Missed it by that much- SFO's Siegfried

This Sunday past, a beautiful day by any measure, found me along with most of the other Bay Area Wagnerites seated in the War Memorial Opera House for 5 hours of Siegfried. It's a good thing I had a ticket, because weather like that would never get me to agree to doing standing room, thus exposing me as perhaps an imperfect Wagnerite. So be it.

Like many, I find Siegfried to be the least convincing of the Ring tetralogy, though I remember when I attended the 1999 Ring at SFO I was clearly impressed that each performance was better than the previous, building to a thrilling climax with Gotterdammerung, so there was a time when Siegfried didn't disappoint me. What happened since then? I'd say the third opera in the cycle is the hardest to get right, for almost myriad reasons, perhaps chiefly because of its complexity of where the main characters exist at this point in the story. So imagine my surprise that yesterday's performance proved to be the most cohesive yet of director Francesca Zambello's vision for SFO's (and WNO's) current Ring.

Is it perfect? No, not by any measure, but for the first time in this cycle what was happening onstage was truly interesting, leaving me with a sense that Zambello has something to say about Wagner and her conception of an "American Ring," isn't as empty as the first two installments left me believing. If only two of the four main leads were up to the task at hand vocally I would say it was fantastic. Alas, that wasn't the case yesterday. However, those two may come up to snuff in later performances, and I for one do plan on seeing this again because it really has the potential for greatness. Ah, but potential's an elusive quality, is it not?

So let's take it from the top. Note: there are what some would call "spoilers" below.

Again, as in the previous operas, we begin with images projected across a scrim during the creepy, Fafner-dwelling-in-cave-with-the-gold/let-us-return-to-the-pit-where-the-Nibelungs-toil intro. Clouds swirl menacingly and evolve into what looks like Detroit or Cleveland circa 1972 with pollution-spewing smokestacks. Nice touch, the first of many, as the scrim rises to reveal a fifth-wheel that looks like a bomb once went off inside of it, leaving its denizens exposed to and stuck with the menacing high-tension power lines seen in the background. Great imagery, but now here's a problem: where the fuck is this supposed to be? It looks like Wagner meets Cormac McCarthy on The Road.

This setting would have been great for the part in Gotterdammerung where Siegfried encounters the Gibichungs for the first time, and would have been a hoot as Valhalla, but as the home for Mime and our hero it ignores some key elements of what's really going on- or at least makes the characterizations harder to believe. Mime is supposed to have raised Siegfried far away from other people- he's never even seen another human being besides his adopter as the story begins and this fact fuels Siegfried's contempt for his malevolent benefactor/babysitter. Yet how does that happen in a trailer stuck under power lines and filled with canisters of potato chips? Someone had to make a trip to Safeway for those Charles Chips, right? Who took them to the check-out line?

Okay, so I'm willing to suspend disbelief and go with it because the set (by Michael Yeargan)  looks terrific. Enter Mime, played by David Cangelosi doing his best Fagin impression and until he meets his death in the second act, Cangelosi sings the hell out of the part and gives us a Mime I for one had never thought of before- cunning, interesting, robust, intelligent, even somewhat sympathetic. He owns the stage during the first act in much the same way Arnold Bezuyen's Loge did during the initial performances of Rheingold in Achim Freyer's LA Ring. In other words, it's an unexpected focus that actually works, because while traditionally we tend to view Mime as a pawn to the larger story, until he's knocked off two hours later he's actually the prime mover of the story and Zambello's production brings that to the fore.

Unfortunately, at least in his initial performance as the title character, Jay Hunter Morris hasn't a large enough voice to compete against his nemesis. That's a damn shame, because as far as looking and acting the part, Morris is perfectly convincing- in fact, take away that one major flaw and we're looking at a terrific choice. Um, except it's opera and I know I'm being bitchy, but the main character should be cast with someone whose voice can make it over the orchestra, even if the orchestra isn't being very helpful, which it certainly wasn't, but I'll get to that in a bit. On the positive side, apart from acting and looking the part, Morris's voice was beautiful and clear all afternoon- it just wasn't loud enough and he was frequently completely drowned out by the orchestra. He did, however, have on a great coat and for some people (I'm talking to you, Dr. Hank) this may have mitigated the vocal shortcomings- I'm just not one of them.

Mark Delevan's Wotan was another vocal shadow where there should have been sunlight, and his appearance in rags and greasy long hair as The Wanderer made him look like he had somehow wandered in from a 30 year-old Molly Hatchet video. Delevan, who was impressive in last summer's Die Walkure, gave a performance that bode ill for the full cycles when they start next month. If this is the state of his voice at the moment, Rheingold and Walkure are going to be very disappointing.

Almost as troublesome was his scene in the beginning of Act 3, where from where I sat at the side of the stage, it looked like he was trying to first rape Erda from behind, then strangle her (!), leaving me to think Wait a minute- what the fuck is Wotan doing raping and then strangling Erda? I know she's not giving him what he wants but really- does he have rape and kill her? Doesn't she have more to sing? Did Calixto direct this part?

Ugh. Speaking of Erda (I know, I'm in Act 3 and I haven't even discussed Act 2 yet, but I'll get there- it was a long afternoon), Ronnita Miller sang impressively but looked a little too healthy to be the Erda-in-decline that's actually supposed to be on the stage. And again, wtf with the Native American inspired costume? A missed opportunity in an otherwise fine performance on Miller's part- but blame Zambello and costume designer Catherine Zuber, not Miller, for the mis-step.

