Spike and Mike’s Classic Festival of Animation

Not kids’ stuff: Adults will appreciate the new Spike and Mike’s compilation.

Animal Cels

Tragic ‘Panther’ highlights animated shorts in ‘Spike and Mike’ festival

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THE LATEST edition of Spike and Mike’s Classic Festival of Animation is their best to date. The biggest laugh you can get these days seems to come from mistreating an animal, as seen in some of the really low-humored points of the Twisted Animation Festivals over the years.

What’s surprising in this year’s fest, then, is not just the usual hilarity but also the surprising compassion for animals manifested in this selection of a dozen and a half cartoons.

Sounds drippy, I know, but there’s nothing cheaply sentimental about the best cartoon in the festival, “Panther,” by Vuk Jevremovic. It is a thoroughly serious, painstakingly animated, and bottomlessly tragic view of a large cat in a small cage.

Jevremovic scores the work with angry funk and acid-rock guitar music, implying not just the panther’s suffering but also his rage. The images are thinly painted and repainted on canvas: a black panther alive and staring. Sometimes he’s full-faced and flat-eyed as he looks at the pale distorted heads that peer at him through the bars. Sometimes he fades in a scribble of paint into the skinned carrion he will be one day, propped up for autopsy. Always there is the endless pacing. In his mind’s eye, he sees images of a tree in an African plain.

Then there’s the fantastic “When the Day Breaks.” Not since Robert Crumb have animals been used so piercingly to act out a story of urban angst. The tale of a brush with death is told without dialogue. In a gray, gray city, a middle-aged chicken is hit by a car as it crosses the road. Mrs. Pig, seeing the tragedy, goes home to her apartment to fix herself a consoling bowl of potato peels and milk.

Also noteworthy is “One Day a Man Bought a House,” which is a lovely absurdist piece of Norwegian claymation that progresses from slapstick cat-and-rat story to tender love story.

As yet more solace to hearts broken by “Panther” are two cartoons based on the Fleischer Brothers’ style of horror and jazzy comedy: the Muppetian “Graveyard Jamboree with Mysterious Moze,” from a novelty tune once recorded by the Cheap Suit Serenaders; and “The Ghost of Stephen Foster” made as a music video for the Squirrel Nut Zippers.

As the after-dinner mint, the festival serves up a reprise of last year’s “Billy’s Balloon,” a vicious comic short that depends on the sort of violent humor you dread to analyze. I think this primitive cartoon is an answer to “Panther”: the question “What kind of bastards would lock up a magnificent panther in a disgusting cage?” is rejoined by “What can you expect in a world in which even inanimate objects are scheming their revenge?”

In this case, a nice red balloon unexpectedly turns on its young master, an ugly wall-eyed toddler. The evil balloon even pauses for a moment to look innocent while a few adults walk by to smile at the kid and his plaything.

Spike and Mike’s Classic Festival of Animation screens at Rialto Cinemas Lakeside, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. For details call 525-4840.

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Mistral

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In-flight attendent: Mistral bartender Kelly Brown is part of a staff that guides wine lovers through themed by-the-glass “flights.”

A Flight of Fancy

Mistral serves up a wine lover’s dream

By Bob Johnson

WINE ENJOYMENT certainly is subjective, and the degree to which we love or loathe a particular bottling often has as much to do with the surroundings as the juice. We’re reminded of this truism virtually every time a friend returns from a trip to France or Italy and waxes poetic about an $8 bottle of vino consumed at a rural cafe or a hole-in-the-wall wine bar.

That same bottle, served back home in Sonoma or Sebastopol with dinner, would never stand up to the imbiber’s usual scrutiny. Indeed, we’ve heard sad tales of how wonderfully complex a wine tasted in the “old country,” yet how simple it seemed when uncorked here.

“I guess this is a wine that just doesn’t travel well” is the typical refrain.

Truth be told, those simple country wines of Europe travel perfectly well. What doesn’t is atmosphere. The right setting with the right person at the right time can make a nothing-to-write-home-about wine seem worthy of a hardcover book.

Is it possible to replicate such an experience in Sonoma County, arguably one of the finest wine-grape-growing regions of the world?

Sure . . . if you’re from Europe.

But seriously, a truly memorable wine-drinking outing is available in the cozy confines of Santa Rosa. While the masses jam both the northbound and the southbound lanes of 101 at quitting time, a fortunate in-the-know few head for Mistral and rest their weary bones at the acclaimed restaurant’s eight-seat wine bar.

You won’t find “charming country wines” at Mistral. The mechanization and modernization of the California wine industry has caused the hearty, individualistic wines of pioneering vintners to be largely overrun by sleek, sophisticated, sanitary, and safe bottlings that high-tech vinification renders.

However, what you will find at Mistral’s wine bar is a user-friendly list of wines–both local and global–offered by the bottle, by the glass, or in themed flights.

Any restaurant can assemble a decent bottle list, but it takes time and effort to develop and maintain an interesting by-the-glass or flight program.

Enter Mistral proprietor Michael Hirschberg, a restaurateur with a keen understanding of how wine complements food and vice versa. Just as important, Hirschberg realizes how daunting the wine selection process can be for a diner.

“The idea of our flight program is to introduce people to new wine experiences and to relieve the fear of ordering wine,” Hirschberg confides.

“You can have the greatest wine list in the world, but if it intimidates people, they’re going to order coffee or a Coke.

“Those are both worthy beverages, but they don’t go with food nearly as well as wine does.”

Because supplies dwindle and vintages change, Mistral’s flights are constantly being updated. During our recent visit, the 10 flights were categorized thusly: Apéritifs, Exciting White Wines, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, California/ Italian, Red Wine Sampler, Zinfandel, Syrah, A Taste of France, and A Taste of Spain.

MOST categories included at least one Sonoma County bottling, complemented by wines from other North Coast appellations, as well as Italy, New Zealand, and the aforementioned France and Italy.

We opted for the Syrah flight, since many industry insiders are touting syrah (a.k.a. shiraz) as “the next merlot.” It consisted of one bottling from Sonoma County (1997 Geyser Peak), one from Mendocino County (1997 McDowell Estate), and one from France (1997 Perrin Crozes-Hermitage), and offered a rare opportunity to compare and contrast wine flavors and winemaking styles.

