The Drowsy Chaperone: A Midsummer Dream of Sparkling Entertainment

What originated as a bachelor party improv, developed into a multiple-award recipient Broadway show, brimming with silly tunes, head-spinning dance moves, and genuine laughter. Add to it posh flipper-era costumes (Gregg Barnes), elaborate sets (David Gallo), sparkling champagne glasses (never mind the Prohibition), full moon, and a lonely dreamer who lives by the glamour of the past, and you got it—the best San Francisco summer musical, courtesy of SHN Theatres (directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw, conducted by Robert Billig). A play within a play, The Drowsy Chaperone wittily reverses two disparate realities—the one of Man in Chair (Jonathan Crombie) who listens to a 1928 recording of a title show in his dingy apartment, and the one of the show itself, telling a story of a starlet leaving stage for marriage. Interestingly, the names of the starlet, Janet Van De Graaff (Andrea Chamberlain) and her bridegroom, Robert Martin (Mark Ledbetter) are real names of the original couple whose upcoming wedding back in 1999 became an inspiration for the improv production. Thus, Martin co-authored a book with Don McKellar, and his friends Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison wrote music and lyrics for the play, adding yet another layer of reality—our time, theatre crowd, uncontainable creativity on stage and off. The SHN show, timed and rhymed to perfection, besides those already mentioned features Nancy Opel in the role of the title character (“I drink for pleasure, not out of necessity”), Fran Jaye—a gospel, jazz and pop performer, whose amazing voice dominates the stage in the role of Trix, and Georgia Engel in the role of Mrs. Tottendale, which she originated on Broadway, to name just a few from the multi-talented cast. The show runs through August 17 at the Orpheum Theatre, 1192 Market at 8th Street, SF. To learn more, visit http://www.shnsf.com/. The show will continue its North American tour to San Diego, Sacramento, Denver, and Seattle.

Far Away From It’s Namesake, Mandalay SF Is A Culinary Destination

For my friends who reside in Richmond district, San Francisco, I have three words to say, no, make it four: You Are Spoiled. Rotten. Spoiled by an amazing array of little unpretentious joints serving ethnic cuisine from remote corners of the world. Those delicious, whimsical, filling, and enticingly cheap dishes, delivered to the table in unusually looking stoneware of their country of origin, often represent a culture we know very little about, as if a door to a magical kingdom of a far away land opens just a tad to let in an unusual aroma, an unknown flavor… Mandalay Restaurant, named after the city of Mandalay—a spiritual and cultural heart of Myanmar, serves Burmese and Mandarin cuisine in a traditionally festive setting, with original art on the walls, a small Buddha shrine, and Christmas ornaments, hanging from the ceiling for added shine. What really shines, though, is the food—inevitably fresh, made with love (oh, yes, you surely can feel it), served in gracious portions, adorned with those tiny fried fatty bits of onion or garlic—but come on, in this amounts nothing can be really harmful to your non-fattiness. Also, it’s GOOD. Mixed with one of the multi-ingredient salads, with Ong No Kaw Soi (my favorite coconut chicken noodle soup) or with Mandalay special noodles, those browned bits add a whole different dimension to the otherwise almost familiar from Chinese, Indian, or Thai cuisine dish. It is very hard to choose from the menu in one setting, so return visits to Mandalay are in your best interests. While I’m sure all deserts deserve attention here, I’m hooked on mango pudding—ochre smooth, not too sweet, served in a little ceramic leaf shaped bowl on a pond of black saucer. Yum and visually yum, too. Mandalay restaurant is located at: 4348 California Street, SF. 415-386-3895. Visit www.mandalaysf.com

Ask Emma

Q: I brought my boyfriend home to meet my family, but it turned out badly. Nobody liked him, especially my dad. He made rude comments about my boyfriend’s piercings, and about his dyed hair, and what not. He is five years younger than myself, and is still in school, and that, too, became areason for stupid questions from my dad and my sis. I am a mature working adult, and I don’t need to expose myself to this. All I wanted was to be nice and introduce a person who I love to my parents. They stopped short of laughing in my face. I haven’t spoken with them since. I think, if they don’t apologize, I won’t call. How could they do that?
A: The way you describe your boyfriend, I would be hard pressed to blame your family for not accepting him right away. However, civilized people are obliged to behave properly, and never make rude comments about their guests. While you are justly appalled at your family’s reaction, you never mentioned how your young boyfriend took the situation. Was he even aware of what was going on? Maybe, by dyeing his hair and piercing his skin in visible places he is striving for attention and pleased with getting it? Or maybe, only you perceived your father’s rudeness? Before you break your family ties, ask your boyfriend what he thinks about your visit, and if he does not find it objectionable, forgive your family and forget it. By the way, are you sure he is the one for you? I detect some insecurity in what you are telling me about the person you love. You could be ripe for a boyfriend who, similar to yourself, can also be characterized as a mature working adult.