Back to Act 2- the part where the dragon/Fafner gets knocked off. That was brilliant. That big-ass, Road-Warrior/Darth Vader/District 9 dragon was cool. There is simply no other way to put it. Daniel Sumegi didn't impress me particularly as Fafner, but on the other hand I didn't find him lacking- and since it's not a huge part consider it a wash. I wouldn't, couldn't, say the same about Gordon Hawkins' Alberich, who despite having Molotov cocktails at hand, failed to ignite any menace in the role- a tough assignment in light of what Eric Owens brought to it at the Met recently, which set a new standard in how to interpret the dwarf who sets everything in motion. Depsite that, I loved every moment of the second act, including the uber-creepy spooning of Fafner and Siegfried as the giant expires, Siegfried dousing Mime and Fafner's dead bodies with gasoline (okay, who else thought of David Bowie's "Cat People" during this moment?), and best of all, the last part where Siegfried returns to the corpses before running off with the bird to find Brunhilde.

Speaking of the Bird (Stacey Tappan), why does the Bird have a purse? I guess for the same reason Brunnhilde had a purse in Walkure- though for the life of me I don't understand why. What exactly is in the purses, Francesca and Catherine? Why do you subject us to these annoying touches we don't need and you can't explain?

Tappan's anthropomorphic embodiment of the bird onstage was touching. I haven't seen the part done this way before and I found it beautiful and moving.  Stupid purse aside, Tappan's costume was stunning in its color and appropriate simplicity. Lovely- nicely done.

The disaster which begins Act 3 was actually preceded by the orchestra sounding better than it had all afternoon, at least in the brass section, which seemed to finally find the gear it couldn't locate for its life in Acts 1 and 2. Unfortunately it was a short-lived shift (more on this in a moment). After the bizarreness with Erda bit, Delevan's Wotan has his showdown with his grandson in a scene neither had the vocal prowess to navigate with anything near what is called for and the orchestra just pummeled both of them. It was the most disappointing moment of the afternoon. At least after that we arrived at the moment most of us had been waiting for all damn day- Siegfried and Brunnhilde meet, play pussyfoot, then hook up.

Well, that's the shorthand version of what happens during the last 45 minutes. Nina Stemme has already created a small firestorm in the opera world singing Wagner heroines and her initial appearance as Brunnhilde floored me and most other people who saw and heard it. I felt that way after hearing her as Senta in the much maligned Dutchman SFO staged during the Rosenberg era (2004), which I thought brilliant. Stemme is fantastic- no doubt she has the goods to be the pre-eminent Wagner soprano of the day and will leave a lasting legacy, but on this afternoon I though she was just okay. Her voice was clear, her Brunnhilde was no longer the daddy-longing imp from Walkure (thank god), and she had great physical energy onstage. I felt however, that she held back to accommodate the lack of power in Morris' voice and thus short-changed the audience of the the full-throttle Brunnhilde I expected based her last appearance here. That's all I'm going to say, except that since she took off her jacket this time, and I think that costume is pretty damn sexy.

Which leaves to me end with the music. Few people miss Runnicles in the pit more than I do. However Sunday's performance wasn't all it could be, mostly because of the brass section tanking it in more than a few key musical moments. The winds, especially the flutes and oboes, were magnificent, as were the strings. Runnicles kept a steady and exciting tempo all afternoon and the music never flagged (is that even possible with Siegfried?). But the brass pretty much sucked all afternoon, to the point that thanks to where I was sitting, I noticed that when Runnicles was dishing out props before he left the pit to take his bows onstage, with the exception of the first trumpet, the entire brass section received no love from the Maestro- and none was deserved.

Still, this cycle is starting to gel and if Ian Storey has the vocal chops for the role, the last part may finally deliver the goods in full. We'll know next Sunday. There you have it.

Back to the volcano

In 1983 Rickie Lee Jones released an EP called "Girl at Her Volcano" containing live tracks recorded at the Santa Monica Civic and studio cuts which didn't make it on to her first two studio albums. It had a certain notoriety for encapsulating the singer's altered state at the time of the live recordings, providing an unglossed version of what she was experiencing, or going through, and what her audiences saw at live shows, which were known to be erratic. It's hard to find nowadays, but well worth seeking out.

There simply was no other singer like Jones at the time, and there really hasn't been another one like her since, and to listen to her catalogue is to realize how profound her impact has been upon any woman who stood in front of a microphone in her wake.With the exception of Kate Bush, there really is no other female who has been a more influential vocalist on the pop or jazz scene since Holliday, Fitzgerald or Franklin in their primes. I don't care if you believe this or not, know this or not, it's just a fact.

Tonight, courtesy of SFJazz, residents of the Bay Area got to see Jones return to the volcano once more and witness a concert that was a different kind of melt-down for a performer who seemed poised to stage to triumphant comeback, though it had nothing to do with altered states.

The program featured her eponymous first album from 1979 and its follow-up, the masterpiece entitled Pirates (1981),  which many fans consider her finest moment (though I would cast my vote for the much maligned and misunderstood The Magazine as the apex of what has without doubt been a brilliant career), played in their entirety.

A few years back, I can't remember how many at the moment, Jones came to San Francisco and played five straight nights at the tiny Cafe Du Noord, each show featuring a different ensemble tackling songs from her entire catalogue. The first night sucked, to put it bluntly. If I hadn't already bought a ticket for the second, I doubt I would have gone back for more punishment, but in the end I was glad I did, and I ended up attending four of the five shows, which reaffirmed my belief that Jones is a genius, though not an easy one.