The McDowell Estate was the most aromatic of the three, with fumes of black cherry and smoke wafting from the glass to the nostrils.

The always dependable Geyser Peak was typically fruit-forward, oozing blackberry and blueberry and finishing with a nice dollop of pepper as it opened up. And the French wine, from the northern Rhône Valley, was more “meaty,” with the flavors of the earth and oak barrels dominating the fruit nuances.

To help customers keep track of the wines–since most people are accustomed to having one glass in front of them, rather than three–Mistral utilizes wooden flight trays with three round indentations to fit the bases of the glasses.

A printed stand-up card attached to the tray identifies the wines by name from left to right.

Visitors still confused by all the choices will find helpful words of advice just an inquiry away.

Kelly Brown was tending bar on the day of our visit, and she deftly guided several customers to flights or glasses she thought they’d enjoy, based on their stated taste preferences.

Surprisingly, Brown was not a wine aficionado when she joined the Mistral staff some four years ago.

“It’s been on-the-job training,” she smiles. “Anytime we open a bottle, we not only smell it, but also taste it to make sure it’s not corked.

“When you have as many flights as we have, you get to taste a lot of wines, and tasting is the best way to learn.”

That goes just as much for casual diners as wine bar attendants.

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘Committed’

Heather Graham turns into a New Traditionalist for ‘Committed’

By

EARLY IN Committed, Joline (Heather Graham) says that she can tell people who have faith from those who don’t: “It’s like a flashlight shining between their eyes.” Which, given the dim-blonde character Graham plays, is too close to one of the meanest of the blonde jokes: “How do you make a blonde’s eyes sparkle? Shine a flashlight in her ear.”

Committed isn’t Graham’s fault. If, for the first time on screen, she’s charmless and annoying, it’s better to pin the fault on director/writer Lisa Krueger, whose simplistic moralizing keeps Committed a dull, trying experience

Joline is a Manhattan nightclub booker with a commitment to truthfulness; she’s a girl promise-keeper. Her marriage to Carl (Luke Wilson) hasn’t lasted three years when he suddenly vanishes, leaving behind a note that claims that he’s stalemated creatively and wants to leave. This isn’t good enough for Joline, who tracks her straying husband down to El Paso.

Stalking him, Joline encounters Carl’s new girlfriend, Carmen (Patricia Velazquez), a waitress in a fancy Mexican restaurant. Through Carmen, Joline meets a bruja, Carmen’s granddad (Alfonso Arau, the director of Like Water for Chocolate). The sorcerer encourages Joline’s view that her lost husband is spiritually ill and needs Joline more now than ever. So Joline camps outside of her husband’s double-wide trailer. Soon she’s joined at her desert campsite by her brother, Jay (Casey Affleck).

Temptation arises in the form of a suave, foreign-accented sculptor named Neil (Goran Visnjic). In the film’s low point, Neil makes love to an inflatable doll in front of his window. He wants Joline to see what he’d do to the girl, if only she weren’t so firmly committed to her marriage.

The film’s tiresome daffiness is probably not meant to be taken seriously. Like Krueger’s previous film, Manny & Lo, Committed is gooshy and completely ephemeral. If it were any smarter, it might be dangerous. Why go on about it? Simple: some viewers will respond so fervently to the death-before-divorce spirit this film is trying to sell that they may forgive its slackness. Joline even has a tattooed wedding ring, which is as good a premonition of disaster for a marriage as a dead dove hitting the bride.

Committed plugs into that disgruntled spirit of children raised without two parents during the ’60s and ’70s. I recall interviewing Exene Cervenka of the band X about 20 years ago. She broke the news that she had just wedded her partner, John Doe, by saying, “We didn’t want to live in sin like hippies.”

It was inevitable; a few years later they got divorced like yuppies. In one sense, Krueger’s air-headed movie counsels the search for rigor and self-improvement that’s typical of youth, finding moral superiority through New Traditionalism. Nevertheless, Committed indulges in the worst intellectual habit of the ’60s counterculture–it supports putting a principle ahead of common sense.

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Terry Tempest Williams

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Storm warning: Author Terry Tempest Williams delivered an electrifying reading in Santa Rosa.

Earth Spirit

Warm welcome for nature writer Terry Tempest Williams

By David Templeton

WHEN TERRY Tempest Williams took the stage last week in Santa Rosa, the full audience treated the visiting author and environmentalist to a long, enthusiastic round of applause and cheers and a handful of air-blown kisses. Clearly, they already loved her.

And the feeling was mutual.

“This,” exulted Williams, spreading her arms as if to embrace the entire crowd, “is what is meant by the word sanctuary. Here is the heart of the community, a gathering place where ideas can be discussed, where a fusion of literature and politics is developed, where ideas are given shape and are loved and are turned into actions.”

Williams–author of Refuge, An Unspoken Hunger, and Desert Quartet–was in Sonoma County to speak and to read from her brand-new work, the remarkable Leap (Pantheon; $25). The Thursday night event–sponsored by Copperfield’s Books as a fundraiser for the Western Sonoma County Rural Alliance, which is dedicated to the protection of the local environment–was held at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, a popular center of local progressive political action.

Williams, raised as a Mormon, has lived in Utah her entire life. Her staunch environmentalism and anti-nuclear activism–her mother died of cancer, possibly linked to the government’s years of nuclear testing in the nearby desert–have often put her at odds with her religious culture.

In Leap, Williams risks further criticism and perhaps even loss of membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The book is a retelling of the author’s seven-year obsession with Garden of Earthly Delights, artist Hieronymus Bosch’s 15th-century Flemish masterpiece, a hypnotic triptych showing Paradise, Hell–and the “Garden” that literally falls between.

Leap is a poetic, emotionally daring, stream-of-consciousness adventure, as Williams imagines herself entering Bosch’s surrealist landscapes, challenged to the core by what each new image brings. Ultimately, Leap is an examination of faith and orthodoxy, and the costs and benefits of both to the planet and the human soul.

