‘The Medium’ and ‘The Masque of the Red Death’

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Dark Victory

Death gets its due in two Cinnabar productions

By Julia Hawkins

This is the time of year when pagan fears arise, when the earth seems to be dying, the sun is moving farther and farther away, and darkness dominates. Ancient rites ensured the return of the sun and the transformation of melancholy and death into joy and rebirth. But first, as the pagans understood, we have to accept death as integral to the process of rebirth.

Appropriately for the season, the two one-acts at the Cinnabar Theater are about attempts to foil or conquer death–and the foolishness and danger of such attempts.

In The Masque of the Red Death, an insane Prince Prospero (played by Bernard Lee with sinister dignity) seals off his castle from the plague ravaging his kingdom and waits for it to pass. Meanwhile, he entertains his favorite courtiers at an endless ball featuring music, jugglers, and Eastern dancers.

In this adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s famous short story by Quicksilver II Theater Company director Deborah Eubanks and the Cinnabar’s Jereme Anglin, the costumed guests recite Poe’s text and pantomime the emotions of gaiety, alternating with unease and finally terror.

This is an appealing and confident production. The costumes by Lisa Eldredge are fantasies of courtly dress, with enormous, grotesque wigs and extravagant ball gowns and waistcoats. The actors’ faces are doll-like caricatures of 17th-century fops and courtesans, who behave as foolishly and thoughtlessly as their appearance implies they would.

The talented advanced acting class of Cinnabar provide the courtly entertainment: Jeff Boyette offers elegant juggling, and Erin Baldassari, Lizzie Sell, and Zoe Speidel beguile the audience with belly dancing.

Played by Corey Schroeder, the grotesque hunchback Butler provides grisly comedy and the sinister element that anticipates the arrival of the last, uninvited guest–the Red Death, a role performed with uncanny serenity by Audrey Meshulam.

The Cinnabar Opera Theater’s The Medium offers a different kind of horror. This powerful musical experience is composed by Gian-Carlo Menotti (perhaps best known for his popular Amahl and the Night Visitors) and performed by music director and pianist Nina Shuman and a string orchestra of seven musicians.

Madam Flora, a charlatan medium, sung by Lisa van der Ploeg (an electrifying actress with a warm, dusky contralto), tricks her clients into believing they are communicating with their dead children.

Assisting mom in this deception is her daughter, Monica, sung by Meghan Conway (a sweet soprano who is also a marvelous actress). She dresses in white lace and appears behind a scrim as a ghost of a little girl for one client and makes the sounds of a laughing little boy for another.

The action takes place in a postwar Europe filled with thousands of refugees, and Madam Flora has taken in from the streets a mute gypsy orphan (played by Gabriel Sunday) to operate the table so that it shakes and rises during seances. But Madam Flora drinks heavily, and she projects the fears arising from her guilty conscience onto the boy, beating and berating him for imaginary offenses.

Mrs. Cobineau, sung by Susan Witt-Butler, and her husband, sung by William Neely, have been coming once a week to hear their 2-year-old drowned son laugh, as they think, happy to be in the Other World. Witt-Butler and Neely bring a dignified trust and earnestness to their roles, so we can well believe their willingness to be deceived. The new client, Mrs. Nolan, is sung by Bonnie Brooks with heart-stopping, hair-raising yearning.

These two productions add up to an exciting double bill with special appeal to audiences with a taste for the macabre.

‘The Medium’ and ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ continue Nov. 9-10 at 8 at the Cinnabar Theater, 3333 Petaluma Boulevard N., Petaluma. Tickets are $22. 707/763-8920.

From the November 8-14, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘The Man Who Wasn’t There’

Vanishing Act

Coen brothers disappoint with ‘The Man Who Wasn’t There’

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Why does The Man Who Wasn’t There lack the kind of advance buzz you’d expect from a movie that follows O Brother, Where Art Thou? It’s because the Coen brothers–Joel, directing and co-writing; Ethan, producing and co-writing–have failed to get a handle on the themes in the writing of James M. Cain, in stark contrast to their lovable Raymond Chandler parody, The Big Lebowski.

The mostly humorless The Man Who Wasn’t There represents the Coen brothers’ salute to Cain’s fatalistic novels, especially The Postman Always Rings Twice. Here, as in many other examples of today’s neo-noirs, we see the stately moviemaking style usually inflicted on grand literature. That’s what happened when Cain’s vivid, greasy pulps became regarded as classics.

The film is set in Santa Rosa in 1949–but don’t expect to see any recognizable scenery, since The Man Who Wasn’t There was shot in Southern California (see sidebar, “The Film That Wasn’t There.”) Billy Bob Thornton stars as Ed Crane, a morose barber looking for a way out of his job. A slick out-of-towner named Creighton (Jon Polito) entices him with a business plan for a radical new method for cleaning clothes without water, using only chemicals–“dry cleaning” it’s called.

Ed needs $5,000 to buy into the business as a silent partner. Meanwhile, the barber starts to suspect that his wife, Doris (Frances McDormand), is sleeping with her boss, Big Dave (James Gandolfini), owner of the local department store. Crane decides to blackmail Big Dave for the money to pay Creighton. The plan goes wrong, and Big Dave ends up dead.

The first half hour is slick, economical storytelling. Thornton is, at first, amusingly unrecognizable. He seems to have been starched. His mouth is collapsed in disapproval, his hair slicked back into a stiffly clenched pompadour, à la Hugh “Ward Cleaver” Beaumont. In Texas, it’s said of such a man that “you can’t get a toothpick up his butt with a jackhammer.”

Thornton cuts back his dialogue to a bare flickering response, and only his deep grumbling voice hints at the inner anger beneath the unemotional talk. The typical Cain character had big, splashy appetites. But for some reason, the Coens squeezed a bottled-up Jim Thompson nut case in a Cain plot.

Otherwise, the Coens follow the Cain scheme so closely that they even load in a lumpy third-act subplot about a local girl named Birdy (Scarlett Johansson), whose classical piano playing touches something in Crane’s heart. This discursion sticks out as badly as the passage about the lady lion tamer in The Postman Always Rings Twice.

Apparently, for Cain, sections like this were meant as new avenues of hope for our rat to run down before he ended up in the trap. If a Cain character avoided falling into a pit, the author grabbed the hole and moved it–as Bugs Bunny always did–so we could see the plummet we were waiting for.

As critic Edmund Wilson complained of Cain’s writing, “We find ourselves more and more disconcerted at knocking up–to the destruction of illusion–against the blank and hard planes and angles of something we know all too well, the wooden old conventions of Hollywood.”