That first night at the Du Noord, she had some guys backing her she'd obviously never played with before, as if she had passed by Oak Street and asked aloud, "who can play around here, I have a gig in an hour?"  The next night some axe men showed up who had played with her before- and importantly, seemed to know her idiosyncrasies, and the result was magic. The entire stand, as musicians rolled across the stage depending on the whim of Jones' mood that day, turned out to be captivating and compelling, though greatly uneven.

Fast forward to 2011, and I was surprised but pleased to see Rickie Lee getting an obviously prestige gig at Davies Symphony Hall, the night before Tony Bennett was to take the same stage under the same sponsor. SFJazz  has a solid reputation for presenting consistently high quality shows- their name on a gig is almost an imprimatur of quality few Bay Area performing arts organizations can boast of. Though with live performances there's never a guarantee, it's been my experience in the past three or four years that an SFJazz show rarely disappoints.

And yet Jones' shows was a mess from the first moment when she was announced over the PA at a volume that was shockingly loud. Starting off with "Chuck E.'s in Love," Jones' band seemed incapable of playing the song with any nuance, overfilling the arrangement of a song in which the empty spaces say as much as the notes and lyrics do. It wasn't a different arrangement, or at least it didn't sound like one to me- it just sounded like Jones, picking out the tune's riff on an acoustic guitar she was displeased with from the moment she first hit a chord on it, was the only one onstage who had any idea what it should sound like. The over-amplified sound mix was not only too loud for Davies, but from where we sat toward the back of the orchestra, it was unfathomably distorted, giving none of the musicians a break.

Jones' problems with guitars continued as she switched back and forth between a couple, and I almost felt pity for the hapless tech who was trying to make it right for her in what turned out to be a vain attempt as the singer grew increasingly frustrated with first her instruments, then the volume of the band, then the band itself. By the time they made it to "Weasel And The White Boys Cool" the band looked like it had little hope of getting it together.

When they began the material from Pirates things got even worse. The songs on this album are deceptively complicated in their arrangements and the band just floundered, with the three-piece horn section even completely missing their entrance on the title track, forcing Jones to start the song over again, which they had already done for "Living it Up." The drummer got an almost constant berating to speed it up or down, or just to follow her, and even though Jones went over and kissed him on the cheek afterward to make nice, the fact that the band was completely unrehearsed was laid bare on the stage for all to see. I could go on with a list of more that was completely off, but you get the point by now. As for Jones, while her voice hasn't aged well, what she no longer has in clarity she makes up for in her inimitable idiosyncrasies and phrasing. On top of that, she's still a magnetic presence on the stage.

The audience, which deserved a lot better than they got, seemed swayed by that magnetism and refused to acknowledge that at least for this gig, the Duchess had no clothes on. While I observed a slow but steady stream of exits during the show, at the end Jones and the band received a prolonged standing ovation. I have no idea why, but there you have it- I guess they "like it like that."

Later, while the Duchess of Reseda and I were talking about the show and much more at the bar of Sugar, Heidi Melton walked in, looking absolutely fantastic.

A Beast on a beach

By the time you read this A Beast in a Jungle will be A Beast on the Beach pictured above.

See you in a couple of weeks.

J. Marcher

LePage's Die Walkure from the Met

The first thing one can say about the Met's broadcast of Die Walkure yesterday is that it should finally silence those idiots who've been talking smack about Deborah Voigt for the last year. Voigt's performance carried the extremely long afternoon and left no doubt that not only can she sing the role, but it re-affirms her status as one of the leading sopranos of the day. Too bad such a triumph was unfolding in what turned out to be a pretty mediocre production that left me thinking perhaps the Schenk museum piece wasn't so bad after all.

The singers, individually, were in superb voice, but Walkure is a series of conversations and conflicts between two characters and what caused this production to be such a failure from my perspective is that each pairing failed to work on a dramatic level. Everyone seemed mismatched in some way and none of the scenes, except for the showdown between Fricka and Wotan (more on this in a moment), was convincing. This was only magnified by the talent onstage and seeing it all unfurl larger than life on the big screen in HD.


Taking it from the top, James Levine led the orchestra through a musically thrilling first act- superbly paced, the details in the score coming through with a slicing precision I've seldom heard anywhere else that made the listener pay attention. Sadly, that precision disappeared during the second act ("Du hehrstes Wunder, herrliche Maid!" came and went with no impact at all) and only sporadically returned during the third, mostly in the conclusion. The orchestra wasn't bad by any means, but the heights achieved during the first act weren't heard again.


Kaufmann and Westbroek, both offering fantastic phrasing, tone and diction, looked like a great pairing of the Walse twins on paper but the reality was quite different. Kaufmann seemed tentative with Westbroek, as if he wasn't quite sure how far he should go with her, and his performance lacked a necessary passion and desire, though his voice is simply amazing. This hesitancy on his part made his Siegmund have less stature onstage than Westbroek's Sieglinde, rendering their entire pairing something of a dramatic mismatch. As Hunding, Hans-Peter Konig's entrance, delivering a devastating side-ways glance perfectly cued to the music (albeit lifted straight from Hunding's entrance in the Copenhagen Ring- the first of many "borrowed" ideas in this production), was the kind of subtle touch wholly missing from Kaufmann's performance.


In Act II Voigt and Terfel started off with a playfulness similar to what Francesca Zambello is doing with her "American" Ring about to unfold in its entirety in San Francisco later this month. This would be the first of two moments during the afternoon which made me think director Robert Lepage has been seeing every Ring Cycle he can, searching for ideas because dramatically he has none of his own (more on this later). Voigt's first "Heiaha" immediately served notice to the doubters that she was going to be on. While hers wasn't a display of endless range, she was in complete control and remained so throughout the performance. On top of that, despite the ridiculous costumes she and everyone else had to endure, she looked and acted the part.


