Wine Country Film Festival

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Festival Info

THE WINE COUNTRY Film Festival screens films in Sonoma County Aug. 5 through Aug. 16 at two locations: the Sebastiani Theatre, 476 First St. E., Sonoma; and Valley of the Moon Cinema, Jack London State Park, Glen Ellen.

For more information, call the festival hotline at 935-3456.

Dozens of films from all over the world fill the big screen during the festival. So how in the world are you going to pick which ones to see?

Start by checking out these two hot picks:

Midnight Mambo
Here is a lighthearted movie about a painful truth: Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you lose. Carlos (played by Vicente Ramos Bermudez) is a Guatemalan immigrant who has washed dishes 12 hours a day for two long years to send money back to his wife, Luisa, in Guatemala. As the film opens, Carlos is finishing his last day of work and preparing to return home to enjoy the good life his Herculean effort has made possible. But, naturally, things go awry: Fickle Luisa (Wendy Latta) has grown tired of waiting and run off to Texas with an American lover and the hard-earned money. Carlos–torn between love and outrage–goes after her, accompanied by his 20-something Anglo waiter friend Tony (Philip Marino). As a road movie, buddy flick, and exploration of racial tensions, Midnight Mambo is unabashedly ambitious. The pleasant surprise is that, despite a few rough spots,writer/director/actor Philip Marino has foiled fate to deliver a winning story. Midnight Mambo screens Thursday, Aug. 6, at 5 p.m. at the Sebastiani Theatre in Sonoma.
PATRICK SULLIVAN

Nowheresville
Slacker comedies–including Slackers and Clerks–are cynical by nature, right? Not in the hands of the writer/director team of Alex Mindt and Randall Harvey. Their engaging romantic comedy Nowheresville–which makes its world premiere at the 1998 Wine Country Film Festival–is warm and funny, tough and tender, as it explores the madness of love. The film follows Tom (Henry Lubatti), a hapless Seattle ferryboat worker who drifts in an emotional limbo while trying to summon the courage to propose marriage to his live-in girlfriend. Love triangle? You bet. Unexpected twists prevail. Forget everything you know about slacker comedies–this is a low-budget indie film with a lot of heart. Nowheresville screens Thursday, Aug. 6, at 9 p.m. (under a full moon) at Jack London State Park in Glen Ellen.
GREG CAHILL

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Tourism in Sonoma County

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Sights Unseen


MIchael Amsler

Rollin’ on the river: Don Test, executive director of the Russian River Region Visitors Bureau, says his organization is taking a 27 percent budget cut and gambling that the countywide tourism campaign will succeed.

Local tourism industry retools for the future. Is everybody happy?

By Paula Harris

A PROPOSED PLAN to limit funding to popular tourism destinations, such as the Russian River and Sonoma Valley, and instead funnel money into promoting the entire county as a tourist hot spot, is causing worries among local tourism groups who fear a loss of money, jobs, and regional representation.

Chris Finlay, director of the Sonoma Valley Visitors Bureau, says that creating and advertising a county image could be detrimental to local offices. “We do have some concerns [about the proposal],” she says. “Regional representation is important in promoting tourism in the county. When people make their travel plans, they don’t say ‘Sonoma County’ is their destination, they have specific destinations within the county. We think in terms of Sonoma County because we live here.”

Don Test, executive director of the Russian River Region Visitors Bureau, agrees. He says that for the radical plan to be successful, areas must preserve their regional characteristics and continue to promote them. “Visitors come to the area for various experiences, such as business, wineries, recreation, hiking, or the beach,” he explains. “We have that diversity in Sonoma County and we want to retain that.”

Even so, the Russian River Region board supports the final study of the plan “in concept,” Test says, adding that the board has offered to accept a 27 percent downsizing in next year’s budget. “Sonoma County is taking an extremely big step in recognizing tourism as a major industry,” he says.

But he adds that it’s too soon to tell whether the Russian River Region Visitors Bureau, established in 1953, will continue as the same entity with the same office space and staff.

The proposed five-year Sonoma County Tourism Strategic Plan, prepared by Lance and Associates of Lafayette and Strategic Marketing Group of South Lake Tahoe, aims to “guide the future tourism efforts in Sonoma County” and squelch years of conflict between competing tourist destinations. Experts say tourism is an $800 million-a-year industry, contributing to one in every four jobs

Last year, because of infighting among several local promotional agencies, county supervisors withheld $770,000 in transient occupancy funds raised from hotel taxes and earmarked for those organizations. The new plan hinges on the creation of a new umbrella tourism agency for the entire county.