BEFORE taking her place at the podium, Williams worked the crowd, notebook in hand, eager to hear what environmental concerns were highest in the minds of Sonoma County residents. Most often, she was told of the speedy encroachment of vineyards across the once agriculturally varied terrain.

“I live in the desert,” Williams announced later, standing at the lectern. “And I come from a community that doesn’t drink wine,” she added, with a smile. “So this is all completely new to me. But whether we’re talking about my specific environmental concerns in Utah or yours in Sonoma County, our concerns are the same. This is about encroachment. It’s about lack of respect. It’s about protecting our watersheds. It’s about protecting our resources.

“I admire you,” she said. “I admire how you are demanding to be part of the conversation, for having the integrity to do what you have to do to maintain the environment.”

During the reading itself–an electrifying blend of words and images, recited by Williams in a powerful, hypnotic performance that often resembled chanting–the audience was often literally holding its breath to hear every word.

At the end, when Williams described being asked why she has chosen the obsessions she has, the author laughed.

“Oh,” she said, “I believe our obsessions pick us.”

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

‘A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum’

When in Rome: Michael Temlin stars in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.

High Art

Mountain Play stages lively ‘Forum’

By Daedalus Howell

EVER SINCE the coastal Miwok cavorted among its crags and crannies, Mt. Tamalpais has been regarded as a nexus of spiritual power. This is why the mountain is perhaps the largest receptacle of illegally deposited cremated human remains in Northern California. It’s also where Marin County’s Mountain Play Association decided to finally lay that musical dinosaur A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum to rest. But wait! To quote Dr. Frankenstein, “It’s alive! It’s alive!”

Staged at the amphitheater of the Sidney B. Cushing Memorial Theater atop Mt. Tamalpais, the nearly 40-year-old Stephen Sondheim musical eerily comes to life under the apt stage and musical direction of James Dunn and Paul Smith, respectively.

This is not to say the production is stellar, but it certainly is lively. As the show’s press kit boasts, it has been “tweaked to tickle contemporary sensibilities.” The tweaking works.

Matt Henerson stars as Pseudolus, a slave who can win his freedom by arranging a rendezvous between the coveted virgin Philia (velvet-voiced Susan Zelinsky) and his lovelorn master, Hero (Tyler McKenna). The task would seem easy enough except that Philia has been purchased by muscle-bound gladiator Miles Gloriosus (Matt Kizer). Worse yet, Hero’s randy dad, Senex (Louis Parnell), owing to an ill-fated ruse to disguise the maiden, believes she is the new maidservant and wants desperately to get dirty and put her to task.

Henerson’s eternally wisecracking Pseudolus is simultaneously reminiscent of both Seinfeld’s Jason Alexander and Bugs Bunny (hey, a middlebrow show gets middlebrow accolades). Waggish and conniving, Pseudolus requires boundless energy and precision comic timing–both of which Henerson has to spare. His copious asides do much to update an otherwise corny text. After a cavalcade of courtesans careens across the stage (these women have more curves than the road up Mt. Tam), Pseudolus mutters, “I think she was a dream sequence.”

And dreamy they are. The courtesans add much va-va-voom to the show’s myriad dance numbers while inducing a handful of cheap, but irresistible, T and A-inspired laughs.

Other standout performances include Norman Hall’s garrulous Marcus Lycus, the neighborhood flesh peddler and sleazeball decked out in Elvis’ Vegas-era lambchops. Likewise, Kizer’s entrance as Miles Gloriosus must be a first on North Bay stages–he rumbles to the stage in a fire-engine-red jeep.

Costume designer Pat Polen garbs most of the male cast in what can be construed as the Star Trek version of Greek attire (the wildly printed tunics and robes won’t do for the women, however, whose wardrobe is equal parts belly dancer, dominatrix, and Xena, Warrior Princess). Others, like Ian Swift’s hilarious, wizened, and bearded Erronius, look as if they wafted up the mountain from Stinson Beach, having disappeared into an LSD vortex 30 years ago.

A word to the wise: Arrive early or you’ll be watching the show from behind a grove of oak trees. Unless you’ve sold your soul to Satan, forget about parking anywhere near the amphitheater (shuttle buses from Mill Valley are offered free of charge). Be sure to bring sunscreen, a butt pad, a picnic lunch, and wine. These creature comforts go far to make A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum more enjoyable, particularly the wine, which when consumed in quantity makes the show funnier.

The Mountain Play Association’s production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum plays June 3-4, 11, and 18 at 1 p.m. $11-$22. Information about shuttle buses and directions to the amphitheater are included with ticket orders. For details, call 510/601-8932.

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Health & Harmony Festival

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Pure harmony: Wailing Souls perform June 10 at the Health & Harmony Festival.

Fizzling Festival

Health & Harmony founder calls it quits

By Paula Harris

“IT’S MY LAST FESTIVAL, that’s all I can say,” vows Debra Giusti-Rose, founder and executive director of the popular Health & Harmony Music & Arts Festival, the two-day Sonoma County celebration that features multicultural entertainment and exhibits promoting healthy and harmonious lifestyles.

After producing the county’s quintessential alt-living event for 22 years, Giusti-Rose, 45, says she’s had enough. “I need to go on with my life,” she continues with a touch of regret in her voice. “It’s been wonderful, but it’s been all-consuming and not always profitable. There’s so much juggling and risk involved, it’s like a huge complicated puzzle to get all those people [to the venue] and make sure they have a good time.

“When I produce the festival, it’s not really health and harmony for me.”

The festival has always been successful, but not always profitable. With rent, insurance, labor, entertainment, and numerous other costs, it takes $400,000 to produce the event, which is not subsidized by the government or any corporate sponsors, says Giusti-Rose. “Yet people come to Health & Harmony and complain about the $15 or $18 entrance fee–that’s very discouraging to me,” she adds.

Giusti-Rose says she was ready to let go of her creation two years ago, but instead turned it into a nonprofit organization in the hope that a single savior or a leadership team would emerge to take control of the sprawling event. But so far that hasn’t happened.