The highlight of the second act, indeed of the entire show sadly enough, was Stephanie Blythe's Fricka. Making a fantastic entrance on a throne with prominent goat-horns as armrests (this reference to cuckoldry would be only thoughtful piece of set-design we would see all day), Blythe's eighteen minutes onstage were devastating in more ways than one. Completely emasculating Terfel's Wotan, Blythe turned this Die Walkure on its head in a way I'm not sure was intentional because it never recovered afterward. Her imperious, take-no-prisoners Fricka not only slices off Wotan's balls during their scene together, but Terfel seemed so beat-down by her that his character couldn't seem to shake his newly imposed impotence for the remainder of the opera.

And that's a problem because while we all know Wotan is weak in many ways, there has to be moments during the rest of Walkure where we see that weakness cast aside and he reclaims the anger and gravitas which make him such a compelling figure. Sadly after this scene, Terfel's Wotan has this air of "my mom just cut off my balls" about him that never goes away and makes him seem pathetic and powerless, which LePage's stage direction does nothing to ameliorate, example one being when Wotan steps in to break Siegmund's sword and the net impact was "really- is that all there is to that?" Ho-hum, check off another plot point. Some of this is also exacerbated by Terfel coming across as appearing much younger than Blythe and Voigt- another downside of casting in the current era where every nuance and detail is illustrated in HD. Compared to them, he seems to possess no maturity. On the upside, he sang beautifully, though after the marvel of the singing in Act 1, there was a noticeable difference in the diction of the native Germans versus the non evident in Act 2.


Act 2 also featured the second of LePage's pilfering of ideas from others- the eyeball, which 20 years from now might seem like a neat homage to the brilliance of Achim Freyer's LA Ring of last year, but in this context seems one-step shy of plagiarism. Furthermore, this reminder of the LA Ring brought into full relief what's missing in LePage's- a concept or vision. There simply isn't one at all. Where in the LA Ring everything onstage made the audience think about the connections and relevance to the characters and story, there isn't anything going here at all- it's just the Machine doing its tricks and the singers moving around it. Sure there are some glorious visuals- the hunting of Siegmund through the trees, and the forming of the Ash tree- both in Act 1, and the final visual of Brunnhilde on the rock was visually gorgeous and arresting, but beyond that? Nothing.


Even the "Ride of the Valkyries" felt flat and unexciting, even though this was the closest thing we'll likely ever see of them making their entrances riding their steeds through the air. This, of all moments, should have been the one where the Machine silenced its critics with the amazing theatricality LePage brought to La Damnation de Faust, which caused me to get all excited about him doing this Ring in the first place. But like everything else except the scene with Fricka, it remained unconvincing and devoid of drama.


There were two priceless moments during the broadcast- the first came during the first intermission when Joyce DiDonato was interviewing the Met's stage manager about the 45 minute delay in the start due to some mechanical malfunction with the machine- as she ended the interview, she said to him "Thanks for getting it up today!" to which the guy looked completely flummoxed and any response he may have had was drowned out by the uproarious laughter from the audience in the theater. The other was the sight of Jonas Kaufmann drooling a six-inch long bit of goo off his lower lip which will probably be edited out of the DVD release so it doesn't become a YouTube sensation following him through the cyber world for the rest of his life.


I'm pleased for Voigt's triumph in this, but dismayed that this Walkure not only made me lose interest in what's to come in the following installments, but surprisingly, it made me see Zambello's production in a kinder light- I don't like most of what she's doing with her concept- but at least she has one.

Prince returns to the Bay Area next week...

May 18th... Fresno (okay, not really the Bay Area, but not really anywhere else, either)
May 19th & 21st... San Jose

Tickets on sale tomorrow, 05/14 @ noon.

That Saturday performance would be the one I'd want to see, after all, that is the night of Judgement Day, and who better to spend it with?

The Oakland concerts were fantastic- if you missed them, here's your chance.

I need more cowbell!

It's hard to believe it's been ten years since the last performances of Mahler's 6th in Davies. I attended one of those concerts, but like many things that have happened in the past ten years, I don't remember it all that vividly anymore. The program notes and blurb on the Symphony's website play up the darker, more angst-ridden elements of this work, with program notes author Michael Steinberg using phrases like "final, brutal tragic gesture" and "a beatific moment; this is its inverse, music of enveloping terror."

I don't think so.

Of course it's not "Jupiter" or anything like that, but I didn't find it to be, at least in last night's superbly played performance, anywhere close to reaching into the dark corners of the composer's mind in an attempt to express things of which we shouldn't speak. Rather, with its brisk, almost rollicking tempos of the outer movements, I heard a triumph of spirit constantly rising from swirls of disorder that came into crystal clear focus while MTT brought out one gorgeously delineated variation after another.

There's also mention in the program notes that there used to be some controversy over which of the middle movements should be played first and in the past twenty-five years consensus has formed to make the scherzo the second movement. I can't see how it could possibly have made sense any other way.

The adante was gorgeous, the cowbells suddenly appearing out nowhere like pastoral ghosts. This was Isabella's favorite part and understandably so. The work of the horns during this movement, especially the trombones, featured some of the finest playing I've ever heard from them.