“The objective is to make the county competitive,” says county consultant Jack Lance of Lance and Associates, which took four months to come up with the new strategy, currently under review by Sonoma County supervisors.

“The first draft [of the plan] met with tremendous opposition,” recalls Finlay. “But after a lot of feedback from the community, the plan has been modified to satisfy many of those concerns.” She says regional promoters are “cautiously optimistic” about the revised plan. “But there are still many details to be worked out,” she warns. “We’re not sure how big a role we will play, or what the funding levels will be. At least we’re sure there will be a role [for regional offices]–in the initial plan there wasn’t.”

The first draft suggested that all regional bureaus be de-funded and become nonexistent. “They’ve come to realize that getting rid of the regional bureau would be throwing the baby out with the bath water,” says Jenny Carroll, president of the Russian River Region Visitors Bureau. Carroll and others from that bureau have sent a letter to the Board of Supervisors stating that the initial option of de-funding the four major visitor promotion organizations was “unwise, imprudent, and, actually, unnecessary.”

However, Sonoma County Supervisor Mike Reilly sees the plan as a fresh start for a competitive industry. “There’s a new level of cooperation in Sonoma County we haven’t seen before,” he says. “Countywide tourism efforts will be a unified approach to create a county image.”

Linda Johnson, executive director of the Sonoma County Wineries Association, agrees. “We need to do something countywide,” she says. “We’ve jumped ahead with promoting regions rather than making a countywide statement.”

Ben Stone, executive director for Sonoma County’s Economic Develop-ment Board, which will initially help oversee the new group, says the goal is to take Sonoma County into larger markets. “A coordinated effort will bring everyone forward–it will be a rising tide that lifts everybody,” he says, adding that regional diversity will be preserved and enhanced.

Regional tourism offices will maintain their funding for the next six months; then, says Stone, the focus will be to enhance the retail section in local offices and reduce local public relations and advertising in favor of a collaborative effort under a countywide umbrella organization.

“We see no major reduction in jobs,” he says. “But we do see a reallocation of resources that will bring more yield into the county.”

Santa Rosa this month agreed to give $91,000 annual funding, originally earmarked for the Sonoma County Convention and Visitors Bureau, to the nine-member Sonoma County Tourism Advisory Council that will be created by the Board of Supervisors under the new tourism plan.

Funding for the 14-year-old Sonoma County Convention and Visitors Bureau funding will be maintained for six months and then reduced, Stone says. Eventually the new group will take over the bureau.

Meanwhile, some regional representatives say their reaction to the proposed overhaul “fluctuates daily” as more details are hammered out. “Change is always difficult,” muses Carroll. “I don’t care how good it may be.”

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Wines by Mail

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Wines by Mail

The Windsor Vineyards wines that follow are available through the winery’s catalog (800/ 333-9987) or its tasting room in Healdsburg (308-B Center St.). Prices vary based on quantity ordered. Wines are rated on a scale of one to four corks: one cork, no flaws; two corks, good; three corks, excellent; four corks, world-class.

Windsor 1995 Merlot
(Signature Series)
A medium-bodied wine with toasted oak, black olive, black cherry, geranium, and woodspice characteristics. 2.5 corks.

Windsor 1996 Carignane
(Private Reserve)
A multilayered spicy and dusty nose leading to flavors of blackberry and anise in a light, fruity style. A red wine that’s chillable. 3 corks.

Windsor 1997 Semillon
(North Coast)
Fresh hay in the nose, with pineapple, citrus, peach, and floral notes. Clean, crisp and refreshing. 3.5 corks.

Windsor 1995 Zinfandel
(Signature Series, Alexander Valley)
A big wine with luscious, jammy blackberry and raspberry fruit, alluring spice, and a deft touch of vanillin oak. 4 corks.

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Windsor Vineyards

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Grape Express


MIchael Amsler

Special delivery: Winemaker Carol Shelton and her colleagues at Windsor Vineyards have tapped a national market.

Windsor Vineyard excels at mail-order wine

By Bob Johnson

TRUE STORY: Some years ago, a man in Los Angeles named Rhett was partaking in some inappropriate extramarital activity. He knew of Windsor Vineyards’ personalized label program, and with Valentine’s Day approaching, ordered two cases of wine–one for his wife and one for his girlfriend.

This Romeo was no prolific poet. For his wife, the labels were to read: “With all my love to Barbara. Forever and ever, Rhett.” For his girlfriend, the labels were to read: “With all my love to Jennifer. Forever and ever, Rhett.”

After the sentiments–whether sincere or not–had been duly inscribed, Romeo … er, Rhett … then completed the order form. Only one problem: He transposed the shipping addresses. Barbara got Jennifer’s bottles and Jennifer got Barbara’s.

