Vol 06 Issue 36

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OH, BABY! WE'VE GOT SARAH PALIN EYES: She's in Commie Girl! Wonkette's Weekette! And even in our damn theater review!

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Letters. What has happened to the quality of our newspaper?!? Old News. Steve Lowery sees the SEIU serving itself. I wonder what he’ll see next week? Wonkette’s Weekette! The kids go to Denver, blame the massive, roiling crowds for their inability to get anything wrote. And then, oh lord, it’s Sarah Palin! Commie Girl. Rebecca Schoenkopf can not look away from the beautiful fiasco that is Sarah Palin. For serious. She’s looking at her right now, waiting for more news to happen. Ooh, and seven minutes have gone by, so more news just did! Action of The Week. Just in time for Gustav to not really do much, Carman Tse checks in with the Katrina-kommemorating National Day of Action. Oh, Katrina. Good times.

Feature Burning Man ’08: Torching the American Dream. Well, that sounds just like Ron Garmon, doesn’t it? I wonder who else has torched the American Dream lately. Maybe the liberal media, being so sexist by asking about Sarah Palin’s history of hoovering up the earmarks like … oh, what’s that thing they say when they say a lady’s really good at head? Chrome off a trailer hitch? Yes, that’s it.

Living Eat. Richard Foss eats Chinese. Featuring a headline from Chinatown! Written before we even knew about Sarah Palin having her daughter’s baby! Plus a buncha stuff in Bites. Eco-Topic. An excellent column by Coco Tanaka on surfing the green wave, from your vagina. Know who doesn’t have to worry about menstruating? All those pregnant girls Sarah Palin slashed funding for. I know! It is hilarious! Real Astrology. Brezsny. Wonder what he portends for our future? The Last Sportswriter. Neal Pollack writes about his kid’s soccer team. Oh, the good folks at Gawker are going to looooove this! Psycho Sudoku/Jonesin’ Crossword. You know what’s a puzzle? Oh, never mind.

LA&E Seven Days. Here, do these things. Film. Andy Klein watched a movie. He liked it. I forget what. Music. Schoenkopf gets greazy with Southern Culture on the Skids. Plus your newest record reviews in Merch, and Joshua Sindell’s well-considered curation of next week’s musical treats in NightBeat. Third Degree. Hey look, it’s Tom Sharpe! What’s he doing here? He is interviewing Al Madrigal, that’s what! Plus he navigates your upcoming month in comedy, in Ha.Ha.Ha. Stage. Don Shirley’s all over Palin too, in a freaking theater review! We are going to be needing some methadone around here. Seriously, for reals, that is all.

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SEIU? SERVE YOURSELF “Jesus, what happened to the quality of your newspaper?” Let’s Go Do Those Crimes Well thank you very much for that very nice review [Rebecca Schoenkopf ’s “A Bad Man: The true confessions of Alex Cox,” Aug. 28]. And please give my regards to Andy Klein, a very bad man, if ever there was one. Cheers, –Alex Cox Via e-mail All Apologies Stroll through her website and you’d discover that it’s “Candye Kane,” not “Cane” [Schoenkopf ’s “The Toughest Girl Alive,” Aug. 28]. Jesus, what happened to the quality of your newspaper? –“Hank Garland” Via lacitybeat.com Rebecca Schoenkopf responds: My sincere apologies to the lovely Miss Kane, whose talents and bounty I’ve admired for years. I blame Ron Garmon, for being on assignment, as he surely would have caught what I didn’t. I also blame “Hank Garland,” because every time he writes in, he’s a dick. Make Tracks Being a daily rider of Metro in Los Angeles (and formerly of a few other U.S. cities), I have always looked closely at Metro’s innards [Browne Molyneux’s Tracks: “Easy Rider,” Aug. 21]. One thing I noticed was that Cubic already owns the fare machines on the Red, Blue, Gold, and Green lines. Although there is always an armed guard or two present when Metro collects its receipts from the machines, the monitor remains in place. Just as one might see “Windows XP” on a computer screen, so too does “Cubic” appear while the fare machine is being emptied of its revenues. –“Metrohopper” Via lacitybeat.com Helter Skelter Vincent Bugliosi states, “I just viewed Manson as a terribly evil person, who deserved the death penalty.” [Third Degree, Aug. 7.] I totally agree. I respected Vincent Bugliosi for his successful prosecution of the Manson clan, but cannot overlook the L.A. Times story “Few Back Atkins’s Freedom Bid” ( July 15) in which Bugliosi supported Susan Atkins’s release, “largely because of her failing health.” Fortunately, the parole board disagreed. –Eddie Cress Sylmar Foul! Foul! Foul! It’s a sad day when a female is incapable of watching a film about a mutation that causes breast and ovarian cancer with absolutely no empathy [Schoenkopf ’s Commie Girl: “Chop Chop,” Aug. 14]. How tacky and thoughtless to refer to bilateral mastectomies by using the term “chop-chop.” How judgmental to assume you know how it is to be told you have this mutation. How irresponsible you are to women of all ages in showing such disrespect for those of us who have this mutation – whether we have had cancer yet or not, and I have. Obviously, you are NOT one of those

people who absorbs information from In the Family and walks away by turning something frightening into something positive. Obviously, you are not capable of understanding the thoughts and concerns of women at various ages when told they have this mutation. Obviously, you have not laid on an operating table for nearly 12 hours having your breasts removed and reconstructed. Obviously, you aren’t among the many people I saw at three separate screenings of this fantastic documentary that were moved to tears and walked away saying “I had no idea ... .” Joanna Rudnick is an extremely intelligent, thoughtful, and brave woman to have made this film – and to diminish or attempt to tarnish her integrity about a topic of which you appear to know little is disgusting. Maybe you haven’t had to watch your mother go through ovarian cancer, like Joanna and I – and in my case, watch my mother lose her ability to eat food eight months before she died, watch her as she carries around a bucket that collects bile from her gall bladder because intestinal tumors won’t allow its passage. Constant vomiting, diarrhea, numerous bed sores, wasting away to nearly nothing while in tremendous pain ... only to see her removed from her home in a black bag. Shame on you for being so shallow, thoughtless, and misguided. –“SueD” Via lacitybeat.com You sound sooo high school! Kick her while she’s down. FOUL! FOUL! FOUL! I hope you and your family never have to make choices we BRCA-positive women have had to. Do you really know what you would do? I pray you don’t have to find out. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Yes, I say, sooooo high school! –“BeckC” Via lacitybeat.com

BY STEVE LOWERY

Monday, August 25 A woman named Lapriss Gilbert is kicked out of a federal building in Van Nuys because a security guard there found the T-shirt she was wearing a threat to national security. And what made the T-shirt so dangerous? Well, it was white and had “Lesbian.com” across the chest in relatively small lettering so, right there, you’re talking about a teal-level terror threat minimum, maybe with a dash of heather, that would be nice. Lesbian.com is a website devoted to the subversive notion that lesbians should have access to information that could help them and their families. That information includes stuff about finding a mate and what to do if you are a deaf or elderly lesbian. The site is sadly lacking, though, in any information about what to do when one encounters a minimum wage Barney Fife. That would be the security guard who worked for a private security firm hired by the Department of Homeland Security. He said he had every right to kick Gilbert out and that the right derived from something called the “Rules and Regulations Governing Conduct on Federal Property” and the fact that he’d been issued a uniform. The guard’s views on the matter were completely backed up by a Homeland Security official who said, “We believe the actions of the contract security guard were inappropriate and unacceptable.” Strong stuff. So strong, that the official said the government has acted swiftly and decisively and “notified his company.” Ooooh. The company is called Paragon, which just reinforces a feeling I get that we’re living in one of those early ’70s films like Rollerball or Soylent Green where corporations run everything and they have names like Paragon or Dictatortech or Blackwater. Tuesday, August 26 Anxious. Wednesday, August 27 And so another SEIU official steps aside amid charges of conflicts of interest and favorable treatment to family and/or significant others. These are serious, serious charges, also known as Wednesday around the SEIU. The organization that is supposed to protect the interests of working men and women has been watching leaders fall by the wayside with some regularity recently, and now comes Annelle Grajeda, the SEIU’s top California officer, who has taken a leave of absence because apparently she thought the “S” in SEIU stood for “serve yourself.” Grajeda’s departure comes amid charges her former boyfriend Alejandro Stephens was paid nearly $14,000 by the SEIU for “disbursements for official business,” and another $75,000 in consulting fees. This comes on the heels of Tyrone Freeman, head of the SEIU’s largest chapter, the United Long-Term Workers, stepping aside after it was reported by the L.A. Times that he had funneled more than $400,000 to businesses run by his wife and mother-inlaw.

I am shocked that someone could be so insensitive to this issue. The decision to have your breasts removed is not an easy one to make even when faced with cancer. The surveillance techniques used as an alternative to the surgery are four-fold, clinical exams, ultrasound, MRI, and mammogram, and the chances of catching cancer early are pretty good. I am 34 and facing the same challenges that Joanna is and NO, it is not clear as day that I should make that appointment for “chop chop.” After years of research, she documents her struggle as well as the struggles of others dealing with breast and ovarian cancer. Rather than trashing her hard work and her story, take a minute to appreciate the outreach this will have and that her story is just another layer to this horrible disease. –“MelissaG” Via lacitybeat.com Send letters to editor@lacitybeat.com or do it up old school: Letters to the Editor, LA CITYBEAT, 5209 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90036.

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Friday, August 29 My fat dog is run over by SUV yet survives. Vet credits fat. Saturday, August 30 John Sanford Todd died today. He was 89, and though you probably never heard of him, he did much to determine how and where Californians lived after World War II. Todd was city manager – a position he held for 50 years – of Lakewood, a city that like many smaller suburbs was in danger of being absorbed by bigger cities (in this case, Long Beach) because cities such as Lakewood found it difficult to raise and fund an ongoing police and fire department as well as other costly services. So Todd came up with what became known as the “Lakewood Plan.” The plan involved cities contracting with their counties for things like police and fire services. Today, more than 130 cities throughout California use some form of the “Lakewood Plan.” With the plan, Lakewood was able to avoid annexation by Long Beach in the early 1950s. Long Beach subsequently turned its attention to the Korean peninsula. Sunday, August 31 The California legislature wraps up business for the evening having failed to agree on a state budget. Congratulations! Their failure marks the first time that the state, which has had legion and legendary budget standoffs, has gone into September without a spending plan. At the heart of the matter are Democrats and the Republican governor who believe that to avoid devastating cuts to services and programs, taxes will have to be raised. The Republicans in the legislature won’t agree to this and are led by their leader in the Assembly, Mike Villines (R-Clovis ... Clovis?), who says, “there is no doubt in my mind that the silent majority does not want taxes.” Apparently, Villines and his crew believe tax increases are irresponsible and part of a bygone, tax-and-spend liberal era, and what else would you expect from someone still invoking “the silent majority”? So what is the responsible Republican budget plan? They want to borrow against the state lottery. Uh huh. And if that doesn’t work, let it ride on red!✶

metro.net

N<<B<KK< MONDAY Fox News Attempts Early Convention Sabotage First the suspicious package, now, per the Denver Post, “AM 760 host Jay Marvin says Fox News has set off sprinkler system in Pepsi Center.” By Tuesday, Steve Doocey will be rappelling in to personally mace Hillary Clinton onstage. –Sara K. Smith Can Michelle Obama Show America She’s Not Angela Davis & Osama’s Satan Child? Oh what’s this, now, on the small teevee? It’s Michelle Obama’s sister, “Craig Robinson!” Let’s see what he has to say. Then, his sister’s elite Princeton speech about math or whatever. 10:30 — Michelle memorized every episode of The Brady Bunch, a popular show among white people no one, ever. 10:31 — Michelle Obama wants to help people, says Craig Obama Robinson. ’Murkins don’t do that. 10:33 — He coaches the Oregon State Beavers basketball team. “Go Beavers,” he shouts. This will not be enough to convince PUMAs, this vagina joke of Craig’s. 10:37 — Here is Michelle. She loves her parents, in Chicago, on the South Side, with the Poors. 10:40 — “Barack Obama and I are so similar. He was raised by grandparents and I was raised by parents. But they were all poor, hmm?” 10:42 — It is the anniversary of ladies’ rights and Martin Luther King saving the world. Guess what, we’re exactly halfway through! 10:45 — She loves Hillary Clinton, and so does the crowd. They like Michelle’s being black, but they also like that Hillary Clinton is a woman. Too bad you can’t be each at the same time! 10:47 — This speech is kind of boring. Can Barry just come out and drain 3’s from way downtown? 10:49 — Barack doesn’t care where you’re from or “what your background is.” Which is why he doesn’t honor John McCain’s FIVE AND A HALF YEARS. He doesn’t see those things. 10:54 — Oh look, Michelle is done speaking. Oh those girls are adorable. Do they have speeches to give also? We bet they’ll be about … Barack Obama understanding people. 10:56 — We laughed because, um, WHAT? 10:57 — “Hey Bob, I got this great idea, see. We’ll get these little gals on stage in their dresses or whatever kids wear these days, then we’ll give the damn wife a microphone, and we’ll put their runaway father on the big screen from Missouri, with his ADOPTIVE WHITE FAMILY, the GIRARDOS or something. Then the wife will give the mic to the kids, and they’ll interrupt him with, you know, kid shit or whatever, and it’ll be cute, people’ll love it, won’t be awkward.” 10:59 — That was pretty funny when the announcers said, “Here’s the closing benediction from … DONALD MILLER!” Like, who? Then it was less funny when we all had to stand and pray to Jesus. –Jim Newell

Metro Briefs Find Out About Measure R Residents of LA County may be asked to vote on Measure R this November. If passed, Measure R is projected to generate $40 billion for countywide congestion relief projects over the next 30 years through a half-cent sales tax. For complete details on Measure R, please check the website at metro.net/measureR.