The finale, as it is in the 9th, is the true heart of the work. Utilizing strong percussive marches like in the first movement, but this time without the relentless militarism, it propels itself forward not to some grim, funereal conclusion, but to the ultimate question, "What comes next?" The answer to which is an abrupt silence- like we have arrived at the precipice and must either come to a full stop or leap. The choice is ours, but we must make it in our own silence, because really- who knows what follows?

Beforehand, I accompanied Isabella as she finally got her wish to go to Absinthe, which as usual was a fine choice. Afterward, we went to the Grove, which I was pleased to find is open until 11:00 and thus the perfect place for some tea and conversation post-performance.

The Symphony will perform the 6th again tonight and Saturday, and here's a link to the SF Symphony's brilliant recording of the piece.

LA Opera to commemorate Daniel Catán

LA Opera will remember the life and legacy of Daniel Catán at 6pm on Monday, May 23, at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The program is open to the public.

http://www.laopera.com/company/catan/

Because I too, am a saint...

I received an email today with a discount code for early access to the best seats to Ensemble Parallèle's production of Virgil Thomson and Gertrude Stein’s opera Four Saints in Three Acts, which will be part of of SFMOMA's exhibition The Steins Collect: Matisse, Picasso, and the Parisian Avant-Garde and YBCA's Bay Area Now 6. And because I too, am a saint, I wanted to share it with you, dear reader.

The email states, "This newly commissioned production revives the energy of the original with a collaboration among video and performance artist and Guggenheim Fellow Kalup Linzy, composer and musicologist Luciano Chessa, and the multimedia-based Bay Area chamber opera Ensemble Parallèle. Based on Thomson's final score, the reimagined work is an interlocking opera with new interpellations of music, video, and Stein text by Chessa and Linzy." Absolutely not to be missed- Ensemble Parallèle is one of the most exciting performing arts companys in the entire Bay Area.       

The email continued, "On behalf of our friends at SFMOMA, we are delighted to offer you exclusive access to the best seats for a strikingly new production of Virgil Thomson and Gertrude Stein’s Four Saints in Three Acts: An Opera Installation, featuring Ensemble Parallèle, composer Luciano Chessa, and video and performance artist Kalup Linzy."

Use promo code ENSEMBLE today through May 31 to purchase your preferred seats during this exclusive presale online at ybca.org, by phone at 415.978.ARTS (2787) or at the YBCA box office. Tickets go on sale to the general public on June 1. There are only four performances, August 18-21.

This is not-to be-missed. Ensemble Parallèle is one the most exciting and daring performing arts companies in the Bay Area. Don't say I'm never nice to you.

Assassins on the way

Ray of Light Theatre is bringing Stephen Sondheim’s Assassins to the San Francisco. The press release calls it "Bold, original, surreal, disturbing, thought-provoking and alarmingly funny, Assassins is perhaps the uttermost controversial musical ever written." It has a longstanding reputation as one of Sondheim's best and I've been waiting months for this production to hit the stage, since I've never seen it.

"Part vaudeville extravaganza, part exposé and wholly electrifying, this most American of musicals (winner of five Tony® Awards) lays bare the lives of nine individuals who assassinated or tried to assassinate the President of the United States, in a one-act historical "revusical" that explores the dark side of the American experience. From John Wilkes Booth to Lee Harvey Oswald, Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman bend the rules of time and space, taking us on a nightmarish rollercoaster ride in which assassins and would-be assassins from different historical periods meet, interact and, in an intense final scene, inspire each other to harrowing acts in the name of the American Dream."

Ray of Light is calling this "the must-see show of the year" and that bit of hyperbole wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be true. After all, this is the same company that put on last year's Jerry Springer, the Opera, which was one of my favorite theater experiences from the past couple of years.

It's a four week run at the Eureka Theater (215 Jackson St., SF),  June 2 - 25 Thursday- Saturday nights @ 8:00 and a Sunday matinee at 2:00.  For tickets ($20-$36) and information, visit www.roltheatre.com or check out TIX Bay Area (online or at Booth in Union Square) . I've also seen them available for some of the runs early performances on Goldstar. Student/group discounts available. Email tix@roltheatre.com for group discount tickets.

I say don't miss it, but if you don't want to pull the trigger, look for my post the first week of June.

A Serbian Film's confusing, botched release

A Serbian Film is finally being released commercially in the U.S. this Friday, May 13th (ho ho ho) in four cities: New York, L.A., Austin and Phoenix (???).  Philadelphia's Invincible Films, the U.S. distributor, had the cajones to go after the most controversial film in years but now it seems they don't know what to do with it. It's understandable in some ways- after seeing the film last year at AnotherHoleintheHead, I never thought it would ever get released in the U.S., period, so I was surprised when I heard this small company had picked it up.

The initial plan was to release an "R" rated version to chain theaters nationwide and an uncut version to independent theaters in larger metropolitan areas. At the same time the company was going to make the film available online and uncut, via FlixFling, an online movie delivery portal. Then two things happened. The programmer of the Sitges Film Festival was charged with exhibiting child pornography after screening the film and when Invincible submitted a cut version to the MPAA the film still received an NC-17 rating.

The Sitges fiasco seems to have freaked Invincible out, as suddenly they were no longer releasing an uncut version anywhere, any time. I've read the NC-17 version has anywhere from 2 to 4 minutes of the film removed (the U.K. release was the most-edited film ever in that country, losing more than four minutes). The new plans called for the theatrical release, the FlixFling download, and future DVD and Blue-Ray releases to all be edited in various amounts. Sadly, this will likely result in the continuing illegal download of the uncut screener version that's been seen world-wide over the past year.