“There’s no grassroots movement, and leaders are few and far between,” laments Giusti-Rose. “It’s not the 1960s anymore, and people are extremely busy these days. It’s hard to find someone with the resources to make it happen. I’m not sure whether the festival can or will continue after I’ve left.”

Giusti-Rose says health concerns, including a recent bout with breast cancer, have made it impossible for her to continue the demanding schedule and personal financial burden of the event. Looking back, it’s been a quite an odyssey for the festival’s founder.

In 1978, Giusti-Rose, fresh out of college, was inspired by the so-called new consciousness that embraced such alternative concepts as holistic health care, world music, ecology, organic foods, spirituality, and metaphysics. As these ideas settled into Sonoma County’s counterculture like a heady incense, she decided to create a festival that could be a catalyst to bring all the alternate values and lifestyle beliefs together locally.

The event, held each summer at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds, has grown 10-fold since its inception, last year attracting more than 25,000 attendees. It’s the largest of its kind in Northern California. Giusti-Rose says that mainstream culture now accepts the ideas that the festival was originally based on, and that it’s now “hip to eat healthy, recycle, and groove to reggae.”

This year’s event promises to be a big draw, boasting nationally known keynote speakers: Green Party presidential candidate Ralph Nader and celeb tree-sitter Julia “Butterfly” Hill. There will also be music from reggae greats the Wailing Souls, Latin percussionist Pete Escovedo, bluesman Roy Rogers and vocalist Shana Morrison, Jai Uttal and the Pagan Love Orchestra, Motherhips, Joanne Rand, and many others.

And there will be plenty of alternative attractions, from the Goddess Temple, where you can create a little magick, to the Hemp Expo, to the Eco-Village that showcases green living and the Natural Foods Sampling Hall with such delectables as edible flowers, to a Techno-Tribal Trance Dance. In all, the festival will feature more than 500 exhibits, lectures, and demonstrations.

This year, says Giusti-Rose, the community is taking a greater role in organizing the festival. But it still needs more help. To continue into the future, she says, the festival needs producers, business sponsorships, and grants from foundations and agencies.

Since the event originated from the concept of pooled community strength, Giusti-Rose is optimistic that it can be reborn in some form with some focused grassroots help.

“It’s been a spiritual practice,” she says. “I look toward the community for physical and financial support to now make the festival self-sustaining.”

The Health & Harmony Music & Arts Festival takes place Saturday and Sunday, June 10 and 11, from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Sonoma County Fairgrounds, 1350 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa. $15 for adults in advance ($8 for seniors and teens 10-16), $18 for adults at the door ($10 for seniors and teens 10-16), and $25 in advance, $30 at the door, for both days. Kids under 10 get in free. 575-9355.

From the June 1-7, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Usual Suspects

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Backers of the Rural Heritage Initiative take one step forward, two steps back

By Greg Cahill

GET READY for the mother of all environmental battles. Organizers of a ballot measure that would put Sonoma County’s worsening suburban sprawl to a key vote moved one step closer to their goal Monday when they turned in petitions bearing more than 26,500 signatures (10,000 more than needed) to the county Registrar of Voters, almost guaranteeing the initiative a place on the November ballot.

No sooner had the ink dried on the petitions than backers and opponents squared off at a skirmish in an unlikely spot–the streets of San Francisco. On Tuesday, the Greenbelt Alliance hosted a cocktail party in North Beach for the Sonoma Leadership Council, a group of San Francisco-based conservation-minded business people with connection to the county.

(Much to the chagrin of insulted local farmers, the invitation noted that attire for the event included “city slicker or country bumpkin.”)

In response, the Sonoma County Farm Bureau hastily organized a tractor demonstration to oppose the initiative, which they argue was crafted without input from the farm community.

Proponents say the initiative, which would impose a 30-year freeze on existing zoning and land-use designations in unincorporated areas of the county, is in response to increasing demands for development of farmlands.

It is supported by several major conservation groups, including Sonoma County Conservation Action, the Greenbelt Alliance, and the Sierra Club. It is opposed by the politically powerful farm bureau, United Winegrowers of Sonoma County, the Sonoma County Grape Growers Association, and others.

“The people of Sonoma County have shown their commitment to curbing sprawl with their overwhelming support of the urban growth boundaries, established in most cities now,” notes Sonoma County Supervisor Mike Reilly. “The Rural Heritage Initiative picks up where the UGBs leave off–by giving the voters a choice: Do we want to become the next San Jose, or do we want to protect the undeveloped lands that are so essential to our quality of life?”

In a Sonoma County Farm Bureau press release, Norm Yenni of the North Bay Ag Alliance called the initiative “a cynical, political strategy to limit new agriculture in Sonoma County.”

Napa County passed a similar measure in 1990, allowing that county to cultivate its international image as a key player in the domestic wine industry and helping to build a lucrative multibillion-dollar tourist industry.

“Despite growth pressures from the Bay Area, Sonoma County has kept nearly 80 percent of our rural land,” said AnnaLis Dalrymple of the Greenbelt Alliance. “All we need to do is look south to see why we must protect our greenbelt of farmlands and open space before it’s too late. Fresh local produce, a healthy environment, beautiful views, and places for recreation are some of the bountiful treasures we all enjoy now as an integral part of our quality of life here.

“The Rural Heritage Initiative will allow future generations to enjoy them as well.”

BACKERS of the measure note that there is plenty of evidence of mounting pressure to develop farmlands for office and industrial space, as well as housing, in this booming economy. For instance, Forbes magazine recently ranked Sonoma County as the nation’s third most dynamic economic region.

Supporters of the RHI say it’s time to put on the brakes. In a published statement, petition coordinator Helen Shane said that “the incredible response we had on the streets is a clear indication that the voters value Sonoma County’s rural heritage. Over 200 volunteers have been working hard for the past 10 weeks to reach the voters. Our call was ‘Do you want to save Sonoma County from sprawl?’ Eighty percent of the time, the response was ‘Where do I sign?’

“Some wanted to know more, and then almost all signed–and added, ‘Thank you for doing this!’ ”

The RHI campaign is expected to draw opposition from the county’s burgeoning high-tech industry, and supporters are urging voters to keep Sonoma County from becoming “Santa Clara North.”