Metro Never Looked So Good Metro Rail ridership is up 20% this summer to nearly 325,000 daily and riders on Metro buses increased 6.5% to more than 1.2 million a day. For little more than the price of a gallon of gas, the Metro Day Pass lets you ride Metro all day. Find out more at metro.net.

Metro Takes Pasadena, Downtown To Eastside The tracks are being laid this month joining the Metro Gold Line Eastside Extension with the existing Gold Line to Pasadena as construction nears an end. The six-mile extension of the line that will link downtown LA with Little Tokyo/Arts District, Boyle Heights and East LA opens in 2009.

Get Ready For School With Metro School Pool Make going back to school easier on yourself. Let Metro School Pool set you up in a carpool with other parents at your school. It’s a free ridematching service. Parents, PTAs, PTOs and school administrators can call 213.922.2811 for more information.

Thousands Go With Metro Employer Pass More than 7,800 employees at 335 worksites in LA County are finding a better and less expensive way to get to work with the Metro Employer Pass. It’s a win-win situation: employees get the benefits of riding Metro and the company gets tax savings, reduced parking demands and improved employee morale. Find out more at 213.922.2811.

TUESDAY Black Card We interrupt this “coverage” of the 2008 Democratic National Convention to report that John “Walnuts” McCain, when asked by Jay Leno this evening how many houses he owns, responded in a serious tone, “I spent 5½ years in a prison cell; I didn’t have

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If you’d like to know more, please call us at 1.800.464.2111, or visit metro.net.

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Thursday, August 28 UCLA political science professor Tim Groseclose resigns from the school’s Committee on Undergraduate Admissions and Relations with Schools because he says UCLA is covering up the fact that it is manipulating things to circumvent California’s ban on state colleges considering race in the admissions process. That ban came about in 1996 when California voters approved Prop. 209. Groseclose based his charges in part on a better than 100 percent rise in African-American admissions in a recent one-year period. In 2006, UCLA, the school where Jackie Robinson played football, admitted just 103 black freshmen. But by 2007, that number had jumped to a whopping 230 – in a freshman class of 4,889. Ward Connerly, the former UC regent who led the fight to pass Prop. 209, agreed with Groseclose, saying UCLA “caved under the pressure from the NAACP and others in Los Angeles who want to see an increase in the number of black students.” What next? Clean drinking water? Connerly said he might file suit against UCLA through his organization, the American Civil Rights Institute, which just goes to show that Ward Connerly is still a tool but, as his choice of organization name proves, appreciates the finer points of irony.

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a house.” It is unknown whether the studio audience laughed in response. –JN Meth-Mouths Jailed in Obama Assassination Plot Depending on your sources & your level of paranoia, either a couple of racist dingbats were arrested around Denver’s trashier motels Monday, or an elaborate plot to assassinate Barack Obama was busted up by clever Colorado cops. In any case, a trio of local losers is now in jail (again), and at least one of them mumbled something about wanting to murder our new president. Aurora Police arrested the first man early Sunday morning after a routine traffic stop. During the traffic stop, officers found two rifles, boxes of ammunition, one rifle scope, a bulletproof vest, walkie-talkies and methamphetamines. Gartrell is being held in the Arapahoe County jail in lieu of $50,000 bond and has a felony criminal record. Well … are these just normal rural Westerners out for a “good time” or … ah, that’s the same thing. Jesus Christ. –Ken Layne Offensive Cocktail Dress to Blame for Michelle Obama’s Failure of a Speech Watching Michelle Obama’s speech last night, you might have been struck by how deeply shameful it is that such an obviously smart and decent person must repeatedly assure the public of her patriotism so that a nation of suspicious and resentful idiots doesn’t think she’s planning to bomb their local scrapbooking club with a Socialist Black Muslim Virus. Or you might have looked at her dress and thought, well, whatever the fuck Leslie Sanchez was thinking on CNN.com: “Is it the dress or what’s in it? Michelle Obama covered the key milestones but the image of her in a cocktail dress left us wondering.” –SKS Hillary Clinton’s Big Convention Speech It’s Hillary’s Big Night, and everybody’s wondering what she’ll tell her aggrieved and anxious supporters who felt Disrespected by the Process. Let’s watch and see how this drama unfolds…. 10:38 PM — OH SHIT, IT’S ON, BITCHES. Biographical clip … ROLL. Lots of photos of Hillary looking hot back in the day. 10:40 PM — Hillary Rodham Clinton is not an astronaut. This is the essential tragedy of America. Rousing applause, Hillary signs, and there’s Chelsea, in a cocktail dress. So frivolous. Holy shit, is that an orange pantsuit? Bold move. Where are the reaction shots of the ladies weeping? This lady is almost weeping. It is so easy to get emotional at these events. Hillary and Chelsea look like Halloween together. 10:43 PM — For God’s sake, Hillary, the takehome message from the reception here is that people want to like you. So please do not ruin everything, again. Oh God she looks so sad. This is horrible. 10:46 PM — “The time is now to unite as a single party, with a single purpose.” 10:47 PM — Brief review of the resume … . Do not mess this up, PUMAs, she says. “No way, no how, no McCain.” 10:48 PM — Here comes the part where she talks about people grabbing her sleeve. No? Nope. “We love you,” shouts a random Clintard. Oh maybe now the sleeve-grabbing? A single mom, two kids, autism, cancer, painted bald head … . This is the most tragic woman in America, and Hillary Clinton found her. 10:51 PM — “All 50 states, Puerto Rico, and the territories.” Did you know that Puerto Rico voted for Hillary? Cause they totally did. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits, ha. 10:53 PM — Aack those fucking green collar jobs. That is the worst term since Information Superhighway. Oh here comes a big long Clintonian laundry list, except without statistics, so it’s a little more palatable. 10:55 PM — We came to the Pepsi Center

IT’S SO COLD IN ALASKA BY REBECCA SCHOENKOPF

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t was 9 p.m. Saturday, night one of the Dog & Pony Show at Safari Sam’s. I had already put my little brother to bed in the car (he had singlehandedly upheld our proud family tradition by getting immediately and extraordinarily soused) and was chatting with the members of the incredible Ruby Friedman Orchestra, sort of an Irish-inflected (even Poguesy) band fronted with operatic caterwauls of the loveliest kind. “Pretty exciting weekend!” said I. “Blah blah blah, clever thing, Alaska!” “Huh?” they explained. Didn’t they know there’d been a Category Three game-changer? Really: fucking musicians. The next night, my friends Abby and Davan showed up. “What have you been up to?” I asked Abby to be polite, once we’d exhausted the topic of how skinny I am and how bitchen I look. “I’m a domestic goddess lately,” she told me with a fetching nonchalance. “But you only have the two kids,” I said, perplexed. “You have no excuse not to be the governor of Alaska!” And oh, how we laughed and chortled. Then Davan, who’s the managing editor of the L.A. Times, introduced me to their friend Paul, the Times’s foreign editor. “What part of the world should I be paying attention to?” I asked Paul. I figured he’d say Georgia, which is boring and I’d rather not, but it’s always nice to break the ice by pumping people about something they might in fact know. For instance, you could ask me about gin. “Alaska!” Davan shot in, and we guffawed in delight. How good it was to be with my tribe. Musicians, they are useless.

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riday’s news of the selection of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as John McCain’s running mate turned what had been (following Obama’s triumphal convention) merely a feelgood cruise to a better tomorrow into an honest-to-God game, and while I wouldn’t mind a blowout for my side, I’m happy too with some good clutch plays and a double OT, so long as the refs – or the Roberts Court – keep their noses clean. As the news first broke and pundits pooh-poohed the effect she’d have on women by saying Hillary voters were hardly likely to vote for a pro-life rightwinger, I scratched my little noggin. Did they know about some secret American tradition of voting on the issues? Did they think all women were pro-choice, or even feminists? Did they have no idea how beloved Palin is among our

Creationist fundie friends, who would surely have found some tile that needed grouting on Election Day if their only incentive were McCain? Had they never had neighbors who homeschooled their (really, very fine) children, and couldn’t they foresee the flat-earth JCPenney mob of electoral elation, assuming their husbands and the Good Book permitted them to vote? Here’s a great-looking, plain-spoken,

sometime reformer, with an ass even McCain can’t keep his peepers off of, every inane, Dave-like Hollywood dream come true, and she’s Just Like Us. Damn, John McCain! You’ve turned this election into a spicy meatball! Since I read Wonkette (and you lucky citizens do too, since CityBeat is the website’s sole print partner), I knew who Palin was even if Kay Bailey Hutchison didn’t: She’s a baby-poppin’ hottie with an itchy finger squeezing triggers both actual (Bambi’s mom) and metaphorical, as she’s got a tendency to fire any civil servant varmints in her Katrina-like path. Her body count, for those wondering, is up to five, from the public safety commissioner you’ve all heard about by now to the library director of the tiny town in Alaska where Palin was mayor, because the library director hadn’t supported her campaign. I’m pretty sure too that she killed Vince Foster. If for some reason McCain happens to regretfully accept the governatrix’s resignation, she’d make a swell AG! So Sarah Palin has most definitely won the news cycle; in fact, she’s all I can think about! My American hat, lady governor, is off to you, with the truest admiration. Just today, Labor Day, I am hearing about: 1. your lawyering up in the Troopergate matter, for which you’re

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expected to be deposed in the coming weeks, 2. your preggy teen daughter, 3. how long you allowed your amniotic fluid to leak before hopping a plane from Texas back to Alaska to give birth there instead of hitting a hospital but posthaste, 4. your total lyingness about the Bridge to Nowhere, 5. your directing fundraising for disgraced indicted Alaska Senator Ted Stevens’s PAC, even though one of the Sunday news show GOP talking points was if you could stand up to Ted Stevens, you could stand up to Putin, and 6. as of today, John McCain is only now sending lawyers to Alaska to vet you. That’s a lot of news for a holiday weekend! I may never turn off MSNBC again! I don’t expect Palin to withdraw her candidacy, and I was the first American reporter to predict Harriet Miers would (for what that’s worth, which is all of nothing; I just like to remind me of it every once in a while). But lord, every half hour is bringing a tidbit. Even Democrats are taking extraordinary delight in poking into a teenage girl’s bedroom, a nation of Gladys Kravitzes. It’s so messy, and raw, and very, very real and totally exciting, and I’m not too good to pry. Meanwhile, our noble Barry isn’t just making the right sounds about leaving poor Girl Palin alone; he’s backing it up with why we should, right down to his own teenage mother. And as he does the right thing, a favor the other camp would have never returned – for sweet Jesus’s sake, “newscasters” on Fox called Michelle Obama Barack’s “baby mama” even though they’re married – Joe Biden is being excoriated as “sexist” for joking that one difference between Lady Palin and himself is that she’s good-looking. It really takes a set of big, hairy balls to twist something that’s both self-deprecating and a compliment to one’s opponent into a grievous insult. The GOP is milking it, and so are some idiot women. As an actual feminist, I have the great good joy of getting to determine what is and isn’t sexist. Sexist: Asking whether Sarah Palin shouldn’t be staying home with her baby and her other children. (And yes, I’ve heard you asking just that.) Not sexist: Pointing out that Sarah Palin is an utter twit. Three years to the day after Katrina, and with another big angry hurricane on the horizon, our brilliant American electorate looks poised to fall in love with a fun huntin’ lady they’d like to pull a shot with, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they did just that. Then again, in the finest pundit tradition, I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t.✶

N<<B<KK< today instead of sitting in a bar for this (so tempting!) because we thought the atmosphere was going to be really weird … fraught and resentful and joyous but a little, you know, like a room full of angry women who have had one too many cups of coffee and Bailey’s … and instead it’s just sort of warm and welcoming. Oh well. On the plus side, Hillary Clinton just called all her die-hard supporters SELFISH, basically, for caring more about Hillary Clinton than the troops and the ladies with the painted bald cancer heads. 10:57 PM — And on that somber note we pass it over to our pal Jim Newell. –SKS Still with Hillary Clinton’s ‘Unity’ Speech Hillary Clinton is the most orange woman alive tonight. “Orange” is the color of Unity, and Barack Obama. Are the PUMAs buying it? No, because they’re sociopaths. 10:58 — Hillary’s speech: kind of like the other speeches, but read by Hillary, so people are paying attention. 11:01 — Oh, she loves Michelle Obama. Are they friends? Ha ha, fuck no, they hate each other. 11:03 — “John McCain is my friend, but you need to know something: He masturbates to Transformers figurines in furry outfits.” 11:04 — She’s heatin’ up! She says something about ladies’ rights and that is by far the most important thing to every Democrat. 11:04 — “George W. Bush is a real nut.” 11:05 — There was a 19th century leader, she says, who took slaves and brought them to freedom in New York. Her name: Hillary Clinton. Rodham Tubman. 11:06 — “Let’s elect Barack Obama.” OK! Heckuva speech, Hillary. You are everyone’s favorite orange politician tonight. –JN Novak Is Back! After a busy summer of running over a bum and being diagnosed with a brain tumor, Robert Novak quit his regular column gig. But now he’s back with an “occasional” thing saying Vinegar Joe Lieberman would doom the McCain ticket. Don’t listen, Walnuts! Pick Holy Joe! –KL WEDNESDAY Bill Clinton’s Concession Speech It was a hard-fought primary, but in the end, Bill Clinton’s old Arkansas magic just couldn’t work another time. So now he’s stuck with a boring old prime time slot on the second-to-the-last night of the convention, yammering about national security when he really wants to talk about math and numbers and dollars like he did in the ’90s. Let’s see how he muddles through … . 9:03 PM — If there are Democrats in this audience who hate Bill Clinton for his tacky behavior during the primaries, they are being drowned out by all the screaming middle-aged women who still want to get with him. God, he is still more popular than his wife, isn’t he? 9:04 PM — “I am here as a proud mother, as a proud wife … .” Ha ha, just kidding. Well, he got the support for that other guy out of the way pretty quickly. 9:06 PM — Multiple reassurances that he and Hillary will not do anything terribly obvious to sabotage the Obama candidacy. 9:10 PM — Michelle Obama does not like this man at all. Her seething distrust is visible even on the 75% obscured Jumbotron across the hall. 9:12 PM — “Barack Obama is ready to be president of the United States.” Now was that so hard? He is talking about leveraging things now, and global warming and biological weapons. But enough about Obama! Let’s talk about how Bill Clinton singlehandedly defeated AIDS, with his many corporate sponsors. 9:16 PM — “Wonderful new jobs for our young people.” Well, that sounds nice. We’ll take three! Oh, nice line — something about the power of our example rather than the example of our power. Now everyone in the audience wants to have sex with Bill Clinton and USA! 9:18 PM — Ooh, Angry Bill Clinton came tonight. Finally Michelle cracks a smile. This arena is too large for everyone to shout “Yes

