A pastoral performed during an iterated prisoner's dilemma

I left my apartment at 7:30, thinking it really was over this time. After almost two years what more could she and I put each other through? It had passed the point of reason, of anything resembling sanity long ago, and now felt like the slow unraveling of the remaining threads which had held both of us trapped in a vicious web of our own design.

Maybe I was even resigned to it, probably for the first time. Not happy about it, not even angry really, but willing to accept that this was how it was going to end and that it had all been essentially for nothing- an iterated prisoner's dilemma with three other casualties left behind in a nasty, zero-sum, side game. Everyone's a loser.

After crossing Hyde I was a third of the way down the block when I heard the footsteps coming up quickly behind me. A woman's footsteps, taken at a run- I could tell by the sound of how the heels hit the sidewalk. I pulled my ear buds out, preparing to see something ugly coming up behind- some cracked-out whore running from someone she just ripped off or something like that. I turned to face it and the Femme Fatale came to a stop up behind me.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To the Symphony," I replied.

We stood there, facing each other, like we were in one of those stand-offs from John Woo's Hong Kong-era films. Neither of us spoke. Words weren't necessary at the moment- her presence there on the sidewalk said it all.

We began walking toward Davies, down Polk Street, saying little along the way. She was walking much faster than I wanted to, seemingly in a hurry. When we arrived she asked whom I was meeting.

"No one. I knew you'd be busy. Want to join me? I have an extra ticket."

She declined, though I could see her weighing it all before doing so. I watched her walk through the door onto Grove Street and then went to my seat.

The small irony of the concert beginning with Mahler's Blumine wasn't lost on me, and checking the program I was surprised to learn it hasn't been performed by the orchestra since 1970. Somewhere I've heard this performed before, and now I couldn't recall where or when. The ten-minute piece, originally the second movement of his first symphony, is, to use Mahler's own description, "a sentimentally indulgent movement, a love episode." He pulled it from the work after its disastrous premiere. In the middle of it is a solo by the trumpet, effectively performed by Mark Inouye, as was Nadya Tichman's violin solo. The orchestra sounded lush and it was a gorgeous performance, but it's almost a given at this point that with MTT on the podium, any work by Mahler performed by this band is going to sound wonderful.

It was the rare presence of Schnittke's fourth violin concerto on the program that really drew me to this performance. Composed in 1984 and only performed in the house once before (2003), the soloist for these performances is SFS's own concertmaster Alexander Barantschik. Before they began, MTT commented that all the pieces on the program spoke to a sense of nostalgia. That tone is immediately set by the concerto's beginning- tolling bells, creating a sense of something past, an idyll which is interrupted by the harsh reality of the present when the violin enters with shocking discord. A kind of struggle between the two continues into the second movement, where the violinist engages the extensive percussion section in what looked like an agonizing and thankless duel, which the violin loses, finally sawing away silently against a battery of sound.

The third movement Adagio is very cinematic. The presence of an extra violinist performing above the terrace, a prominent harpsichord, and lovely moments from the cellos, all merged into a wonderful whole as it became a dance in the end. The fourth movement brings back the bells, different this time, suggesting a darker, different reality- a wake-up call to the futility of it all as it ends with a visual cadenza, in which Barantschik, after another furious round of soloing, goes down in a conflagration, his instrument is silenced despite his attempts to keep playing, to keep pushing back against what will be an inevitable surrender to larger forces.

Alfred Schnittke

Perhaps it was foolish of me to think of the presence of Beethoven's Sixth on the program as something to perhaps enjoy, but not necessarily get excited about. But my experiences with Beethoven in MTT's hands have run the gamut from extreme disappointment to pleased astonishment and after all these years I never quite know what to expect from him. This performance was really all one could want from this particular piece. The first movement had almost every string player swaying along to its buoyant melody, performed with a lightness that hearkened back to what MTT had previously said regarding nostalgia. It was incredibly expressive, reminding me of why I love Beethoven the way I do.

