Avant Marin

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February 21-27, 2007

There was much initial buzz and bliss when it was announced last fall that Jasson Minadakis had been hired to replace outgoing Marin Theater Company artistic director Lee Sankowich. Much Googling was done. Mistakes were made regarding the spelling of his name. The founder and director of the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival and most recently the artistic director of the Actor’s Express Theater Company in Atlanta, Ga., Minadakis (frequently described as “friendly” and “intense”) is the guy about whom Atlanta’s Creative Loafing newsweekly recently said, while lamenting the mighty M’s departure from their city, “As a director, he’s proved masterful at ramping up onstage tension as far as it can go–and then ramping it up some more.”

Indeed, Minadakis is renowned for selecting heavy-duty subject matter and then directing the hell out of it, and he has a fondness for developing brand-new material. Reportedly, the creative and critical highlight of Minadakis’ time at Actor’s Express was his staging of Love Jerry, an original musical about a pedophile.

As MTC works its way through a theatrical season that was already mostly planned out before he showed up, a lot of people have been holding their breath, given Minadakis’ reputation, waiting for their first chance to see him work first-hand as a director. Unfortunately, he won’t direct his first full play until the season-closing run of Sandra Deer’s The Subject Tonight Is Love, and that doesn’t hit the boards till May.

The good news is that MTC has a little thing they call NuWerkz, a series of staged readings of new works by up-and-coming playwrights, and as his first official directorial effort at MTC, Minadakis will be directing February’s portion of the series, a suitably intense-sounding play titled Telescopes, by Mat Smart.

In an alternative universe, an assortment of interrelated lighthouse keepers are all battling a weird and frightening illness. Their own prejudices and social imprinting are challenged when a self-described “healer,” someone they’ve been programmed to mistrust, is suddenly shipwrecked near their home. Minadakis’ workshop staging of the piece will get a two-day run Sunday-Monday, Feb. 25-26, on MTC’s 99-seat Second Stage. Until May, this will have to stand as our first sampling of the legendary Minadakis intensity.

Also in Marin, the off-the-cuff thespians who comprise the Bay Area Playback Theater plan a one-night stand at the Larkspur Cafe Theater on Saturday, Feb. 24. The troupe employ their own brand of improvisational performance, eliciting personal true stories from their audience members and then transforming those tales, abracadabra-like, into theatrical-historical-comical performance-based thingamajigs, blending movement, music and dramatic spoken word. It’s like those improv shows where audience members shout out plot lines and literary genres, only in this case, people shout out the plots of their lives. Sometimes, the Playback folks turn the stories into epic myths, other times they simply reenact them in ways that can be funny, powerful or both.

Playback theater, as a genre, has been building since the 1970s, and there are several groups in California that use the basic concept in different ways. Bay Area Playback Theater–which usually features some combination of the actors Sylvia Israel, Marti Holtz, Marcy Dubova, Joanne Brauman, Benny Buettner, Linda Scaparotti, Duncan Silvester and Martin Masters–is focused on the notion that when we see our own stories played back to us, we can have a better appreciation of the significant ebb and flow of our lives. If that doesn’t happen, of course, at least it’s usually pretty entertaining.

Larkspur Theater Cafe, 500 Magnolia Ave., Larkspur. Playback Theater begins at 8pm. $20. 415.924.6107. www.larkspurcafetheatre.com. Marin Theatre Company stages ‘Telescopes’ Feb. 25-26. 397 Miller Ave., Mill Valley. 7:30pm. Free; suggested $10 donation. 415.388.5208. www.marintheatre.org.


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Costume Dramas

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February 21-27, 2007

It’s Oscar time again. Time for betting pools and debates over who should win what. Meryl Streep is now the most nominated actor in Academy history. Peter O’Toole may finally break his record losing streak. And with Dreamgirls holding eight nominations, Beyoncé will no doubt be singing all the nominated songs. Again.

But while everyone squabbles over the big races, there is at least one category that no one will pay any attention to, despite its being perhaps the most interesting and dynamic category on the list: the best costume category.

When Francis Ford Coppola was making his epic (some say catastrophic) Bram Stoker’s Dracula, he was famously quoted as saying, “We will let the costumes be the set.” Denied the funds to film on location in London, Coppola collaborated with costume designer Eiko Ishioka to create a series of stunning costumes that suggested the worlds their paltry budget could not. Ishioka’s designs went on to win the best costumes Oscar in 1993, and perhaps no set of costumes has ever encapsulated the philosophy behind costume design with such success.

Today, Ishioka’s Dracula designs remain some of the most unique ever put on film: Dracula’s long scarlet train from the opening scenes or his golden death shroud (based on Klimt’s The Kiss) from the closing; Lucy’s outrageously weird wedding dress (based on an Australian frilled lizard); Mina’s luscious red ball gown. Coppola had envisioned a hypererotic, nearly operatic fever dream of blood and sex, and with Ishioka at his side, he got his wish tenfold. Combined with the high saturation of color–reds, golds, blues and greens–the result is what one young reviewer from our very own Raven Theater called “eye candy for the damned.”

Yet, as Ishioka seems uncannily aware, it is not enough for costumes be pretty.

Behind each fold of skirt or embroidered lapel is an encoded message, a foreshadowing, a reflection of character. For example, the costumes for Winona Ryder’s character, Mina, were all done in pale, pretty blues and greens, their soft colors and high necks meant to reflect her virginal nature. Mina’s donning of the blood-red dress for an illicit encounter with Dracula not only suggests her corruption, but foreshadows that she will soon become a vampire. Red in Dracula is always very important. The armor Dracula wears in the prologue is red (and wolf-shaped!), foreshadowing his coming damnation. As Lucy descends into vampirism, her costumes become more and more orange.

This, then, is the world of the costumer, an amazing realm of ideas and textures that must come together to serve the director’s unique vision. And then, of course, you have to be historically accurate.

