Lots of good music has been, and continues trickling through the local live music stream lately, and this week is no exception. Tonight, the amazing and amusing Dengue Fever is at The Castro Theater, while the Red Devil Lounge offers up a rare opportunity to see Ian ‘Mac’ McLagan’s latest band. The silver haired Brit who relocated to Austin TX, continues his legacy as a road warrior with a resume including too many greats & near greats to mention in one blog post. If you are familiar with the Faces and Rod Stewart, The Rolling Stones or Billy Bragg…you have likely been exposed to his key tickling skills.

His latest indie album is a solid & sincere effort from a veteran rocker, and of course he’ll likely spice up the live set with old faves, possibly dating back to his first chart topping days circa 1966 with Steve Marriott & Ronnie Lane in The Small Faces.

On Thursday night, while Bimbo’s in North Beach features Cake, meanwhile the deep down underground will possibly be sucked into the Vortex Room with Mr. Lucky and the Ramshackle Romeos. Others may be down on Harrison @ The Eagle Tavern. Bands playing there include former Nice Strong Arm bandleader Kevin Thompson’s new project “bun bun bun” and Sunward Spike. Ruby Howl hits the stage in the middle slot, a band featuring the talented alterna-chanteuse Laurie Hall who has played in numerous local combos over the past couple decades. Maybe you saw her with her mom in the Hall Flowers, or with her sis in Ovarian Trolley, or perhaps opening for the Pixies reunion at The Greek with Knife + Fork. She knows her craft and has a new band called Ruby Howl plying their trade with her husband Pat and a somewhat shy drummer who wishes to remain anonymous. More info on Ruby Howl at
http://www.myspace.com/rubyhowl

Friday night , two soul music legends hit the stage on a double bill at the Independent, Booker T. Jones of the MG’s preceded by Detroit’s own Bettye LaVette, both of whom are promoting new albums on the Anti label, an Epitaph offshoot.

On Saturday night @ Annie’s Social Club, old school punkers will be in force catching Social Unrest, and Ribzy as well as the debut of Jello Biafra’s latest unnamed musical project. Before leaving on a reunion tour with his old band, Faith No More bassist Billy Gould will be backing Biafra alongside drummer Jon Weiss and guitar wizard Ralph Spight of Victim’s Family. If you get bored of the jurassic punks onstage at this Alcoholocaust, head to the backroom and be yer own D.I.Y rock star via the punk schlock karaoke set up…

Today is Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 90th birthday. Give City Lights some love and buy a book from them today! In person or online, it’s a gift for him that you get to receive.

By the way, a film about Ferlinghetti’s life and works is going to premiere at the upcoming San Francisco International Film Festival on April 28. Film site here. Tickets are available now to SFFS members!

UPDATE: Streetsblog has this great article about Ferlinghetti’s proposal to create an Italian-style piazza on Vallejo Street (near Trieste).

UPDATE: SFist reports that it’s also Frank Chu’s birthday. Well, how about that?

An anti-war march with at least a couple thousand diverse participants ventured up Market St this afternoon. The organizers were mostly focused on the sixth anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq, but the marchers expressed a wide variety of dissatisfaction with numerous foreign & domestic policy issues. The contingent was loud, but peaceful, if not festive at times, replete with marching band and numerous chants bandied about the slow moving crowd that stretched for a couple full blocks.

Unlike recent splintered demonstrations in Oakland, a fairly large contingent of dozens of overtime collecting SFPD officers on foot and motorcycles seemed prepared to quell any possible property damage or disturbances from the bandana’d few who tend to ignite trash cans and engage in the more annoying and disruptive behaviors.

The march assembled near Justin Herman Plaza circa 11am and ended with a rally at Civic Center Plaza at about 1:30 , where a contingent of pro-Palestinian marchers were met with pro-Israeli occupation demonstrators stationed in front of City Hall.

Other marches took place concurrently in locations such as the Pentagon just outside of Washington DC, and in LA, while another protest is scheduled for tommorrow in Fresno.

Bringing up the rear, just behind the infamous Bay Area Women in Black, was this masked lone wolf demonstrator.

This Friday night the Red Vic hosts the San Francisco premiere of “The Black Rock”, a new film that explores the largely undocumented history of the African American prisoner experience on Alcatraz. Heralded local filmmaker Kevin Epps has shifted his documentary lens from previous subjects like life in Hunters Point, and the Bay’s Hip Hop underground, to life in SF’s notorious offshore federal lock up.

The film, presented in starkly haunting black & white, had it’s first public screening earlier this month in the actual Alcatraz mess hall for 300 lucky guests of Epps and The National Park Service. Now, having been released from it’s island prison exile, it can reach mainland audiences and will run at the Red Vic on Haight St this week through March 5th. The NPS has indicated it will soon use portions of the film in the permanent exhibits and tours of the historic prison.

Fascination with Alcatraz permeates pop culture and the crumbling prison ranks high amongst San Francisco’s most popular tourist attractions, attracting more visitors than the city’s total population each year. Epps’ new film approaches the prison from a very different socio-political angle than the usual Hollywood fare, and pulls together tales that are unique amongst the plethora of prison videos, books and memorabilia that already clutter local gift shops.