The Coens’ film looks avant-garde, but it evinces those wooden conventions: overproduction and acting with quotation marks around it. Photographer Roger Deakins’ black-and-white images are as pristine and spotless as Crane’s barber’s tunic. Deakins, the Coens’ regular cinematographer, is an expert at nostalgia, but nostalgia is probably the last quality a Cain-oid film needs.

Our moneyless barber lives in a showpiece house and works in a barbershop as big and clean as an operating room. Similarly, the acting is showy. There’s never any doubt in our minds who everyone is–and doubt should be part of a mystery.

Except for Gandolfini’s Big Dave (Gandolfini, best known as Tony Soprano, always shines in the role of a jolly but lethal type), the supporting acting seems too broad for suspense.

Michael Badalucco, who played Baby Face Nelson in O Brother, Where Art Thou?, shows up as Ed’s racketing, pestering brother-in-law who owns the barbershop.

Polito looks like Akim Tamiroff. He wears a toupee that, like Tamiroff’s rug in Touch of Evil, seems to have a life of its own–but when an actor reminds you of how relatively restrained Akim Tamiroff was, he’s overdoing it.

This is also the kind of Bizarro-world film when McDormand (best known for her starring roles in such Coen brothers’ films as Blood Simple and Fargo), an actress who radiates modesty and decency, plays the bad girl, and Johansson, a humid Lolita, plays the good girl. Throughout, the acting displays the usual problem with the Coens’ primarily serious work. Here’s cartoonish evil without cartoonish wit or energy; here’s dialogue that’s flamboyant and yet self-conscious.

The Coens’ most serious work is usually inferior to their comedies. Barton Fink and Miller’s Crossing are tragedies punctured by gross caricature. Despite strange and exciting passages, they’re mostly unwatchable. In the much better Fargo and Raising Arizona, the comedy is ascendant.

And The Man Who Wasn’t There, a tragedy, isn’t just gross but frigid. It’s probably the most strangely conceived film with the mark of Cain since MGM went prestigious with the Lana Turner version of The Postman Always Rings Twice.

The Man Who Wasn’t There recalls film critic Manny Farber’s famous dialectic: white elephant vs. termite art. By “white elephants,” he meant cluttered big-budget films that aged badly into the kind of relic you find in a thrift store. These films decayed compared to the work of slapstick comedians and film-noir directors, low-budget talents who nibbled around the edges of Hollywood, working under the wire and under the radar.

The Man Who Wasn’t There is meant as termitey film noir, but it has a terminal case of white elephantiasis.

‘The Man Who Wasn’t There’ opens Friday, Nov. 9, at Rialto Cinemas Lakeside, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. For details, see or call 707/525-4840.

From the November 8-14, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Maya Angelou

Poetry in Motion: Maya Angelou speaks Nov. 4 at the LBC.

Brave Words

Maya Angelou offers terror-proof reading list

By Patrick Sullivan

Maya Angelou knows a thing or two about terror. As readers of her 1970 autobiography, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, will recall, one of the poet’s earliest memories is of watching her frightened uncle hide from the Klu Klux Klan in a bin of potatoes. Before long, that young African-American girl growing up in the segregated South had graduated to more personal, intimate terrors.

So perhaps it’s no surprise that Angelou, 73, who is among this country’s best-known poets, thinks Americans need to get their fear and outrage about recent events under control.

And that’s the message she intends to deliver when she speaks in honor of Women’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month on Nov. 4 at the Luther Burbank Center in Santa Rosa.

“I will probably speak of courage,” she explains. “The courage to live. And I will draw upon literature to substantiate my point.

“We should be wary, chary, and cautious,” she continues. “But we should fear only God. And I don’t mean fear and trembling. I mean that in the sense of awe.”

Angelou urges a historical perspective. “We have had experiences that were bizarre forever,” says Angelou, speaking in her richly melodious voice by phone from her office in North Carolina. “We came through slavery. We’ve come through wars and rumors of wars. We’ve come through some very serious matters. At this point, I’m more concerned about our fear. I think that we better get ourselves together on that right away.

“I don’t think that one ever gets over the shock,” she continues. “But I am coping with faith and my knowledge of my history. History informed me right away that I must continue to seek for justice. But I also am warned not to lust for revenge. I want the perpetrators brought to justice. But I don’t want to stand in the city square and see them drawn and quartered.”

Angelou says literature can work wonders in a crisis, as it did for her in the years after she was raped as a child–an experience that so traumatized the young girl that she didn’t speak for almost six years.

“I was mute, but my grandmother would put poetry in my hand and I would read it and memorize it,” Angelou recalls. “And she would say, ‘Momma loves to see you read poetry. It will put starch in your backbone.’ That’s what literature does.”

What books might the world turn to in desperate times? Angelou offers a few ideas.

“We could read, for instance, A Tale of Two Cities,” she says. “We could read Norman Mailer. We could read James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time. Or that wonderful poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, who wrote, “I shall die, but that is all I shall do for death.”

Angelou says her Santa Rosa appearance will probably also offer the audience a chance to hear some of her own new work: “You will hear some of my poetry, some that you have not heard,” she says.

Indeed, though Angelou is far too modest to suggest it, her own writing–both her deeply personal poetry and her best-selling autobiographies–offers plenty of inspiration for courage. Above all, there is the simple but striking fact that a young girl who once lost her voice in the face of unbearable trauma went on to become an accomplished orator–and the first poet since Robert Frost to write and recite a poem at a presidential inaugural ceremony.

How could a life be so profoundly transformed?

“I think about the love that I’ve had, and that liberates my tongue and my voice box,” Angelou says. “And I think that when we individually and collectively, as a community and as a nation, think of great people who have loved us, we may be willing to let our own fear go.”

Maya Angelou speaks on Sunday, Nov. 4, at 7 p.m. at the Luther Burbank Center, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. $35-$45. 707/546-3600.

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

American Roots Music

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High Lonesome: Bill Monroe and His Blue Grass Boys

Kiss Kiss

Love–American roots music style

By Greg Cahill

America’s love affair with roots music is heating up. This on-again, off-again romance–which most recently saw the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack rocket onto the pop charts–is likely to get a fresh start with the airing this week of the PBS four-part documentary American Roots Music (with a companion book and CD box set on the shelves this week as well), which traces the roots of rock by exploring a century of blues, folk, gospel, Tex-Mex, Cajun, zydeco, Native American, and country music.