The Academy has notoriously favored historical costume design. In the past 20 years, nearly all the best costume winners have been for historical epics: Gladiator, Memoirs of a Geisha, Titanic, Moulin Rouge. Paying homage to the past is a key element for the costumer designing for a historical piece. Three-time Oscar nominee Ann Roth, a woman who has designed costumes for over a hundred feature films, including The Village, The Talented Mr. Ripley (one of her nominations) and Cold Mountain, rightly won her 1997 Oscar for her work on The English Patient for helping to create its look of utter realism.

Combining newly made costumes with actual 1930s vintage clothing (all the soldier and nurse uniforms, for example, were the real deal), Roth captured the period dead on. Her palette of earthy browns, pristine whites and sky-shade blues, making the actors look like a part of their desert environment, allowed them to become the living embodiments of the movie’s central themes: sweeping naturalism and geography without borders.

Of course, some of the more interesting award winners have managed to be historically accurate while adding their own unique twists. Moulin Rouge‘s designer, Angus Straithie, introduced neon green and pink petticoats to its pop-rock cast of Parisian Can-Can girls, serving director Baz Luhrmann’s unforgettable acid-trip vision of the 1800s. Sandy Powell, winner in 1998 for Shakespeare in Love, livened up the Bard by endowing him with a unique doublet-style leather jacket.

Up for an Oscar this year, Milena Canonero’s designs for Sofia Coppola’s opulent Marie Antoinette are incredibly period but with a deliberately candy-colored palette meant to reflect Coppola’s vision of the young queen’s “candy and cake” world. Canonero, my pick to win, was nominated in 1990 for her work on Dick Tracy and is a master of using color to get under the skin of the character. As you can learn from the wonderfully detailed production notes at the Marie Antoinette website, the movie’s sour Comtesse de Noailles, played by Judy Davis, is deliberately dressed in a series of lemon-colored dresses to reflect her acidic nature.

The iconic Marie Antoinette herself enjoys re-vamped Versailles fashion, her color palette often taking its cue from the 1980s: hot pinks, vivid greens, bright blues. It’s an ingenious choice considering the paralells Coppola’s film draws between the culture of these outrageously wealthy 1700s teenagers and the decadent culture of her own youth. And whatever jaded critics might say of the film itself, there is no denying that the collaboration between Coppola and Canonero has created one of the most visually remarkable films of all time.

An even greater challenge for the costumer is to create costumes for a world that does not exist. After the first two installments of the series had been nominated but passed up for the Oscar in 2002 and 2003, The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King finally won the best picture Oscar in 2004, and no one saw fit to give Peter Jackson, who invited several of the cast and crew up on stage with him, a standing ovation. The three trailblazing films are the most woefully underappreciated achievement in the history of cinema, their allegedly light-weight subject matter belying the herculean efforts of the filmmakers to bring the fantastic story to the screen with realism and integrity.

Ngila Dickson’s costumes tell all that is needed to know about the seriousness and care with which the whole sprawling production was undertaken, never mind the millions of handmade props, weapons and textiles that Jackson’s army of glassblowers, blacksmiths and weavers engineered in order to create, from scratch, a world the likes of which has never been seen on the silver screen before and probably will never be seen again.

For starters, because of the lengthy shooting schedule and anticipated wear and tear of the frequent action scenes, Dickson had to make every costume 10 times. Ten times for the actor, 10 times for the stunt double and (because the film is largerly concerned with three-foot-tall hobbits) 10 times for the size double. Next, she had to create clothing that would portray the culture of the character. Dwarves, for example, a very utilitarian species, were completely different from the the ethereal elves, their costumes using heavier motifs and square shapes, while the elves had longer flowing lines and sinuous motifs reminiscient of the natural world they worshipped.

Using historical bases, Dickson’s designs have a realism that allows the viewer to completely believe in the fantastic setting and its diverse cultures. The Viking-themed Rohirrim look as if they’ve wandered the plains of their homeland for a millennia. The hobbits’ clothing, loosely based on 1700s garb, reflects their life of comfort and leisure. In order to give the actors an added feeling of realism, Dickson went as far as to create authentic underwear for several characters, even though the garment would never be seen by the camera. Buttons were hand-carved, often sporting designs too small to ever show up onscreen. Pure-white wizards’ robes were frayed and faded by hand to make them look as if they’d been worn for hundreds of years.

Props master and designer Richard Taylor, who shared the resulting Oscars with Dickson, created thousands of suits of armor for the various armies of Middle Earth, each reflecting the values and beliefs of the cultures wearing them. The scarifying Uruk-Hai had heavy armor on their front side but little on their back because, as Taylor gleefully announces on the DVD extras, “They’d never run away from a fight!” King Theoden, played by Bernard Hill, wore a suit of armor so authentic it contained intricately hand-tooled leather on both the front and interior of his breastplate. In an interview on the extended edition of The Two Towers, Hill reveals that this detail alone made him feel like a king.

Compared with the struggles of the costumer to provide character, context, authenticity and symbolism to their work, the prized method acting of the Hollywood elite begins to look a bit tired. Just like method actors, though, the best costumers create full-fleshed characters we remember forever. From Ann Roth’s desert romantics to Dickson’s world that never was, costuming remains one of the most compelling aspects of making movies. Between the snores brought on by teary speeches and thank-yous to the director’s dog, maybe this year we can remember that.

The 79th Academy Awards screen on Sunday, Feb. 26.