For More, Including A Peak At The Trailer, Read On… (more…)

In yet another manifestation of the long, sad and widely-noted decline of the San Francisco Chronicle, Hearst Corporation has threatened the paper with sale or closure if it doesn’t make major, immediate cuts to both union and non-union staff.

While no deadline was laid down for making these cuts, and their scope was not quantified, it’s clear that Hearst means business. SFist has published a memo sent to Chronicle employees by Chairman and Publisher Frank Vega, in which he intimates “a series of cost-saving initiatives designed to alleviate” the continuing losses at the paper. Well, we all know what that means.

Vega goes on: “First and foremost of these cost savings will be a significant reduction in force across all areas of our operation affecting both represented and non-represented employees. We will shortly begin discussions with union leadership on proposals. Our current situation dictates that we accomplish these cost savings quickly. Business as usual is no longer an option. If we are unable to accomplish these reductions in the immediate future, Hearst Corporation, which owns the Chronicle, has informed us that it will offer the newspaper for sale or close it altogether.”

The San Francisco Business Times also reported on the story, adding that the paper lost $50 million dollars in 2008, and possibly that much every year going back to 2001.

And SFGate itself posted a story — byline, Hearst Newspapers — giving the story the predictable, rolling-up-the-sleeves angle that the company would have: it’s a venerable institution amidst industry turmoil; this’ll hurt, but it’s got to be done.

However, some have suggested that the “if” phrase in the memo makes the subtext read like this: if the unions don’t cave to our demands, we’ll shut the paper down, and then where will they be?

This is distressing news to me for personal reasons: I know a number of people who are now employed, directly or indirectly, by the paper. But I can’t help but think it might be for the better, in the long run, if the Chronicle did shut down. As a San Francisco reader who really cares about the news, it’s impossible not to have noticed that the Chronicle has been a sub-par news source for many years. SFGate always seems to be the last site to publish breaking stories, San Francisco itself appears almost not to exist in its pages apart from shootings, City Hall, and entertainment, and much if not most of its content is taken straight from the AP wire. I keep checking the page out of a sense of duty, but I’m not sure what it gets me, when I get such excellent national news from the New York Times, and most of my local news from Streetsblog, Missionlocal, Eater SF, Curbed SF, SFCitizen, and San Francisco Business Times — all of which routinely feature original reporting. As for arts stories, you can’t go wrong with KQED. And I haven’t even mentioned the sites that are less about news per se but which are fun to read and are often useful, such as SFist, Mission Mission, and this blog. I’d probably feel differently if it were my job at stake, but somehow I think that journalism in San Francisco has a future with or without the Chronicle — and it just might have a brighter future without it.

[Thavisouk Phrasavath and his mother, Orady Phrasavath in Ellen Kuras’ documentary, The Betrayal. Courtesy of The Cinema Guild.]

[Disclosure: I haven’t seen this film, so I can’t recommend it on that basis. But I got a quick glimpse of it and heard good things about it at Landmark’s Film Club Spring Preview a couple of weeks ago.]

The Betrayal is a documentary about one Laotian family’s flight from Laos and their journey to NYC, and their struggles to survive. Thavisouk is the eldest of 10 children, and responsibility for the family fell upon him when his father was arrested in 1975 by the Pathet Lao. His father’s crime? Working for the Americans. Allow me to quote the press release:

[Director Ellen] Kuras and Phrasavath have created a lyrical film that fluidly incorporates archival footage, cinema verite, interview material and visually poetic montages. The result is a story of what it means to be in exile, of the far-reaching consequences of war, and of the resilient bonds of family. Thavisouk’s unforgettable journey reminds us of the strength necessary to survive unthinkable conditions, and of the human spirit’s inspiring capacity to adapt, rebuild, and forgive.

Twenty-three years of filming and research went into this film. Director Ellen Kuras is a famed cinematographer; she has won the Best Dramatic Cinematography award at Sundance no fewer than three times, and she also shot Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The Betrayal is her directorial debut.

The film opens at the Lumiere this Friday, February 27^th, and will run until March 5^th. Showtimes: Fri-Sun (2:20 4:45) 7:10 9:20. Mon-Thu (4:45) 7:10 9:20.

Sadly, former Oakland Tribune reporter and What’s On Tap columnist Bill Brand died the evening of February 19th, at the age of 70, from injuries sustained in a Muni accident on February 8th. He was struck by an N-Judah at 2nd and King near the 21st Amendment Brewery, where he had been covering an SF Beer Week event. Extended obituary here, some appreciative notes here and here by Jesse and commenters at Beer and Nosh, and here’s the comment stream on the notice at What’s on Tap.

Oscar night is Sunday, and if you’ve managed to somehow evade one or another of the Best Picture nominees — perhaps all five — it’s not too late to catch them all. They’re still playing at area theaters: Embarcadero Cinemas, the Kabuki, the Roxie, the Castro, the Balboa, and the Metreon all offer screenings of one or two of the nominees.

But what if you haven’t seen any of them? The AMC Van Ness is the only place where you’ll be able to see all five of the nominees in one monster marathon, thirteen and a half hours of putative greatness. They’re calling it the AMC Best Picture Showcase, and it may be too much for the soul to bear.