“Passage of the Rural Heritage Initiative will tell big-money interests that although we welcome technology growth, we are determined to preserve our $3 billion agricultural industry and our $1 billion tourism industry,” notes John Blayney, a retired planner and spokesperson for Citizens for Sonoma County’s Future.

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From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Time Code

Time Code tells a story from four different perspectives.

Different Views

Mike Figgis’ experimental ‘Time Code’ appears in four scenes at once

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MIKE FIGGIS’ experimental film Time Code boasts a novel gimmick: it was shot with four cameras, whose images are projected simultaneously on the screen. This may be the first all-split-screen release since MGM’s 1973 slasher film Wicked, Wicked (“in Duo-vision”). Time Code also vaunts its digital-camera technology–which is also commonplace, though no director has used it with such a sturdy sense of composition.

Once again, Figgis (best known for Leaving Las Vegas) is examining the forces of synchronicity and coincidence, the subject of his misbegotten last film, The Loss of Sexual Innocence. Time Code is set in real time, taking place mostly in one Sunset Strip building. Pared down, the narrative is a love quadrangle interrupted by a series of strong earthquakes.

The main focus is a blowup between two lovers: a jealous, wealthy older woman, Lauren (Jeanne Tripplehorn), and her younger, and apparently kept, girlfriend, Rose (Salma Hayek). Lauren flattens one of Rose’s tires to make sure she can drive the girl to her audition for a soft-core garbage film titled Bitch from Louisiana, which is in development by Red Mullet, a small and desperate film company.

One of Red Mullet’s producers, Alex (Stellan Skarsgard), is in crisis, having just been left by Emma (Saffron Burrows), the woman he loves. Alex is also in mid-affair with the demanding Rose. Emma’s wanderings, Lauren’s rage, and Alex and Rose’s desperation come to a deadly climax.

Time Code is semi-improvised and looks it. Some of the lines have the forced whimsy of porn-film dialogue, and actors like Julian Sands and Holly Hunter are used essentially as celebrity cameos. Figgis claims that his quartered-screen technique transcends montage, but the steady flow of sequential images is so essential to the language of cinema that his assertion is like claiming, “I’m going to write without syllables.”

Quadro-vision, or whatever you’d like to call it, lies somewhere between silent and sound film. Thus it depends on the emoting quality of second-rate performers like Tripplehorn and Burrows. Tripplehorn is more forceful than usual. She could be building to some raging performance a picture or two down the line–remember how loudly and intensely she acted in her angry scenes in the dumb farce Mickey Blue Eyes? Here, Figgis leaves her stewing too long. Not cutting away for an hour and a half proves one of the virtues of montage: to give the audience a break from an actor’s face.

Behind the avant-garde technique, Time Code is a Hollywood satire too specific to lure a viewer past the intimidating gimmick. Too often, the film has the same problem that plagues TV viewers in a fringe reception area: four channels and nothing’s on.

Time Code screens at the Rialto Cinemas Lakeside, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa. For details, see Movie Times, page 34, or call 525-4840.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

U-Pick Berry Patch

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Simple pleasure: Bianca Westcott, 10, gathers strawberries at the U-pick patch on Highway 116 in Sebastopol.

Berry Picky

The joys of plucking your own fruit

By Marina Wolf

THE FIRST SIGN of summer is upon us: U-pick signs along the back roads. Soon, flocks of cheerful families will descend on the local strawberry fields, picking a couple of pints, maybe half a flat among four people, just enough for a shortcake after dinner and a lesson for the kids about where strawberries come from.

Like swallows to Capistrano, they are drawn to these sloppy, hastily built signs.

No signs were necessary in the U-pick fields that I knew best, the farming patches of semi-suburban Oregon. The same people–mostly thrifty housewives–went back year after year, for their annual score of really cheap jam ingredients. My mother would place the baby carriers in the shade at the end of the row, leaving the rest of us children to roam through the field, as free as grubby little fairies. Somewhere in the middle of those busy, back-breaking days, my mother took a picture of a 2-year-old me, cradled in the leaves of a strawberry bush, mouth stained red and grinning. That may have been the day that the field boss suggested weighing me as well as the buckets.

Soon enough we graduated to wanting to help and learned to tell good berries from bad: the ones that looked red but were green under the stem; dull ones on the verge, which could be eaten on the spot but would disintegrate between the field and home. The ones that squished on contact were fun, but useless. We wanted the ripe ones, firm but fragrant, that hid from inexperienced eyes under matted dead leaves, later to emerge as red sticky splotches under our overeager knees. We learned to check both sides of the bush thoroughly, to straddle rows like the adults, our stubby legs awkwardly splayed. We walked around rows, instead of stepping over, and didn’t fill the buckets too deep (to avoid pressing the berries at the bottom into pulp). We filled the back of our VW bus with buckets and held some in our laps.

Most of the berries went straight into the freezer, where they became solid blocks of red ice that could be hacked apart only with a butter knife. We made fruit leather, too, lumpy reddish-brown sheets that peeled off the dehydrator racks in plastic-wrapped rolls. (This was about when fruit roll-ups were invented on a commercial scale, and we kids secretly coveted their uniform smoothness.) But the best fruit was eaten straight out of the containers during the drive home, the fruit of our labors. And it was labor. U-pick in that place and time was closer to gleaning, not a tourist attraction or a family outing with neatly groomed rows and plenty of red berries for all, but a dirty labor of necessity in a field that had been stripped clean by hired hands who knew their business.

EVENTUALLY we kids would know that business, too. During this time of little money and lax child-labor laws, if we wanted good school clothes, we had to make our own money. So when the berries turned red and we had reached the age of 12–the real age of accountability, when one is able to keep track of a lunch bag and put at least every other berry in a bucket and not your mouth or your sibling’s hair–we headed to the fields for the commercial harvest.