This infatuation rises in the national psyche every once in a while–witness the 1960s plundering of blues giants by the British rock bands, the blockbuster success of Robert Cray’s 1986 smash hit “Smoking Gun,” the enduring hillbilly hipsterism of Dwight Yoakam, or Moby’s gospel-inflected electronica–all leading the mainstream media to trumpet the resurgence of roots music.

These days, American roots music enjoys a comfortable niche. There’s a legion of celebrated underground acts (including such autumnal singer/songwriters as Gillian Welch, Lucinda Williams, Julie Miller, and Iris Dement); numerous indie record labels, both big and small (Rounder, Bloodshot, Vanguard, et al.); a struggling radio format (Americana); a handful of magazines (No Depression, Living Blues); and now, after a century of commercial neglect, canonization in a PBS documentary bristling with rare film clips, interview footage, and a glorious music that personifies the ethnic and social diversity of the nation.

Now we’ll see if America really was cozying up to the old-timey music of O Brother (the soundtrack of which sold more than 2 million copies), or if it was just George Clooney’s comedic parody as one of the fabled Soggy Bottom Boys that won their hearts.

The four-CD set (a single disc of highlights also is available) showcases eight uniquely American musical forms. It contains single CDs dedicated to country and blues, respectively; a third disc split between gospel and folk; and a fourth CD devoted to Cajun/zydeco, Tejano, and Native American artists. There also is a 56-page booklet with an essay by Robert Santelli, a timeline, lots of photos, and artist biographies.

And there’s so much to love here: the high, lonesome wail of bluegrass pioneer Bill Monroe; the blistering harmonica solo of James Cotton, the inspiring power of gospel great Mahalia Jackson, the foot-stomping zeal of zydeco king Clifton Chenier.

Among the other highlights are a rare version of blues great Son House’s “Death Letter Blues,” a previously unreleased rendition of the radical chic Weavers’ (with folkies Pete Seeger and Ronnie Gilbert) “So Long, It’s Been Good to Know Yuh,” a vibrant “Ossun Two-Step” by Cajun journeyman Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, and a rockin’ “Sorry Boy” from Tex-Mex star Flaco Jimenez.

Of course, purists will argue that the box set barely scratches the surface of the vast repertoire, and they’d be correct. But as a sampler for enthusiasts (the 68-song collection has several new recordings and numerous rare tracks taken from archival film sources) or a primer for novices, this small sampling of seminal music is an important overview of what documentary film series director Jim Brown has called “our country’s most important cultural force.”

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Latino Film Festival

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Fans of multicultural cinema will find a bona fide bonanza (and there’s a multicultural term if ever we heard one) at the two-weekend-long Sonoma County portion of the Latino Film Festival. The fifth year of this annual Bay Area outpouring of Latino cinema offers a slew of films at Sonoma State University. On Friday, Nov. 2, “Mexico Unmasked” presents two documentaries focusing on history and politics: Pancho Villa and Other Stories and Tarahumara. On Saturday, Nov. 3, catch Vieques, a documentary about popular efforts to end the U.S. military’s practice bombing on the tiny Puerto Rican island. Both events begin at 7 p.m. at SSU’s Darwin Hall, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park. Admission is $5.

Oscar Guajardo’s The Golden Age of Mexican Cinema opens the second weekend of the festival, paired with the comedic short film A Day without Mexicans. This event, which takes place on Friday, Nov. 9, includes an appearance by Guajardo, a pre-show reception, and a display of altars celebrating Día de los Muertos. The event begins at 7:30 p.m. and admission is $12. Then, on Saturday, Nov. 10, catch an afternoon screening of the magical Puerto Rican fantasy Flight of Fancy at 4:30 p.m. (admission is $5). On the same day, catch a 7:30 p.m. screening of The Last Zapatistas ($5). All second-weekend events will be held at SSU’s Evert B. Person Theater. For information or tickets, call 866/468-3399.

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

LaSalette

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Old-World Charm: LaSalette chef/owner Manuel Azevedo.

Photograph by Michael Amsler

Tasty Tunes

Exotic cuisine and haunting music make a memorable meal

By Paula Harris

“We realize that a fado can be considerably more than just a song at midnight when the lights are low,” writes author Lawton McCawl, in his 1931 tome Portugal for Two. “In fact, the fados are spontaneous poetry of the human heart, shared with an audience that feels and understands.”

But you don’t need to search out a dusky tavern in Lisbon to share in this soulful expression and partake in some Portuguese soul food. LaSalette restaurant in Sonoma will present two evenings with fadista Joana Amendoeira of Lisbon and the musical group Norberto Arruda on Nov. 8-9.

The fado night will include a four-course menu with lusty regional specialties, such as Portugal’s national soup, caldo verde, a rich potato broth thickened with beef consommé and enlivened with collard greens and spicy linguica sausage; and bacalhau à gomes de sá, a briny combination of baked salt cod, melted white onions, garlic, potatoes, and olives.

The fado experience in this cheery, rustic bistro promises to be a mini-vacation treat for those wary of overpriced wine country cuisine accompanied by the usual canned Muzak. Fado, literally meaning “fate,” is the haunting and woeful Portuguese blues popularized by Cape Verdean singer Cesaria Evora–a soulful folk music that reflects the richness, depth, and complexity of the Portuguese character itself.

The emotional sound of fado is an expression of “saudade,” which has no direct translation into English, but encompasses nostalgia and yearning. It’s been described as a measure of the depth of feeling that passes back and forth between singer and audience.

LaSalette dishes up flavorful Old-World recipes, using not only the cuisine of Portugal but also its former colonies in Africa, Brazil, India, and China. The restaurant is across from a Mary’s Pizza Shack on Highway 12 (fortunately the road is hidden by the trellis surrounding the small outside patio), and once inside, the effect is distinctly relaxing.

The white stucco walls, diffused light, and bright artwork in mid-pastel tones achieve a sun-splashed rather than garish effect. The wooden chairs, visible wine racks, and display of ports add to the vacationlike atmosphere. Even without the live fado music, the sounds from the stereo stick to smoky-voiced Portuguese and Brazilian vocalists.

On a recent trip to sample the newly introduced menu, a cheese-tasting appetizer ($9) includes a creamy farmers cheese made by chef/owner Manuel Azevedo, and two tangy goat cheeses, accompanied by quince jelly, fresh green apple slices, and candied almonds. Any uneasy memories of tripe being just a rubbery blubberlike horror are erased with the tripas à Porto ($8), a hearty stew of tender honeycomb tripe (it actually melts in the mouth) baked with white beans, linguica sausage, and vegetables. It’s yummy when sopped up with the warm sweet dinner rolls.