It’s not known whether Rhett survived this faux pas, or had to leave town in a hurry, gone with the wind, as it were. You see, that was his last order on record with the winery.

Of course, Windsor Vineyards’ fulfillment folks did nothing wrong. They produced the labels and shipped the wine exactly as ordered. That is why the winery has been able to forge a near-monopoly in the mail-order wine business for some three and a half decades. Providing outstanding, accurate customer service isn’t merely a policy; it’s an obsession.

But then, it had better be. After all, Windsor isn’t merely in the highly competitive wine business; it’s also in the mail-order catalog business, a sector of retailing that is constantly under scrutiny by the public as well as government regulatory agencies.

According to the Directory of Mail Order Catalogs, Windsor mails its full-color, 32-page catalog to 850,000 people four times per year. The average order placed by Windsor catalog recipients, the directory says, amounts to $95.

That’s a healthy order size in the $290 billion catalog industry, which last year encompassed some 9,000 companies, hawking everything from non-certified organic-produced Amish cheese to antique ranges and parlor stoves, and from Old West badges to new and used accordions and concertinas. Hell, there’s even a catalog of catalogs.

Been drooling and dreaming about Armenian cracker bread? Valley Bakery in Fresno publishes a catalog on the doughy delectable. Run out of materials for your favorite elective class at school? Go-Cart Shop in Fairhaven, Mass., publishes a catalog jam-packed with basket-weaving supplies.

Close to 40 catalogs offer a wide array of home wine- and beer-making supplies, wine racks, and other wine-related accessories. Dozens of wine shops across the country–including several here in Sonoma County–publish monthly newsletters that also function as mail-order catalogs, including comprehensive lists of nearly every bottling in stock. A couple of wineries sell a good percentage of their wares through direct-mail brochures.

Which Windsor wine are available by mail.

But Windsor Vineyards remains the only winery to distribute its wines almost exclusively via mail-order catalogs. We say “almost” because Windsor does operate a tasting room just off the downtown square in Healdsburg. Where you won’t find Windsor bottlings is on supermarket shelves or wine-shop racks.

Windsor formerly was viewed as a broken-down Chevy on a wine freeway jammed with shiny Beamers. It made some wine of average quality and a whole lot of schlock, but its personalized labels made the wines ideal corporate and personal gifts.

Happily, in recent years, its reputation has changed for the better. At one of the Sonoma County Farmlands Group winetasting events last summer, a Windsor cabernet sauvignon stood head and shoulders above all the other cabs poured by all the other wineries in attendance. It was rich, spicy, and memorable.

Across the board, Windsor wines–especially the Private Reserve and Signature Series lines–are high-quality bottlings that no longer take a back seat to any of their Sonoma County counterparts. Winemaker Carol Shelton gets the credit for that.Even Windsor’s gift catalog, spotlighting more than 200 wine and food items, is earning rave reviews these days. In five of the last six years, it has been an American Catalog Award finalist.

So if you’re a wine lover and a catalog connoisseur, Windsor Vineyards just may be for you. One word of warning: If you use the catalog for gift giving, double check the addresses, OK?

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

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Feisty Feline


MIchael Amsler

Southern discomfort: Tim Hayes and Laurie Work find that death threatens to put an end to their relationship problems in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’ slinks to success at Actors’ Theatre

By Daedalus Howell

THERE’S MORE than one way to skin the proverbial cat, as Actors’ Theatre’s production of Tennessee Williams’ psychosexual chestnut Cat on a Hot Tin Roof deftly proves. Lightened and enlivened by expert direction from Joe Winkler and subtle performances from a talented cast, the show lands gracefully on its feet.

Set in the Mississippi Delta circa 1955, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a portrait of a wealthy Southern family stricken by calamity and avarice. Firebrand patriarch Big Daddy (in a bang-up performance by Tim Hayes) is celebrating his 65th birthday blithely unaware that his recent spate of cancer tests has proved his case terminal. His family has withheld the bad news from him to preserve his fleeting happiness and to better compete for his considerable fortune.

Framing Big Daddy’s story are the verbal pyrotechnics of ex-football star and alcoholic son Brick (an affable Argo Thompson) and his hot-to-trot, bottle-blond wife, Maggie (an electrifying Danielle Cain), who are going at it tooth and nail over Brick’s possible past homosexuality and resolute avoidance of sex with her. To complicate matters, Brick’s lawyer brother, Gooper (Robert Conrad), and his perpetually pregnant wife, Mae (Libby Lee), are doing their damnedest to ingratiate their way into the dying man’s will.