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we can!” in unison. It echoes around the hall. Tomorrow night will be a disaster. 9:20 PM — He has a great talent for explaining things in a way that makes sense to stupid people. This is a vital talent for any American politician, and one we fear is lacking in Barack Obama, who “trusts in people’s intelligence” or whatever. Like this bit that Clinton just said about “the Republicans want us to reward them for the last eight years with four more” — reward and punishment, even morons get that. Labrador retrievers get that. 9:23 PM — Clinton: I was young before Barack Obama was young. But we are maybe too hard on him. He still gives a good speech, and lays it all out very simply and forcefully. 9:25 PM — Next up, some boring live sex shows until Biden comes out on a carpet of human hair. Stay tuned. –SKS Joey Biden’s Denver Stand-Up Special Here he is, the Big Guy, the “bruiser,” Joe Biden, in his 20th HBO Special, “Ize Gonna Be Viceys.” He’s always makin’ the jokes, like “what’s up with these black Indians running all the articulate 7-Elevens?” He doesn’t even need a punchline, THE SETUP IS FUNNY ENOUGH. Let’s watch him make fun of his good friend, John “Walnuts” McCain, in his new role as Plagiarist Attack Dog. 8:19 — Here’s a lovely video about Joe, with his rowdy Catholic schoolmates. His wife died, but now he’s got this other gal, Jill, and she keeps him well. He’s a good father, says son Beau. Isn’t Bo like a horrible corporate lobbyist? Oh, right, “Beau.” 8:22 — [Several minutes of Joe Biden hugging homeless hole-diggers and old mothers.] 8:24 — Here comes Beau in real life, onto the stage. No, he is not the corporate lobbyist. Beau punishes robbers in Delaware. 8:25 — Beau says his father used to skip “fancy cocktail parties” in Washington to hang out with his kids in loser Delaware. Sure, Beau … Joe Biden never went to corporate lobbyist cocktail parties ever … nothing sponsored by credit card companies or actual whores made of tainted hundred dollar bills. 8:28 — Why the fuck is Beau asking us to babysit his 65-year-old father? Is he on Depends already? 8:29 — There’s Joe, WHAT IS HE WEARING? Oh, just a blue tie, never mind. Remember how crudely orange Hillary Clinton was last night? She was like a BASKETBALL, she was just that orange. 8:31 — “Thank you thank you thank you. Jesus people, THANK YOU. Thank you. What is this, a CLAPPING FACTORY?” 8:32 — Ha ha, he’s already cursing. He said “Hell,” in the curse-y form, not in the “imaginary fire pit” form. 8:33 — He accepts the nomination. Thank God … this could’ve been a disaster! 8:35 — Joey B’s mom! When they showed her in this media filing room I’m in, all the reporters quietly laughed. Sick fucks. She’s just a nice old Irish gal. 8:36 — My mom used to make me beat the shit out of other children, he remembers. 8:39 — Now comes the segment of the speech where Biden will explain how Barry is the black Joe Biden. Joe Biden was born in a working-class poor town, Barack Obama took his college degree and moved to one! Oh, this bizarre American fabric. 8:43 — “I fuck John McCain regularly. But what is going on with this clown now, eh?” 8:46 — Isn’t he supposed to be talkin’ more guff ’bout John McCain? Enough about the damn energy green collars. This country will never have jobs. 8:48 — Oh look, he’s talking about Russia and Georgia, and calls the Bush administration’s policy there an “absymal failure.” That must be one of his “zingers.” 8:50 — Now he’s just ranting about foreign policy and shitting all over grammar. 8:51 — We’ve watched Sebelius, Clinton, Bayh, Strickland, Warner, et cetera and so on, and so far Joe Biden is the only Democratic politician that doesn’t seem like a total fraud when he’s talking seriously.

THIRD ANNIVERSARY OF KATRINA, IMMANUEL PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, Friday, Aug. 29 It was clear from the onset – a performance by a Korean drumming corps – that the National Day of Action Friday was going to be about more than just Katrina and New Orleans, even as the Bush administration in the face of Gustav aimed to prove to the world (and American voters) it had learned its lesson. “What happened in New Orleans,” said Hamid Khan, executive director of the South Asian Network, “was symbolic of what happens in other communities. It doesn’t just occur in the shape of natural disasters, but in the shape of politics.” Khan was de facto emcee of Los Angeles’s National Day of Action, taking place in an auditorium in Koreatown’s Immanuel Presbyterian Church. Along with his South Asian Network, the event was hosted by the Right to the City Alliance, a collection of six community-oriented organizations working to fight gentrification, displacement, and police brutality. According to Khan, “We live in a police state! The city wants to bring in a thousand more cops but doesn’t have the audacity to keep open hospitals and clinics!” While Hurricane Katrina’s aftermath was largely a struggle for the historically large African-American community in New Orleans, Right to the City saw the same events happening here. Instead of having an act of God as the agent, it was through developers and financiers that a drastic shift was affecting the communities within Los Angeles. It wasn’t just a struggle for the African-American community in New Orleans, but also for the multiple ethnic communities in L.A. and nationwide – and so we saw the multicultural approach to the event. In addition to the previously mentioned Korean drumming, activities included a Latin American tribal dance and a buffet that included Mexican, Korean, and Indian food. The highlight was Rogers Youngblood, 19, a survivor of the Katrina tragedy who shared his struggle with the few hundred who came out to fight for change. Unlike the rest of the speakers who came with prewritten speeches and emanated with clarity, Youngblood was soft-spoken and struggled for words at times. His struggle was not only the aftermath of Katrina, but of his place in society. “I’m a young back man, I am a target of the New Orleans Police Department,” he said, simply and matter-of-fact. The day concluded with a candlelight vigil held outside on Wilshire Boulevard, with the intent of sharing their fight with the city as they drove by. While commemorating those who lost their lives – literally and figuratively – from Hurricane Katrina, they wanted the world to know that it was a neverending struggle until there was justice. “Katrina taught me it was about how many obstacles and hardships you can overcome,” said Youngblood. “You can’t quit.”✶ –Carman Tse

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N<<B<KK< 8:53 — Oh look, it’s Barry! 8:54 — Good God, he really puts that mouth close to Joe when they’re embracing. 8:56 — That Barry is so smooth. 8:57 — Finally, this convention has some energy. Bill Clinton stares at Barry with that patented “open-mouthed half-retard� look of fraudulence. 8:59 — Walks offstage, tongues Nancy Pelosi, grimly shakes John Kerry, man-braces Bob Casey, and lo and behold, at the end of the stage there are at least 900 generations of the Biden family, all from the tri-state area and literally all female. Little girls, 90-year-old women, 50-year-old wives, and lastly, some utter dishes whose age we have no desire to determine, the end, goodnight. –JN THURSDAY No Obama Tickets? John McCain’s Still Got Plenty for His Thing! The hottest ticket in America tonight is Barack Obama’s all-star oldies concert at Denver’s Mile High Stadium, during which he will sink a thousand three-pointers from downtown Ancient Athens. But don’t feel bad about missing history or whatever, because John McCain is also having some sort of sporting facility event, on Friday — he will appear with his veep pick at “Wright State University’s Nutter Center� in some little town in Ohio. Ha ha, it is called “Nutter Center.� Anyway, there are only 10,000 tickets available, and they’re all pretty much still available. Cindy McCain may pay you a hundred bucks and a vicodin just to keep a seat warm for an hour. –KL

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Only the Most Important Speech Ever Hey, HERE’S A HINT: when you go to get a lemonade at Invesco Field, don’t leave your bag in your seat, because the SECRET SERVICE will take it. 10:34 — What’s been going on in this 950-minute speech? Guess what ‌ we think he’s about halfway through. Snooze. 10:35 — Oh look, we made it for the standard “five million green collar jobsâ€? line that has been in every speech of this terrible Democratic convention. 10:37 — God, he is constantly talking about his mother with cancer tonight. The question is, did she have it for FIVE AND A HALF YEARS? Otherwise, John McCain is more of a maverick. 10:38 — Protect bankruptcy laws! Which Joe Biden shat all over a few years ago! 10:39 — He wants his fathers ‌ to have the same opportunities ‌ as your sons. How about this: Just Say No to old people. 10:40 — You heard him, folks: Turn off your teevees, or he’ll bat you with his hopecock. 10:41 — “Temperamentâ€? should be used in every speech against McCain. Nice that people are learning this. 10:42 — “The president must not keep grasping the ideas of the past.â€? Meaning Barack Obama was against the Iraq war before it started, in the future. 10:43 — “We are the party of Kennedy. Don’t tell me that Democrats won’t protect this country.â€? But doesn’t he know that Democrats became gay and black in 1968 or so? 10:44 — He will start new friendships or something, around the world. Slut. But really, who are these new friends? 10:45 — Line about how candidates should not challenge each other’s patriotism, and a reporter in this media filing room clapped. It is a terribly liberal media, this. Oh wait, he’s just some asshole in a T-shirt and Nikes. Huh. How did this asshole get in the filing room? How did we get in here while we’re targets of the Secret Service? These questions, and more. Obama! He is talking like what. 10:47 — “Don’t tell me we can’t stop people from holding AK-47s.â€? We can’t stop people from holding AK-47s. 10:49 — He wants gays to be allowed entry into hospitals. Whoa whoa whoa ‌ one thing at time there, changebot. 10:50 — “This election has never been about

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me — it’s about you.â€? Ooh, so if he wins, then we get to press the special red nuking button. I call first MOTHAFUCKA, and I’m nuking like Greenland or Spain or what the fuck. 10:51 — Change means new politics. This must be a last minute thought, just thrown in before he walked onto the stage, because it’s JUST THAT FRESH. 10:53 — He is just repeating shit. And yes, it is “the American spiritâ€? that keeps foreigners “coming to our shores.â€? Coming to our shores and 9/11ing us! 10:55 — He’s talking about a famous preacher from the past, Jeremiah Wright. 10:56 — That was kind of an anticlimactic end. But uh, it sounded nice, if people paid attention to the whole thing, which they didn’t. God this is seriously the biggest stadium of all time. Now Ken and Sara and I will take the three-hour commute back to our car that is 2.4 miles away. –JN FRIDAY Who Will Be Doomed McCain Pick? Enough of boring old Barack Obama. Who will be McCain’s first black female vice president under the age of 40? Nobody knows! All the news reports are about various people who say they will not be veep! We got yer Sarah Palin, yer Tim Pawlenty, and our boyfriend Mike Murphy said on the MSNBC half an hour ago that his pal on the Romney campaign declares it isn’t Mitt, either. So it’s either Lieberman or a humble roasted chicken. –SKS VPILF Sarah Palin Greeting America! Yikes, the entire world is trying to read about Sarah Palin on wonkette.com right now! So crazy. She’s a pretty girl, so we guess she’s qualified to be president! But good lord we did not realize she had such a squeaky voice. 12:19 PM — McCain is in a ‌ high-school auditorium? Cameras won’t show anything beyond the floor. 12:19 PM — McCain looks like he got a skin peel and a suntan, or he’s slathered in orange makeup. 12:20 PM — Now he’s getting angry at the small crowd for singing him “Happy Birthday.â€? 12:21 PM — “Read My Book!â€? 12:21 PM — So many empty seats! All the bleachers are empty. 12:21 PM — Ha ha, he wants to “shake up Washington.â€? Maybe he could remodel his houses there! 12:22 PM — Now he’s promising all his rejected GOP guy buddies various pretend positions in his pretend administration. 12:22 PM — Soon we’ll see how high Sarah Palin stands over lil’ John McCain. 12:24 PM — Tough to see if he’s on a podium. Anyway, get it over with, Walnuts! Bring her out. Everybody watching already knows Palin’s on the ticket. 12:25 PM — “She’s a standout high-school point guard.â€? Ha ha, he picked a running mate based on high-school basketball skills. Will Sarah and Barack have a shooting debate? 12:25 PM — “A mother of five.â€? CHEERS! Hell yeah this woman can have a lot of kids! 12:31 PM — Palin about her husband: “And he’s a world-class snowmobile racer!â€? Jesus, she’s at a junior high pep rally. 12:39 PM — She seems like a super lady, and we have always loved her, but dear god Joe Biden is going to eat her for breakfast. 12:40 PM — Ha ha, she can’t pronounce “heroism.â€? 12:44 PM — Oh good god, listen to this pandering for Clinton lady voters. 12:45 PM — Well, there we go. Her job is to tell Hillary voters they need to vote for McCain. Might be a bit too late for all that, after last night. And then there’s the whole thing about Hillary being a socialist liberal. 12:47 PM — Hooray for our GILF! She finally made the sorta big leagues! –KL Wonkette's Weekette is brought to you by the magical elves of wonkette.com.

