicides.
Indicating the trajectory of his investigation a few hours after DeSantis’ death, Sonoma County Sheriff Capt. Dave Edmonds told the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, “Occasionally, in all communities there are a spate of shootings. That’s the way I see what has happened here. You look at the case facts of each independently, and there’s no relationship.”
Please note: Edmonds’ agency is in charge of investigating the DeSantis killing. But he has already declared that the circumstances of the DeSantis killing cannot possibly be related to the circumstances of the Chass killing and the other two homicides committed by North Bay law enforcers in seven weeks. And he justifies the killing of DeSantis as part of a “spate” of law-enforcement-related homicides in Sonoma and Mendocino counties. So if you are bipolar, schizophrenic or just feeling edgy, you’d best duck–or better yet, move somewhere else–because there is a “spate” of deaths going on. When is such a chain of events officially over? When it’s declared to be by Edmonds? By Santa Rosa Police Chief Ed Flint? By Sonoma County district attorney Stephan Passalacqua?
Hey, maybe it is not a “spate,” but a policy.
In July 2005, the California NAACP released a report on police brutality that is particularly relevant because people of color are in the minority in the North Bay. It is prefaced by Sgt. Ronnie Cato of the Black Police Officers Association of the LAPD, who writes: “White Americans don’t see the racism and the discrimination as we do. So when they are on those juries and things like that, they are much more sympathetic to police officers. They tell us all the time, ‘I don’t care what happens. You have a tough job. We understand what you’re going through’–almost sympathizing with the police no matter what they do.”
The NAACP report calls for police departments and the communities they serve to be held accountable for a change. It cites a 1998 Human Rights Watch study (“Shielded from Justice”) of police misconduct in 14 cities, including Los Angeles and San Francisco, which concludes: “The excessive use of force by police officers . . . persists because, overwhelmingly, barriers to accountability make it possible for officers who commit human rights violations to escape due punishment and often to repeat their offenses. Police and public officials greet each new report of brutality with denials or explain that the act was an aberration, while the administrative and criminal systems that should deter these abuses by holding officers accountable, instead virtually guarantee them impunity.”
Human Rights Watch identified obstacles to establishing accountability as the pattern of hiring psychologically unfit people as police officers and the code of omertà by which police (and sheriffs) protect each other from investigations of wrongdoing. The NAACP calls for monthly psychological evaluations of police officers; training officers in verbal skills for use in encounters with the mentally ill, so that a potentially violent situation can be defused; a ban on the use of Tasers and guns, which kill people; and mandating the use of nonlethal weapons.
Since our system of law enforcement system has proven itself to be dangerously incompetent and bureaucratically incestuous, it is time for ordinary people to take this matter in hand.
or
Morsels
Ask Sydney
News Briefs
News of the Food
American Movie
The Demented
The Byrne Report
FOLLOW US
Copyright © Weeklys All rights reserved.
Our Publications