Cain steals the show with her spry Maggie–an incredibly well-drawn, intelligent, sexy, and (of course) catlike study of a belle-gone-bad. Cain invests Maggie with a complexity often overlooked in the character. Lesser actresses are waylaid by Southern stereotypes and trick accents, but Cain cleverly shades her portrayal with subtle gestures–a wry smile here, a batted lash there. This Maggie nears perfection.

Trading quips quid pro quo with Maggie is Thompson’s adroitly conceived malcontent Brick. Like Cain, Thompson also steers free of reductive Southern caricature and extracts a compelling character from the Williams text. The chemistry between these two is as combustible as it is alluring, especially when Maggie begins to claw at the house of cards that is Brick’s psyche with increasingly aggressive swipes at his heterosexual self-image.

Hayes’ blustering Big Daddy is a stunning portrait of male power in slow fade, a sauntering, wheezy machine blathering toward inevitable demise. Laurie Work makes an appealing stage debut with her warm, understated portrayal of Big Daddy’s compulsively adoring wife.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is a successful opener for Actors’ Theatre’s 15th season and certainly bodes well for the company’s upcoming shows. Let this Cat cross your path.

Actors’ Theatre’s production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof plays through Aug. 29 at the Luther Burbank Center for the Arts, 50 Mark West Springs Road, Santa Rosa. Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sunday matinees at 2 p.m. Tickets are $6-$12. 523-4185.

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The Scoop

JFK on Tape

By Bob Harris

IS IT HISTORY, or just the world’s most famous snuff film? By now you’ve heard that an enhanced version of Abraham Zapruder’s film of the assassination of John F. Kennedy has hit video store shelves. Some folks think it’s just peachy that the American public can finally study a clear copy of the film for themselves.

Gee, it only took 35 years.

Others, notably including former Life executives, are going on TV and accusing the video’s distributor of dealing in snuff, claiming it’s objectionably tweaky for anyone to rent a video specifically to watch an actual murder.

Well, yeah, obviously the film has a lurid appeal. It’s like driving past a car wreck, or a plane crash, or the Detroit Tigers’ middle relief. It’s hard not to look.

But it’s also hard to see how the Kennedy assassination shouldn’t be something people can see if they so desire. Yes, it’s an ugly, traumatic film. But it’s also as much a part of our visual history as the Challenger explosion, the L.A. riots, or Roseanne Arnold’s film career, footages of which are equally grim and mortifying.

The cries of media executives about decency and decorum here have absolutely no credibility. The Zapruder film is shocking, but no more than many typical newscasts. Ironically, much the criticism of the new tape is coming from writers and reporters who make much of their living by pimping police chases and hostage situations to the exclusion of actual news.

It’s also argued that the Zapruder film is special not for the graphic violence, but for the recipient of that violence. Strange then, that nobody’s trying to quash the footage of the two attempts on Gerald Ford, censor the film of blood pouring out of Bobby Kennedy’s head onto the Ambassador Hotel’s pantry floor, or pull the video of Reagan, James Brady, and two other guys getting shot off the market.

But let’s remember: The special handling of the Zapruder film, in which JFK is driven backwards by what at least looks like a shot from the front–where over 50 witnesses believed at least one shot originated–is one of the main pieces of weirdness that makes people think Oliver Stone wasn’t entirely wrong.

Immediately after the shooting, Life magazine, which had more spooks hanging around their office than Madame Blavatsky, acquired the film and refused to release it to the rest of the media. And Life printed the key frames (and only the key frames) out of sequence, making the pivotal sequence appear to look like a shot from the rear.

Less than a year later, the Warren Report’s first printing also printed the key frames (and only the key frames) out of sequence, creating the exact same effect.

Life also printed a description of the film that in no way resembles the one we now see, reporting that Kennedy actually turned to face the rear, which he never did. Life‘s control of the film prevented the public from seeing the film broadcast until a bootleg was smuggled onto late night TV–12 years later.

Imagine for a second that CNN acquired a video of Nicole Simpson’s front stoop during the time of her murder. Imagine that the footage–shockingly–seemed to indicate that there were at least two killers. And now imagine that, in spite of widespread public demand to see the film, CNN would choose to successfully suppress that footage, releasing only selected frames–out of order–while reporting falsely on the rest of the video, thus consistently buttressing the prosecution’s case.

Is it possible you wouldn’t have seen that footage for 12 years after the murder? Or do you suppose you would have seen it in roughly 12 minutes?

Would you consider CNN a credible news organization ever again?

Keeping the film away from the public serves absolutely no one. Except, of course, the CIA, the Mafia, the Cubans, LBJ, the FBI, Oswald’s clone, the saucer Nazis, and everyone else who killed JFK.