The second movement's scene by the brook had a languid capaciousness about it and at times it seemed it was going to come undone, but MTT was just pushing it toward the boundaries without ever letting loose of it, and Tim Day had an excellent solo. The last movement's Shepherd's Song was performed with an almost Furtwangler-like sense of pacing and deliberation, with the strings again swaying toward the end. In all, it was pretty damn good Beethoven, exquisite at times, and really, what more could you want than that? Well, maybe for the guy sitting in Row O, seat 9 to shut the fuck up for once, but I still managed to leave the hall feeling rejuvenated, calm, and looking forward to hearing the 9th which will be performed at the end of the season.

The following night I was at home, watching a movie when the phone rang. It was the Femme Fatale, who had read what I'd written about 1978 and wanted to tell me she didn't want to be just another part of "your story." What I didn't tell her then, but she'll know now when she reads this, is that I'd like to bring this story to an end. It's gone on for way too long and soon, very soon, it will indeed be finished.

Il Postino on Great Performances this weekend

This Friday, November 25th, Great Performances on PBS will be airing Daniel Catan's Il Postino. I was initially skeptical this opera was going to be any good, but once one favorable review after another started flowing in I went down to catch the last performance in L.A. and loved it. Placido Domingo stars as the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Charles Castronovo was magnificent in the title role. Rounding out the perfect cast are Christina Gallardo-Domás as Neruda's wife and Amanda Squitieri as Beatrice, the postman's love interest. The final duet between Domingo and Castronovo was one of the most memorable moments I've seen on an opera stage. You don't want to miss this. Check your local PBS stations for times and be sure to set your DVR to record it.

Maestro's Enchantment

Joan Baez and Voronin

My mother and I arrived early to see Teatro ZinZanni's latest incarnation, "Maestro's Enchantment." Too early actually, for the Spiegeltent hadn't even opened. Instead of waiting, we decided to walk down the Embarcadero for a drink at the place formerly known as Houston's, the current name of which I can never recall. Hillstone, perhaps. I used to frequent no-longer-Houston's with friends, but during the past couple of years it fell off my radar as that circle splintered and later it seemed that whenever I went there with just one person the night always ended poorly. Perhaps it sets off some strange metaphysical reaction in me when I walk through the door leading to ineluctable drama triggered by the smell of burning wood and roasting pork chops, which then combusts once the third Manhattan is served. The drinks there have always been excellent and still are.

The Reverend Brown once had an unforgettable birthday dinner there. I brought the woman from New Orleans with me and was surprised to see the Southern Belle arrive 10 minutes later for I'd only brought a date because I was under the impression the Belle wasn't coming (though it had been at least a year since we parted ways). Needless to say, the introductions were uncomfortable and we ended up sitting at opposite ends of the huge horseshoe-shaped booth, with the Belle seated next to my mother (naturally) on one side, the woman and I on the other.

Seated next to us were the General and his own Femme Fatale- whom I'll call Natasha- with the Elder Swede next to them. The Swede was in rare form that night, interrogating the General and Natasha about their most intimate relations, or lack of, fueling the already-present tension to the point where it finally erupted all over the table, which only encouraged him to further extremes. The Swede loves to provoke and beyond the pale is his natural starting point. I thought it was going to come to blows, but it didn't because while the General was obviously angry, he managed to maintain his temper if not quite his decorum. The two of them, both close friends, have never been at the same table since. Natasha eventually disappeared from the scene, as did the woman from New Orleans. As a group we have never returned and now that I think about it I can trace the beginning of the place as a site for ineluctable drama to that very night. GG and Penelope- I'm sorry, I hadn't realized the place is haunted.

And so it was on this night as well, as my mother and I sat at the bar having a conversation which led to an underlying tension lasting between us through the evening, and it was a long one. We made our way back to the Spiegeltent where we met some interesting people at the bar, chatted for a bit, then took our seats at a table where some lovely people whose interests and vocations are musical were already seated. The lights went down and the three hour show began.

I took my mother to see this because I knew she'd enjoy seeing Joan Baez perform. As Baez strode to the center of the tent, with a lone spotlight upon her, and began to sing, I watched her in profile, marvelling at her presence and grace. Her voice was slightly rough, but it added an air of mystery to her role as Madame ZinZanni, the lover of the Maestro (master magician Voronin) of the title.