Today Invincible stated that the version on FlixFling will be essentially uncut, with only 5 seconds edited out. If you've seen the film you know those 5 seconds are coming from one of two moments (possibly both) in the film. In my opinion, leaving those images on the cutting-room floor isn't necessarily a bad thing- whoever said you can't unsee some things, even if it's in a movie, was right when it comes to ASF. The company also stated the film will be released in more cities than the original four, though they didn't say where or when.

Essentially, Invincible botched it and are now attempting to recover, but has the damage been done? They chose to play with fire and got burned by what happened at Sitges. I have little empathy for them, though having actually seen an uncut version of ASF in a theater, I would wish that anyone inclined to see the film would be able to experience it in the same way I did. It is truly horrific, but it's also an incredibly well-made film on every level- that's part of what's so unnerving about it. But it's not going to happen.

I find watching movies on a computer to be a dissatisfying experience, even when viewed on a TV screen. The hard-core horror fans who haven't seen the film already will go for the FlixFling version, and they'll get most of it, but not the full effect of watching it on a large screen accompanied by one of the most effective soundtracks ever made filling the viewer with ever-increasing dread as it's pumped through a professional sound system.

Should you see A Serbian Film? It depends on who you are. I'm not saying you should, but I will also admit the film has incredible staying power. It's indelible, for better or worse. If you have children, skip it- period. But do yourself a favor- if you take the bait, don't read the reviews containing spoilers. Walk into it cold, if that's possible at this point- and be prepared to have your senses pummeled.
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The Cripple of Inishmaan

Ingrid Craigie, Dearbhla Molloy and Dermot Crowley in "Cripple of Inismaan." Photo: Lawrence K. Ho/Los Angeles Times

Ireland's Druid Theater Company is touring the States performing Martin McDonagh's The Cripple of Inishmaan and I caught it last Saturday night at the Zellerbach Playhouse, where it's playing through May 14th.

McDonagh's works (The Pillowman, In Bruges, The Lieutenant of Inishmore) are usually humorous affairs with a keen sense of subtle characterization and the blackest of hearts. Berkeley Rep's production of Lieutenant was one of the funniest things I've ever seen on stage, and also one of the bloodiest. The Cripple doesn't rely on mayhem for humor and is a more character-driven play, though there are plenty of laughs.

I can't say this with certainty, but it seems all of the actors but one are Irish, so I found myself having to pay close attention to the dialogue in order to catch all of it, and even then I missed some phrases. The actors are wonderful, especially Tadhg Murphy in title role, Cripple Billy, who lives with his two "aunts," Eileen (Dearbhla Molloy)  and Kate (Ingrid Craigie). Molloy has masterful timing and she's a droll delight from the very first moments. As the town gossip hell-bent on sending his 90-something year old mother (Nancy E. Carroll) to an alcoholic death, Dermot Crowley as JohhnyPateenMike almost steals every scene he's in except when he's matched against the gruff BobbyBobby (Liam Carney), where the two opposites play against one another to a draw. Also in the cast is Clare Dunn as the mean slattern Slippy Helen, Laurence Kinlan as Helen's not-as-dumb-as-he-seems brother Bartley, and Paul Vincent O'Connor (the suspected Yank, judging by his accent) as Doctor McSharry.

The story involves Billy's attempt to break free from a life of ridicule and scorn when an American film company announces its intention to come to the island to film the locals and possibly take one of them back to Hollywood. This plot is based on a real events from 1934 when filmmaker Robert Flaherty did just that. The small-town denizens, their desires and the town's claustrophobic, incestuous atmosphere transcend the Irish setting- this could easily be anywhere in the American Mid-west or South and there a universal quality to the characters that makes everyone is the play ultimately sympathetic- and that's one of the problems, at least as far as I see it. Without a villain to play against, the play ends up more sympathetic than it ought to, especially considering the darkness blanketing the backstories of how Billy became a cripple in the first place and BobbyBobby's past.

That's a small quibble, which doesn't detract from making the evening a rewarding night of theater, but it also isn't likely to burn into one's memory like The Lieutenant of Inishmore did mine. Having said that, my companion, a McDonagh fan and a serious theater-goer, didn't like Berkeley Rep's Lieutenant at all and thought The Cripple the much better theatrical experience. But she doesn't have a blog, so you get my opinion and not hers. Regardless, it's worth seeing.

There are four more performances and I would be remiss in my duty to not tell you there are some seriously discounted tickets available via the usual channels (you do "Like" Cal Performances on Facebook, don't you? Of course you do).

It's Only Rock and Roll (But I Like It)

Last week saw the release of The Rolling Stones Singles Box Set (1971-2006), a mammoth collection of 173 cuts featuring every single released from 1971's Sticky Fingers through 2006's underappreciated A Bigger Bang. While that includes a lot of filler, or tracks only the most die-hard collector would be interested in (8 versions of "Out of Control?  5 mixes of "Anybody Seen My Baby"?), there's gold in the set that makes it fun to take a spin through, since it also includes the B-sides like 1963's cover of Chuck Berry's "Come On." It also features a ton of rarities that haven't shown up previously on any of the what must now number in the hundreds of previous compilations: "Cook Cook Blues," the 12" mixes of "Miss You," and "Mixed Emotions," a cover of Muddy Waters' "I Just Want to Make Love to You," and live versions of "All Down the Line," "Like A Rolling Stone," and "Ruby Tuesday" along with everything else you would expect from the release's title. 80 of the tracks aren't on any "official release"- a dubious claim since there are so many alternate mixes of songs from the late 80's through the 00's, but still- there's a ton of stuff I've never heard before or haven't heard in decades that are going to take up a few afternoons of listening.