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News Briefs

February 21-28, 2007

Making a sign

One cross at a time, one lawn at a time. That’s the goal of Crosses4Peace.org. “We’re a very small group trying to take a very big idea and spread it to a larger geographic audience,” explains Joanne Gifford, president of the project’s parent organization, United Napans Concerned Over Iraq Lunacy (UNCOIL). Inspired by memorials such as Arlington West in Santa Monica and contractor Jeffrey Heaton’s hillside effort in Lafayette, Crosses4Peace urges people to place a single white cross in their front yard as a universal symbol of war and death, to honor everyone killed in Iraq; U.S. military deaths now number over 3,100. “We felt the public had become desensitized to the reality of the war,” Gifford explains. “We thought this would be a great way for people to individually place a visual reminder of the fact that people are still dying.” Instead of more than 3,000 crosses in one place, the aim is to put one cross in at least 3,000 places, if not many, many more. “They are visually stunning in their singularity, when you see them against the backdrop of the homes,” Gifford says. Individuals can decorate their cross as they choose. Some have added a Star of David, others a peace sign or the word “Peace,” and still others use all three. Volunteers have already crafted 200 white wooden crosses, each 36 inches high and 18 inches wide, and do-it-yourself instructions are on the project’s website. About 170 crosses have been distributed. While most are in Napa County, at least some have been installed in Sonoma and Lake counties, and a few are on their way to the South Bay. When a cross is placed in someone’s front yard, Gifford says, it generates questions from neighbors and usually requests for more crosses. Crosses4Peace organizers hope the project will continue to grow, neighborhood by neighborhood and friend to friend in a truly grassroots movement. “We’re hoping people will pick up the idea and make and distribute crosses in their own area,” Gifford notes. “One of our goals is to spread this nationwide if not worldwide.

Cold woes

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger is asking the federal government to add Marin and Sonoma to the list of 18 California counties declared official disaster areas because of freezing temperatures that hit the state Jan. 11 to Feb. 7. In recent letters to the U.S. Secretary of Agriculture, Schwarzenegger asked for disaster status and cited the damage done to hay crops and pasture worth more than $1.4 million in Sonoma and more than $1.5 million in Marin County.


‘Grace’ Notes

February 21-27, 2007

The hymn “Amazing Grace” is a musical jinx, in many ways worse than “A Whiter Shade of Pale.” Melodically monotonous, fantastically ill-omened, it’s as essential to disasters as makeshift shrines with teddy bears and Mylar balloons. And it has been a key to the success of depressing movies for decades. If you hear an a cappella version on the soundtrack, you can judge that the audience really got hit with it. Still, “Amazing Grace” is utterly democratic. It sounds neither better nor worse performed by an operatic soprano or a band of kilted Scotsmen with bagpipes.

The latter is the performance that closes the film Amazing Grace, perhaps in honor of an especially strange novelty hit of the late 1960s, the last time that bagpipes made the Top 40. We learn from the film Amazing Grace that the dirge was composed by a sack-clothed penitent, half-mad from remorse. Ah, but was it the guilt that unhinged him, or the song itself?

In fact, Amazing Grace has the song’s history as its sideline. That story is used to hold together a rambling biopic, shuffling back and forth in time. Its era is the turn of the 1800s. Its subject is the immortal William Wilberforce (Ioan Gruffudd, never better), the MP who devoted his frail health to stamping out the British slave trade. Stricken with stomach troubles and opium addiction–par for the course in those days, when inebriation was all over Parliament–Wilberforce was still an activists’ activist.

Director Michael Apted assures us that very socially unsuitable people always make reform. Yet the scenes of flower-child transcendentalists–Wilberforce wriggling in a pasture, staring at the clouds–is a heavy cross for the mean to bear. “I, find God? I think he found me,” says Wilberforce. Such was the Romantic era–the rise of the Individual marked by moments that are still embarrassing 200 years later.

These cringe-inducing moments–William’s courtship with Romola Garai has a few of them–never seriously interfere with the progress of a richly staged, engrossing film about a well-spoken, politically complex era. The casting is happy throughout. The estimable Bill Paterson plays a Scots MP with some money in the slave trade; Ciaran Hinds is a dour Tory ringleader; Toby Jones as the decadent, wizened duke of Clarence. And Rufus Sewell plays Thomas Clarkson, one of those political hot-heads every more moderate activist has to have behind him.

Director Apted doesn’t have to explain the character of the minister George Fox; he lets Michael Gambon’s molting periwig and air of sated slumber do it all. Best of all is Albert Finney as John Newton, the composer of “Amazing Grace” and other light airs. Newton was a former slave ship captain, who lived like a hermit in penitence.

When it comes time to tell of the way Africa was chained and raped, Apted trusts the gentleness of the audience. He gives us the horror, as Shakespeare would have. Rather than looking into it, we look into its reflection, into the stricken face of a shamed man whose misery is still audible in the tragic notes of that gloomy old song.

‘Amazing Grace’ opens at theaters everywhere on Friday, Feb. 23.


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Wine Tasting Room of the Week

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Two years ago, a previous Swirl ‘n’ Spit writer devoted this column to a rant against indifferent and rude staff she had encountered at some tasting rooms. “I found myself wanting to flee in horror,” she wrote. What better place, I thought, to reacquaint myself with Napa Valley than at Chateau Montelena, one of the listed offenders. A Sonoma partisan, I weave warily through the idling limousines, the crowds jostling to suckle at the teat of the Napa experience. Wine clichés refuse to die amidst a storm of their own realities.

In the 1880s, a San Francisco entrepreneur with a branding sense ahead of his time built a chateau named for Mount St. Helena, and imported a French winemaker. This Gallic obsession foreshadowed the winery’s triumph at the 1976 “Judgment of Paris” tasting where French judges, quelle horreur, found that they had awarded top honors to a California contender, 1973 Chateau Montelena Chardonnay. Surely such a grande dame, casting a long shadow from the top of Napa Valley, might hold her place on the previously penned list of shame.