Unlike the last two TZ productions I've seen (Caliente and A License to Kiss), both exuberant romps, Maestro's Enchantment has a dark tone around the edges, despite the presence of the circus acts, comedy routines (led by former Ringling Brothers clown Peter Pitofsky), an extremely talented contortionist (Svetlana), and a tremendous opera singer (Kristin Clayton). The cast also includes the gold medalist acrobat Bianca Sapetto, comedic trapeze artists The Collins Brothers, the juggler Sergiy Krutikov and magician Brandon Rabe. As usual with Teatro ZinZanni, the talent in the tent is formidable and of the highest caliber- it's amazing what these performers can do. I suspect the darker tone may have something to do with the Russian influence of the cast, but perhaps that's because I've read too much Russian literature (if such a thing is actually possible) and I listen to too much Rachmaninoff and Shostakovitch.

Despite the presence of Baez, the show is clearly Voronin's. A veteran of more than 20 ZinZanni productions, he owns the stage with his incredible magic tricks and mysterious persona. He and Baez have an alluring chemistry between them which hints at a brooding, dark romance. It will be interesting to see how that chemistry between the characters changes once Melanie Stace takes over the role in August. The show continues through Oct. 9th. For tickets call ZinZanni at 415 328 2668 or go their website.

As for my mother and me, when we exited the tent and searched for a cab, a sense of exhaustion settled in between us. She has her concerns, I have mine, and some of them overlap with neither of us quite sure what looms ahead. But she's a good date.

All photos by Mark Kitaoka

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.

Prince in Oakland

Prince came to Oakland for three nights and though I didn't plan on it, I ended up going to every show. When he announced this tour Prince said every night was going to be different. That proved truer than I would have ever expected. While it's true no two concerts or performances are ever alike, the Purple One gave this maxim an unprecedented spin.

The first night Prince was in kind of a Teddy Pendergrass mode. It was essentially an updated version of TP's "For Ladies Only" concerts back in the 70's. He had his guitar over his shoulder for half the concert at best and seemed more interested in preening and teasing than playing it. The first show had some great parts- Santana coming out to burn it up on "Soul Sacrifice," gorgeous renditions of  "Purple Rain" and "Adore," and finally some scorching Hendrix-flavored guitar during "Dreamer," but it wasn't enough to make me forget how awesome he was back in 2004 when the Musicology tour hit town and blew everyone away. This show was what I expected back then, and since he raised the bar so high the last time, while the first night was good, very good at times, I wouldn't say it was great. I have more about the first night here.

As I approached the arena on the second night (Wednesday) a woman was looking for a ticket and I almost sold mine to her. I wasn't very hopeful the second show was going to be much better than the first, and I almost didn't go at all. But I decided I really didn't want to waste the money and I knew the setlist would be different so my curiosity won the day. I skipped the opening set by Graham Central Station this time around completely, arriving at the arena at about 8:45 and I settled into my seat just as they were ending their set.

At 9:15, just like on Monday, the lights went down and I soon sensed this was going to be a far different show. Opening with "Let's Go Crazy," Prince started off with four songs from 1999. There was a keyboard player way off to the side of the arena I hadn't even noticed on Monday and when Prince called him "Mr. Hayes" I thought "wow- Isaac Hayes is playing with him tonight!" I was really looking forward to hearing Prince do the "Theme from 'Shaft'" for the next hour or so until I remembered Hayes died a couple of years back. I have no idea who this Mr. Hayes was, but he did resemble the dead one (at least while he was alive) and musically he injected some serious funk that was missing from Monday's set, especially on "Kiss" which received a harder treatment, including the extended part from the 12" single version, and "Controversy"- done in a raunchy, crunchy "Batdance" way.