I’m kidding, of course.

Oswald was never cloned.

Probably.

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Sex Books

Sexy Journeys

Drive Thru America takes a bumpy, low-octane spin across this Sweet Land of Liberty.


New literature hits the road

By Patrick Sullivan

DON’T WORRY: You still have two precious months to make for distant horizons before summer ends and the gray skies of autumn close in over your sunburned head. If you’re planning on taking off for exotic locales–Botswana or South Carolina–chances are fair that you’ll find yourself grabbing a travel guide from Lonely Planet Publications. What you may not know is that, in addition to compiling tips for wayward wayfarers, Lonely Planet also publishes literature, albeit literature related to travel.

That could be a good thing, or it could be very bad indeed. After all, while few people may know more about travel than a travel guide publisher, you will be forgiven for wondering just how much these folks know about the art of writing.

In the case of Brief Encounters: Stories of Love, Sex & Travel (Lonely Planet; $12.95), your fears are mostly misplaced. Editor Michelle de Krester has managed to round up a luminous collection of short works about romance in locations ranging from Martha’s Vineyard to Peru. There are even contributions from such accomplished authors as Paul Theroux, Peter Ho Davies, and Sara Wheeler.

Steamy romances between tourists and natives are the rule here, as the writers explore with a keen eye the complications of love on the run.

Don’t, however, get the wrong idea from the title or the racy cover art: The emphasis in Brief Encounters is more on love and travel than on sex, which is rendered in terms tasteful or euphemistic (depending on your point of view) in all but a few stories. There are exceptions: Tom Whalen’s “In the Restrooms of Europe” is a poetic, elegantly graphic story about the persistence of desire that rises far above mere erotica.

Many stories involve romantic encounters between relatively wealthy tourists and citizens of such Third World countries as Peru and Egypt. It’s hard to imagine a situation more fraught with complications: Race and power form an inevitable subtext. Brief Encounters usually features a woman as the libidinous tourist, which raises an interesting question: Does the editor think stories about men waving a crisp “See ya” to their Third World lovers are more likely to cross the line into sexual imperialism?

To their credit, many of the writers confront this head-on. Mona Simpson’s American heroine in “Ramadan” has a brief romance with a young Egyptian man who speaks very little but who still manages to leave the reader with the distinct feeling that it is his American lover who has utterly misunderstood the encounter. Other stories are not as satisfying in this regard, but on the whole, Brief Encounters delivers deftly drawn portraits of cross-cultural romance.

Alas, would that all of Lonely Planet’s forays into the literary world went as smoothly. Drive Thru America (Lonely Planet; $12.95), by Australian author Sean Condon, is many things–tedious, self-indulgent, unrelentingly unrewarding–but most of all, it is a cautionary example of exactly how not to write a book about a road trip across the United States.

The key to this difficult genre–which has been dominated by the likes of Jack Kerouac, William Least Heat Moon, and Charles Kuralt–is to talk more about the road than about yourself. That axiom has utterly escaped Condon, who is still happily prattling on about what a bad boy he was in the second grade long after the reader has quietly turned the page and skipped ahead in search of more interesting topics.

Condon may well have written this entire book on a huge pile of Post-its: The vignettes are short and choppy to the point of inducing nausea. Just when we start to sink into one of his less than thrilling tales about scoring coke in New Orleans or being disgusted by gutter punks in Santa Cruz, the story is abruptly over and we’re back on the highway.

This effect is exacerbated by the book’s irritating mix of fact and fiction. The author gleefully admits that he has fabricated part or all of many of these stories. The trouble is that even his fictions rarely succeed at being either convincing or amusing. In the end, Condon has merely managed to relay a random series of grubby experiences in a country that he clearly regards as dirty and dangerous.

“I’m in America. I’m very excited,” the author tells us. Great, we’re tempted to reply: Now go home, and take your book with you.

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Talking Pictures

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Fallen Idol

By David Templeton

Writer David Templeton takes interesting people to interesting movies in his ongoing quest for the ultimate post-film conversation. This time out, he stands by as Caroline Casey–Washington D.C.’s renowned author/speaker/talk-show host and “Visionary Activist Astrologer”–makes her mark on the latest big-budget appropriation of pop-cultural iconography: The Mask of Zorro.

The excited and murmuring crowd begins to settle down, as a mask-wearing DJ from a local rock station rises to welcome us to this special advance-screening of The Mask of Zorro. Starring Antonio Banderas and Anthony Hopkins, the film is being screened this evening to a few film critics and an audience of radio listeners, all of whom have won free tickets to tonight’s show.