Although no vegetarian entrée is listed on the menu, Azevedo will whip up an exotic, African-inspired veggie plate with chunks of baked plantain and various vegetables in a piri-piri spicy tomato and peanut sauce around a mound of coconut-flavored white rice.

For newbies to Portuguese fare, I recommend the porco à Alentejana ($16), a classic, fragrant stew with marinated pork tenderloin, tomatoes, onions, and Manila clams.

Desserts include a stellar rice pudding with sliced dry figs and ground cinnamon in a caramel sauce ($6). The wine list includes a selection of 40 interesting Portuguese wines, plus what is possibly America’s largest by-the-glass selection of ports, Madeiras, and muscatels.

Whether you come for one of the fado nights ($75 prix fixe), or visit anytime, LaSalette will enliven your taste buds and spice up your routine.

LaSalette Address: 18625 Sonoma Hwy., Sonoma; 707/938-1927 Hours: Wednesday-Saturday, 5 to 9 p.m.; Sunday, 2 to 9 p.m. Food: Portuguese rustic fare Service: Friendly and competent Ambiance: Like a mini-vacation to Portugal Price: Moderate to expensive Wine list: Lots to choose from, including huge selection of Portuguese wines Overall: 3 stars (out of 4)

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘K-PAX’

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The Talking Cure: Jeff Bridges and Kevin Spacey go mental in ‘K-PAX.’

Crazy Talk

Comic Debi Durst wants ‘K-PAX’ put away

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation.

Torture. The much-anticipated new Kevin Spacey drama, K-PAX, is not specifically about the intentional infliction of pain. No, K-PAX is about a man named “prot” (Spacey) who claims he’s from another planet and has a profound effect on a burned-out psychiatrist (Jeff Bridges) and the wacky inmates he meets at a New York mental hospital.

Still, it is torture that my unsuspecting guest, comedienne Debi Durst, is inspired to discuss after catching a midweek screening of K-PAX.

Actually, the first subject she mentions is beer. As in, “Man oh-man, after that I really need a beer!” The subject of torture comes up gradually, beginning with a succinct but pointed review of K-PAX.

K-PAX,” Durst states, in her best wine-snob voice, “is beguilingly repetitive, yet boring, in an annoying, Enya sort of way.” In other words: “It was torture. I used to think that when we catch Osama bin Laden, we should make him listen to ‘It’s a Small World’ over and over,” she says, grinning. “Now I think we should make him watch K-PAX. For that matter, make him watch every Stallone movie ever made. And every Steven Seagal film.

“That’ll teach him not to mess with America.”

Durst is a San Francisco comic with a cockeyed fixation on movies. Her one-of-a-kind voice is sometimes heard in animated films–including Nightmare before Christmas and Monkeybone. She has a viciously contagious laugh that resembles a slightly inebriated Bert (as in Ernie and Bert) attempting to impersonate Woody Woodpecker. And, yeah–she’s married to political satirist Will Durst. But the most important thing about Debi Durst, right at this moment, is that she was expecting a whole lot more from K-PAX.

“As if there weren’t enough disappointing movies already out in the theaters,” she remarks, a pint of Heineken now in hand as we perch bar-side in some mostly empty noodle place. “I kept thinking, ‘Ah Jeez, it would be nice if there was actually a good film worth seeing.’ Guess we just have to wait for Harry Potter.”

“So what bugged you?” I ask.

“What didn’t?” she says, revving up that famous laugh. “I mean, I lost track of the clichés and the obvious messages. There were so many messages in this film you had to dodge them in your seat to keep from being pummeled to death. And if I saw one more rainbow, I was gonna puke.”

The “rainbows” of which she speaks are the cute pink-and-red, tissue-paper window coverings that Spacey’s fellow mental patients put up in the hospital to simulate the perpetual sunset on his home planet. All of which made it the nicest, prettiest mental hospital this side of Green Acres.

“Hell, if insanity is that nice, sign me up,” Durst says. “I’ll go. Right now. Who knew the funny farm was so much fun? And what a classy bunch of crazy people, huh?

“Speaking of crazy,” she goes on, “I don’t know what I think of that philosophy prot espouses toward the end. That idea about the universe expanding and contracting over and over, making time go forwards and backwards, so that every mistake we make in our lives is a mistake we’ll have to repeat every time the universe expands again. Over and over and over and over.

“This is uplifting? It’s depressing. Oh man! I’m going to have braces in high school again? Let me just slash my wrists right now.”

“Don’t,” I suggest. “You’d just have to do that over again too.”

“Hmmmm. Good point.”

“It gets worse,” I suddenly realize. “It appears you’re going to have to see K-PAX again. Over and over.”

“Well, damn!” Debbie Durst, laughing through the pain. “Damn! I guess I just can’t win.”

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Randy Newman

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Satirical Poke in the Eye: Singer-songwriter Randy Newman gets a bit nasty.

Good Acid

Acerbic musician Randy Newman spreads joy in Santa Rosa

There was no shortage of short people in the audience last Saturday night when musical curmudgeon Randy Newman took the stage at Santa Rosa’s swank Jackson Theater, the acoustically stacked performance space of the very upscale Sonoma Country Day School.

A fundraiser for the Valley of the Moon Children’s Foundation, the event paired a special advance screening of the Pixar-Disney flick Monsters, Inc. with such charity-ball staples as free wine, celebrity sightings, and a live auction–anyone for a private tour of Pixar? How ’bout a party of 12 inside New York City’s brand-new Toys R Us store?

Oh yeah, then there was that concert by Randy Newman.

Exceptionally short but exceptionally rare–these days, Newman gives but half a dozen live concerts a year–the performance preceded the movie, for which Newman composed the musical score.

Happily, the Sonoma Country Day School turned out to be the perfect venue for Mr. Newman’s talents. Not only did he sound great, vigorously accompanying himself on a big grand piano, but the environment inspired him to expose, however subtly, that signature streak of caustic cynicism one tends to find only on his delightfully harsh solo CDs. (Not that anyone’s knocking his charming, Oscar-nominated contributions to Toy Story 1 and 2 or his work for such films as The Natural and Awakenings).

Barely aware that there were kids present–his suggestion that Buzz Lightyear is gay may have inspired some interesting bedtime conversations–but clearly cognizant that he was surrounded by, you know, rich people, Newman let loose a short but bittersweet torrent of high-spirited rib-jabbing.

Newman sang six tunes, beginning with his 1977 hit “Short People”–“It feels kind of nasty in this setting,” he gleefully admitted, midsong–and ending with “I Love L.A.,” a satirical poke in the eye that the audience could laugh at, in part because they’ve all chosen not to live anywhere near Los Angeles.