In the last shout of a rural society, the schools let us out early for the summer if the berries ripened faster than expected. We got up at 5 a.m., caught the berry bus at 5:30, and stumbled sleepily into the pale, cool fields. There we learned in graphic terms what went into a dollar, in a formula that we grasped instantly: two flats to an hour, $1-$2.25 per flat, 12 quarts to the flat. Of course, that was at the beginning of the day, when the dew on the leaves soaked our dirty jeans and trailed across our forearms, keeping us awake. We all worked fast then, when the sun had barely come up and the air was cool and green-smelling. We ate only a few berries, surreptitiously, to keep us going after a too-early breakfast.

By noon it was too warm to move. The clusters of dirty preteens stood up from the siesta of lunch and stretched, blinking in the midday sun. At the same moment we all remembered that we were kids, that we wanted to be at the pool or in the cool dark of the video arcade. Then we were good only for strawberry fights and the last lazy fruits to round out a flat. Boom boxes got louder. The incidence of outhouse fireworks increased. The field bosses got more vigilant then, checking each flat for signs of cheating: dirt or hard green berries peeking out from under a thin layer of ripe ones. At the end of the day, around 1 or 1:30, we turned our grimy punch cards over to the paymaster and got our earnings in cash, then boarded the jostling bus home.

For a couple of horrible summers, I was picking and U-picking the same fields, looking at the same ruts and shrubbery with weary eyes. So by the time I was 15, I was ready to leave berries behind for a job in a fast-food restaurant. I didn’t have to get up so early, and the boys were cuter, or at least not as dirty. But the strawberries in the sauce we dribbled on sundaes were sad, limp shadows of the berries I remembered from U-pick.

In fact, no berries since have ever matched the first berries I learned to pick–warm, a little dusty, juicy enough to slake a child’s endless thirst.

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Slice of Life

0

The good earth: Despite a failed bid to place a food-labeling initiative on the November ballot, Sonoma organic grower Bob Cannard is still cultivating a consumer revolution.

Slice of Life

From silicon byproducts to Terminator seeds, Monsanto has laid toxic waste to the landscape

By Mary Spicuzza

TWO YEARS AGO, few would have believed that a seed could inspire international controversy. Certainly not the Monsanto Co., a multinational food, pharmaceutical, and chemicals manufacturer that had set its sights on Delta & Pine Land Co. Scientists at Delta & Pine had orchestrated a molecular makeover that forced mature plants to produce their own seed-sterilizing toxin.

For researchers it represented a major breakthrough in genetic control. For Monsanto, it meant profit potential. The new seed would prevent farmers from growing crops that could produce fertile seeds, forcing them to buy new seeds from a Monsanto every year.

Just as Monsanto joined forces with the sterile-seed pioneers, the century-old chemical company adopted the slogan “Food, Health, Hope” to celebrate its evolution from a plastics and herbicide leader to a biotechnology industry pioneer.

It envisioned the new seed as a linchpin of a worldwide agricultural revolution, offering nearly $2 billion to buy out the company that patented the creation.

But genetic-engineering skeptics didn’t share Monsanto’s optimism. They quickly dubbed the gene involved in sterile-seed technology the “Terminator” gene, inspired by Arnold Schwarzenegger’s classic role as a robotic killing machine. Protesters rallying in the streets of Seattle outside last fall’s gathering of the World Trade Organization adopted the seed as the poster child for the high risks involved in genetic engineering.

Facing frenzied international criticism, Monsanto has agreed not to commercialize the gene at this time. But it made no promises about limiting future market possibilities for “gene protection” technology.

The infamous Terminator seed is just one of thousands of genetically altered crops born from the booming biotechnology industry. Others include strawberries made with fish genes, soybeans and tomatoes made with bacterial genes, and potatoes made with moth genes.

Despite a temporary moratorium on growing and importing genetically modified crops throughout the European Union, more than 100 million acres of transgenetic crops have already been planted throughout the world. And the fertile fields of Northern California have been a popular testing ground for these new breeds of fruits, vegetables, and seeds–a fact that worries some members of the agricultural community.

“Traditional food crops can become contaminated by Monsanto’s seeds,” says Robert Cannard, an organic farmer in Sonoma. Cannard, who spends most of his days in the field, says experimental seeds can travel in the wind and via birds to countless traditional crops throughout the state. He recently led an unsuccesful statewide push for labeling laws, called the California Right to Know Initiative, which would have required stores and food manufacturers to disclose whether or not foods contain genetically modified organisms, or GMOs.

Cannard and other skeptics point to Monsanto’s past offerings such as saccharin, Agent Orange, and Posilac bovine somatropin (the milk-inducing bovine growth hormone) as evidence of the company’s spotty track record on matters of human health and the environment. Industry watchdog web sites have taken it one step further and nicknamed the company “Monsatan.”

But if more critics knew of Monsanto’s track record in Silicon Valley, they might be even more worried.

E-mail to Metro, April 20, 2000

Thank you for contacting Monsanto.com. Feel free to e-mail your query to me and depending on the subject matter I will forward that to an appropriate person in our public affairs operation.Thank you for contacting Monsanto.com.

–Jay Byrne, Monsanto Co.

Michael Stanley-Jones knows how dirty the high-technology industry can be. As a senior researcher at the Silicon Valley Toxics Coalition, he helps monitor 23 active Superfund sites–toxic hot spots so severe that the federal government has tagged them for high-priority cleanup efforts. Silicon Valley has more of them than any other place in the nation.

Stanley-Jones says that most local hot spots can be traced to the computer industry, as all but one of the area’s Superfund sites lie on corporate land.

What most local toxic and biotech watchdogs don’t realize is that the valley’s high-tech revolution would never have been possible without Monsanto’s three decades as a world leader in the silicon business.

“Monsanto produced silicon from 1959 to 1989,” confirms Monsanto spokesperson Bryan Hurley, with a tangible degree of pride. “Our silicon production was of ultra-pure silicon for electronics. Monsanto was one of the leaders in the United States and the world at one time.” Monsanto Electronic Materials Co. in Palo Alto, with additional plants around the country, served as a cornerstone of the semiconductor and chip-making industries. Semiconductor makers etch circuits into silicon-layered wafers to make computer chips.