“But first,” the DJ exclaims, “let me introduce you to the producer of The Mask of Zorro.” Before naming the producer’s name–Doug Claybourne–he reads a list of the guy’s previous films, Jack, Money Train, D2: The Mighty Ducks, Drop Zone, and The Serpent and the Rainbow being some of them.

“Ouch!” observes my guest, author and astrologer Caroline Casey. “Every single one of those was a dog!” Her critique–loud enough to be heard by those around us–incites a smiling flurry of concurring nods from the journalists to our left.

A few seconds later, the DJ asks Claybourne to stand up and say a few words. He does, revealing himself to be the large, bearded fellow who’s been sitting directly in front of Casey.

“I felt kind of bad about that,” Casey confesses after the movie. “But only until the movie started. As soon as Zorro’s great big ‘Z’ –that childhood icon of justice and playfulness–came on screen and then exploded into flames, I thought, ‘Oh no! This isn’t going to be my Zorro. Not with all this kapow! kapow! kapow! and rockets’ red blare and stuff. That’s not what Zorro is about.”

By the time the credits had rolled around, in fact, Casey was ready to say even more to the bearded man. As the words ‘The End’ burst onto the screen, she announced, loudly and clearly, “What a horrible, cynical, commercial piece of crap!”

“That felt pretty good,” Casey laughs merrily. ‘I mean, how often do we get the chance to tell some producers what we think of their movies? I was just so horrified with what they did to Zorro, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to rant a little.”

And Caroline Casey–as a growing number of spiritual seekers have come to appreciate–believes in taking the opportunities that the universe offers.

Her unique, decidedly political approach to the stars and planets–she calls it “Visionary Activist Astrology”–has found a fitting forum on the legendary progressive Pacifica Radio Network [her one-of-a-kind call-in show can be heard in the Bay Area on KPFA 94.1-FM, Thursday afternoons at 2]. The initial acclaim she won with her best-selling audiocassette series Inner and Outer Space (Sounds True, 1996) has reached new heights with the release of her new book Making the Gods Work for You: The Astrological Language of the Psyche. Unique, insightful, and surprisingly funny, the latter is a compassionate self-help book, a step-by-step political action guide, and a neo-pagan celebration of the wonder of nature, all rolled into one and disguised as a book about astrology.

A student of semiotics (the systems of symbols) and mythologies from around the world, Casey recognizes the human psyche’s need for icons and heroes, be they gods or animals or mortals … or Zorro, the masked protector of the poor and powerless.

“Growing up, I loved Zorro,” she reiterates. “He was a powerful icon of goodness. He was the trickster. He’s Uranus–the coyote, the trickster, the rascal, the court jester who always brings the tyrants down by revealing the truth. And he never killed anyone, or seldom did.”

Zorro, in the famous 1950s TV show, only killed only once or twice–and then with remorse so great he’d kneel and pray for the souls of the tragically departed. The new Zorro, as his very first act of derring-do, does in a soldier by lassoing the rifles of a firing squad and directing the blast at their leader. Within his first minute on screen, Zorro has killed–and seems pretty pleased with himself.

“There should be a special hell for people who rip off cultural images and distort them and trivialize them and take all the magic out of them, purely for commercial gain,” Casey says. “The abuse of magical totems, even unto the ‘Z’ of Zorro, is nothing less than spiritual harassment. ‘Z’ is a sufficient enough totem. Sure it represents a diminished form of the rascal God, but it was lovable and sufficient to get us through the ’50s and ’60s.”

She suddenly breaks into a laugh.

“Sorry,” she says. “I seem to have lost my sense of humor. I haven’t been this riled up since Clinton killed the needle-exchange bill.”

Casey becomes animated.

Brandishing an imaginary sword as we stand on the sidewalk, Casey becomes animated. “Now, the real Zorro,” she says, “would have turned on the evil makers of this movie, as being the oppressors of the people. He’d playfully reveal himself as the real Zorro, saying, ‘This movie … sucks!’ With a swish swish swish”–she draws a letter in the air–“he’d carve a giant ‘S’ on the front of the theater. He’d say, ‘And these people are … cynical!’ ” Swish swish swish–she makes a big ‘C’ for Cynical. “‘And this movie gets a great big … zero!’ “

Swish swish swish.

“It’s poignant,” she explains, putting away her weapon, “because it will be a long time before anyone touches the Zorro myth again, and it could have been beautifully and lovingly done.

“Ah well,” Casey sighs. “There are many other good stories to be told.”

Web extra to the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

The Human Race

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New Wave

At the wheel: Crewmen Richard Bartol (left) and Mike Burrelle help pilot a vessel with a divided crew across the stormy Pacific Ocean in The Human Race.