TORCHING THE AMERICAN DREAM BY RON GARMON

Welcome to Hell. Population, You: Among the many and varied effects of Burning Man upon national culture is that it vindicates a long-cherished, if little-expressed, American desire to drive to another planet. Admirers of Godard’s classic SF film Alphaville will get it at once, but the weeklong countercultural festival’s working mise en scene is more Fellini as underbid by Roger Corman. Turning off Highway 447 in northeastern Nevada onto the chalk-dusty board-flat Black Rock Desert, one’s first impression is a monstrous blankness. The playa presents an ego-flattening sight of infinity, with a poison bite of gypsum dust doing little for one’s sense of security. The wind, which abruptly changes speed and direction, routinely kicks up whorls, even tornadoes, of the stuff, but most of the time everything visible is lent a grainy texture, like stepping into a battered print of a 1975 movie, all scratches and faded Eastmancolor. Daytime temperatures can reach well above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, a hideous wake-n-bake rendering sleep heavier than a light soppy doze impossible. Occasionally a weary voice crackles from a bullhorn, reminding you to drink water or die. Long intervals of sweat-sodden effort alternate with lizardly inactivity; both are bearable by thought of sundown, a few minutes after which the mercury begins a drop of up to 60 degrees. The wind stills – usually – and the annual temporary municipality of Black Rock City, Nevada, gets its party on. Go Ask Alice, When She’s 10 Feet Tall: The streets, lit by processions of costumed volunteers, surge with stoned pedestrians, drink-addled bicyclists, and dozens of gaudy art cars, ranging from golf carts tricked out as teacups to double-decker buses got up like the Empress of Ireland. All tour the sights and most participate in the show, if only to the extent of making a public jackass of oneself, like the thick-eared oafs pounding each other with padded sticks at Thunderdome, or the brave fools competing in Dance-Dance Immolation, a contest of twinkletoed skill garnished with flamethrowers.➤

PHOTOS BY JOSH REISS

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If one has drugs, this is the hour to consume them, along with great floods of booze given away at dozens of ramshackle taprooms like the Lost Penguin and Spike’s Vampire Bar. Wandering your drunk ass into a private camp is as likely to get you forcibly bum-rushed as welcomed as brother-of-some-other-mother, so this is seldom done without an invite. An ex-soak myself, I wince at the amount of high-end booze and cheap beer I see gurgled down in that hot, dry environment, so hangover-unfriendly. Nor is this the only fellow-feeling on tap at Burning Man. The only things for sale at the entire festival are ice at three locations and coffee at Center Camp, so any mainstream Gob-fearing Americano wandering in would be shocked to his Bass Weejuns at how much antisocial bullshit is eliminated thereby. Loud noise, weird clothing, pimp’d rides, absurdist architecture, and murderous art are all things Angelenos may take in stride, but the dominant vibe of loving kindliness can trigger a psychic meltdown. The shedding of urban teeth and claws is often a wrench for the more cynical newbie. You see their occasional public freakouts, as bourgeois individualism abruptly collides with the real thing for perhaps the first time in the subject’s life and (s)he scrambles to lift the psychic curtain on what must be a trick. Finding there’s isn’t one will determine what dear ole Hollywood calls the “takeaway” for any participant. The Awful Majesty of the Law: Burning Man’s co-existence with authorities evolved over time after the event’s origins at San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1986, when friends and bystanders burnt Larry Harvey’s first Man. An amateur sculptor and untutored social theorist certain he was onto something, Harvey eventually

dragged one out to the northern Nevada playa for a 1990 Cacophony Society one-off called Zone Trip #4. The idea caught on, the ad-hoc group got a Bureau of Land Management permit the next year, and the event grew steadily since, breeding devotees, dissidents, pop-cult references, rumors, scandal, bootleg Burner Chix Gone Wild vid, and a deliciously queasy possibility of returning from the event in a zip-lock bag. Your ticket on the back waives liability by Burning Man Organization (BMORG) in case of “death or serious injury,” but not even a note from Cthulhu can save you from the prying eyes of cops. Ostensibly, the closest thing Burners have to a community police force is the Black Rock Rangers; rakish, bushmaster-hatted folk trained in the arts of nonviolent problem solution. If you expect to publicly toke in the manner of L.A. b-boyz and hipsters, then you have a problem with any one of dozens of BLM feds, state, and local police, along with a curious Nevada statute making giving the shit away (even passing the burn-barrel dutchie ’pon the left-hand side) “distribution of narcotics.” This not only plays ordinary courtesy false, but directly affronts the gift economy of Burning Man, along with other generous impulses it inevitably loosens. As a rule, when a gorgeous young thing sporting a Nevada-hick accent walks up out of the mob with a compost-eating grin and a “Hey, man, um, ya got any drugs?” you may feel yourself free to laugh at the cop academy from which she matriculated. The amount of actual crime seems limited to pilferage and the wages of addled stupidity, like the accidents that brought on BRC’s five-mile-an-hour speed limit. The rest is just the kind of random destruction to be expected in a festival devoted to fire, explosions, and wreckage. The ultimate caper in that line thus far

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9LIE@E> D8E is prankster Paul Addis’s 2007 premature burning of the Man. The upright crisp was dubbed Char Man, but didn’t last, as the proenvironment Green Man theme was hastily ditched in an effort to run up a replacement. The rest of the week was marred by persistent dust storms and the Wednesday suicide-by-hanging of a despondent festivalgoer. Many had already sworn never to return, but I knew I would, even as wind lashed well past dark on Labor Day and blasts of impenetrable dirt delayed our departure many hours. It was 12:40 Tuesday morning when the wind stopped, the sky abruptly clearing over a town that had shrunk by 95%. There was a giant fire going out in the open desert, with drummers pounding mournfully around it. An invincible oontz-oontz pumped from the Root Society dome a half-mile away and a plaintive Roy Acuff tune wailed in the middle distance – another weary hillbilly itching to go home. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere: The theme this year is The American Dream, which itself was enough to keep many veteran Burners away, since “America” itself is what most American Burners run out to the desert to escape. Internet rumor was coalescing around the idea that Larry Harvey was going to stage some kind of Disneyoid flag-fuck starring a cast of fascist hippies, naked cheerleaders, and a 20-foottall animatronic Chuck Norris roundhousekicking random frat boys into a better tomorrow. Prospect of Ground Zero at that pretty hallucination caused me to lash my gear together, lay in chemical augmentation, secure an early-entry pass, and hitch a ride to Nevada two Thursdays before Labor Day. Camping for the first time with the Black Rock Yearbook, I met Boz and Kiki in Pasadena, helped load their RV, and fell promptly asleep, waking in Nevada 12 hours later. Kiki is a pretty young campmama with a cute ass, and her man is one of those steely-eyed professionals with drive, organizational ability, and astounding talent for dissipation who made of America what it so evidently is. The “Welcome to Nowhere” sign at the gas station in Nixon, Nevada, looming in front of my sleep-blurred eyes was a nice reminder I’d left L.A. One of three flyspeck towns on the way to the Black Rock Desert, Nixon is followed by Empire and Gerlach, the last-named a mining town whose three bars serve its 500 inhabitants. We arrived on-playa in the afternoon, when a few thousand freaks were working on installation between bouts of drinking and squawking through bullhorns. Friday night, I collapsed on a couch at an open-air cinema running 1906 Georges Melies trick movies. Saturday night at Opulent Temple rocked hard, with big gouts blasting from flamethrowers outside a titty bar whose entrance blazed like the tollbooth to Gehenna. “Gimme Back My Bullets” was detonating over the PA,

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and inside a stageful of undulating amateur strippers was just beginning to get out-ofcontrol. I felt like I’d landed in Hillbilly Heaven, and sight of my first cop car on Sunday morning confirmed it. Thanks to (spotty) wi-fi at Center Camp, I had a good long laugh at Obama’s naming of Joe Biden as his running mate. Burnerdom is as full of Obama-helium as anywhere, but few had kind words for Biden, sponsor of the RAVE act, which sought to outlaw desert dance parties to keep American youth safe from the temptations of breakbeats and bottled water. Since Burning Man is the King Kong daddy of all raves, Biden’s elevation is accepted here as part of Democrats’ long mutation into the No-Fun Charlies of national politics. There’s also the general sense that conventional politics has nothing to do with them and they’re partially right. Certainly most participants have long since dropped out of what’s left of middle-American consensus reality due to precarious careers, nontraditional personal lives, or simple distaste. Still, it’s hard to imagine Burning Man in anywhere near its present form absent the eight hyper-materialistic, warridden, culturally sterile years of George Dubya Bush. Since the values, mores, and social expectations of Black Rock City are the point-for-point opposite of what obtains at home in the Last Superpower, it takes considerable effort of will to avoid concluding that the festival represents anything other than a sledgehammer critique of things as they are. Looking around at art and theme camps these querulous and party-hardy folk are running up – bizarre caricatures of Uncle Sam; ironic tributes to bankruptcy, debt, consumerism; Orwellian placards and pyramid-eye paranoia – is to behold a dusty and temporary repetition-as-farce of individualism and the Affluent Society. Children playing amid industrial and ideological rubble, Burners grope to build a new world out of the post-Cold War, postprosperity junk bequeathed by the practical joker of History. Of Coif, Commute and Another Day at the Office: At midnight Sunday, horns and sirens went off all over the skeletal city, as the first official arrivals started rolling through the gate. Building and revelry grew frenzied, stopping not at all for the afternoon-long dust storm that whitedout most of the town. Waves of sexy new arrivals hit camp, each on a trail of hoopla and toasts. Gamey and unkempt, I went out in the middle of this alkali clusterfuck for a spot of personal maintenance; having my bleached-blond hair chopped into a Mohawk by a girl named Madeleine, my pubes trimmed by a boy named Cupcake, and letting strangers bathe me at the Human Carcass Wash, a camp specializing in assembly-line cleanliness, restored me to humanity, even civilization. As the days passed, our camp gradually ➤

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9LIE@E> D8E became a microcosm of the entire festival, a ceaseless round of indulgence and good cheer that no force of wind or weather could interrupt. My first two burns were the exact same, with last year’s blissfully gilded with near-constant cosmic sex with a treasured lover. Shorn of Chick, I instead had Story, but not even Gilles de Rais could write in the National Lampoon blur of boobs, bootie, and poppers ever before my eyes at Center Camp. So, on Tuesday, I lugged my computer over to the Black Rock Beacon, the playa newspaper, some distance away. Walking to work through a clownshow is nothing startling for an Angeleno, but a morning commute though cheerful clowns, along with dancing girls, hopping bunny-people, spooning couples, winged fairies, and gay cowboys limping home from some rectal rodeo affords a spectacle not oft-afoot even on Santa Monica Boulevard. I’m greeted by my playa name of “Rockstar” everywhere I go and my awesomeness is commented upon, as I respond with “Bellissima!” “Rock on!” and “Nice thong, d00t.” Friends demand to know what deviltry I’m up to and when they can read it. In the country of the Weird, even gonzo journalists are de facto members of an invisible and esoteric Establishment. A heavier cat by far in this Freak Kingdom’s counsels is Mitchell Martin, editor-in-chief and resident Charlie Kane of the Beacon. His “default-world” job as editor at the online Forbes and a talent for forensic accounting leads him to the conviction that organizers aren’t getting rich off the festival. “It’s not the best organizational structure in that it has a paid hierarchy and beneath that, a layer of unpaid volunteers,” drawled Mitch, his eyes bright with cynical amusement. “It’s a very good model for reintroduction of feudalism, but it leaves a certain amount of democracy to be desired. “Larry Harvey is reputed to make six figures – just six figures – which for an executive living in San Francisco isn’t much,” Mitch said, framing his points with the assurance of a man who loses few arguments. “The problem with Burning Man is you have a for-profit corporation staffed overwhelmingly by volunteers. Insofar as they’re volunteers who love Burning Man, no problem; they can always walk. We report on them, which is adversarial, but not unfriendly. One of the things we’re pushing for is increased economic data on Burning Man to tell us more about the city. Their financial statement is not particularly

transparent, but you do know most of their income is ticket sales. They’re not trying to hide anything, it’s just not anyone’s job to know this stuff.” Such data would give observers a good idea of the long-term viability of semiutopian projects like Burning Man. To Mitch, the idea that the event lost its special character with increasing size is rubbish. “This desert, at this population density, can hold literally millions. The only size limitation is the tiny little road out of here to Gerlach. The fun thing about Burning Man is theme camps like ours who spend their time and money and food and drink to make it a big party as well as an experiment. If a million people a year showed up, that would be fine with me.” Also hanging around the Beacon’s tent-office is Caleb Schaber, playa-name “Shooter.” This rangy, heavily inked fellow is, next to Paul Addis (now residing in a state prison elsewhere in Nevada), BMORG’s pet pain-in-the-ass. He started at the festival in 2000, as a Department of Public Works (DPW) volunteer who eventually made foreman with a ducal salary of $100 a day from the festival, plus all the volunteers he could recruit. “I used to give out a few $50 positions too,” added Shooter, a sometime-war correspondent with a nice sense of political leverage. “I had a $500 slush fund that I’d use to buy you whatever you want to work for free – socks, booze, rent money. A carton of cigarettes goes a long way out here.” Bagmen peeling off Ben Franklin paper for favors are unremarkable, but what’s Burnerly about this is, along with the ludicrously small sums, the gonzo intensity of doing this shit for art’s sake, man. Still, after a DPW worker was killed in an accident before the festival in 2001, the joke of “radical self-reliance” was beginning to go a bit far for institutional tastes. “After that,” according to Shooter, “BMORG made everyone sign a ‘death waiver’ before they could volunteer.” This submission to sub-Dickensian conditions soured him on the org, but not the festival, a sentimental patriotism that curtains effective rabblerousing. “People don’t report injuries,” he added. “I’m talking people who are into politics and rights, but they don’t wanna make waves or be responsible for an art piece not getting on the playa because they were hurt.” This brute clash of material conditions vs. new-minted ideals gets replayed by

everyone at the event, and organizers, being human, can abandon the latter as quickly as anyone else. Still, Burners are far keener than most on affairs being arranged for the People, not the Price. Tickets are among the least noteworthy expenses for participants, and any ambitious gearhead with $500 to buy a used San Francisco muni bus will sink tens of thousands and a flood of sweat equity turning it into a rolling bordello or pirate ship. Camps develop around these projects, giving participants an involvement entirely missing from popular culture and community life in the wider world. Inebriation: The Final Frontier: By Thursday night, life in BRC was on a rising parabola of activity, even as the early arrivals began to flag and the one road in was clogging with weekenders. Whorls of white powder vanished up already cracked noses, and the ancient injunction against public sex was beginning to go by the boards, at least at night. The erotic atmosphere is about the most mind-altering aspect of life on the playa, as out-front sexuality, self-reliance, and owning your lust combine in a sex culture as courtly, even romantic, as it is skank-randy. This is the part I can least resist, but was scarcely alone. In order to better balance the stern demands of story and gonads, I resorted to a heavy intake of marijuana and psylocibe cubensis, each toked bud and chewed cap transubstantiated from indictable Nevada offense to ineffably Nirvanic effect. Again, I was following a parade of tosspots, acid freaks, clit-bumpers, weed huffers, psychonauts, and candy-flip babies as one more lodge-brother. The whole scene was like an immense, drug-fueled version of the dance-marathon in They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? or if Hunter and Oscar had driven the White Whale into Bastille Day instead of business-as-usual on the Vegas Strip. A closer literary ancestor to this din is the fantasy novels of Thorne Smith, in which pretty young things run amok with faded rakes fevered by booze and quim, committing every witty indecency. Like such jazzbaby ancestors, we practice the ancient, if dangerous, doctrine that in heroic overstimulation is wisdom, if not transcendence. Burning Man may well turn out to be one last freakish kink in the tail of the Frontier Thesis of American history. Articulated by historian Frederick Jackson Turner at the 1893 Columbia Exposition in Chicago, the