However, it shouldn’t be too much for the wallet. The ticket is $30 and it comes with free popcorn. Unlimited refills! Showtimes are: Milk at 10:30, The Reader at 1:05, Benjamin Button at 3:45, Slumdog Millionaire at 7:15, and Frost/Nixon at 9:45.

Then, once you’ve got your required (or desired) viewing out of the way, you can attend one of the live Oscar broadcasts in one of these fine independent theaters the following afternoon and evening:

The Roxie Theater will host the 17^th Annual ‘Up the Oscars’ Benefit Bash. Tickets $15, and doors open at 3:45, just minutes before the Red Carpet show begins on the Big Screen. “Food, drink, and a big sassy attitude are allowed and encouraged,” at least according to the press release.

The Castro Theatre will also present the Oscars telecast, live on the great big screen, starting at 5:00 PM. Tickets $20, with champagne and hors d’oeuvres being served. The Castro, that is one classy place. The broadcast, naturally enough, will be followed by a screening of Milk at 9:45.

The Richmond’s Balboa isn’t just celebrating the Oscars: it’s also celebrating its 83rd birthday. And to mark the occasion, the early afternoon will feature the 1926 blockbuster, My Best Girl, starring Mary Pickford, whose charm is timeless. Prospective theatre-goers are encouraged to don clothing of the period. And if you pay $15 for the first show, you’ll get to hang out in your high-waisted pants and flapper dresses to watch the broadcast of the awards show, starting at 4:30 PM. The Balboa solemnly promises that whenever a commercial comes on, they will turn down the volume and provide live entertainment of much higher caliber.

Know of any other live broadcasts or Oscar parties around town? Let us know in the comments.

[The sexes face off, with the lovely Aya (Kristyna Malerova) leading the ladies. Courtesy First Run Features.]

Men will do anything for sex; anything, that is, except what their wives want them to do. On the other hand, an unmarried man will really do anything — anything at all, just name it! — to win over the love of his life, no matter how outrageous his lover’s demands may be. These ancient facts get a delightful spin in Absurdistan, a takeoff on the classical Greek comedy Lysistrata that has nothing whatsoever to do with the best-selling novel.

It’s set in a remote mountain village “located on no map,” although with its Russian provenance and shooting location in Azerbaijan, the smart money is on some vowel-poor corner of the Caucasus. The narrator explains the village’s political situation at the outset: “for a long time now, nobody has felt responsible for us.” So when their water pipeline finally rusts through and a severe water shortage begins, it’s up to the men to fix it.

Only, they’re just too damn lazy to do anything about it: they’d rather spend their afternoons hanging out in the village tea house, playing cards and talking big. The women don’t know what to do.

That is, until Aya (Kristyna Malerova) shows them the way. Her fiancee, Temelko (Maximilian Mauff, no kidding), is a bright young man, freshly returned to the village from his studies in the city. He’s also been waiting longer than four years to sleep with his sweetheart for the first time, the propritious date having been astrologically ordained. When he arrives, he’s raring to go; but Aya insists on having a bath first. (Women! I mean, really.) So Temelko goes to some trouble to get together enough water for a bath. I don’t want to spoil the sequence — one of the best in the film — so I’ll just say that he gets her to the bath in the most imaginatively romantic way. But after she’s gotten over her delighted surprise, she notices the dusty, dry village around them, thinks of the others, and folds her arms. They have six days until the stars move on, she points out, and bath or no bath, until everybody has water, she’s keeping her clothes on, thank you very much.

“Did you hear about Aya and Temelko?” soon becomes the topic of whispering all over the village. In this, the women see a way forward, and the plan becomes clear: No water? No sex. They throw down their empty pails in challenge.

Of course, middle-aged men are generally more tolerant of sexual frustration than young men; plus, they have their pride. And these guys, frankly, have little else. So they dig in. Battle lines are drawn. The women arm themselves with rifles and guard the perimeter to prevent anybody leaving, and they cut the phone line (yes, singular) to prevent any contact with the outside world. The village is split down the middle with a barbed-wire fence. The men send in a spy, in wig and stuffed bra, who promptly forgets his allegiances and begins fraternizing with the (incredibly unobservant) enemy. Things only get wilder from there.

But the pipeline? Still broken. Temelko is on his own. So he sets forth for the mountain with a little red wagon-ful of tools, determined to bring water to the village and sleep with his bride to be, or die trying.

It’s a cliche to describe a film as a “delightful romp,” but it seems to suit this movie perfectly, what with its high energy, sexual hijinks, slapstick humor, and the touch of surrealism that director Veit Helmer brings to every moment. Highly recommended.

[Absurdistan screens at the Opera Plaza Cinema daily at 7:15 and 9:55, matinees at 1:50 and 4:40.]

That’s the weather radar at 6:50 this morning, and the storm is moving pretty much south-to-north, so we were about to get hammered with that orange stuff. I wonder how many Valentine’s Day first flings are waking up this morning and wondering how, in this rain, to tactfully get the hell out of the apartment of the person whose name they don’t remember.