Totally wrong on that count. At Chateau Montelena, we had a great time with our affable host, who was alternately deeply informative and corny (“California Burgundy,” he quipped to another group, “is an oxymoron. No oxen were involved, but more than a few morons.”) The real irregularities, he confided, are more likely to be the fault of boorish weekenders glued to their mobile phones.

The generous pours were worth the $15 fee, which was waived anyway after we purchased Montelena’s unusual first offering, the 2005 Potter Valley Riesling ($20). Labeled off-dry, only sweet enough to bring its delicate pear flavor into focus, it’s a minerally, well-structured German-style Riesling. The 2003 Montelena Estate Zinfandel ($28) isn’t much of a Zinfandel, but you could wow someone in a brown-bag tasting with the finest Merlot he’d ever sipped. Soft, rich and plummy, this is an ultimate cheese-plate wine. The current Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon release has been in the making since 2000, and rewards the patient tongue with softened tannins, yet prickles the pocketbook ($105). Hopefully, it is free and clear of the Band-Aid aroma that compromises the 1998–but, hey, what do I know. Breaking the rules, our host led us back to the flagship 2001 Napa Valley Chardonnay, which indeed held its apple flavor and pie-crust aroma after the reds. It’s only available in a pricey $93 magnum, but it’s not bad for kids from the sticks.

Chateau Montelena Winery, 1429 Tubbs Lane, Calistoga. Tasting room open daily, 9:30am to 4pm. 707.942.5105.



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Letters to the Editor

February 21-27, 2007

Not just the evil Republicans

(“Senator Warbucks,” Jan. 24) was truly eye-opening! Now I see that Machiavelli’s political writings have been incorporated into business-as-usual by representatives of both parties, not just the “evil Republicans.” Thank you, Peter, for helping me to get wise about how the game is played today in Washington! Your story was extremely valuable.

Carla Normand, Petaluma

Misappropriating appropriations

Peter Byrne’s recent story on Sen. Dianne Feinstein and her husband Richard Blum raises serious ethical questions. If she had any notion that her participation on the Military Construction Appropriations subcommittee (MILCON) might in any way have a positive impact on Mr. Blum’s financial interests, it would have been most appropriate for her to resign from the committee to avoid the slightest appearance of a conflict of interest. Despite this potential conflict of interest, she chose to continue as a MILCON committee member.

One wonders if Sen. Feinstein would have been re-elected if the facts cited in Byrne’s story were made public prior to the 2006 election. It is likely that questions would have been raised about her ethics and the decisions she made as chairperson of the MILCON committee.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein needs to respect the fact that there are many, in addition to this writer, who question her ethics and values.

John Pizzuti, Soquel

Outshining in our field

Thanks for your important article about Dianne Feinstein. I did not vote for her in the primary because she was not opposing the Iraq War or denouncing Bush’s assault on the Constitution. Your research explains why.

I regularly read several national newspapers and magazines, but I open the Bohemian confident that Peter Byrne’s column will outshine the big-city publications and contain the substantial, critical journalism we desperately need. Courage.

Lois Atchison, Glen Ellen

For more shocking truths about the tangled riches of Dianne Feinstein’s husband, Richard C. Blum, see . This time, Mr. Blum goes to college!

Someone’s seat is a little narrow

Hooray for our heroes, the drugged, garishly clad rolling corporate billboards! And hooray for their sponsor, Amgen, manufacturer of EPO, the widely used illegal drug for which the riders are not tested! Yay!

Brian Boldt, Santa Rosa

Piss artist

I paused as I read the opening paragraphs of your article ( Jan. 31) as writer Alastair Bland described how Lagunitas owner Tony Magee left town so he could avoid chipping in to clean up the environmental impact of his brewery.

I was perplexed as I finished the article that no mention was made about the waste handling in his new home, Petaluma, a situation that could only have more of an impact today as he, Bland writes, rolls out “the Lagunitas–bottle by bottle, case by case and flush by flush.”

Lesley Bruecks, Santa Rosa

One crazy mofo

Read your article on Feinstein. Maybe you should ask her how she voted on the Telecommunications Act of 1996 and why this government gave the media $70 billion worth of public airwaves. Ask her about the true origin of HIV/AIDS and how U.S. servicemen were used as carriers of this disease in 1971 and where this disease started. Ask her about the $2.3 trillion in missing funds from the Department of Defense that Donald Rumsfeld spoke of on Sept. 10, 2001. Ask her about the covert/shadow government that actually controls this nation and was headquartered in the WTC. That’s why it had to be destroyed. Ask her, who are the NSA and other agencies actually spying on? If you want to contact me, GOOD LUCK! I don’t think that the government, AT&T and Yahoo will let you.

Steven R. Gillespie, Stockton


First Bite

I am grateful. Well, not always, but at Cafe Gratitude that’s about the only way to get fed. With three established locations in S.F. and Berkeley, this gimmicky restaurant is the Bay Area’s dining mecca for vegans and raw foodists, and on Feb. 12 opened its fourth location in San Rafael. But more than gratitude, I would recommend patience for those who sit down to eat here. The food is worth it.

Scanning the brief wine list on the day of the grand opening, I saw under the list of reds a 2004 Barbera ($6.25 per glass) from Argentina. I read that it was vegan. That’s how I prefer my wine–without butter, cheese, lard or gristle–so I went with it. It arrived a quarter of an hour later with a young waitress who smiled and shined like an angel.

Hmm. Now, how do I say this? “I Was Satisfied.” Or maybe, “I ordered the ‘I Am Satisfied.'” Anyhow, I Am Satisfied ($7), a salad, is the appetizer I requested. My brother Andrew ordered I Am Insightful ($8), four spinach-wrapped samosas stuffed with veggies and nuts. We drank the wine together, and from the walls, peace-mongering propaganda spoke at us in big lettering. Slogans like “I Am Alive” could not be argued with.