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idea that American culture rounded a fatal corner with the closing of the frontier has proven a remarkably durable meme, one never quite supplanted by an American Dream of endless consumption. If a sense of individual possibility was closed off, another opened with the myth of the road, of escape from society through constant motion. Alas, the marketplace makes every place like everyplace else and, apart from such GPS-forsaken sites as the Black Rock Desert, there’s no escape from its sway. Such is the main heresy of Burning Man, more significant than any amount of pity and terror, sex and drugs. That self-willed exit from standardized reality is possible, even fun, is as radical in its way as realization one can’t eat money or discovery that the palaces of the rich are constructed of flammable material too. Burn Night and Coda: These are but the idle thoughts of a whited-out Saturday afternoon. The Man burns in a few hours, but the wind is lashing tons of dirt around, stinging all the exposed skin and provoking talk of delaying the event. Which is what did end up happening, with the Man finally igniting a bit before midnight, as the post-Burn parties were already raging hard all over the city. Thousands gathered for the rite, with the 90-foot wooden structure expiring in a flaming heap after shooting off tons of fireworks. Thousands of festivalgoers rushed the fire and began the obligatory three-times-around march. Clothes were discarded, music from nearby art-cars thunderclapped, and the madness was on. At one point, a crew dragged up a large wooden statue with the cry “We’re burning Lady Liberty!” In she went with shouts from dust-blistered throats as loudspeakers blared Lenny Kravitz’s combustible cover of “American Woman.” Hours later, a new friend and I were cuddled under her blanket at the Uncle Sam zoetrope on the far end of the playa. Out there in that place of blank vastation was “The End,” an unimposing sign denoting the farthermost piece of playa art and the last frame of the movie in which all 50,000+ of us starred. With gorgeous boof, it went up, pushing a black mushroom cloud skyward. Forty minutes later, kids were still peddling up on bicycles to see what the fuck had happened.✶

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PHOTO BY ROSHEILA ROBLES

CUT. THAT'S A WRAP.

FORGET IT, JAKE It’s not Chinatown BY RICHARD FOSS

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he restaurant has two rooms. One dining area is modern and hip, a pleasant place in a postindustrial way, old brick and new sounds and casual style. The other is straight out of a Philip Marlowe novel, oozing seedy, mysterious Oriental charm. It’s a stunning space unlike any other in L.A., an authentic survival from seven decades ago. Guess which room is packed and which is empty. No surprise. The unique one, the one that ought to have landmark status, was deserted when we arrived at the Chop Suey Cafe & Lounge. We walked through the high-ceilinged room with its archaic wood-framed booths and fading pictures of Chinese landscapes, a place as silent as a museum or a film set after the director has called “cut” and the technicians have fled to the canteen. While my companions mused over a long-outdated calendar from a noodle company, I walked to the back and followed a corridor, searching for someone who could tell me whether the place was actually open. Just past the restrooms was a tiny, colorful bar, and just past that was the other dining area, the one with all the activity. It was actually an interesting scene, an indoor/outdoor patio that hosted a crowd of twenty-somethings sipping fancy drinks and eating bar snacks. A fine environment when I’m in the mood for a lively evening, but that night I was more interested in time-machining to the 1930s. I found a server who confirmed

that we could dine where we wanted, and he promised to send someone over. The person who showed up bearing menus was apparently one of the cooks, a friendly middle-aged man who seemed happy that someone appreciated the place. We had already ordered hot tea when he mentioned the Belgian ale selection. I canceled my tea in favor of a murky, hoppy brew. Apparently some things about this restaurant were keeping up with the times. A scan of the menu showed we were in fact in the present, and not a Dashiell Hammett past; there were garlic wasabi fries, pad Thai, and Singapore noodles. We liked the sound of the fries ($4.95), so ordered them and some egg rolls for starters. Those fries were excellent, hot and crisp, drizzled with a delicious wasabi aioli. The egg rolls were conventional, but well-made – vegetables and shrimp in a crisp skin, commendably greaseless and flavorful. Of course, it was no surprise that everything we had tasted was fresh, since the cook was bringing them straight from the kitchen. We hadn’t had our own personal chef in a while, and oh, we did like it. We had mentioned we’d like hot and sour soup even though it wasn’t on the menu, and it appeared within minutes of our request. At $6.95 for enough to serve four, having that personal chef isn’t reserved for Oprah. It wasn’t the very best hot and sour I’ve ever eaten, but it was better than some I’ve had at twice the price. The eggplant with hot garlic sauce

($7.95) fit the same pattern – nothing that would scare Monterey Park restaurateurs, but as good as most restaurants in Chinatown despite a location in Little Tokyo. We had to taste the offering the restaurant was named for, and though I don’t usually order this bland AmericanChinese dish, I figured that since it has been on the menu since 1933, this was probably the place to try it. It was shrimp chop suey, a giant portion for $9.95. It was about what I remember, fresh vegetable flavors and assorted meats in a mild, transparent sauce, pleasant, simple home cooking. I might not order chop suey for another 10 years, but if anybody asks where to get it, I’ll know where to point them for the definitive Los Angeles version. Our meal finished and leftovers packed, we strolled past the statues of Buddha and landscapes one more time, peeked into the tiny, colorful bar in a rear alcove, and then went on our way. It had been a good meal, not a great one, but in a setting so enjoyable that I know I’ll take people there just to enjoy the movie set style of the place. If we can rustle up some snappy pinstripe suits for the gentlemen and vintage cocktail dresses for the ladies, you can tell Mr. DeMille that we’re ready for our close-ups. ✶ Chop Suey, 347 First St., downtown. Open daily for dinner only – hours seem to vary erratically. Full bar, pay parking across the street. Phone is only occasionally answered – if you feel lucky, try (213) 617-9990.

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Depeche … Since the day it opened, Bastide has welcomed diners who enjoyed the whole evening there. Everything was prix fixe and served with languorous calm, so you could forget dinner and a movie unless your tickets were for the midnight show. Things are changing – they now allow you to come in and order a la carte, and they plan a wine bar. It makes sense with changing times and a more hurried clientele who are watching their wallets, but I still prefer the glamorous, sensual experience of an evening spent reveling in food and wine pairings … . Rush Through Time … I spent a day at the Western Food Expo to get a glimpse at restaurant trends, and was intrigued by a promotion for a coffee called Rush Ultra Caffeine. When I asked the people at the Farmer Brothers stall how and why they were adding caffeine to coffee, they explained that they weren’t – all the caffeine was naturally there. Ah, so this is a strain of beans that has more caffeine than other beans? No, not really. It’s a French dark roast, and more caffeine leaches out when you brew it. So how is this different from a standard dark roast? Snazzy marketing, that’s all. So drink the stuff if you like that burnt flavor, but don’t expect an extra buzz ... . Let’s Dance … I’m fairly sure the best way to learn intricate and fast dances isn’t while drinking lots of wine. On the other hand, since tango was invented in the bars of Buenos Aires, drinking Argentine wine might be exactly the thing to get you in the spirit of things. You may find out for yourself at the wine and appetizer tasting and tango lesson at the A+D (Architecture and Design) museum in L.A. this Friday. Tango expert David Chiu will run you through the moves while expert sommelier Ian Blackburn pours. Check the site at learnaboutwine.com for details … . Still South of the Border, But Closer to Home … If you like your beverages a bit stronger, consider the Partida margarita tasting dinner at the Border Grill to celebrate Mexican Independence Day. (Which is Sept. 16, not May 5. Cinco de Mayo celebrates a battle they won in a war that they lost, and is a whole ’nother thing.) The beverages include a rhubarb margarita, an idea that wouldn’t have occurred to me in a hundred years, and a concoction of tequila, campari, and grapefruit juice. Pair that with a chipotle-tamarind glazed pork chop and you have a wild flavor mix going on, and that’s only one of the five courses. Call (310) 451-1655 for reservations … . Pun’d ... I enjoy a good pun, and I really like bad ones. Even I winced when I saw that Breadbar on West Third is having a jam session Sept. 13 that doesn’t involve music, but actual jam – they teach you how to make preserves and marmalade, followed by a tea party. Cost: free! Send your RSVP to events@ breadbar.net. --Richard Foss We accept tips: RichardFoss@earthlink.net.

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hen I take those “Which Sex and the City Character Are You?� quizzes, well, I am no Charlotte. No one has ever called me a prude. And yet the prospect of writing publicly about the environmental impacts of a woman’s monthly bloodletting (much less my own, gross) turns me suddenly Amish, all flush and flustered. I come by it naturally – my mother often told me that my body was a temple, referring to the babymaking vestibule of said temple as my “nunu,� and in order to mask my discomfort with the netherlands, I make really awkward cervix jokes during my stirrup exams. Perhaps after more time under the wing of my proud, vagina-having editor, I’ll be at ease discussing the inner workings of my enigmatic ladyflower. Until then, know that writing about one of the true anti-joys of post-pubescence (aside from the monthly reassurance that nothing human has taken root in there) hurts me more than it hurts you. But because I like this planet and want it to last a little longer despite the cycle that makes me all stabby midmonth, consider my dysphoria shelved. Gentlemen, you can read on and learn what you missed out on thanks to Eve’s affinity for serpents with fruit, or you can kindly fuck off, just this once. And to my fellow womyn: Eco-friendly periods! Huzzah!

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here are several ways to green your Shark Week, ranging from bare-minimum “shucks, why not?� consciousness to Burning Man aggro hippie. A woman may use as many as 11,000 tampons from the day she leaves girlhood, making the twee tampon applicator one of the biggest environmental offenders. Like everything that is evil – plastic bags, the oil from the Exxon Valdez,

mob bosses, beaked monsters – those little kazoos wash up on our beaches, and take about a thousand years to degrade. Even aside from the toxic shock horror stories we heard thirdhand at eighth-grade slumber parties, your average tampon or nasty napkin is liable to include chlorine, rayon, wood pulp, and genetically juiced cotton – not the sweetest cocktail for your carnal treasure, unless you work in the Valley and that’s your thing. Far be it from me to come between a girl and her white knight of choice, but if you can stand quitting the Tampax or Playtex so trusted by your teenage self, Seventh Generation’s chlorinefree organic tampons are devoid of rayon and chlorine, and come with a biodegradable applicator. Natracare boasts all the same happy vagina qualities. Changing brands may feel blasphemous, but the light bulbs didn’t mind, and neither will your tampons.

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hose wanting to go a step further, and to make me look bad for going nowhere near that

step, can invest in a reusable menstrual cup. A cup! Who knew? It’s just what it sounds like: a mini catch-all helmet that saves on money (remember, 11,000 tampons), avoids the toxins in tampons, and stays out of the landfill. And they all have names that sound vaguely like fey Tolkien characters: the Mooncup, the Keeper, Lunapads. The latter goes beyond the standard chalice, proffering washable pads, sponges, and even padded period panties. A little unconventional, but again, it does away with the disposability factor and hypes an all-organic formula. Cheers. Damming your flow with the same cup month after month seems totally normal when compared to some of the sickeningly enthusiastic gals I found in the back alleys of cyberspace, they who advocated crocheting reusable tampons from organic cotton and unbleached yarn. They look like catnip toys, but who am I to judge? I ran the idea by a few of my ecologically sensitive friends, and the general reaction was “You’re totally disgusting.â€? My buddy Cameron, who spends paychecks at Whole Foods and can speak intelligently about LEED certification, went straight to mockery before raging against taking DIY way too far, saying she was actually “more of a knit one, purl two Maxi Pad kinda gal.â€? Smartass went on to describe the googly eyes she affixed to her “bloody buddies,â€? for whom she threw a tea party before putting them to use. You just can’t talk seriously about reusing uterine-tissue absorption agents with some people. But yeah, you can get rid of the chlorine. âœś

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C@M@E> Week of September 4

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ARIES (March 21-April 19):

“Like an ox-cart driver in monsoon season or the skipper of a grounded ship, one must sometimes go forward by going back,” wrote novelist John Barth in The Friday Book. Consider using that approach, Aries. Retreat may be the strongest move you can make right now; surrender could turn out to be a masterstroke. But in order to get the most out of this strategy, you’ve got to keep your ego from injecting its agendas into situations. Don’t act out of shame or pride; don’t humble yourself excessively or be burning for revenge. Be objective, neutral, poised.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20):

One of my favorite memories is gazing into my Taurus daughter’s face just moments after her complicated birth. She had been through a heroic ordeal that scared the hell out of me, and yet she looked calm, beatific, and amused. “She’s part-Buddha and part-elf,” I thought to myself as I held her in my arms. I saw elegant compassion blended with wise playfulness, two states I had never before witnessed in the same person. This unexpected marvel imprinted me deeply, and has informed my work ever since. Do you have a comparable memory, Taurus? A time when a key to your destiny was revealed to you? A turning point when you got a gift that has fueled your quest for years? This is not only a good time to revisit that breakthrough; it’s also a ripe moment to ask life for another one.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20):

The governor of Minnesota has a wife who loves to go fishing. Tim Pawlenty told radio station WCCO that his wife Mary is smitten with the sport. She is genuinely driven to cast her bait into the lake in quest of the catch. “Now, if I could only get her to have sex with me,” the governor added, suggesting that her passion for intimate union with him was not as pressing as her urge to fish. While I personally lean toward the position that eros is one of life’s best gifts, I don’t judge Mary harshly for her preference. Many people find that the most satisfying and useful way to express their libido is through some non-sexual activity. You may want to consider that possibility, at least in the coming days. It’s the sublimation phase of your astrological cycle.