In his introduction to the Toy Story anthem, “You Got a Friend in Me,” Newman acted as if no one had ever seen the movie, describing the plot in terms of its musical high points. First he confessed, “I never really saw the whole picture. Just the parts I had to do music for.” He later amended that statement, saying, “I finally did see the whole picture on a plane. I guess it turned out all right.”

He also performed a rowdy rendition of “You Can Keep Your Hat On”–the song those British guys got naked to at the end of The Full Monty. The uncharacteristically sweet “Feels Like Home to Me”–not written for any movie, and still remarkably warm and touching–was sung with no jokes or introduction, and was thoroughly lovely.

The most interesting moment of the evening came as he prepared the crowd for a song from his latest solo effort, the very dark CD Bad Love. The song, titled “The World Isn’t Fair,” is a letter to Karl Marx attempting to explain the failure of Marxism by defending the right of rich, “froggish” men to acquire trophy wives and send their progeny to expensive private schools.

Glancing around the hall, Newman noted, “This place is nothing like the schools my kids went to when I was poor.” That, he said, was before he divorced his first wife and then married again. “Surprisingly,” he added, “to a much younger woman. Can you believe it?”

With that, he sang the song. The irony of this particular piece being performed to a crowd full of rich, trophy-wife-clutching gentlemen (though not necessarily “froggish”-looking; hey, Joe Montana was there!) was apparently understood: the song received the loudest applause of the show.

As Newman prepared to sing that aforementioned closing song about Los Angeles, he had some sincere words for Pixar mastermind John Lasseter, the affable host of the evening’s festivities. “I don’t think I’ve ever told John how much I love him,” Newman said. “In a really bad way, too.”

He praised Lasseter and the Pixar animators for giving him the chance to work on such fine films.

“Those last couple,” he proclaimed, “were even funnier than Awakenings.”

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Oscar Guajardo

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Blast From the Past: Classic footage gets a new home in Healdsburg filmmaker Oscar Guajardo’s ‘The Golden Age of Mexican Cinema.’

Lost & Found

Local filmmaker explores hidden treasures of Mexican cinema

The class was titled “Cinema of the World,” and the course description promised an in-depth look at Latin American films. All this made student filmmaker Oscar Guajardo assume that the cinematic “world” he’d be exploring would include at least a few films from his birth home of Mexico.

So when the class’ segment on Latino cinema ultimately rolled around, Guajardo was surprised to find that Mexico and its movies were not so much as mentioned.

“I asked the teacher,” Guajardo recalls, in between sips of clam chowder at Bistro Ralph in Healdsburg, where he works in the kitchen when not making movies. “I said, ‘Where are the films from Mexico? What about Mexican cinema?’ And she said, ‘Well, I don’t really know anything about it.’ ”

Guajardo laughs, shaking his head. .

“In every film class I took, I’d look for information about Mexican cinema,” he goes on, “but there was never anything. The film books I had would talk about Mexican cinema for maybe a couple of pages. But I knew that Mexican cinema had been a big part of early Hollywood, that the studios used to give money to Mexico to encourage people to make movies. Mexican film is an important part of the whole story.”

That story–as any enlightened cineaste will tell you–cannot be told without describing the contributions and innovations of numerous countries. Every contemporary film student knows that in the evolution of modern film, artistic movements like the German New Objectivity and the French New Wave have played as influential a role as the experiments of Russia’s Sergei Eisenstein and the addictive visceral intensity of the 1970s Hong Kong action films. The story of film is a story about the whole world.

Which includes Mexico.

Whether people know it or not.

“Mexican cinema,” Guajardo says, “is a neglected chapter in the history of film.”

Cinema Salsa: The Sonoma County portion of the Latino Film Festival offers a slew of films at Sonoma State University.

It was this realization that inspired Guajardo, 32, to make his first film, a feature-length documentary titled The Golden Age of Mexican Cinema. The result is an eye-opening blend of archival film footage and interviews with noted film historians, a number of them professors at Sonoma State University, where Guajardo earned his degree in communications studies last May.

Covering a period between 1936 and 1956, the film explores a time when Mexico was making thousands of films a year, exceeded in output only by the film factories of Hollywood.

These films ranged from the sweet-natured ranchera films–basically singing-cowboy flicks–to a Mexican brand of melodrama, such as the lushly photographed Maria Candelaria, which won the Grand Prize at Cannes in 1948.

Guajardo–who not only wrote directed, photographed, and edited the movie, but also served as narrator–allows the film to show the positive contributions of Mexican film as well as the negative. Many of the country’s Golden Age films, he admits, were patently sexist, relocating women to the limited roles of servant, mother, or “fallen woman.”

The film, a year in the making, has already been making waves. In September a little-advertised San Francisco advance screening of Golden Age drew a full house, largely peopled, says Guajardo, with enthusiastic teachers and film historians who greeted the film with riotous appreciation.

Now Guajardo and Golden Age are about to get another boost. The film has been chosen to premiere at the Sonoma County section of the Latino Film Festival–an annual multipart celebration of Latino cinema that screens films in San Jose, San Francisco, and Marin and Sonoma counties (see sidebar, “Cinema Salsa,” on this page).

Oscar Guajardo grew up in the small town of Urupuan, in the state of Michoacán, about three hours from Mexico City. As a young boy, he developed an appetite for the movies–“Kung fu movies, Italian movies, really bad Japanese movies, and, of course, old Mexican movies,” he recites–watching them on television when he couldn’t get to the town’s movie theater. In describing his childhood fondness for movies, Guajardo compares himself to the young boy in Giuseppe Tornatore’s Cinema Paradiso.

“That was me,” Guajardo says. “Every Sunday I used to go to the movies, because from 9 to 1 in the morning they showed three films, badly cut to fit the time. In Cinema Paradiso, it showed people yelling and eating in the theater. That was my first movie experience.”

And now Guajardo is making his own. He’s already at work on a follow-up feature, a documentary about the history of mariachi music.

“I like making documentaries because you don’t have to put up with actors,” he jokes.

That said, he’s toying with the notion of a nondocumentary film based on the folktales he learned from his mother and grandfather.

Until then, he’s enjoying his Golden Age experience, hoping it may be a step toward a renaissance of appreciation for the classic Mexican films of his youth.

“More than anything,” he says with a smile, “I just want to show people how beautiful these movies are.”

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Green Music Center

Hot Seat: Sonoma State University President Ruben Armiñana says critics of a plan to spend millions of public dollars on a gilded concert hall on campus just lack his vision.