At last our starters arrived, but I Am Satisfied was missing its signature ingredient: macadamia nut Parmesan. We ate quickly and ordered entrees ($12 each). I chose to be Fabulous, Cafe Gratitude’s bid at lasagna. Andrew decided he would pose as Abundant.

To kill time, we shared a couple of smoothies ($7 for 16 ounces): I Am Luscious, a creamy potion of hazelnut milk, cacao, figs and dates; and I Am Delicious, a blend of hemp milk, almond butter, dates, maca and vanilla. We sipped slowly while outside the day matured. Rain showers and cold weather fronts came and went, and it seemed that spring would arrive before our food. In the open kitchen, I saw the staff looking buoyant and happy together. Amidst shelves of organic bananas, coconut oil and nut butters, they hugged each other and laughed, all sharing the gaiety of this wonderful thing called life.

“I Am Starving,” my brother announced 10 minutes later, but before he perished, a glowing female apparition arrived with our platters. Abundant was a fantastic variety spread of curry soup, live hummus, hempseed pesto, flaxseed crackers, almond toast and seaweed salad. My pesto-marinara “lasagna” was composed of zucchini slices in place of the pasta and sumptuous cashew cream as ricotta.

Andrew and I were too full to try the desserts like vegan cheesecake, tiramisu, cobbler and ice cream sundae (all $7), but I have little doubt that each option was wonderful. Really, there is no complaining about the food at Cafe Gratitude. Every bite is jam-packed with flavor and thriving nations of microscopic organisms, a major selling point for raw cuisine. Eaten for what it is (not for pizza, burgers or lasagna), Cafe Gratitude’s clean, light and refreshing food gets a thumbs up, though on its first day in business, the service could have used some heavy-duty grease. I Am Not Worried that this will soon change.

2200 Fourth St., San Rafael. Open daily, 10am to 10pm. 415.824.4652.



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Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Little Big Town

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February 21-27, 2007

Editor’s note: This is the second part of our look at Napa’s ongoing transformation.

The city of Napa has always been destined for gawkers. Pioneer Nathan Coombs laid the town in out 1847 as a resort, intending to cater to patrons of a racetrack he envisioned erecting nearby. But the track never went commercial and the tourists didn’t come. They didn’t, that is, until much later.

Lying just miles south of two touristy hamlets, St. Helena and Yountville, the city of Napa has long stood apart from those upvalley towns and their wine money cachet. It’s as if an invisible line separates the city of Napa from its upvalley neighbors. Above the line, the upper-crust revel in rural bliss. Below the line, blue-collar and service workers deal with urban annoyances. Upvalley: milk and honey. Downvalley: bread and water.

Class tension? Repressed. Jealousy? Maybe. Oversimplification? You bet.

Clamoring for its share of tourist dollars, Napa city is actively trying to coax that invisible line to inch a bit further south. Some even say that it now lies well within the city’s urban limit. But as the invisible divide moves, the socioeconomic, class and historical tensions that rift the Napa Valley as a whole become exaggerated in the city of Napa itself. Straining to build a luxury tourist infrastructure onto its down-home core, the city sways under the awkward graft.

Longtime residents identify the key battlegrounds between preserving town flavor and cashing out. On the brink of the city’s decisive moment, Napans question the ramifications of a dramatic, but muddled, redevelopment.

Not Our Town

Wearing a finely checked blazer and pale yellow tie, real estate agent Luis Perez de Leon sits behind his large desk at Coldwell Banker. Leather upholstery and a ficus plant neatly accent his office décor. But while paintings of vineyards and lakes adorn the walls, the window offers a different view: one of Napa city’s most congested and nondescript intersections, the corner of California and Jefferson streets.

Among those working to change the face of the city, Perez de Leon is keenly aware that housing prices here have roughly doubled in the last five years, so that now even the most modest homes go for upwards of $480,000. Rising home prices mean a change in the city’s diverse makeup.

Napans handle the bulky price tags in different ways. “Historically, the Latino community tried to stay close within the family,” Perez de Leon explains. “So we’re seeing the parents who do have homes here helping their children purchase another property in Napa proper. I [am working with] a family right now–the parents are buying a home–and they have older children, 19 and 20, who are helping them make the mortgage.”

On the other hand, many other families end up moving out. “Parents used to think that their children would be able to afford property here,” says Perez de Leon, who has lived here for 18 years, “and then they would be able to raise their grandchildren.” Instead, grandparents are leaving town to join their grown children who have sought more affordable digs in American Canyon, Vallejo, Fairfield or Suisun City. Rather than a growing, committed citizen pool, second homeowners now comprise about 20 percent of the city’s population, and Perez de Leon–who sits on a number of local boards–says it can be hard to engage them in civic and nonprofit activities.

Outsiders’ disinterest in the local community also happens in the economic arena. San Francisco- and New York-led investments in the city often backfire because project leaders don’t necessarily employ Napa’s workforce. “With plumbers or construction folks or the heating and air conditioning folks,” says Perez de Leon, “it used to be, ‘Hey we live here and work here. Let’s help each other.'” Now, he says, contracts are often awarded to outside bidders instead of to local businesses.

“The people who have the purse strings are not in Napa,” he says. “The power base is leaving, and the decision-making process is now outside of the county of Napa. You kind of see where the future of Napa is going, and it’s beyond one’s control.”

Besides the economic transfer of power, Perez de Leon also recognizes what redevelopment might mean for the city’s aesthetic feel. “The whole new revitalization of the Napa River might translate into an artificial feel for the city,” he predicts. Deliberately making a town “quaint” can jeopardize the aesthetic charm it had in the first place.

Add Water & Mix

Napa’s burgeoning faux-quaint aesthetic especially peeves artist Gordon Huether. The sculptor’s expansive studio, which was a tannery during Napa’s industrial heyday, now twinkles with neon, glass and fresh-faced assistants. Huether just started his second term as the chairman of the City of Napa Planning Commission, and if he has anything to say about Napa’s changing aesthetic, the city may yet attain a modernist gestalt. Sick of seeing disingenuous architecture that he describes as “Walnut Creek meets Little Italy,” Huether has lately been sending developers back to the drawing board.