CANCER (June 21-July 22):

Normally, you’re not the most direct person in the

world. Nor are you the most concise. You sometimes display tendencies to sidestep the main issues and take the long way home to the truth. Why, then, have you apparently turned into a sleek paragon of precise communication? To what do we owe your crisp new efficiency, your knack for cutting through the crap, and your commitment to saying exactly what you mean? Maybe it has to do with the alignment of the planets. Or maybe you really, really don’t want to be misunderstood.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22):

Resilience is a quality that allows you to rise above setbacks and find resources in unexpected places. It’s a willful instinct to seek the higher ground and a bigger vision. It’s intensely practical, because it shushes the nagging voices in your head that make negative interpretations of your experience, thereby allowing you to act courageously in your own best interests. This is Resilience Week for you, Leo. Call on your dormant reserves.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22):

Pregnant giraffes give birth standing up. Babies arrive in their new environment with a jolt, hitting the ground after plummeting six feet. Although they were fairly safe before, upon leaving the womb they are in danger of being preyed upon by animals like leopards and hyenas, which wouldn’t dare attack their giant mothers. I’m thinking there’s a resemblance between the newborn giraffes and a new project you’re working on, Virgo. Its initial splash into the world may be a bit rocky and fraught with dicey challenges. But I’m here to say that if you’re a vigilant caretaker in the early going, it will grow to maturity.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22):

My friend Joan was experiencing a cascade of annoying physical symptoms -- mediocre digestion, mild headaches, chronic congestion in her ear, itchy skin. None was terrible, but together they were a big distraction. After two trips to her regular acupuncturist, there was little improvement. The acupuncturist decided it was time for more drastic measures: He was going to try a dramatic

treatment that was akin to pushing a reset button on a machine. Success! Joan was freed from the nagging ailments and experienced a thorough rejuvenation. I suggest you seek out the equivalent treatment, Libra: Push the reset button.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21):

“The reality of love is mutilated when it is removed from all its unreality.” So said the French philosopher Gaston Bachelard in his book The Poetics of Reverie. He meant that realism alone is not enough for human beings to live on, especially in our most intimate relationships. We need fantasy to augment the merely factual perspective. We require poetic truths to keep the rational approach honest. Without the play of the imagination, in fact, our understanding of the world is impoverished and distorted. In this spirit, Scorpio, I invite you to be extra daydreamy and imaginative about love in the coming days. Feed your soul and the souls of those you love with experiences that arouse mystery and wonder. (P.S. Nietzsche said: “We have art in order not to perish of truth.”)

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21):

A teacher you will ultimately feel a strong need to learn from has recently become known to you, or will soon become known. A series of lessons you will benefit from studying throughout 2009 is already revealing its contours. I suggest you do some meditation and free-writing about these developments. Making your intuitions more conscious will prime your deep psyche for the work ahead, helping it to attract the experiences you’ll require to prepare for your future educational assignments.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19):

“The whole history of civilization is strewn with creeds and institutions which were invaluable at first, and deadly afterwards.” So said British essayist Walter Bagehot. I would add the following corollary: The fortunes of many individuals have declined because of belief systems and structures that were invigorating earlier in their lives but that gradually became paralyzing or parasitical. Has that ever been true about you, Capricorn? More importantly, might it become true in the future? Please take inventory of your reliance on theories and attitudes

By Rob Brezsny

and methods that made good sense once upon a time but that are now becoming irrelevant or even counterproductive.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18):

“What did you do this summer?” I asked my Aquarian readers. “I didn’t build a single sandcastle,” wrote Emma from Baltimore. “I didn’t fall in love. I didn’t celebrate the full moon. I didn’t run through a meadow. I didn’t taste honeysuckle. But on the other hand, I worked hard on the book I’m writing. I dramatically improved my diet. I kept my house clean and well-organized. I watched less TV.” If I’m analyzing the omens correctly, many of you Aquarians were like Emma in the past months: more successful at accomplishing practical goals than at having free-form fun. I don’t think that’s a problem, though. You can’t do everything, right? But these next few weeks before the equinox will be a good time to correct the imbalance. I suggest you go in quest of what has been missing.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20):

You will have a knack for seeing what has been invisible and for describing what no one else can say. You’ll have a talent for perceiving the open secrets that everyone else has refused to notice and for speaking about truths that everyone has avoided articulating. I’m not sure what you’ve done to attain these wizardly abilities, but the cause isn’t really important, is it? Get out there and use your superpowers to generate breakthroughs that will forestall and maybe even cancel sluggish breakdowns in the group processes. In addition to the horoscopes you’re reading here, Rob Brezsny offers EXPANDED WEEKLY AUDIO HOROSCOPES and Daily Text Message Horoscopes. To access them online, go to RealAstrology.com. The Expanded Audio Horoscopes are also available by phone at 1-877-873-4888 or 1-900-950-7700. Rob’s main website is at FreeWillAstrology.com. Check out his book, “Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How the Whole World Is Conspiring to Shower You with Blessings” “I’ve seen the future of American literature, and its name is Rob Brezsny.” - Tom Robbins, author of “Jitterbug Perfume” and “Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates”

What is your favorite secret thing about Los Angeles? Your favorite Los Angeles pastime? L.A.’s best cultural treasure? Best music, art, theater, architecture? What is your favorite neighborhood and why? Or, come up with your own categories! Where in town do you go to escape?

Best responses will be celebrated in the pages of LA CityBeat's REAL. BEST. L.A. on 9/25 *Post your answers at: www.myspace.com/citybeatla, email: editor@lacitybeat.com or FAX 323.938.1771 C8:@KP9<8K J<GK<D9<I +$('# )''/

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C@M@E>

Stepping Stone Sudoku

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Each circled square in this sudoku is the same number of steps away from another circled square with the same digit in it as the digit in those two circled squares. For example, a circled square with a 3 in it will have another circled square with a 3 in it exactly 3 steps away. Conversely, a square that is not circled will not have another occurrence of its digit that many steps away. A step is a move into a horizontally or vertically neighboring square (diagonally doesn’t count). Note that none of the circled squares contains the digit 1, because that would require a second 1 in the same row or column. Also note that the number of steps in a path between two squares is counted as the smallest number of steps required to travel between those two squares. When you’re done, as in a standard Sudoku, each row, column, and 3x3 box will contain the digits 1-9 exactly one time. Don’t be scared, you can do it! Or can you...?

WHERE PARENTS CARE, BUT NOT TOO MUCH BY NEAL POLLACK

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Find last week’s Psycho Sudoku answers on page 45

psychosudoku@hotmail.com

AFE<J@EË :IFJJNFI; “I’m Surrounded by Idiots” – to the left and right, as shown by Matt Jones

Across 1 Fox News Channel host Van Susteren 6 When they’re locked, you look like you’re shouting 10 “___ Gali Gali” (traditional Hebrew song) 13 Highly desirable reviews 14 Extreme 15 Happy ___ pig in slop 16 “Ciao,” in Chamonix 17 About 7 cm long, like nails sold in hardware stores 19 Where many directors get their start 21 Poet Pound 22 Hay fever need 23 Not so great-sounding name for a tangelo 25 Coast Guard commandant’s rank: abbr. 27 “Without further ___...” 28 Midtown transportation 31 Gift-wrapping adhesive 37 Actress Bancroft 38 Part of 11-down: abbr. 39 Johnson of “Laugh-In” 40 Do-gooder’s reasoning, perhaps 45 Post- opposite 46 Shot put path

47 Author Deighton 48 Dory helped find him 50 Colorings 55 It’s often twisted apart 57 It lets the batter get to second 61 Comfy handmade comforter 63 Sexy Muse 64 “___ Got You” (Gloria Gaynor album) 65 Take the stitching apart 66 Water brand that’s an insult to the buyer when spelled backwards 67 Lee Pace’s character on “Pushing Daisies” 68 Mid-month day 69 1992 L.A. riots figure Reginald Down 1 Skin replacement procedure 2 They’re half the diameter 3 Vice squad? 4 Overflows (with) 5 “Just like always...” 6 Advertising award 7 ___ extra charge 8 Musical opener 9 Maple syrup, really 10 Resident of the island where Freddie Mercury was born 11 Sea org. whose members are called into active duty 12 Poet Angelou 14 Sch. that’s home to the Wildcats in Durham 18 Conger critter 20 Yield by treaty

24 Thor or Thoth, e.g. 26 Keith Olbermann’s network 27 Tylenol competitor 29 ___ no good 30 Checked out 31 Slightly soggy 32 ___ about (in the vicinity) 33 Like lapsed subscriptions 34 Actress Arthur 35 Potent ending? 36 Skin art, slangily 41 On the ___ (fleeing) 42 Sonorous 43 Words before life or clue 44 Bit used to make ouzo 49 It’s split into eras 51 Chutzpah 52 Franchise 53 Tennessee player 54 Expressionless 55 Creator, in Norse myth 56 Political consultant Karl 58 All-knowing 59 Bullring cheers 60 “Oh, before I forget...” in Internet shorthand 62 On the ___ vive ©2008 Jonesin’ Crosswords (editor@jonesincrosswords.com) For answers to this puzzle, call: 1-900-226-2800, 99 cents per minute. Must be 18+. Or to bill to your credit card, call: 1-800-655-6548. Reference puzzle #0378.

Find last week’s Jonesin’ Crossword answers on page 45

f all the things I’ve done wrong as a father – according to several nonreputable online gossip sites, the list is legion – denying my son a decent physical education isn’t one of them. This has been mostly because we got lucky by moving to the Very Special Neighborhood Where Parents Care, But Not Too Much. But at least I’ve been organized enough to get Elijah on the lists. Our first break happened when the decaying gym at Elijah’s preschool transformed overnight into a spunky gymnastics center, and Elijah started taking classes from Coach Mike, a kind, subtle disciplinarian with mad skills who’s patiently watched my son evolve from an uncoordinated baby to a semi-coordinated boy. Then one of the moms from the preschool hired Coach Andy, a freelancer with a copious supply of athletic equipment, to come to Riverside Park every Friday and teach the Very Special Children about sports. Elijah learned the basics of baseball, soccer, basketball, and flag football, minus the usual bullshit trappings of screaming parents and forced marches to crappy pizza joints. Coach Andy even introduced the kids to dodgeball without traumatizing results. Add to this mix the excellent swim teachers at the Rose Bowl Aquatic Center – for whose guidance I’ve paid out the nose and the ass – and Mr. Wenger, the groovy Austrian-born P.E. teacher at Elijah’s kindergarten who hand-built a stegel, an effectively malleable piece of wooden Eurostyle gym equipment, and, so far, Elijah doesn’t fear athletic activity. That’s changing, though, because now I’ve enrolled him in soccer. Suspicious clouds of incompetent weirdness have begun to darken our youthsports paradise. I decided to not put Elijah in our neighborhood soccer league, with practice fields and games a five-minute drive from our house, because the dad of one of his kindergarten classmates was talking up the American Youth Soccer Organization in Glendale. In the neighborhood rec league, the dad said, it was just a bunch of kids kicking the ball around. But in AYSO, they had drills, they had equipment, they had actual soccer instruction. Well, I thought, that’s what Elijah needs, a real soccer coach, who can teach him the real principles of soccer, a game favored by Brazilian men who get laid a lot. Because of my perseverance and caring, I got Elijah one of the final two spots in the AYSO Glendale chapter’s five-year-old league. The AYSO has about 100 different teams in seemingly infinite age brackets, so there’s a lot of competition for park space. Unfortunately, we were assigned to a park in La Crescenta. As I hauled Elijah up there for his first practice, past where the 2 turns into the 210, I thought to myself, “So this is where the mountains are.” Our coach had on a light-brown T-shirt that bore the image of Bob Marley, under which was written the word REEF. Now, I appreciate that a grownup would wear such a shirt in public, but really, given that I live