‘The Human Race’ sails into Wine Country Film Festival

By David Templeton

THE STARTING LINE was only inches away. Robert Hudson–perched on the deck of the tiny sailing vessel he was about to race across the Pacific Ocean–was beginning to forget how utterly exhausted he was, to forget how much effort it had taken just to get this far.

A mere 90 days before, all of this had been only a dream. That Hudson had managed in so short a time to find a sailing vessel, a captain, a crew of 11 and enough provisions to feed everyone was nothing short of a miracle. Never mind that the boat was seriously underequipped for the 2,200-mile voyage, or that half the crew had little or no sailing experience, or that the race they were about to begin–the legendary transpacific race from Los Angeles to Hawaii–has for nine decades been considered one of the toughest, most grueling oceanographic competitions in the world.

Never mind, even, that many of the crew–all of whom were HIV positive–had been at death’s proverbial door less than 12 months ago.

For one moment, Hudson forgot all that, as the gun went off and The Survivor–the aptly chosen name of their vessel–sailed smoothly across the starting line.

“I felt this incredible, exhilarating feeling,” the former stockbroker explains. “I was thinking, ‘Wow, I’m here. We’re on our way. We’ve done it.'”

“That feeling lasted about one minute,” he laughs. “It lasted until I realized, ‘Oh my God! Now I have to actually do this.'”

What followed was a 10-day voyage in which Hudson learned that exhaustion was a relative term. Sailing day and night, the crew seldom had more than two hours sleep at a time, enduring some of the roughest seas in the 90-year history of the transpacific race, due to the surprise arrival of Hurricane Dolores. As problems mounted, including a rapidly deteriorating vessel and several narrowly averted capsizings, the crew became rapidly divided between the experienced sailors–who, led by Capt. John Plander, were growing confident that they might actually win the race–and the rest of the men, who were increasingly alarmed at the risks being taken, risks that Hudson feared might drown them all.

Fortunately, all of this real-life action adventure in July of last year was captured on film by director Bobby Houston, who, after surviving the race relatively unscathed, ended up with the daunting task of cutting 100 hours of footage down to a mere 88 minutes. The result is The Human Race, a stunning, stirring documentary that has been taking film festival audiences by surprise as it works its way across the country. Houston, a veteran director of such low-budget films as the cult-hit Shogun Assassin and the art-world satire Trust Me, had retired from filmmaking following the AIDS-related death of his partner, Stuart Kaplan.

Wine Country Film Festival schedule.

Now, with the critical success of The Human Race–championed by Oliver Stone and recently purchased by HBO–Houston is sifting through numerous offers to return full-time to making movies. The film will be screened locally as part of the eclectic lineup of the 12th annual Wine Country Film Festival.

“I invited Bobby to come along and film the voyage because it’s important for people to have role models, and people with HIV need to see that a positive diagnosis doesn’t mean you have to sit around waiting to die,” explains Hudson, who will attend the Sonoma screening with Houston and other members of the crew. “This is not just a movie about a band of HIV-positive sailors. It’s a movie about a band of just-guys, all behaving like themselves, all pulled together for a wild misadventure.”

As for the race itself–with all of its inherent dangers–Hudson says he didn’t have room for everyone who wanted to be a part of it.

“I figured, we’d already gone through the hellish task of being diagnosed with AIDS or HIV,” he says. “Sailing across the Pacific was pretty much secondary to that.”

Asked what he learned from his transpacific experience, Hudson takes a long pause.

“I’ll never stop believing,” he finally says. “I’ll never stop dreaming. I learned that there’s always hope. I learned anything is possible.”

The Human Race plays Saturday, Aug. 8, at 3:15 p.m., at the Sebastiani Theatre, 476 First St. E., Sonoma. Tickets are $5. For details, call 996-2536.

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From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

Johnnie Johnson

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Unsung Hero


MARC NORBERG

He’s got rhythm: Johnnie Johnson performs Aug. 8 at the Sonoma County Fair.

Chuck Berry sideman shines

By Greg Cahill

THOSE TWO have a strange thing,” says Rolling Stone guitarist Keith Richards, describing the relationship between rock legend Chuck Berry and pianoman Johnnie Johnson in a scene from the 1987 documentary Hail! Hail! Rock ‘n’ Roll. “Chuck just walked in on Johnnie’s band in a little club in East St. Louis one day and took it over, you know.”

The cadaverous-looking Richards–who served as music director for the film and butted heads with the temperamental star–goes on to slight Berry in several scenes, not for shanghaiing Johnson’s band, but for snagging a fair share of musical ideas from his sideman without giving Johnson songwriting credits.