At almost $120 retail on Amazon, I can't see putting any more money in the Mick and Keef's pockets, but the entire set is available on MOG. Why am I pimping MOG so much lately? Because I think it's a fantastic deal for music lovers. For either $4.99 or $9.99 a month (depending on how many devices to which you want it delivered) you can access more than 10 million tracks and complete albums with no commercials and no limits.. That's just an incredible deal in my opinion and it's not pirating any music because it's the labels who are providing it to MOG.

I signed up as an affiliate to promote it, hence the ads now on this site, for which I get some revenue for anyone who signs up for it through A Beast. So do yourself and Marcher a favor and sign up for your free two-week trial via that advert link box beneath "A Beast Recommends MOG." Just make sure you have a few hours to kill, because there's more music on it than you can ever possibly listen to- old and brand new. One more thing- MOG's local, based in Berkeley, and they're really responsive to the customer. I sent them an email last week asking why there was no Ozzy-era Black Sabbath on the site and someone wrote back to me within an hour with an answer. It's pretty weak as far as the classical selection is concerned, but for all other genres of music it runs pretty deep. If you can hear it on Spotify, Pandora, My Space, All Music, Rhapsody, Last, etc. (I've tried them all and found something lacking with each one), you can let it rock on MOG without commercials and without having to constantly keep clicking your mouse. Who says you can't always get what you want?

The Little Chinese Man has a name...

...and the name is "Tom."

Seriously.

I introduced myself to him at the corner of Mason and Post this afternoon. There were no photographs involved. What am I going to do now?

It's Mahler time!

The San Francisco Symphony began a mini Mahler festival tonight with a performance of the composer's 9th Symphony. It's been six and half years since MTT and the orchestra last performed this and in that time I've absorbed a lot more Wagner than I had in 2004. I heard him everywhere in the first and fourth movements to an extent I found distracting as it gradually became a game of "now is that quoting Tristan or ?" or "darn, was that horn the to summon to Hundig's henchmen or the Gibiching chrous? Why can't I remember this?" "Ah, definitely the same chords as Liebestod."

The first movement, labeled "Adante comodo" is an epic of variations, thrilling in their scope and seemingly endless in their variety. Michael Tilson Thomas led the immense orchestra with finesse though I thought I heard a flubbed horn and percussion moment. The incredibly long movement lasted for more than half an hour (the entire work runs slight more than 90 minutes, performed without intermission).

The second movement "In the tempo of a comfortable landler" (doesn't that sound like a 60's era car commercial jingle?) is comprised of a landler- a dance to be performed "leisurely, clumsy, heavy-footed, coarse (Mahler's adjectives according to the program notes) bookending a waltz. The orchestra kept the rhythms lively throughout, though I never heard coarseness nor clumsiness. I have to admit it took me a long time to come to understand Mahler and this Rondo burleske is an example of why. To my ears it doesn't fit in with the rest of the work. It's just there, and I always ask myself why whenever I hear it. Having said that, I'm not the typical Mahler fan- it was only after hearing the 7th Symphony, the one which supposedly makes little sense, that I understood what he was doing.

The fourth movement, despite what the program notes claim, is to my ears the heart of the work. An incredibly long adagio that disintegrates in stages from a monument of expansive beauty into dust. Like the first movement, it contains an almost unbelievable amount of variations within it, exquisitely played by the string and wind sections.

It's an exhausting yet cathartic ending, made all the more so because for some reason Davies was sweltering tonight. The Symphony repeats the program Friday night before moving on to the Resurrection (2nd) symphony Saturday and Sunday. Next week there will be three performances of the 6th Symphony. There is probably no other orchestra as committed to this composer as the SFS is right now so get a ticket if there are any left- tonight's performance was packed.

Malia- always nice to see you. Soon!

Some more of this, no more of that...

Photo by Mark Brown

Back in March I wrote this post in a feeble attempt to explain the scatter shot nature of what's been going on here. Without going into the prurient details, in the two months since much has changed but A Beast is still a poorly-groomed, unruly animal. The "endgame" I wrote of at the time was in reality a game of a different sort in which I was completely played. I'm only now willing to cash in my chips and walk away from table after taking quite a beating.

In a couple of weeks I'm going disappear down south to read some books on a beach for a few days and enjoy a change of scenery.

Prior to that there are a slew of interesting performances coming up- the Mahler concerts at SFS, Druid's The Cripple of Inishmaan, Volti, some great shows from SFJazz and the Met's Walkure .

I'll return in time to catch SFO's Siegfried and Rickie Lee Jones at Davies. Then it will be June and time to take in the best month of the Symphony's schedule, a Ring Cycle right here in town, and more. The Coming Up page has links and information for all of these performances.

As of today, there isn't a link to the other performance, the tale of the game, but the thought has crossed my mind. To that end (and others), I've invited a new author to join me here who's better suited to such material, though that doesn't imply he's any less an unreliable narrator than yours truly. Meet Lambert Strether.

“Hot Sauce Committee Part Two"

The new Beastie Boys album Hot Sauce Committee Part Two, their first in years, came out today. Jon Pareles had some nice things to say about it in the NYTs this morning, essentially writing that one of hip-hop's greatest acts have gone back to their License to Ill era roots, though this time around with live instruments instead of samples which "make the songs sound droll rather than defensive."