Describing a design for a new hotel downtown, he remembers thinking, “Gee, that looks like a giant Taco Bell.”

“Oh, no, no, Gordon–that’s Mission-style,” he says the developers assured.

“I said, ‘Well, that’s the next county. We didn’t have any missions here, so that’s totally inappropriate,” Huether remembers with a chuckle. “[I] jumped in the car with them and drove around town and pointed to some things that one could say might embody Napa.”

Huether blames some of the city’s problematic design on a misguided redevelopment effort that leveled some 40 historical buildings during the 1970s to make room for parking garages and “nostalgic” touches. That redevelopment also missed out on a crucial opportunity to create a town square. Without such a center, Huether believes, the city doesn’t really have a heart. “Basically, [this] tore the wheels off the car,” he says, “and we’ve been trying to get them on ever since.”

Compounding these design problems, big-box stores proliferate; the city already has not one, but two, Targets. Mushrooming at the city’s north and south entrances, the sprawl is partly a result of the rural urban limit, which the county defined over 30 years ago. The limit has been a mixed blessing, protecting a swathe of vineyards upvalley, but forcing the downvalley area of Napa city to absorb the brunt of residential and commercial construction.

Huether worries that Napa is on its way to being just another Anytown, U.S.A. He says, “There are these communities, and it’s just like, add water and mix. They’ve got condos on one side, they’ve got three-bedroom, two-story houses on the other side. Across the street, they’ve got a Home Depot on one corner and a Bed Bath & Beyond on the other.

“Napa will never be the same–but the jury’s still out,” Huether adds, giving the city a fifty-fifty chance of changing successfully. “It still has the potential of being a vibrant, viable community. We are our own worst enemy–not looking beyond our nose. You’ll know in the next 10 years, with 600,000 square feet of new building downtown.”

Bubbas Like Me

Last year, the San Francisco Chronicle published an article about a host of spendy new winetasting programs in Napa. “Welcome to the Napa Valley. Not you, Bubba,” the article began.

Trouble is, Napa is full of Bubbas.

While the city of Napa metastasizes, these Bubbas mourn for their old town. Instead of the Napa Valley Electric Railway, which used to transport residents from Calistoga to the ferry in Vallejo, the Napa Valley Wine Train now transports tourists on “varietal voyage luncheons” and “Vista Dome appellation dinners.” Bubbas acknowledge that tourism provides important economic developments, but they wish the city’s growth were more well-rounded.

“There’s no culture besides grapes here,” complains building contractor Will DeLong. “It’s a monoculture. All there is in Napa is fine dining and Mexican food.”

Lauren Coodley, author of Napa: The Transformation of an American Town and a history teacher at Napa Valley College, moved to the county during the 1970s. Speaking by phone from her Napa home, she explains a shift in psyche that longtime residents have undergone. “When I moved here,” she remembers, “we had a Napa which was unpretentious, full of bowling alleys and diners; a place where tourists drove by on their way to wineries.” In the last dozen or so years, that’s changed.

“Many people in Napa are very confused about what’s going on in Napa,” Coodley says. “[It’s] much different from when they were young. I think a lot of young people are sad about the loss of empty, public space. Turning Napa into a tourist industry has consequences, but people don’t know how to articulate it.

“[Wine snobbery] didn’t used extend down here like it does now,” she continues. “There were no wine bars, just regular old bars where people drank beer. Old-timers mourn the loss of those watering holes. New people like wandering around from wine bar to wine bar. And I totally understand why that’s fun for them. Every time you come to a new town, you’re sitting on somebody else’s massacre, and you don’t want to think about it. When I came, the Chinese, the Indians and the Mexicans had [already] been displaced.

“In general, gentrification only benefits people at the way high end of the economic scale. People [are] concerned with public space, citizen participation, affordable housing–none of the teachers who get hired now at the college can afford to live here in the community. That’s a huge loss. Gentrification has doubled the housing prices in five years. I don’t see how anyone can see how that’s a good thing. It would be much better to me if all that chichi glamour stuff would stay upvalley, but they decided to take Napa as well.”

Co-founder of NapaNet, a local internet service provider, Mick Winter currently maintains a website about the city’s goings-on (www.napanow.com), an endeavour that’s hardly a full-time job in an arts-starved community.

“They’ve raised the rents so much in downtown Napa, despite the fact that it’s a ghost town,” he says, adding that he can’t quite put his finger on when downtown’s struggles began. “Maybe when they started on the flood-control project,” he guesses. “All of a sudden, all the stores looked empty and boarded up.” The small area surrounding Main Street, he notes, is an exception.

“There are very few restaurants where you can get a decent meal for a decent price,” Winter says. “I think tourism is an awful industry, particularly for a small rural area, because it just can’t handle the numbers of people. In an urban area, you can have tourists come and be willing to be fleeced, [but you can] still have other neighborhoods. Here, there’s nothing left when that happens.”

Wistfully, Winter considers resisting Napa’s development. “Lots of people are unhappy about what’s happening,” he says, “but how do you stop it? You can slow it down, but that just stalls it.

“A lot of people lament the loss of flavor of the city,” he continues, “and I guess that can be written off to a bunch of neo-Luddites. But just because people think things were better in the past doesn’t mean they’re against progress.”

Robust Napa

However, many Napans would like to see Napa city growing with less encumbrance. Jeff Schechtman, general manager and program director for radio station KVON 1440-AM, jokes that if it were up to him, the boutique town of St. Helena would have its own Banana Republic.