Artwork of Nining Muir

Nining Muir works in a variety of media, and her subject matter is too diverse to somehow round it up. From abstract patterns to monochrome nudes, from California poppies to landscapes of the inner mind, and from bold colorful surreal compositions to subtle political statements, Muir seems to be open to any idea, influence, and inspiration, while retaining her original self in all her representations. Her Indonesian heritage is reflected in her art as well as her contemporary Californian lifestyle. She paints in oil and acrylics with wide, physical brushstrokes, but also creates delicate transparent watercolors on paper, and constructs elaborate digital images, layered with meanings. Muir—a strong believer in modest living and an avid world traveler, supported by her husband, Richard Muir, a writer, in her beliefs, is all about art. She likes to say that not being tied to children, pets, or possessions, she feels constantly on the go, and is always open to creating new art. Nining Muir’s artwork can be seen at: http://www.niningmuir.com/

The Unknown Woman—Hybrid of Italian Thriller and Post-Soviet Horror

What is marketed as an erotic mystery starts with a kind of a beauty contest between half-naked young women in masks, watched by a peeping Tom of a producer through a hole in a wall. Gradually we realize that the women were competing for a job of a sex slave, not for a lucrative position of a highly paid porn star. (Lucrative for those poor Ukrainian girls, of course, who only have their beauty to sell in a country destroyed by the fresh winds of the collapsing Communism). Giuseppe Tornatore’s take on white slavery and human trafficking is one eye-popper of a movie, action packed and blood chilling from the first minute to the last, until the viewer is awakened from this hauntingly beautiful nightmare, and ready to ask stupid questions. If she was able to take a lover on a side, and received a gift of a cell phone from her tormentor, AND spoke perfect Italian, why didn’t she try to end the torture by talking to the compassionate cops, or rather carabineri? Why did she make one dumb mistake after another while she showed a high IQ in so many life-threatening situations, and is portrayed on screen by an obviously intelligent and highly talented actress (Xenia Rappoport)? There is only one answer to those questions. Tornatore, who wrote and directed the film—a maker of Cinema Paradiso and Pure Formality among other masterpieces, does not want you to think while watching his artwork, which closely resembles grim flicks of the post-Soviet filmmakers, powerfully drawn to cinematic sex and violence after decades of abstinence. Maestro Tornatore wants you to FEEL. Raw emotion is what the film emanates and evokes, with the talented cast, moody yet precise cinematography, and always-brilliant music by Ennio Morricone.
There is no wonder The Unknown Woman won five Davids (Italian Oscars), and two major prizes at the Moscow Film Fest. Opens July 25 at the Opera Plaza Cinema, SF and Smith Rafael Film Center in San Rafael. For more information, visit http://theunknownwoman.com

Not a Dry Eye in the House at Pocket Opera's La Boheme

Loved by so many for its intimate format and financial accessibility, Pocket Opera ends its 2008 season on a high and crystal-clear note with Puccini’s La Boheme at the Legion of Honor Florence Gould Theater. As always, Donald Pippin—artistic director, librettist, pianist and narrator—a living treasure of San Francisco, translated the original libretto into English. In Pippin’s own words, “Whatever the opera, our purpose remains the same: simple, straight-forward productions with the highest musical standards, in vivid English that clarifies and brings home the basic strength of their powerfully moving (or vastly entertaining) stories.” Following Pippin’s vision to create a breeding ground for young talent in a professional opera setting, Debra Lambert—chair of the department of music and vocal arts at Notre Dame de Namur University—joined him as a stage director in the production of La Boheme, with a mixed cast of seasoned performers and graduate students. Most Pocket Opera devotees, who meet and greet each other at every opening, agreed that fresh take on the classic, with singers dressed in jeans, and an appearance of a cell phone in a café scene, was an unexpected success. The second act brought tears to many eyes, with Bharati Soman as Mimi delivering her dying character’s last words in a pure heart-breaking voice, accompanied by her equally talented peers J. Raymond Meyers as Rodolfo, Rod Gomez as Marcello, Erina Newkirk as Musetta, and others. With musical director John Kendall Bailey, and the famous Pocket Philharmonic live on stage, the show attests to the eternal youth of this 30-year-old company and its artistic director. La Boheme runs on July 19, 20 and 27 at the Legion of Honor in SF, and on July 26 at the Notre Dame de Namur University Theater in Belmont. For more information, visit http://www.pocketopera.org/. To order tickets, call 415-972-8934.