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in Los Feliz, I shouldn’t have to drive half an hour to meet one of them, not to mention pay 100 bucks plus the cost of cleats, shinguards, and a neon-green soccer ball. By the end of practice, we learned that the team would be called, uninterestingly, the Sharks. Every kid had chosen a name and Coach Reef had pulled one out of a hat. Elijah wanted his team to be called the Liopleurodons, which would have been awesome, certainly way better than Indiana Jones, which was another kid’s choice. In any case, our first practice went OK, and Elijah didn’t complain, but I suspect that’s because I took him out for a tasty bowl of pho when it was over. Last Tuesday, the team had its fourth practice. We were now called the Bandits because the Sharks had already been taken, forcing Coach Reef to make an executive decision. In general, things had devolved considerably. Practice, we were informed, would be on Monday from now on. Coach Reef spent the first 20 minutes explaining that it wasn’t his fault, as the order had come down from the league office. Meanwhile, the seven kids who’d shown up were told to work on “dribbling.” One of them decided to lie down inside the net. About five minutes in, Elijah was sitting on a ball with his green-and-gold jersey over his face. Then, we started scrimmaging, because, Coach Reef said, “all the kids want to do is play games anyway.” Elijah, terrified that the other team was going to score, ran back toward his goal every time someone kicked the ball. “Get out of my way!” said another kid. “I will not, you idiot!” said Elijah. Then they were shoving each other, and the other kid was screaming, “HE CALLED ME AN IDIOT!” Coach Reef broke it up, saying, “Hey, we’re all friends.” “He’s not my friend!” Elijah said. True enough, but I still had to pull my son aside and tell him it wasn’t OK to call one of his teammates an idiot. After a brief, lethargic drill during which the boys learned how to throw the ball in from out of bounds, overhand, Coach Reef called the boys over, told them again that they were all friends, and everyone limply chanted “Bandits!” before we broke. Their first game was in 10 days, and they didn’t seem ready. In the parking lot, Elijah said, “I played better than ever before, didn’t I, daddy?” “You played great,” I said. But in reality, he hadn’t really played at all, just ran around in an unfocused, disorganized way while another kid stood in the middle of the field and shouted “ENOUGH WITH ALL THE KICKING!” On the way home, I listened to the ninth inning of a pathetic 2-1 Dodgers loss to the Washington Nationals, the worst team in baseball, where the supposedly playoffcontending Blue, those maudlin chokers, had left 10 men on base and hit into four double plays. At least my kid is five years old, with a beginning soccer coach. What’s the Dodgers’ excuse?✶

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Edited by Ron Garmon

REZNOR'S EDGE (SEE SATURDAY)

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HOLLYWOOD BOWL

THURSDAY + WORD, ’N’ STUFF‌ Remember when hip-hop came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of Reagan’s White America in the ’80s? Well, you can relive that all over again at the Silent Movie Theatre when Cinefamily kicks off its Word Is Born: Hip-Hop in the Movies 1979-1984 series with the film that started it all. Wild Style stars legendary graffiti artist Lee Quinones as Zoro, the street artist who ‌ ah, who cares, you don’t watch this film for the plot. You watch it for the breakdancing, the freestyling, and the rare footage of Grandmaster Flash on the 1s and the 2s. In attendance will be director Charlie Ahearn, who will also screen his short film Bongo Barbershop, and Cut Chemist spinning before and after the screenings. Over 25 years later, Wild Style will probably still frighten your parents. 8 p.m. $10. Silent Movie Theatre, 611 N. Fairfax Ave., Los Angeles. silentmovietheatre.com. (Carman Tse)

FRIDAY ,

HIGH (AND HIGHER) LONESOME Wailing at The Redwood Bar tonight with DJ Bonebrake (ex-drummer of X) and his aw-shux country compeers The Bonebrake Syncopators is the country-blues hokum of C.W. Stoneking. Outta Footscray, Australia, this act has a nice line in authentic (ooh, that word!) sounding wheeze-bag old-timey country that sounds like it’s rolling off Edison wax cylinders. America’s taken many a weird old turn since this music was in vogue, so the collision between it and post-postmod earholes results in some fine frissons. If you miss C.W. tonight, he’ll be holding forth at the Redwood until Monday. $5. 10 p.m. 316 W. 2nd St., downtown. theredwoodbar.com. (Ron Garmon)

SATURDAY -

WALPURGISNACHT COMES LATE THIS YEAR Since leaving the dread confines of Interscope Records, Trent Reznor’s proving more lively than usual, releasing an instrumental doublealbum back in March and a vocal LP, The Slip, in May. The North American leg of the inevitable Nine Inch Nails tour concludes at The Forum this evening, with Deerhunter for support. $36 +. 8 p.m. 3900 W. Manchester Blvd., Inglewood. laforum.com. (RG)

SUNDAY .

THROWING THE HORN As if the heresies of NIN aren’t enough, the following Sabbath day faces profanation by the second annual Manifest Destiny festival, brought to The Echoplex by the diabolical folks at Tee Pee Records. Come

howl with the brimstone likes of Witchcraft, Earthless, Nighthorse, Graveyard, and (wait for it) The Warlocks. The last-named is one of the greatest heavy acts to come out of L.A. music in recent years and well-worth any minion of evil’s time. This is an all-ages show, so the black cinder of anyone’s heart will be warmed by sight of so much wayward youth. 3 p.m. $15. 1134 Glendale Blvd., Echo Park. attheecho.com. (RG)

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MONDAY /

I JUST WANNA DANCE! With art these days being crammed into tiny galleries or embalmed at big and stuffy museums, it’s refreshing to see the do-ityourself spirit alive with Anatomy Riot #26. A somewhat-monthly series happening at The OPEN Space, it features local artists sharing their latest dance and performance art pieces in a casual environment without the formalities of tickets, seating, or people telling you to not step too close to the artwork. 8 p.m. $10 donation suggested. The OPEN Space, 209 S. Garey St., downtown. myspace.com/anatomyriot. (CT)

TUESDAY 0

FUCK BUTTONS? FUCK YEAH In preparation for their upcoming album, The Hawk Is Howling, Scottish post-rock veterans Mogwai hit the Wiltern tonight for a concert that is promising to be loud and menacing. If you’re like anyone who is truly hip, you’ve already seen Mogwai about six times and are going to this just to see up-and-coming English experimental drone (thanks Wikipedia!) duo Fuck Buttons. Reeling off the critical acclaim of their 2008 debut, Street Horrrsing, their symphonies of apocalyptic doom will be a nice primer for the headliner. 9 p.m. $25. The Wiltern, 3790 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, (213) 388-1400. livenation.com. (CT)

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WEDNESDAY (' CREATIVE KIDS AND CIPHERING DOGS

The tagline of 826LA’s Fall-Time Yuk-Fest is “Insightful Comedy and Dogs on Tightropes.� Seriously, how could you not want to go to this after reading that? Taking the stage for this benefit show are Janeane Garofalo, Tim & Eric, Patton Oswalt, Jimmy Pardo, Bill Burr, and Al Madrigal. Of course the real stars will be Bob Moore and His Amazing Mongrels, a troupe of rescued shelter dogs that jump through hoops, jump rope, and do math. 826LA is the offshoot of Dave Eggers and Co.’s dealie in S.F., providing free programming for young students to develop their creative writing skills and apparently also to dogs to develop their arithmetic. $25-$35. Avalon, 1735 Vine St., Hollywood. 826la.org. (CT)

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IAN RICHARDSON AND THE STRANGERS? OR BAUHAUS: THE FINAL REUNION?

TRICK OF MEMORY

New director’s cut shines a little light on ‘Dark City’ BY ANDY KLEIN

I

t’s been a little more than a decade since Alex Proyas’s Dark City was released theatrically. It was poorly marketed – the studio made it seem more like a horror film than a noirish, metaphysical science fiction story. Despite some glowing reviews – I had it on my top ten, but, somewhat more importantly, Roger Ebert made it his number one of the year – it only found its true audience slowly through the subsequent DVD release. Now, New Line Home Video – as one of their last gasps before final absorption into Warner HV – has put out a new “Director’s Cut” edition on both DVD and Blu-ray. Dark City wasn’t officially based on a Philip K. Dick story, but it’s closer in spirit to Dick (in books like Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said, Time Out of Joint, and A Maze of Death) than any of the official adaptations. Dealing with themes of false reality, constructed identity, and a world manipulated by conspiracy, it was just a little ahead the curve. Within eighteen months of its release, we got The Truman Show, eXistenZ, The Thirteenth Floor, the Spanish import Open Your Eyes (later remade as Vanilla Sky) and, of course, The Matrix. The success of The Matrix way overshadowed whatever memories of Dark City lingered in the public consciousness. Many who discovered Proyas’s film more recently may have assumed it was a knockoff of The Matrix in both concept and look. Ironically, one of the reasons for the visual similarity is that some sequences in The Matrix were shot on Australian sets that had been built specifically for Dark City. The film opens with a setup that is both classic film noir and perfectly Dickian: John Murdoch (Brit actor Rufus Sewell) awakens in a strange hotel room with no idea how he got there or, for that matter, who he is or why there is a dead prostitute in the room. A phone call warns him to leave at once; he escapes just before the arrival of a bunch of sinister, deathly pale men, who look precisely like Christopher Lloyd’s Judge Doom in Who Framed Roger Rabbit (though

Proyas cites Max Schreck in Nosferatu as the main inspiration). In fairly short order, Murdoch is being chased both by The Strangers (as the film comes to refer to these weird ghouls) and by the police, led by the accordion-playing Detective Bumstead (William Hurt), who suspects him of a series of murders. Murdoch can’t be sure he’s not guilty, even as he begins to recover brief flashes of his memories, helped along by his torch-singer wife, Emma ( Jennifer Connelly), and by his “therapist” – the bizarre Dr. Shreber (Kiefer Sutherland). Little by little, both Murdoch and the viewer begin to notice that there’s something, well, a little off about the milieu where all this is taking place. Everybody seems to remember a place called Shell Beach, but no one can quite recall how to get there. And – in what is a droll comment on noir cinematography – it seems to always be night. “When was the last time you remember doing something during the day?” Murdoch asks Bumstead, who is reluctant to admit that he doesn’t have an answer. Indeed, the more Murdoch and the audience discover about what’s going on, the less clear it becomes that anything in Dark City is to be taken at face value. The film passes out of the realm of such amnesiac noir fare as Mirage, Night Without Sleep, and Somewhere in the Night, through the quasiscience-fictional Groundstar Conspiracy, and into the world of Dick, The Matrix, and sheer madness. If the standard questions in amnesia movies are “Who am I? Could I be capable of murder? What are my missing memories?” Dark City asks “Are these my memories? Or someone else’s? Or no one’s? ... And would it make any difference?” Plus: “What the hell is going on?” That last question gave studio execs the heebie-jeebies. They were afraid that audiences would be confused at first – apparently missing the point that they were supposed to be confused. It’s a mystery! – one in which things become at least relatively

clear by the end. But – much as Ridley Scott had to add the lame voiceover to Blade Runner – so Proyas agreed (apparently with subsequent regrets) to have Sutherland do a voiceover for the opening shot, giving away the whole setup. The central suspense was terribly compromised. Fans will be delighted to know that the first and most obvious change Proyas has made for the director’s cut is the removal of that voiceover and some other “dumbed down” explanatory material in the early parts of the film. The director’s cut runs about 11 minutes longer than the original, with most of the expansion coming in little pieces that add grace notes or make the pacing a little less frenetic. Other changes are slightly more obvious: Jennifer Connelly’s singing voice in her nightclub scenes had been replaced by someone else in the theatrical cut; here, her vocals have been restored. She sings fairly nicely; if her voice isn’t slickly professional, well, that makes perfect sense in terms of the plot. The new disc includes both versions of the movie. Each has its own set of extras; those for the theatrical cut – a commentary track with Proyas and collaborators, a critical commentary track by Ebert, and some trivial text screens – seem to have been ported over, unchanged, from the original 1998 DVD release. The director’s cut is accompanied by an hour and 20 minutes of new documentaries – an intro by Proyas and Ebert, a retrospective making-of, and a more analytical examination of the themes. There are three new commentary tracks – one by Proyas, one by screenwriters Lem Dobbs (Kafka) and David S. Goyer (The Dark Knight), and one by Ebert. The last should really be described as “newish”: Most of the material is new, but some has been lifted from his earlier track. It is delightful that, despite his recent health problems, he was able to contribute; it takes maybe 10 seconds to get used to his new, softer voice. Both tracks provide some great info. Anyone who has looked at Sutherland’s

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exaggerated limp and thought “Walk this way!” will be tickled to hear one of the screenwriters mention the conscious similarity to Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein. Ebert gets off some beautiful lines: Of the heavily stylized, Hopper-esque diner, he points out that it’s no real automat; it’s “an automat’s wet dream of itself as an automat.” As for the look and sound of the new edition: I watched the Blu-ray version and found it substantially better than the DVD, which was, in its time, a state-of-the-art transfer. Dark City is, as the title suggests, dark – way, way dark – and benefits more than usual from a high-def treatment. To be fair, however, buyers might want to take a look at the debate going on at avsforum.com about the processing of the image. Some there find the level of artificial smoothing applied to the image to be unacceptable, with almost no film grain in the texture, leaving faces waxy-looking. On principle, I’m strongly opposed to any meddling that reduces grain, which is one of the central elements that distinguish film from video. But, in practical terms, I was unbothered by the problem here and almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed it if it hadn’t been pointed out. The Blu-ray has one of those popup options that provide trivia and facts; it’s particularly useful, because it flags all the changes in the director’s cut. Unfortunately, the way it’s programmed makes it impossible to listen to any of the commentaries at the same time, which would be a fairly natural thing for a second viewing – a minor irritation. ✶

Dark City. Directed by Alex Proyas. Screenplay by Alex Proyas and Lem Dobbs and David S. Goyer; story by Alex Proyas. Starring Rufus Sewell, William Hurt, Kiefer Sutherland, Jennifer Connelly, Richard O’Brien, Colin Friels, and Ian Richardson. New Line Home Video, DVD, $19.97; Blu-ray Disc, $28.99.