The Color of Money

Is the Green Music Center a $48.7 million white elephant?

By Paula Harris

I hope you’ll be alive to see this thing when it’s built,” quips Sonoma State University President Ruben Armiñana to a pair of reporters, referring to the much-anticipated Donald and Maureen Green Music Center, an opulent performing arts center planned for the small campus.

He may not be kidding.

The acoustically advanced 1,400-seat facility, slated to be the future home of the Santa Rosa Symphony, is projected to cost $48.7 million to build. The brainchild of high-tech entrepreneur Don Green–the millionaire father of Petaluma’s Telecom Valley–the arts center is the most ambitious arts project ever attempted in the North Bay.

In 1997, when it was first proposed, organizers estimated that building the music center would require $15 million, with the cost being covered mostly by private donations. But the tally ballooned as plans became more ambitious, construction costs escalated, and donors demanded expensive additions, including a huge $500,000 concert organ, a founder’s room, and a grander lobby.

Now the project, which is slated to draw upon several million dollars of taxpayers’ money (see sidebar, “Show Me The Money”), is running into serious financial trouble. And critics are seeing red over Armiñana’s support for the Green Music Center, claiming that the president could be jeopardizing academic programs at the university.

What a difference a year makes. In an elaborate public ceremony last fall, Armiñana broke ground for the construction of this state-of-the-art concert hall on a 53-acre field at the intersection of Rohnert Park Expressway and Petaluma Hill Road. Optimistic organizers hoped to complete the project by fall of 2002. But there’s been no further activity for a year. Now, the grassy field remains empty, apart from a “Future Home of . . .” sign.

In the meantime, an economy in free fall has all but halted donations to the project, especially from the beleaguered high-tech industry, and delayed the beginning of construction–perhaps indefinitely.

And criticism is mounting. The controversial music hall project–captured in an artist’s rendering as a sprawling, L-shaped complex with a dramatic sloping roofline–is causing alarm because of its expense, potentially limited appeal, and dubious academic relevance.

Show Me the Money: How much will the ambitious Green Music Center project wind up costing the public?

A Tangled Mess

The Green Music Center has garnered considerable attention for being modeled on the world-renowned Seiji Ozawa Hall at Tanglewood, the Boston Symphony’s summer home in western Massachusetts. Indeed, some have dubbed the venue “Tanglewood West”; the campus newspaper has called it “a tangled mess.”

Yet in stark contrast to the Green Music Center project, currently weighing in at $48.7 million, Ozawa Hall cost just $10.7 million to build in 1994. Ozawa Hall seats 750 audience members in the orchestra and loges, and another 450 in two balconies, plus a couple of thousand more concert-goers on the lawn outside.

“That’s the total figure [for Ozawa Hall], including design and construction,” explains Boston Symphony spokesman Jonathan Mack. “It also includes a $1 million maintenance endowment,” he adds.

Indeed, Green Music Center promoters have long compared the pricier SSU project to Ozawa Hall. During several junkets paid for with private money, they’ve taken potential donors and reporters from the daily press to the renowned Massachusetts facility, and they’ve even hired the same architect and acoustics designer who worked on Ozawa Hall.

But when questioned about the huge difference in building costs for the two projects, Green Music Center promoters say that looking at the two facilities is like comparing “apples and oranges.”

“Ozawa Hall is a very different structure,” says Larry Schlereth, SSU’s vice president of finance and administration. “The acoustics and the interior are the same, but the Green Center is a year-round structure and is being built 10 years later.”

Still, critics wonder how the Green Music Center, designed to rank among the top five concert halls in the world, will fare on a sleepy university campus in Rohnert Park. Can the facility compete with such Bay Area venues as Davies Symphony Hall in San Francisco and attract the world-class entertainers and huge audiences envisioned by planners?

Sour Note

Critics are quick to point out other significant flaws in the ambitious plan. For instance, they worry that a facility funded in part by public money and situated at a state university is not being designed for academic use. Indeed, it’s unclear exactly how the Green Music Center will benefit students, especially since the construction of such academic features as classrooms is being postponed owing to the fundraising shortfall–and could be canceled altogether, by Armiñana’s own admission.

SSU is not known for having a major music program. Last May the school graduated just 14 music majors. Eleven campuses in the California State University system offer graduate-level music programs–but SSU is not one of them, nor is there a plan to start such a master’s program.

And demand for music classes is not likely to increase in the near future, according to Jeff Langley, who is chair of the performing arts department at SSU, future artistic director of the Green Music Center, and a member of the board of directors of the Santa Rosa Symphony.

“I think it’s a trend in our culture that college students don’t tend to major in music,” Langley explains. “They think very practically and think of it as an avocation rather than a profession. We can compare it to the 1970s, when everybody was a music major. Our numbers are way down from 20 years ago. I can’t tell how that will change [with the new music center in place.]”

Indeed, plans to expand courses and bring in more music students to take advantage of the Green Music Center seem sketchy at best. When asked exactly what type of instructional activity would happen at the center, Schlereth replies. “At this point that’s a bit unclear to me.”

Neither Armiñana nor Langley had a concrete plan to present for the project’s role in enhancing SSU’s academic programs.

“Hopefully [the university’s music program will expand],” responds Armiñana when questioned. “It’s like that movie: ‘If you build it they will come,’ and they build a baseball field in the middle of nowhere.”

In a recent interview, he had little more to add on the subject.

Humble Beginnings

What’s the origin of this plan to create a world-class concert hall for a regional orchestra on a small university campus at which music is one of the least popular majors?

According to published reports, the idea for the center was born when Armiñana’s wife, Marne Olson, was impressed by Tanglewood during a visit there in 1990. But some GMC organizers say the project all started when Telecom Valley tycoon Don Green wanted to build a simple choir room.

In 1997, Green–who founded Digital Telephone Systems, Optilink, and Advanced Fibre Communications–and his wife, Maureen, an SSU alumna, were eager to indulge their longtime passion for choral music. Green also hoped to lure high-tech workers to Sonoma County. So the couple donated $10 million of their personal fortune as seed money toward the planned facility, and the center was named for them.

The idea was to capitalize on the allure of arts and grapes. “I’m told the 7 percent slope of the grass will allow a wine glass to stand up without tipping over,” Green told the Bohemian last spring. At the same time, he also expressed surprise at the way the project had increased in scope and cost since he first became involved.

During the past three years, the Greens have been actively fundraising for the project by sponsoring and attending weekend receptions. Mostly because of Green’s influence, individuals from North Bay high-tech companies have made significant contributions.