“[Johnson] ain’t copying Chuck’s riffs on piano,” Richards mumbles. “Chuck adapted them to guitar and put those great lyrics behind them. But without somebody to give him those riffs, voila!, no song, just a lot of words on paper.”

The film helped bring Johnson to the attention of the general public, and led in 1991 to a pair of hot albums released within weeks of each other: Johnnie B. Bad (Elektra/Nonesuch) and Rockin’ Eighty-Eights (Modern Blues), which helped set the record straight once and for all that Johnson, 73, is one of the great unsung heroes of rock ‘n’ roll.

More recently, Johnson–who performs at the upcoming Sonoma County Blues Festival–can be heard on the North Bay band Rhythmtown Jive’s On the Main Stem (Globe Records), on which he performs on seven tracks.

Johnson, a West Virginia native, is a natural. He’s been playing piano since age 7, shortly after his mother bought him an old upright. “The moment the movers brought it into the house, I sat down and started playing,” he recalls, during a phone call from his St. Louis home.

From the beginning, Johnson emulated the percussive boogie-woogie and stride piano styles of Count Basie, Earl “Fatha” Hines, Duke Ellington, and others whose music was beamed into the Johnson household from nearby Pittsburgh on a late-night radio show called “Dawn Patrol.”

“I found out that I had a heck of an ear and could pick up things,” he says. “You know, go back and play the sounds that I could discern in my ear.”

In 1941, the then-teenage musician traveled to Detroit and took a job at a Ford Motor defense plant. Two years later, he joined the Marines, only to return to Detroit after the war to work at an auto plant and to play casual weekend gigs. In 1950, he migrated to Chicago, the center of the postwar blues renaissance. There he met and played with blues legends Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Little Walter Jacobs, and Jimmy Reed, among others.

“Wherever you went in those days it was wall-to-wall people,” he says. “That’s when I really started taking a notion to play blues like this.”

Three years later, he moved to East St. Louis and took a day job with the Pennsylvania Railroad. The evenings, however, were spent performing with his own trio at local clubs. By year’s end, Johnson had met a promising young guitarist named Chuck Berry. “He was playing at a place called Hough’s Garden and I was playing at the Cosmopolitan,” Johnson explains. “I went up to check him out and kind of took a liking to the type of music he was playing because it was what I was raised up around in West Virginia–hillbilly music.”

JOHNSON HIRED Berry to fill in for his usual singer-guitarist at a New Year’s Eve party. Berry stayed on and began honing the flamboyant stage act that would one day earn him a place in the Hall of Fame. Yet, if Berry gets at least as much credit as an individual for inventing what would come to be called rock ‘n’ roll (after all, where would the genre be without those famous three-chord progressions and patented Chuck Berry riffs?), then Johnson served as midwife to the birth of the genre. Indeed, it was Johnson’s friend Muddy Waters who introduced Berry to Chess Records label chief Leonard Chess, paving the way in 1955 for Berry’s first recordings, “Maybelline” and “Wee Wee Hours.”

And it was the pianoman’s distinctive rhythmic flair that lent those early records so much vitality.

“Chuck and I get along very well,” says Johnson, who toured extensively during rock’s infancy with deejay Alan Freed’s package shows.

These days, Johnson is reluctant to criticize his old cohort for not sharing the fame or the royalties. “All of the work that Chuck did was his own,” Johnson says modestly. “All I did was help provide the music. The lyrics were strictly Chuck’s–I had nothing to do with that.”

Still, Johnson is enthusiastic about his new role as a frontman and bandleader, and it’s clear that a solo career suits him just fine. “Yeah, this is news,” he concludes with a hearty laugh. “And it’s great, except that I have to carry the responsibility now for keeping track of income taxes and all that stuff that I didn’t have to put up with as a sideman.

“I’m just hoping that these albums will help me go much further because this is all mine now.”

Johnnie Johnson performs, with members of Rhythmtown Jive, at the Sonoma County Blues Festival, on Saturday, Aug. 8, from 2 to 9 p.m. The show, which is free with admission to the Sonoma County Fair, will be held at the Redwood Theater. Also performing are Lavay Smith and her Red Hot Skillet Lickers, W. C. Clark, James Armstrong, Terry Evans, and the Michael Barclay Blues Band. Sonoma County Fairgrounds, 1350 Bennett Valley Road, Santa Rosa. Admission is $5, ages 13 to 60; $2 children, ages 7 to 12; and free, ages up to 6. For info, call 545-4200.

From the July 30-Aug. 5, 1998 issue of the Sonoma County Independent.

© Metro Publishing Inc.

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