I'm in the mood for some droll, Beastie-sounding, nostalgia-inducing music today। The cruelest month is over, long-overdue changes are afoot and the sky is blue. So I'll be checking it out on MOG. Don't forget- you can click on a link to the right and get the best music value there is- seriously.

UPDATE: this album kicks ass.

"one endless, giant, offensive yelp review"

The quote below was taken from a blog called Tiny Jean Jackets Everywhere Twitching the "really good example" being A Beast in a Jungle:

"... my recent practice of coffee shop studying alongside start-up workers have left me ultra-aware of how this city is increasingly (okay, its been going on for a minute) designed for this set of people that move through the world as though they were constructing one endless, giant, offensive yelp review. (munira sent me a really good example of this today re: the terrifying and amazing Lemi Ponifasio dance performance we saw on thursday). there’s a lot to love, but i can’t help but sometimes look around, survey the damage, and think, “shit is hitting the fan, and i’m going to be stuck alongside people whose worldly relations function like a yelp review? am i sure this is this a good idea?”

"offensive"?

Teatro ZinZanni's Caliente!

Photo by Mark Kitaoka

Last week I caught Caliente!, the current show happening at Teatro Zinzanni's beautiful spiegeltent on the Embarcadero which runs through June 19th. I half-suspected this show would be similar their last, License to Kiss, which I thoroughly enjoyed, so imagine my surprise to find out the new show is a completely different beast altogether, though equally full of pleasures.

Caliente!'s story has some nice ironies in that the story is about everyone in a restaurant kitchen being fired when a new corporate boss takes over the business. The parallels to ZinZanni's looming eviction from their current location due to the deal which brings the America's Cup race to San Francisco are present throughout. The kitchen staff decides to put on one last show in an act of defiance and solidarity.

In a nod to reality, the kitchen staff is largely Hispanic (hence the show's title) and the evening is guided by two great leads- Robert Lopez (aka El Vez) and Christine Deaver who aspire to be the Latino Donnie and Marie. There's some funny shtick to all of this, but what really impresses about Caliente! is the extraordinary talents of this particular cast who have physical skills that are simply stunning.

Caliente! truly becomes hot when the vivacious Ukrainian Vita Radionova does an act with Hula Hoops that really has to be seen to believed. I'm not going to say more than that because I despise spoilers, but I was floored by this. It turned out that the show was just getting warmed up (it's a three-hour show). Radionova later returned with Mickael Bajazet to perform one of the most intense, gymnastic-laden salsa dances I've ever seen that burned the floor.

Bajazet is a member of Les Petits Freres, an acrobatic troupe formed in 1993 whose three members are also in the show. Gregory Marquet and Domitil Aillot are the other two components of this jaw-droppingly talented ensemble, who do things I wouldn't have thought possible. What can Marquet can do on a tent pole will simply astound you. On top of their physical skills, these three are adept slapstick comedians. They could easily lead a show of their own- the fact that they're just one component of Caliente! makes it that much stronger.

Ling Rui plays the heartless corporate lackey as all ice and no heart, until near the end of the show he displays a talent that is as impressive as the Freres. A circus performer since the age of 10, with a CV including a stint with Cirque du Soleil, his aerial acrobatics are amazing.

Also on hand is malambo performer Ann Bernard- another Cirque du Soleil alumnae. This was my first exposure to the Argentine art from and I was greatly impressed with Bernard's talents.

Rounding out the cast is Rebekah Del Rio, whose acapella performance of "Llorando" (a Spanish version of Roy Orbison's "Crying") was simply stunning. Del Rio has a voice like Linda Ronstadt's and anyone whose appreciated Ronstadt's Spanish-language recordings will have a new singer to discover. If her name sounds familiar, she was in David Lynch's Mulholland Drive.

Through it all there's Deaver and Lopez guiding it all with skill and superb comedic timing, roping in unsuspecting audience-members (who on this night turned out to be incredibly talented to the extent Penelope thought one must have been a plant, but he wasn't) and mange to make the free-for-all seem spontaneous yet clearly focused.

If you're a local and think ZinZanni is largely for tourists ala Beach Blanket Babylon, think again. This is an incredibly talented company and the current version of the show kicks culo. Discounted tickets can often be found on Goldstar. It's a thoroughly great evening- check it out.

Here's some additional information (repeated from the License to Kiss post, but I think it's worth repeating): Over the past decade, TZ has welcomed more than 1,000,000 guests into the tent. In addition to the regular performances, they have helped organizations raise more than $2,000,000 for charitable causes by providing the tent and services at cost. Organizations who have hosted fundraisers include Sean Penn’s Haitian Relief Organization, Huckleberry House, Bread and Roses, Suicide Prevention League, Chez Panisse Foundation, San Francisco Symphony, and more. This is over and above the thousands of tickets they have donated to countless silent and live auctions, etc. It's not only a great theater company, but like many of the best arts organizations in San Francisco, this is a non-profit arts institution.


In addition to a series of incoming international performers, there is a core group of “performers” who serve as managers, maitre ‘d’s, box office, bartenders, wait staff, etc. Many of these employees joined the Company for what they thought was a temporary job in March of 2000. Ten years later they are a real family – so losing Teatro would be so much more than just losing the show – it would break up this incredible family of employees committed to creating the zany world of ZinZanni through service, or cooking, etc. Anyway, it would be a shame to lose these arts and service jobs in service of….creating jobs and revenue for America’s Cup and billionaire Larry Ellison. The news on the move is this: the city is working closely with Teatro ZinZanni to explore all options and have also been in touch with America’s Cup Organizers to explore any natural tie-ins. The City seems committed to keeping ZinZanni in San Francisco.