“[A]fter Don Green’s challenge, more than $4.5 million was committed, which resulted in nine of the top 11 donors coming from the high-tech industry in the area,” states an SSU newsletter published last year on the California State University system website.

Then the economy took a nosedive. “Most gifts have been in the $5,000 to $25,000 range, which doesn’t make a dent in what we need to get,” says Jim Meyer, SSU’s vice president for development. “Let’s face it–we need another $10 million donor.”

After the Bohemian first wrote about the slowdown of donations to the project several months ago, local philanthropist Jean Schulz kicked in a cool million–the only significant contribution in months.

Perhaps reflecting the economic slump, promotional slogans for the center have gone from “For the Love of Music” to “Aim High and Reach Wide.”

Most donations arrived before the economic slowdown and the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. But Santa Rosa Symphony conductor Jeffrey Kahane and its conductor laureate, Corrick Brown, recently kicked off a new fundraising “Conductor’s Campaign” and are looking for donors for a challenge gift scenario.

The facility was originally supposed to open in time for the Santa Rosa Symphony to celebrate its 75th anniversary. “We are excited about having it happen, but a little disappointed that it won’t be in 2002 as originally hoped,” says Connie Wolfe, the Santa Rosa Symphony’s director of development. “But it’s not a death knell. We just have to wait another couple of years longer.”

And Wolf believes the financial picture is improving: “Fundraising has been a bit slow since Sept. 11, but it’s picking up a bit,” she says.

But project organizers seem to have an inkling that their plans are too ambitious. This spring, SSU officials decided to build the project in two phases, rather than simply scale back the ambitious plan altogether.

The first phase will house the main concert hall. The second phase will contain the recital hall, practice rooms, classrooms, and administration. This second section of the Green Music Center will be used primarily for academic purposes, including senior student recitals and faculty concerts.

A plan for a lobby in phase two has been scrapped. And organizers admit it’s a possibility that phase two could be nixed completely.

Unfortunately, no money has yet been raised for the project’s second half–and it requires at least $9 million to build. At the current rate of donations, phase two may never see the light of day. “If we can’t raise the money, it has to be scrapped,” Meyer admits.

Langley says the loss of this 350-seat recital hall, with movable seats for use by theater and dance students, would be very disappointing. “It would be a blow to the music department,” he laments.

Though SSU officials seldom acknowledge it anymore, the campus already boasts an excellent recital hall in the Evert B. Person Theater. It’s little wonder that some faculty members see the Green Music Center as a $48.7 million vanity project and have expressed concern that it will dip into already stretched academic budgets.

“This thing started without the blessing of the faculty,” says Rick Luttmann, an SSU professor of mathematics since 1970 and faculty chair for the upcoming academic year. “We’re concerned where the money is going to come from to operate this facility, and that the academic programming is pre-empting the right of the faculty to determine curriculum.”

Such concerns are likely to be aired at a public meeting of the Academic Senate on Nov. 8 at 4 p.m. in the SSU Commons.

Mum’s the Word

Since its inception, the Green Music Center project has been marred by confusion over costs and discrepancies in financial figures, which critics attribute to either secrecy or incompetence. When told by a reporter that individuals are confused by the changing financial figures on the project, SSU Director of Communications Susan Kashack replied, “We’re finding it confusing, too.” She added that there was no business plan for the Green Music Center because that consideration was “way in the future.”

SSU Vice President for Academic Affairs Lynn McIntyre told another Bohemian reporter who had requested documentation on the project that “the information is in bits and pieces.” She added, “You’re going to be surprised that there aren’t a lot of records.”

Certainly, SSU officials have been less than enthusiastic about responding to questions concerning the university’s financial relationship to the Green Music Center. Earlier this year, SSU journalism student George R. Quarles met repeated roadblocks in his inquiries about the project.

And the Bohemian had to take the unusual step of filing a California Public Records Act request demanding access to financial reports at the university (home to media watchdog group Project Censored) after a month of unsuccessful attempts to obtain basic facts and documentation about the project from SSU officials.

To further complicate matters, almost every SSU official interviewed for this story has personally donated significant sums of money to the Green Music Center project.

Only recently have organizers begun to bring significant facts about the financial workings into the public light. And only recently have SSU officials admitted that there is no preliminary business plan in place for the music center.

Critics allege that the project is tinged with nepotism, and they wonder if this is merely a grandiose vanity project for Armiñana and his wife, who is president of the board of directors of the Santa Rosa Symphony. Indeed, a highly critical May article in The Star, the SSU campus newspaper, called the Green Music Center Armiñana’s “Personal Hearst Castle,” referring to the excessively opulent showplace constructed from 1922 to 1947 as the home of newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, San Louis Obispo County.

The Vision Thing

Speaking from his wood-paneled office, the SSU’s heavy-set, gray-bearded head honcho shrugs off criticism of the ambitious plan.

“I am known for high vision,” says Armiñana in his rich Greek accent. “Is [the Green Music Center] a stretch in the vision? Absolutely, and that’s what I am here for. . . . Vision carries with itself a level of criticism, and if you are not good at taking criticism you should not take this chance.”

He adds that the decision to bring in the Santa Rosa Symphony as a partner in the project occurred before his wife became chair of the board of directors. “I don’t see a conflict of interest,” he concludes.

Armiñana, who with 10 years in the position is SSU’s longest-serving president, is quick to dismiss other concerns as being simply part of the process of change, adding that he heard similar criticisms about the university’s recently constructed Schulz Information Center. “I think the Green Music Center is a worthwhile place to put time, effort, and money in and at the end of the day will make an enormous contribution to the university and to the region,” Armiñana says.

Still, not all university officials are so convinced. A member of the President’s Budget Committee at SSU, speaking on condition of anonymity, expresses concern that hiring new professors and staffers for positions that essentially duplicate those at the university’s 475-seat Evert B. Person Theater will eat into the precious Arts and Humanities budget. “We only have a certain amount,” explains the source. “I have concerns that other academic programs will suffer.”

Langley says it’s too early for concern because it may take a decade before the music center is fully functional. “Any new facility will take a new staff, but I think the first years will be very lean and will have some dark nights,” he comments. “It may be 10 years before [the music center] is fully operational and staffed to make maximum use of the facility.”

He adds that, to save money, programming may focus on emerging local artists rather than prestigious household names.

Furthermore, Langley says there’s no plan to deplete limited university resources. Instead, the GMC will tap into more private donations. “I think the money will come from private resources just like the bricks and mortar, and it will come in because the community will want to make use of the facility. The campaign will continue.”