Half-Life of a Dream—Contemplation on Collective Hypnopompia

Another hit summer show at SFMOMA, Half-Life of a Dream: Contemporary Chinese Art From the Logan Collection, presenting a cohort of diverse artists of the last two decades, was selected and curated by Jeff Kelley, intimately familiar with the subject, who often visits artists in Beijing, and advises the Logans on their acquisitions. He described the show as a “meditation on jet leg and Mao’s dream of modern China that became a collective dream, a state dream.” After five millennia of highly developed traditional Chinese art, hardly drastically innovative from one ruling dynasty to the next, the world is now witnessing a surge of Made in China modernism—partly a reaction to recently omnipresent Socialist Realism, partly a rediscovery of Western iconoclasts of the 20th century. The nation’s transition from a deep hypnosis of Maoist Communist propaganda, disrupted by the nightmare of Tiananmen Square, to hypnopompia of the present-day global aspirations, is widely reflected in the exhibit. “Half-Life of a Dream” is on display through October 5 at 151 Third St., San Francisco. More information at: 415-357-4000, or http://www.sfmoma.org/

The Art of Lee Miller at SFMOMA

An epitome of femininity, a gorgeous model, a classic muse to so many artists, Miller herself was art. Behind the softness of her angelic looks there was a dark side, a conflict, a puzzle, a disquieting push for more exploration of self—never simple, never calm. Driven by her powerful creativity, she decided she wanted to take pictures rather than to be in them. Her brilliant intellect, her sardonic wit made her a straight-shooter reporter. Whatever was her subject matter, she was exploring unflinchingly, with a steady hand and a cool eye of a photographic surgeon. Her inner strength helped figure out the circumstances of her reality—provincial childhood, Parisian art world, New York, the battlefields of WWII—with her, always in the whirl of the events, always looking into the eye of the storm. Miller’s most striking images, like those taken in concentration camps in Germany after the liberation, and her courageous writings on the subject, heavily edited in her time, can be seen in an all-encompassing catalogue by Mark Haworth-Booth, a curator for the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, who dedicated this show to Miller’s 100th anniversary. As Miller herself put it, only a poet can make a poem. In her life, there was always a quest for true love, in her art, there was always high poetry. “The Art of Lee Miller” is on view at SFMOMA, 151 Third St., San Francisco, through September 14. For more information, call 415-357-4000, or visit www.sfmoma.org

I’m A Happy CAMPer, And You Can, Too

So, Donald Fisher, founder of the Gap, a large-scale philanthropist and modern art collector, deeply rooted in San Francisco, and his wife, Doris, plan to build the Contemporary Art Museum of the Presidio (CAMP) for their Warhols and Calders, Kiefers and Lichtensteins. We are kind of witnessing the main argument in favor of Capitalism over Communism here: a singular billionaire shells out his dough, his priceless (or rather sky-highly priced) art, and his human energy to benefit the you and me—the working people. He promises to pay for the land lease, for the building, for the educational programs and collection maintenance, in other words, to give a huge cultural institution to the city at no cost. How bad could that be? Well, since we are talking San Francisco (little, but widely opinionated) there bound to be more arguments. The ignoramuses ask how many museums do we actually need, the egotists of the Presidio aren’t inclined to share their green pastures, and the small town-minders scream bloody murder over every historical shack obscured by a modern structure. The Maoists aren’t happy with the idea of an individualist who can. The dems wouldn’t forgive Fisher his party preference, and there are also hemp-wearing anti-Gappers, and envious city clans who call themselves green for more than one reason. During a press viewing of the Fisher’s collection in the Gap headquarters on Wednesday, curator Abner Nolan explained the Fishers’ habit of acquiring massive numbers of works produced by the same artist, and their consistent good taste in choosing the best of those contemporary artists. Pablo Picasso, Ellsworth Kelly, Roy Lichtenstein, Alexander Calder, Claes Oldenburg, Anselm Kiefer, Richard Serra, Andy Warhol, Gerhard Richter, Chuck Close, Frank Stella, William Kentridge, Sam Taylor-Wood are just a few for the future museum… People of San Franciso, can we see a bigger picture and gracefully accept the gift? And if we don’t know what to say, how about, thank you. To learn more, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Fisher; http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/06/13/BAF910PUFL.DTL; http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/06/17/DDTB118SA0.DTL; http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/08/08/MUSEUM.TMP