The 1999 songs had already put this show on a far different footing than the first night, but as Prince began chanting "People call me rude- I wish we all were nude..." (absent in the version from Monday's show) it hit overdrive and never turned back. Prince picked up a bass for the next song and soon was leading the New Power Generation through cover versions of Chic's "Le Freak," the Ohio Players "Love Roller Coaster," and Wild Cherry's "Play that Funky Music." And the funk just went on and on.

More than an hour later, he closed the show with The Time's "Jungle Love." I walked out of the arena feeling like I had just seen a show by a completely different performer than the one I'd seen Monday. I called Fetkuk to see if he wanted to play hookey from work so we could catch the next night's show. I was kind of bummed he'd seen Monday night's version instead of this one and now I was hyped to see what came next. He thought about it and then declined, but when I got home at around 1 in the morning I went online bought two tickets anyway, hoping the Femme Fatale would go with me.

The Femme was sick and irritable so I found myself looking for someone else to go with. It turned out to be harder than I thought it would be. After asking four people, the Minister's Rebellious Daughter texted me back after initially declining and wrote "What am I thinking? YES- if you still have the ticket."

I tried to dissuade her from seeing Graham Central Station but she was having none of it, so we met at the arena at 7:30. There were noticeably fewer people coming to this show and though I bought tickets for the same price for Monday's show, these were in the lower level and much better seats. In fact they were great seats. The first two shows were filled to the rafters all the way around the arena and completely sold-out. On Thursday night sides of the upper section were curtained-off and it was obvious two days notice wasn't enough to fill the hall, despite the online buzz about the previous night's set.

If you've read this blog for awhile, you may recall the Rebellious one and I go back a bit and we have some traditions, mostly centered around drinking copious amounts of liquor and going to the theater- usually in that order, though not always. As we stood in line for our second round of doubles (it was way past the starting time for Graham Central Station based on the previous nights) we ran into Anne Enigma- the only person I have a longer history with in the Bay Area than the Rebellious one. Introducing them to one another, I was suddenly acutely aware of how long I've lived here- the Rebellious one was a teenager when we met and Anne was a bit of a wild woman when she hit on me at the Holy Cow almost 20 years ago. Now Anne's married and has two kids and the Rebellious one runs her own successful business.

We were still in line for more booze when the lights went down at 8:30 and I thought this was going to be a long night if it was just getting started. But it wasn't Graham Central Station onstage, it was Prince, alone with his guitar, playing "The Love We Make." It was the first sign this show was going to be something altogether different than the other two.

For the next three hours Prince hardly left that guitar alone. The setlist had more than a dozen songs he didn't play during the previous shows, including "Nothing Compares 2 U" and "She's Always in My Hair."

"Guitar" however, was the key moment for this show, setting up everything that was to follow. Prince's skills on the guitar are often overlooked or under emphasized. That's to be expected I suppose for someone with so many other obvious talents and he himself downplayed them during the first show by barely playing the thing. But on Thursday he showed those skills off with a formidable display, turning "AnotherLoverHoleInYourHead" into a metallic jam, riffing on "Rock Lobster," rocking hard on "Alphabet Street" and issuing a blistering solo before Sheila E. took the stage to play the fiercest version of "The Glamorous Life" of the entire three night stand. He simply burned on guitar for almost every song.

When he eventually turned to the piano after a couple of hours, playing sampled bits "Darling Nikki" and "Single Ladies" among half a dozen others, the audience was going nuts. The Rebellious one proclaimed the Purple one to be "sexual chocolate and tiny porn" and said the entire audience wanted to have him (she put this slightly differently). For the duration of the show most of the audience remained on their feet. When it was actually all over- the encores featured at least eight songs- I was amazed.

Three nights, three completely different sets with very little overlap, and most impressively, three completely different performances that felt unlike the others. Who else can do that? I don't know, but the last night was one of the best performances I've ever seen. Considering all three together, I suspect it will be a long time before anyone impresses me as much as Prince did last week.

The setlists:
Monday, February 21
Wednesday, February 23
Thursday, February 24

West Side Story redux, dinner at Credo

Twas a dark and stormy night. Really! The weather people really screwed up the forecast by missing this one. I'm home on a Saturday night, in for the weekend, really, nursing a cold to prevent it from becoming something more, watching lightning light up the San Francisco sky during a downtown downpour.