In his glassed-in office at the Napa station, Schechtman questions why old-timers don’t want to get with the program. “You get people in Sonoma who are very resistant to change,” he says, “and part of the reason is because they feel that it’s kind of nice the way it is. But Napa, on the other hand, should change. Napa has every reason to change. By and large for a lot of years, it was a mess: it was economically depressed; it was depressed in terms of its looks. The situation in Napa was very different; it was really about trying to keep out the forces of reality.”

COPIA’s recent downsizing indicates that the city’s efforts to draw new business and more tourism have met only mixed success. But on the whole, Schechtman feels that the city’s plans are finally starting budbreak, citing the Napa Valley Opera House’s handsome renovation as a positive change. “[Napa] is becoming more consistent with the image and reputation of the Napa Valley,” he says. “Former mayor [Ed] Henderson used to say that the goal was to turn it into a world-class city. It certainly has the potential to do that. It hasn’t lived up to that potential yet, but hopefully it will.”

Until recently, retail entrepreneur Rene Champaign owned two upmarket upvalley boutiques–Belle Amie in St. Helena and Sole Provider in Calistoga. In October, she opened a third shop, the first retail outlet in downtown Napa to feature $3,000 jackets and $100 tank tops. Now, with several new hotels, a convention center and mixed-use buildings all on slate, will Napa one day be as upscale as St. Helena? Probably.

Would that be a good thing?

That depends on whom you ask. Part-time Napa resident and contributing editor to the U.S. News & World Report, Marty Nemko sees the changes in a positive light. “I think that Napa has all of the elements necessary to go from a good to a great city,” he says. “It’s got money. It’s got growing cachet because of the wine thing. It’s got weather. It’s got natural beauty. And I think that with thoughtful planning, it can turn into much more than just another look-alike, yuppified monument to material excess.”

So what does Nemko have in mind? More substance. For example, he wonders, what if COPIA had an annex for discussion forums? It could hold forth on such hard questions as how do you have a wine-centric economy that nonetheless does not encourage alcoholism?

“[Napa] can be differentiated from other destinations whose primary attraction is a series of upscale gift-shops,” says Nemko. “And then instead of calling it a tourist trap, it could be good for Napans, as well, to see what’s going on in the cafes, the bookstores, the annex of COPIA. I think that should be the vision for Napa.

“That’s a much more interesting place to go than a wind-chime store.”


Eternal Discussion

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February 21-27, 2007


The Arcade Fire have a terrible weight of expectation on their shoulders. No band in the world would envy the precipice on which the artistic success of Neon Bible, Arcade Fire’s second album, due out March 6, teeters. In the current desolate atmosphere of sophomore implosions from indie rock’s former brightest stars—the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Joanna Newsom, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah—all eyes are on the one band with the potential for longevity, the promise to continually deliver, the ability to keep our hearts intact. A comparison to finding a proper husband isn’t totally off the mark, except that the Arcade Fire are presently expected to love and honor not just one, but hundreds of thousands of fans.

More than any other indie rock band, the large-scale Montreal collective have connected to a widespread base of people looking for innovation, emotion, hope and creativity in their musical choices, and the band’s flawless, masterful debut, Funeral, delivered all of these in spades. Upon its 2004 release, the critics went crazy coming up with new adjectives to shower upon the band; sold-out tours commenced and scalped ticket prices skyrocketed; David Bowie and Bono became high-profile admirers. Most importantly, for the next two years, defying all rules of building up and knocking down, no one appeared to get sick of the band’s music; if anything, it actually sunk in deeper over time.

Listening to Neon Bible in one fell swoop is like standing dangerously close to a passing train, a miracle of machinery and engineering too incredible to comprehend until it fades out of sight, and even then, too untouchable to recreate. A distant rumble starts the album’s opener, “Black Mirror,” before pulling into a suffragette city of bombs, security cameras and lost languages. The floating strings, the punchy piano, the loose backup vocals—all the hallmarks of the Arcade Fire’s sound are present, but the mood both musically and lyrically is resolutely portentous, and the track fades out among the crashing sounds of dramatically distant explosions.

Though the next track, “Keep the Car Running,” sounds much more upbeat (a faux-rockabilly beat percolates beneath what sounds like the Cure played at 45 rpm), most of the album is weighted with sociopolitical despair. The Arcade Fire’s lead vocalist and songwriter, Win Butler, spent most of Funeral singing as if he were crawling his way out of a muddy well, with the quavering desperation of one slowly grasping at an eventual return to the world. Throughout Neon Bible, his voice is calm, almost fearful, as if he’s contemplating that going back into the well might not be such a bad idea.

Butler, raised a Mormon in Texas, has started to reckon his upbringing against modern times, and nowhere more pointedly so than in “Intervention,” an indictment of a devout father pursuing God over the well-being of his family in a time of war. “Working for the church while your life falls apart,” he clamors, “Singin’ hallelujah with the fear in your heart.” Driven by an overpowering church organ, the song smacks of a purpose greater than any of Funeral‘s dance-floor ditties about power outages in the neighborhood; at the band’s five-night stand last week at Judson Memorial Church in New York City, it must have sounded especially indecorous.

This reaches a head on “Windowsill,” which extrapolates the repeated phrase “Don’t wanna live in my father’s house no more” into three separate meanings: running away from a literal father; renouncing a heavenly father; and seceding from a national father. Over a basic folk-guitar form, splashes of effects and climbing violins rise to a strangely brief climax. “MTV, what have you done for me?” Butler demands. “World War III, when are you coming for me?”

Fans of the band’s previous bombast will notice the abridged endings, the scaled-down musical themes, the clipped outros. “(Antichrist Television Blues),” stamped with spot-on Springsteen emulsion about the light of day and the minimum wage, avoids the problem completely by chopping itself off practically midsentence. At first listen, it presents a cheeky comment on the blue-collar rambling of the song’s narrator, but given the pattern of the album, the notion occurs that perhaps the Arcade Fire simply didn’t feel like figuring out how to end the song.