Yet the source on the president’s budget committee doesn’t agree. “I am concerned about creating a huge arts and theater empire for only maybe 50 majors,” says the source. “I compare this to the Sonoma County Museum’s goal of raising $20 million to expand. It’s absolutely ludicrous. There’s only so much money to be given to the arts in Sonoma County. It’s not an endless pool, and what’s going to happen to the rest of the arts projects?

“It’s awful to pour all the money into one focus.”

Project supporters say raising money for the Green Music Center actually helps the university find money for other needs. “Because of this project we have developed a new group of donors who had no relation to this university whatsoever,” Armiñana says. “They didn’t even know we existed, and some have made contributions other areas.”

But critics say SSU’s main fundraisers have neglected other projects. “Our main concern is that [vice president for development] Jim Meyer has raised a lot of money for scholarships in the past, but since the Green Music Center came up, he became focused on that and in the meantime isn’t raising money for other things,” says Rick Luttman.

Money Matters

About $20.5 million has been raised for the Green Music Center since 1997, and promoters currently face the huge challenge of raising almost as much again by next spring. That’s when SSU must take a detailed financial proposal to the CSU board of trustees for approval to meet deadlines for springtime construction schedules. If donors don’t come through, construction will be delayed another year, and the center won’t open until at least the fall of 2005.

CSU trustees approved the center’s building (though not financial) plans in May of 2000. According to published minutes of that meeting, CSU trustee Harold Goldwhite asked for clarification about the relationship between the proposed music center and the university’s instructional program and music. Goldwhite also wondered, given the modest local population, how the community expected to support “such an impressive facility.”

Under current plans, the main building will house a majestic, 1,400-seat indoor concert hall and offer additional outdoor seating for up to 11,000. Outdoor monitors will provide a view of the performers. Besides becoming the new home of the Santa Rosa Symphony, organizers say the hall will be the chief venue for SSU music programs, summer festivals, and year-round arts events, hopefully attracting such world-class artists as cellist Yo-Yo Ma. “The facility will put Sonoma County in the heart of musical culture on the West Coast,” gushed an SSU newsletter last year.

By comparison, a 1998 article in Boston Magazine states that “Tanglewood attracts about 350,000 music lovers to its festival each summer–approximately half of them from the New York metropolitan area–for 10 weeks of alfresco concerts on more than 500 unspoiled acres of grounds.”

Armiñana explained to trustees that the proposed center is an academic building that will house the university’s performing arts department. He added that SSU conducted a marketing study that reflected that this performing arts center would attract patrons from all over the Bay Area.

This marketing analysis, conducted by AMS Planning and Research of Petaluma in August of 1999, compared the proposed Green Music Center to other concert venues, including the Luther Burbank Center for the Performing Arts in Santa Rosa; the Lincoln Center in Yountville; the Marin Veterans Memorial Auditorium in San Rafael; and a new concert facility at the extensive American Center for Food, Wine, and the Arts in Napa and slated to open next month (the Napa Opera House, not included in the study, also is being renovated).

The analysis concluded that the LBC and the Marin Center will be the Green Music Center’s two most important competitors because of their ready accessibility, good visibility from Highway 101 (in sharp contrast to the Green Music Center, which is several miles from the freeway), seating capacity, and long history of serving the community.

“It will be important to inform potential audiences of the aesthetic and technical features of the [new music center] and to position it as the ‘quality’ musical and theatrical experience in the North Bay,” states the report.

“Management will need to pursue a strategy of total customer satisfaction to successfully compete. That means that from the time the decision is made to purchase a ticket through exit from the parking lot, patrons should be pampered.”

There’s certainly no shortage of nearby concert venues, though they may not be as acoustically advanced as the proposed Green Center. Among these is the Spreckels Theatre in Rohnert Park–about a quarter of a mile from the SSU campus–as well as the Ives Theater and the Evert B. Person Theater, which are both on the SSU campus. In addition, the Santa Rosa Symphony is currently promoting its new chamber music series in another new hall–“the elegantly appointed and acoustically superb 750-seat Jackson Theater at the Sonoma Country Day School,” to quote the symphony’s brochure.

There is widespread belief that the Santa Rosa Symphony could benefit from a hall with better acoustics. “The hall is certainly one of the culprits,” states music writer Michelle Dulak in a recent review of a Santa Rosa Symphony performance in San Francisco Critical Voice. “Every player I’ve talked to who has worked in the Luther Burbank Center hall has told me how difficult it is to hear across the stage, or indeed to hear even sections relatively nearby.”

But critics wonder if a $48.7 million “world-class” concert hall operated with a hefty share of public money is the answer–especially in a recession economy.

Marking Time

Despite fundraising problems, Jim Meyer, SSU’s vice president for development, says there’s no way the university will turn its back on the project, even though it may be losing momentum.

“We were in a totally different world as far as the local economy was concerned when we got this started,” he observes. “Telecoms were being bought out with huge dollars, and almost all of that wealth was in telecom stock and that’s all disappeared. And we have to find additional prospects, and since we don’t have major corporations in our home base here that’s really not a possibility. Most of it is going to have to come from individuals.”

However, the donor pool for the music center appears limited. Much of the money raised so far has come from the telecom industry, Sonoma State University staff, and individuals connected with the Santa Rosa Symphony. For instance, at least 42 of the symphony’s 57 officers have donated.

Still, Meyer, Armiñana, Corrick Brown, and Don Green are pouring energy into looking for prospects at a string of four-hour receptions in the area’s more affluent households. They pin some hope in looking beyond Sonoma County, but they also admit it’s more difficult to find prospects outside the region. “If people don’t have a direct connection, like a weekend home here, the odds of obtaining a major gift are not as good as someone who lives in Sonoma County, made their money here, and wants to invest back into the community,” Meyer explains.

Despite the setbacks, organizers view the project as a future cultural masterpiece. As Schlereth puts it, the center will provide “an audible experience that will actually move people to tears.”

And Langley sees great benefit for the university. “One thing leads to another and it snowballs,” he says. “What used to be a quiet hippie school behind the eucalyptus trees suddenly takes form as an intellectual hub.”

Can Green Music Center supporters really make the project happen? Armiñana fiddles with one of his gold and turquoise cufflinks and mulls the question.

“Sure, you have doubts,” he shrugs. “But you also have to have confidence in your beliefs that it can be done. And I’m a confident fellow.”

Greg Cahill, Patrick Sullivan, and George R. Quarles contributed to this article.

From the November 1-7, 2001 issue of the Northern California Bohemian.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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