When Monsanto sold its operation in 1989, it had fallen to sixth in the world’s ranking of silicon makers, but was still supplying nearly a third of the $400 million-a-year U.S. demand for silicon. At the time, critics of the sale mourned it as a nail in the coffin of the American electronics industry, calling Monsanto the Fairchild of the silicon industry.

E-mail to Metro, April 24, 2000

I’ve just read through all of the questions–I can certainly provide you with some of the answers today, but given the specific nature of some of the questions and the dates some of this information centers on, I can’t get a lot of this today. If you can give me a couple of days, I can try to pull some of this for you.

–Bryan Hurley, Monsanto Co.

A year before Monsanto announced the sale, the state’s Department of Health Services cited the company as one of those responsible for a toxic plume seeping into Matadero Creek and private wells in Palo Alto’s Barron Park neighborhood. Located at the Stanford Research Park, the plume, which included the dangerous chemicals trichloroethylene (TCE), perchloroethylene (PCE), dichlorbenzene, and Freon, seeped into the soil, groundwater, and private drinking wells.

“TCE and other industrial solvents like PCE are suspected of causing birth defects and cancer,” Stanley-Jones says. “Freon has been the leading greenhouse gas in California. They don’t go away.”

Known as the Hillview-Porter Superfund, this site was named by health department officials as one of the most complicated in the state, owing to the number of chemicals and point-sources of contamination involved.

AT MONSANTO’S Hillview Avenue address, which it shared with General Instruments, inspectors found TCE, PCE, solvents, and Freon in the groundwater. The same chemicals were found in the soil, in addition to acetone and ethyl benzene.

Monsanto and 13 other companies agreed to help clean up the hot spot and began work about a decade after the toxic plume was discovered. According to its Department of Toxic Substances Control, the Environmental Protection Agency now considers the risks from groundwater contamination to be within safe limits. Department studies say deeper groundwater contamination should be cleared up in 30 years.

Monsanto wasn’t alone in its Silicon Valley high-tech chemical contamination woes. Other companies tagged with cleanup at various sites around the valley during the same period included Intel, Fairchild, and IBM, to name a few. But even after Monsanto got out of the silicon industry and started to clean up its mess there, it still had some explaining to do to the EPA in Washington, D.C.

In 1990, EPA chemists charged Monsanto scientists with “fraudulently manipulating” a 1979 study to show that dioxins don’t cause high cancer rates in humans.

EPA chemist Cate Jenkins, saying that Monsanto altered the results of a study of cancer among workers exposed to dioxins, urged the EPA to re-examine its own regulations. Dioxins can be traced to countless sources, most often linked to industrial and commercial incinerators. But computer manufacturing and medical waste incineration are both major sources.

“It is a commonly bandied adage that dioxins have not been demonstrated to have caused cancer in humans, despite documented exposures,” wrote EPA chemist Jenkins in a 1990 internal memo uncovered by Cox News Service. “Perhaps this may now be seen as yet another ‘old industry tale’ in light of the fraud allegedly committed by Monsanto in conducting its ‘research’ on its workers exposed to dioxins.”

E-mail to Metro, April 24, 2000

Can you help me understand a little more about what you are looking to accomplish–some of this seems unconnected and outdated, so I’m having trouble figuring out the direction.

–Bryan Hurley, Monsanto Co.

Today a 25-acre site on the corner of Lafayette Street and Walsh Avenue in Santa Clara, formerly owned by Monsanto Chemical Co., looks identical to the surrounding industrial sprawl. At the Lafayette Industrial Park, crisp Cisco Systems buildings sit next to offices and loading docks of Applied Materials, and a local post office rests just a gravel-covered parking lot away. After one lap around the lot with Stanley-Jones, neither of us sees anything hinting that the site has hosted a decade-long toxic cleanup.

But a second loop reveals scattered telltale signs of remediation efforts.

“Look, monitoring wells,” he says, quickly hopping out of his massive van. “They come out here and check contaminant levels, probably every three months or so.”

Monsanto, owner of the site from 1950 to 1983, used eight acres for its plastics and resin manufacturing business and leased another chunk of land to Hunter Technology Corp., a circuit board manufacturer.

But documents obtained from the Regional Water Quality Control Board show that Monsanto also used the land for other purposes–as a dumping ground for liquid waste and a solid-waste burial site–leaving a legacy of toxins in the valley’s soil.

“Monsanto discharged liquid waste–water with some salts mixed with amino and phenolic resins–in a two-acre backwash area west of the manufacturing area in the northern part of the property, from the mid-1960s to 1975,” reads a water quality board report for the San Francisco Region dated Aug. 19, 1992. “Monsanto also buried solid waste–resins, construction debris, domestic refuse–in seven trenches west of the developed area.”

Contaminants included the usual suspects for cancer and birth defects–TCE, PCE, vinyl chloride, and one of the most toxic substances known to humans, PCBs. But they also included extremely high levels of 2-hydroxy 5-methyl 1,3 benzenedicarboxylic acid, or HMBA, a toxic chemical catalyst.

Several years after Monsanto sold the property, state investigators found high levels of polychlorinated biphenyls, or PCBs, at concentrations up to 200 ppm. Monsanto, once a major manufacturer of PCBs, denies that it produced the chemical at the site.

Kimball Small Properties bought the property in 1983, and, after contaminants were found, the new owner went back to Monsanto for help with the cleanup. “All I can tell you is that we did buy a piece of property that was contaminated. It did take some legal haranguing to get the responsible party to remediate the cleanup. Then we ultimately sold the property,” said Dave Small of Kimball Small Properties. The property was sold to Camsi IV.

Ted Smith of the Toxics Coalition was aghast that Monsanto had not received any additional penalties for dumping on the site. “If they were dumping this stuff in trenches, they should have been heavily punished,” Smith says. “There was another site where the owner was caught dumping [these kinds of] toxins in trenches, and he died in jail.”

Leo Kay, an EPA spokesperson, says that burying waste became illegal only in 1969, but he isn’t sure when Monsanto stopped dumping.