The Last Mistress Marked With French Filmmaker’s Signature Wild Streak

This cinematographically highly caloric film opens with a scene of pure gluttony, serving as an appetizer for a juicy main course society gossip. The story, derived from a 19th century Romantic author Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly, is based on a scandalous marriage between a noble yet penniless gambler and womanizer, and an aristocratic virgin of exquisite beauty. The latter trait is shared by both young spouses, which makes the idea of him having “an old mistress” (in literary translation) and not being able to part with her, even more outrageous in the minds of their Victorian contemporaries. D’Aurevilly’s subtly chauvinistic portraiture of the mistress as femme fatale of a non-French descent (she is an illegitimate daughter of an Italian princess and a Spanish toreador) was traditional for the times, as well as the notion of her wild and evil power over a married man in love with his flawless wife. By choosing this rather outdated premise, Catherine Breillat—an outstandingly talented, edgy, and original filmmaker—creates a crowd pleaser, yet remains truthful to her own vision of raw passion, pure in its sincerity. Breillat, who called it “my dearest film,” worked on it for ten years, and its rich fabric, superb cast, luscious cinematography, and skillfully directed acting delivers a nicely wrapped package of wildly beautiful entertainment. “The Last Mistress” opens July 18 at the Embarcadero Center Cinemas in SF and Shattuck Theatres in Berkeley. For more information, visit http://www.ifcfilms.com/ Photo: Asia Argento as La Vellini and Fu’ad Aït Aattou as Ryno de Marigny in THE LAST MISTRESS directed by Catherine Breillat. Photo credit: Yorgos Arvanitis/Guillaume Lavit d’Hautefort/Flash FilmAn IFC Films release.

Tell No One—A French Twist on American Bestseller

Harlan Coben’s novel “Tell No One” attracted French director Guilllome Canet with its love story, tightly wrapped into a thriller. Francois Cluzet (as pediatrician Alexander Beck) and Marie-Josee Croze (as his wife Margot) are a couple of childhood sweethearts whose life is brutally interrupted by Margot’s disappearance in the dark woods near a deserted lake... Years after, she appears alive and well, asking her husband for help from a computer screen. Thus starts a cinematic race against the clock along with a protagonist, who is also a suspect in his wife’s murder. More plot twists, more murders, and more dead bodies follow, saturating the screen with a strong mystery brew. More American than French in terms of action, structure, and the outcome, the movie nevertheless won the Lumiere (French Golden Globe) for best picture. It was nominated for nine Cesars (French Oscar) and won four, including best actor, best director and best music. “Tell No One” opens on Friday at the Embarcadero and Kabuki in SF, Rafael Film Center in San Rafael, Aquarius in Palo Alto, Shattuck in Berkeley, and Camera Cinemas in San Jose. For more information, visit www.musicboxfilms.com

Ask Emma

Q: I am a 26-year-old man. I live at home, with my parents and my younger brother. I hate it, but I can’t afford my own place. I am at school, and I work part time. My girlfriend is a college freshman; she lives in her dorm. When I go out with her, my mom asks me when I am going to be back. She says she worries when it’s late and I’m not at home. I have to think about it and try not to make her worry. My dad tells me that I have to follow the rules because I live under their roof. He treats me like a five-year-old. He yells at me and sends me to my room if I say anything that irritates him. I have to go to church with them and visit relatives who I don’t like. I have to do domestic chores to keep them quiet. If I ever say no, I won’t hear the end of it. Trust me, I loath myself. All I want is to get them off my back, but I have no idea how.
A: From what I hear from you, you can’t be left alone in your parents’ house. I hope you understand that your irritable father and your neurotic mother won’t change. I don’t think they are enjoying your presence, either. Typically, relationships between grown children and their parents improve proportionate to the distance between them. Now, let’s think what do you have to sacrifice for that sweet freedom you are craving. Your measly earnings and your mom’s home cooked meals—is it too much to ask? Pull all your finances together and find a hole in the wall with eight roommates. You will suffer from some well-known communal living inconveniences, but none of your cohabitants will give a sneeze about your whereabouts or the time you come home. Since you seem thoroughly ashamed of being sent to your room for disobedience at you age (and rightfully so), I hope you’ll start screening “roommate wanted” ads this very minute. It’s time to be a man, my boy.