This past Thursday was my last night out for awhile, and Penelope, The Minister's Rebellious Daughter and I went to see West Side Story. Beforehand, Penelope and I had dinner at Credo and this is worth bringing up. I made a 6:00 reservation on Open Table, for which we arrived promptly. Neither of us had been before and the place was packed six deep at the bar with those fi-di/Marina types who think the louder you say something the more interesting it must be. The volume was almost too much to bear for a meal and once we were seated it only increased one decibel at a time. We were going to leave, but then a server mentioned we could sit "downstairs" if we preferred, to which we replied "Please!"

"Downstairs" is a new section for the restaurant, only opened two weeks ago, and is usually where they would have put the loud, obnoxious, private party who were destroying the upstairs this evening (who refused the space and insisted on remaining upstairs).

The good folks at Credo deserve an "A" for effort on accommodating us and others on this night. The food was slow coming (because of the crush upstairs) but it was delicious, the drinks well-made and the staff obviously wanted to make sure everyone was satisfied and made a real effort at it. Bravo.

We just made it in time to the Orpheum to meet TMRD, who for once beat me to the established place. We all agreed Kyle Harris as Tony was poorly cast, with Penelope cruelly comparing him to Howdy Doody. I was less impressed with Ali Ewoldt's Maria  the second time around, who seemed very shrill in the 2nd half, and interestingly the choreography, instead of getting tighter as the run has gone on, has noticeably broken down amongst the female dancers especially, but over-all lacked the dynamic punch of opening night. Joseph Simoene's Riff, German Santiago's Bernardo, Michelle Aravena's Anita remain impressive. The set is even more impressive seen from the orchestra instead of the balcony. The run has a week left and it's worth seeing.

Madame Merle Pirouettes

At Climax head west
Weave your way, the river waits
For your performance

In the House for Another Fanciulla

CC and I caught tonight's performance of San Francisco Opera's La Fanciulla Del West from our usual orchestra seats and there were some noticeable differences in what I heard from last week's performance, attended in the balcony. At the first intermission we ran into Jim, whose encyclopedic knowledge and experience are always a delight, and he was sitting quite closer to the stage than we were. Jim thought Deborah Voigt was not as familiar with the role as she should be, since she was constantly looking at Luisotti for either help or cues. As the night progressed, having heard it before, I began to doubt this was the case. I suspect Voigt was looking Luisotti thinking "turn it down, how am I supposed to sing over this?" because I have never heard the SFO orchestra play louder than they had this evening.

My impression, largely gleaned from the previous performance and a knowledge of Voigt's professionalism, comes from hearing the orchestra repeatedly go way over all the singers in tonight's performance. Maybe the difference is in the acoustics between the balcony and the orchestra, but I've sat in this hall enough to doubt it. Tonight it was loud- too loud for Puccini. It was Wozzeck-level loud, which one doesn't need for this kind of music, but is great for Berg. Even Timothy Mix was buried in Luisotti's wall of sound.

Other observations- maybe someone read my previous post, because Licitra and Voigt seemed to make more of an effort at the "chemistry" so lacking in last week's performance; Licitra has a great voice, but a minimal amount of stage presence; Sherriff Jack is probably the most poorly-developed character in an opera ever- not bad enough to hate like Scarpia, not sympathetic enough to even consider he may have a shred of decency ala Pinkerton- fail.

The music of the second act sounds so far ahead of its time. This is the foundation for soundtracks to almost every Western made in Hollywood for the next fifty years and it's pretty mind-blowing to hear how much this score influenced Copland and the multitudes who scored AFI's list of the best Westerns ever made. The seeds for all of those soundtracks are found here, written in 1910 by an Italian. Amazing when you really think about it, which I obviously am. The core of what came to be known as the soundtrack of the American West, so deeply rooted in the consciousness of North Americans- courtesy of Puccini?

The horse didn't work for me the second time around, either.

And to the usher who told CC she had to put her gummy bears away as we were walking back to our seats- was that really necessary?