Yet the fact that the band are taking stylistic chances—and succeeding—is good fodder for fan discussions and an even better design for listening. Early modern-rock hitchhikes its way along Neon Bible‘s highway: there’s those big, Steve Lillywhite drums; a Siouxsie and the Banshees evocation in “Black Wave”; a handful of droll asides that capture Morrissey at his driest. A re-recording of “No Cars Go” from the bands first EP is a welcome addition near the end of the record with a spellbinding snare drum pattern, à la the Smith’s “The Queen Is Dead.”

There are moments on Neon Bible, culled more distantly from the worldwide songbook, that are near holy—perhaps not that surprising given that the band wrote and recorded the album during a yearlong residency in a Montreal church. A standout is “Ocean of Noise,” with its cocktail-lounge drums, its brooding low piano, its Spanish-flavored horns. Strip all of these sublime adornments away (along with the accelerated one-note, super-reverb guitar-picking embellishment so popular in current indie rock), and there still stands a beautiful song of bitter reckoning, like an outtake from Blood on the Tracks. Butler sings, “No way of knowing what any man will do / An ocean of violence between me and you / You’ve got your reasons and me, I’ve got mine / But all of the reasons I gave were just lies to buy myself some time.”

Closing the album is “My Body Is a Cage,” a chilling song of fear and yearning that Nina Simone could have nailed. Grappling the spiritual and the political together in a gospel incantation, Butler calls for redemption in “an age that calls darkness light” while the return of the booming pipe organ contributes its Carnival of Souls—like uncertainty. The album then ends, hanging on an unresolved chord, its only coda the pounding of the listener’s heart.

Upon repeated plays, Neon Bible elicits ardor rather than the ennui of recognition, precisely because the Arcade Fire have done the right thing with their anticipated follow-up album: instead of tunneling further into an idiosyncratic style, they’ve utilized that style to fuel a meaningful content of longstanding truths. This is the modern Americana, where old bearings are reinterpreted into something new and relevant, where a strong, distinctive voice chimes in on an eternal discussion. With its charismatic statements and confident manner, Neon Bible shakes the weight from the Arcade Fire’s shoulders, and poises them at the forefront of where we pin our hopes.

The Arcade Fire appear on ‘Saturday Night Live’ Feb. 24 and plan a two-day gig at Berkeley’s Greek Theater June 1-2.


Big Bad ‘Woolf’

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the arts | stage |

Get the Guests: Martha (Andrea Van Dyke) toys with young Nick (Mark Schwetz) in Pegasus Theater’s ‘Woolf.’

By David Templeton

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Those five words have a way of eliciting strong responses, even from those who’ve never seen Edward Albee’s groundbreaking play. Due partly to the semisuccessful movie version featuring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, many have picked up the idea that the play is nothing but a humorless slog, as a quartet of angry, foul-mouthed, drunken people say and do despicable things to one another for three very long hours, making numerous references to literature and popular culture along the way.

This is only partly true.

As written by Albee, the play actually contains a great deal of humor, along with some astonishingly insightful writing. George and Martha, the married couple whose living room is the setting of the play, do indeed say terrible things to one another; they are cruel and relentless and coarse to a wallpaper-peeling degree. But what Albee has created is not a hate story, but the opposite. George and Martha are an educated, intelligent couple whose love, based largely on mutual respect and a deep delight in one another’s intelligence and wit, has become frayed after too many years fighting to live up to society’s neat and tidy nuclear-family standards.

“I believe this play is one of the greatest plays of the 20th century, if not the greatest,” says Michael Tabib, cofounder of Pegasus Theater Company in Monte Rio, who is returning after a three-year hiatus to direct Pegasus’ upcoming production of Woolf, opening Feb. 17, with an appropriately alcohol-fueled fundraising gala. “This play is very much a love story,” he says. “These are very intelligent people, the folks in this play, and they know the weapons to use in any marital battle. But one thing that a lot of people forget–and it’s clear in any good production of the play–is that they also enjoy each other’s prowess a lot, and are quite often amused by the terrible things they say to one another. A good production never loses sight of the fact that, when Martha comes up with something really nasty to say to George, George is impressed. And that goes for Martha.”

Albee’s play takes place over the course of one evening as history professor George and his wife Martha “entertain” a young couple they meet at a party, employing a series of games with titles like Humiliate the Hosts, Get the Guests and Bringing Up Baby. The infamous language was so raw for censorship-plagued 1962 that when the play was selected for the Pulitzer Prize for drama, the Pulitzer board refused to grant the award, electing instead to give no prize to a play that year. Today, Woolf is recognized as having been a major event in the history of theater, art and literature. Despite the “shocking and unacceptable” language, the show ran for over two years on Broadway, won five Tony Awards including Best Play, and ushered in an era of bolder, more honest playwriting.

“The writing in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf is poetic,” says Tabib, “it’s real, it’s beautiful, it’s challenging–and it’s funny. People forget how funny this play is. It’s really hilarious.”

Pegasus Theater’s ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ runs Thursday-Sunday, Feb. 17-March 10. Thursday-Saturday at 7:30pm; Sunday at 2pm. Pegasus Hall, Monte Rio, 20347 Hwy. 116. $12-$15; Feb. 17 opening-night Champagne gala, $35; pay what you will, Feb. 22. 707.522.9043.



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February 21-27, 2007The Arcade Fire have a terrible weight of expectation on their shoulders. No band in the world would envy the precipice on which the artistic success of Neon Bible, Arcade Fire's second album, due out March 6, teeters. In the current desolate atmosphere of sophomore implosions from indie rock's former brightest stars—the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Joanna Newsom,...

Big Bad ‘Woolf’

the arts | stage | Get the Guests: Martha...
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