Monsanto representatives refused to comment on the timing of the dumping. Monsanto paid for both soil excavation and groundwater treatment, but was never fined for its toxic trench burials, according to the water board’s report. And the company’s troubles in the Bay Area were far from over. In 1991, reporters researching California’s poor tracking of chemical contamination investigated reports that Monsanto had shipped 45 tons of toxic waste from its Avon Plant in Martinez to an Idaho Superfund site.

MONSANTO spokesperson Bryan Hurley says that the company no longer owns the Martinez plant, and he did not respond to questions about its practice of shipping toxins to out-of-state Superfund sites. “I think the whole arena of chemical reporting has come a long way, even since 1991,” EPA spokesperson Leo Kay says. He says he isn’t sure whether Monsanto’s shipping policy was illegal, and if so, whether the company was fined.

“We have a better grasp now, since the community right-to-know laws have been strengthened.”

E-mail to Metro, May 1, 2000

These questions will take a long, long time to track down–can you give me a feel for the story itself? I know you said it’s a story on Monsanto’s history in the area, but is there a news hook or something to that effect? Is this part of a regular series you do? And, frankly, most of these questions have a bit of a negative slant to them–are there positives involved?

–Bryan Hurley, Monsanto Co.

While offloading its traditional high-technology businesses, Monsanto has established a firm foothold in California’s high-tech farming industry. It acquired Calgene in Davis, long known as the nation’s leading biotechnology research farm, which produced the first genetically modified tomato, the Flavr Savr. Monsanto later conducted field tests for another type of tomato: caterpillar-killing tomatoes at Hulst Research Farm Services near Modesto. Monsanto scientists inserted the gene from a bacterium, Bacillus thuringiensis, into the plants’ seeds. They believe it kills pests without harming other living things.

Let’s certainly hope so, says Bob Scowcroft, director of the Santa Cruz-based Organic Farming Research Foundation. “Pollen carries the gene and can transfer it to other crops, resulting in another variety of corn with a man-made gene inserted in it. That has unknown environmental consequences, not to mention health and safety issues,” says Scowcroft. “If it was discovered in their [an organic farmer’s] supply, they would lose their business. Meaning transgenetics can have negative economic consequences as well.”

What you are seeing is not just a consolidation of seed companies, it’s really a consolidation of the entire food chain.

–Monsanto declaration, as quoted in a class-action suit against Monsanto, filed Dec. 14, 1999, Washington, D.C.

To follow Monsanto’s shift from slick Silicon Valley electronics producer and chemical corporation to earthy life sciences leader, one need look no further than Disneyland. In 1957, Monsanto celebrated the many uses of plastic with its futuristic House of the Future.

That was only a couple of years after the company’s Disney debut, the Hall of Chemistry, created to “demonstrate the wonders of chemicals, plastics and man-made fibers.”

Over the years Monsanto has set up five different Disneyland exhibits, including “America, the Beautiful.” But the company has replaced its plastic-laden exhibits with a new “Beautiful Sciences” exhibit, which opened at the EPCOT Center last fall. Complete with its hall of biodiversity, the exhibit highlights nature and innovation.

Monsanto CEO Robert Shapiro introduced the exhibit with an ambitious mission statement.

“We believe in the promise of the life sciences, and in recent years, scientists have discovered the fundamentals of how life works, when it works well, and when it goes wrong,” he said. “With that understanding, we have begun to invent tools and produce dramatically better outcomes.”

“I began getting letters from kids and from parents of kids, mostly diabetics, who had never before been able to have something like Kool-Aid or Jello. And I realized what was going on. We were doing something important for people. It wasn’t just making a handheld calculator, as we had done in my previous incarnation. This thing actually mattered.”

–Monsanto CEO Robert Shapiro, quoted in The New Yorker, April 10, 2000

But Monsanto’s image shift has hit rough times. Protesters outside meetings of both the World Trade Organization and the International Monetary Fund rallied against Monsanto as a global tyrant. Earth Day 2000 named Monsanto one of the nation’s top 10 “greenwashers,” a term meaning environmental wolves in sheep’s clothing, in its new “Don’t Be Fooled” campaign.

MONSANTO has left traditional high tech behind for greener biotech pastures, but the Silicon Valley Toxics Coalition is once again stepping in to monitor its activities. “We’re using the model of toxins and saying that genetically modified organisms should be treated the same,” Stanley-Jones says. “They can modify, compete with, and destroy existing species. And the public has a right to know where they’re being tested and released.”

Stanley-Jones attended a meeting in London at which activists adopted the term “hazardous technologies” for genetically modified organisms.

“It’s important for toxics activists to understand that computers are the driving forces of bioengineering and DNA research,” he says. “So the coalition is dealing with high-tech toxins involved in both computers’ design and now their application.”

Yet Monsanto appears to be having some trouble understanding public concern. “If anything clearly emerges from this debate, it is that, when the venire [sic] of pious rhetoric is stripped from the anti-GM food claims, their argument is simply one of selfishly seeking to impose their own fetishes and New Age beliefs on society whatever costs to the rest of humanity may be,” writes Monsanto defender Thomas R. DeGregori from the Institute of Economic Affairs. His article, titled “Genetically Modified Nonsense,” was featured prominently on Monsanto’s web page until last month.

Genetically modified crops are now believed to be ingredients in about 30,000 commercial products, including Kellogg’s cereals, corn chips, chocolates, and vegetable oils. But there is no requirement that they are labeled as containing GMOs.

A class-action lawsuit heading for the courtroom may change all that. Filed in Washington, D.C., by the prominent law firm Cohen, Milstein, Hausfeld & Toll, the complaint alleges that Monsanto has set up a global cartel to market its genetically modified seeds–without adequate health and environmental testing.

Elizabeth Cronise, an attorney for the firm, says, “We don’t have records of a lot of the testing that was done because the industry has refused to release it. The industry says they’ve been doing these tests for 20 years, but we really have no idea what level of tests have been done, or where.”

Monsanto has found one handy solution to the public-relations nightmare that has dogged it for years. It is merging with another pharmaceutical giant and changing its name to Pharmacia Corp. But chances are it will take more than a new name to win over public trust.

This story originally was published in Metro (San Jose).

From the May 25-31, 2000 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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