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A GIRL CUT IN TWO After nearly 50 years and nearly 60 features, director Claude Chabrol is still fascinated by crimes of passion. For his new film, he’s taken the story of the so-called “Crime of the Centur y” – Harr y K. Thaw’s murder of Stanford White, former lover of Thaw’s wife, model Evelyn Nesbit – and moved it from 1906 America to 2006 France. Francois Berleand (Tell No One) plays Charles Saint-Denis, a successful (and married) middleaged novelist, who falls for TV weathergirl Gabrielle Deneige (Ludivine Sagnier). But she is also being courted by Paul Gaudens (Benoit Magimel), the severely icky and unstable heir to a pharmaceutical for tune. She rebuf fs Gaudens but finally agrees to marr y him after Saint-De-

nis abandons her. Chabrol does his best work in the thriller genre, but he seems colder and frankly humorless when he works with real-life stories (his overrated 1989 A Stor y of Women, for a star t). The same problem exists here: The director almost seems to have set out to do a historical corrective to Ragtime’s version of the scandal. (He cites the 1955 Girl in the Red Velvet Swing as being closer to the facts than the Milos Forman film.) There is little to criticize in the direction or per formances, except that Gaudens is por trayed as such an obnoxious jerk – even his haircut is obnoxious – that it’s hard to imagine anyone with half a brain deigning to have anything to do with him. (Likewise, Saint-Denis’s agent is played by Mathilda May, who, 23 years after strutting around naked in Lifeforce, is so charismatic and ravishing that it’s hard to understand why

Make Change Happen Now Pacifica Graduate Institute is an accredited graduate school offering masters and doctoral degree programs framed in the traditions of depth psychology. The Institute has an educational environment that nourishes respect for cultural diversity and individual differences, and an academic community that fosters a spirit of free and open inquiry. Pacifica has developed two unique educational formats that are particularly well-suited to adult learners who pursue graduate education while continuing to meet existing commitments. Call 805.969.3626, ext. 305 for more information about applying to Pacifica Graduate Institute or visit www.pacifica.edu An Admissions Forum will be held on Saturday, September 27th for those interested in graduate school this fall. Visit www.pacifica.edu to register.

the author is wasting his time on Deneige.) There are tasty hints of wrinkles that are never followed up on, including a throwaway implication that Deneige is Muslim. (Andy Klein) (Nuar t)

LOVE AND HONOR Generally speaking, the safest job for a samurai is in the Shogun’s court – far away from the dangers of battle or the feudal uncertainties of the countryside. For Shinnojo (Takuya Kimura), one of the Shogun’s trusted poison-tasters, it’s a job that’s enabled him to provide a safe and secure life for himself and wife Kayo (Rei Dan). That all changes, however, after a bad helping of out-of-season shellfish leaves him blind, forcing Kayo to resort to more desperate measures to keep the family from losing ever ything. According to legendary Japanese director Yoshi Yamada – now 77 years

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of age with more than 70 films to his credit, including the famed Tora-San series – this is the concluding chapter of the samurai trilogy he began in 2003 with the Oscar-nominated The Twilight Samurai and continued the following year with The Hidden Blade. Like its predecessors, it’s a revisionist look at the realities of samurai life, placing its emphasis on more intimate matters and daily, domestic concerns than the glories of combat or Bushido. While the result here is nowhere near as engaging as in the two previous films, it’s still a captivating film, beautifully acted and extremely well staged within a handful of intimate locales. The story itself isn’t anything particularly novel – little more than a variation on the old “loss and return” trajectory Hollywood first perfected in the romantic comedies of the ’40s – though it’s more than adequate for Kimura and Dan to drag audiences through a minefield of emotions. Look for veteran actor Ken Ogata – star of Paul Schrader’s Mishima – in a cameo as Shinnojo’s fencing instructor. (Wade Major) (Laemmle’s Music Hall 3, Laemmle’s One Colorado)

MISTER FOE Watching director David McKenzie’s of fbeat, yet unexpectedly moving Scottish coming-of-age drama, one might be shocked to see Jamie Bell, the cherubic dancing child hero of Billy Elliot, now por traying a creepy peeping tom with a potentially murderous Oedipal Complex. Bell offers an amusingly underplayed performance as brooding 17-year-old Scots lad Hallam Foe, who becomes convinced that his sultry, sinister new stepmother (a nicely inscrutable Claire Forlani) murdered his mother in order to get to Hallam’s gruff businessman dad (Ciaran Hinds). The boy also has a habit of hiding out in his childhood treehouse and smearing his face with purple lipstick, as he watches the local kids make love in the woods. After the stepmother tries to blackmail him into obeying her, Hallam runs away from home and gets a job at an Edinburgh hotel, whose HR manager (Sophia Myles) just happens to bear an eerie resemblance to his dead mother. Complications ensue when Hallam starts stalking the manager, watching her have sex with her boyfriend, and even wooing her himself. Replete with a veritable haggisload of edgy Scottish nihilism, McKenzie’s film nevertheless still makes a creepy little oik like Bell’s character seem likable – and the script by co-writers McKenzie and Ed Whitmore deftly juggles psychologically ambiguous themes with undercurrents of melancholy and rage. Bell’s tightly wound turn as the strange young teenager interestingly balances disturbing obsession with vulnerability. Myles’s perfor mance as Hallam’s oh-so-screwed-up maternal love interest is intriguing as well. (Paul Birchall) (Landmark West Los Angeles)

PING PONG PLAYA “C-Dub” Wang (Jimmy Tsai, who also cowrote) is convinced that his Chinese gene pool is the only reason he isn’t playing for the Lakers right now. But he’s pretty much a layabout, constantly overshadowed by big brother Michael (Roger Fan), who is both a doctor and a perennial winner of the National Golden Cock ping pong tournament. When Mom (Elizabeth Sung) and Michael are both injured in a car accident, C-Dub has to take over Mom’s ping pong class, a grab-bag of pre-adolescent Asian-American losers and geeks. And then he has to sub for Michael in the tournament, in order to save Mom’s school. If chief competitor Harcourt (Peter Paige) wins, his new

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school will drive Mom out of business. Ace documentarian Jessica Yu (Sour Death Balls, In the Realms of the Unreal) makes her fictional feature debut with this comedy, whose low budget is readily apparent. It’s mostly funny and often cute, but it suffers a bit in comparison to the very similar Foot Fist Way, which was released a few months ago. The supporting cast of (mostly) unknowns is fine, but Tsai – for whom this appears to be Rocky-like launch project – overestimates his natural appeal: C-Dub’s alternately obnoxious and endearing personality is far more frequently the former than the latter. (Andy Klein) (Mann’s Chinese 6)

ALSO OPENING THIS WEEK: Bangkok Dangerous. Oxide and Danny Pang directed this Hollywood remake of their own 1999 Hong Kong thriller about a deaf hit man. This time around, the hit man is Nicolas Cage, and he’s not deaf. Charlie Yeung and Shahkrit Yamnarm costar. (AK) (Citywide) Momma’s Man. A young man (Matt Boren), visiting his parents in New York, moves back into his old room and becomes increasingly unable to return home to his wife and kids. Azazel Jacobs wrote and directed; the casting of his parents (Flo and Ken Jacobs) as the hero’s parents raises more than a slight suspicion of autobiographical origins. (AK) (Laemmle’s Sunset 5, Laemmle’s Town Center 5, Laemmle’s Playhouse 7)

NOW PLAYING See Showtimes and Special Screenings for more info. Capsule reviews by Andy Klein (AK), Paul Birchall (PB), Annlee Ellingson (AE), Mark Keizer (MK), Wade Major (WM), Amy Nicholson (AN), Brent Simon (BS), Joshua Sindell (JS), and others as noted. American Teen. No matter how enjoyable Nanette Burstein's documentary about four Midwestern high school seniors may be, our appetite for watching young people do silly, overly sincere, and sometimes brave things has been slaked by the glut of junk food TV shows on the subject. Quirkily pretty and independent Hannah fights for permission to move to San Francisco after graduation and be a film maker – qualities that seem to have caused Burnstein to tie the film's arc to her as she plummets into a depression, claws out of it in time to fall for a handsome jock, and then uses the fallout from the resulting clique war fare to help define herself. With "reality" becoming increasingly fictionalized, we're at once suspicious of the film's truth and forgiving of its false moments – it's just one more pleasant nothing. Though it's the first cousin of a wholly disposable genre, the film aims for timelessness by avoiding topical issues. Being a little more specific, however, would at least have given it the distinction of a time capsule. Though the film crams together every tear and kiss, you can learn as much about the teens' psyches by analysing their MySpace pages. (AN) America the Beautiful. Director Darr yl Roberts's documentary examines America's obsession with physical per fection. Among the participants are Eve Ensler (The Vagina Monologues), Julianne Moore, Anthony Kiedis, Jessica Simpson, Paris Hilton, and Ted Casablanca. (AK) Anita O’Day: The Life of a Jazz Singer. The eventful odyssey of Anita O'Day – who died two years at the age of 87 – is presented in this documentar y from Ian McCrudden and Robbie Cavolina, O'Day's last manager. (AK) Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild. Tod Stephens directs this followup to is 2006 Another Gay Movie. This time, the four heroes (Jonah Blechman, Jake Mosser, Aaron Michael Davies, Jimmy Clabots) celebrate spring Break in Florida, where they enter the "Gays Gone Wild" competition. (AK) Babylon A.D. In what sounds like a degraded knockoff of Children of Men, Vin Diesel plays a mercenary, who must spirit a young woman (Melanie Thierr y) – possibly pregnant with the Messiah or something like that – out of Russia. Mathieu Kassovitz (La Haine) directed this troubled production, whose stellar cast includes Michelle Yeoh, Gerard Depardieu, Charlotte Rampling, and Lambert Wil-

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THIS FILM IS RATED R. RESTRICTED. Under 17 Requires Accompanying Parent Or Adult Guardian. Please note: Passes received through this promotion do not guarantee you a seat at the theatre. Seating is on a first-come, first-served basis, except for members of the reviewing press. Theatre is overbooked to ensure a full house. No admittance once screening has begun. All federal, state and local regulations apply. A recipient of tickets assumes any and all risks related to use of ticket, and accepts any restrictions required by ticket provider. Paramount Pictures, L.A. City Beat, Star Line Tours and their affiliates accept no responsibility or liability in connection with any loss or accident incurred in connection with use of a prize. Tickets cannot be exchanged, transferred or redeemed for cash, in whole or in part. We are not responsible if, for any reason, recipient is unable to use his/her ticket in whole or in part. All federal and local taxes are the responsibility of the winner. Void where prohibited by law. No purchase necessary. Participating sponsors, their employees and family members and their agencies are not eligible. NO PHONE CALLS!

IN THEATRES SEPTEMBER 19

son; David Belle (District B13) staged some of the action sequences. (AK) (Citywide) Bangkok Dangerous. See Also Opening This Week. Bottle Shock. Based on a true story, and set in 1976, Bottle Shock weaves together the stories of novice California vintner Jim Barrett (Bill Pullman), his unfocused son Bo (Chris Pine, laboring under a ridiculous wig), and struggling Parisian wine seller Steven Spurrier (Alan Rickman). Seeking a way to boost his business and reputation, Spurrier strikes upon the notion of a blind taste test for the French cognoscenti and heads to California's then-nascent vineyards, whose purveyors he regards as dilettantes, as a mere formality to round out his offerings. What he discovers alters the history of wine-making forever. There's a deeper, more interesting movie to be made about the Napa Valley boom, but co-writer/director Randall Miller (Marilyn Hotchkiss Ballroom Dancing & Charm School) seems happy to aim lower and play for lightweight delights. The movie looks gorgeous, and for every utterly frustrating scene, there are one or two good ones, particularly involving Rickman, as a snobby Englishman in an even snobbier French game. (BS) Brideshead Revisited. Oxford student Charles Ryder (Matthew Goode) becomes fast friends with gay aristocratic Sebastian Flyte (Ben Whishaw). Soon he is deeply involved with the wealthy Flyte family, including matriarch Lady Marchmain (Emma Thompson), an utterly devout Catholic; Lord Marchmain (Michael Gambon), who has fled to Venice with his mistress (Greta Scacchi); and Sebastian's sister Julia (Hayley Atwell). Brit novelist Evelyn Waugh’s best known work was previously dramatized as an immensely popular elevenpar t 1981 TV miniseries starring Jeremy Irons. Under the intimidating shadow of that presentation, director Julian Jarrold (Becoming Jane) and screenwriters Jeremy Brock and Andrew Davies have come up with this bigscreen version. It plays out in the familiar manner of toney British literary adaptations, but, in being boiled down to a manageable 2 1/4 hours, the thematic development becomes lopsided. The Catholic issues that become dominant toward the end may prove, for non-Catholics, strictly from Alpha Centauri. I wish I could say Brideshead Revisited drew me into its struggles with faith and grace, but, sadly, I felt suddenly abandoned toward the end, as though Jarrold had inexplicably decided to have his actors switch to speaking Finno-Ugric for the final scenes. (AK) Cthulhu. Gay history professor Russell (Jason Cottle) returns from the Big City to his small home town to attend the funeral of his mother. For years, he has been estranged from his creepy father (Dennis Kleinsmith), and before long, Russell's intended brief visit turns into a series of increasingly bizarre visions, as he discovers that dad actually heads a religion devoted to the diabolical Old Ones – ancient monsters who appear to live in the local harbor. Director Dan Gildark's adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft is internally disjointed, murky, and ultimately derivative horror opus. Gildark orchestrates a decidedly effective mood of eerie unease. However, the pacing is unexpectedly inert, and screenwriter Grant Cogswell's script is a ponderous and disjointed muddle. Few of the drama's narrative elements make sense – what, it takes Russ til he's 30 to realize that his pa is the leader of a cult of monster worshippers? The various visions are leadenly rendered, and the film clumsily tosses together bits of scares from movies ranging from The Wicker Man to Rosemary's Baby, with the "homages" sometimes being so overt they only call into question the filmmaker's poor sense in trying to echo the other movies. (PB)

College. Teen comedy about three high school seniors visiting a college campus. Deb Hagan directed; Drake Bell, Kevin Covais, Andrew Caldwell, and Haley Bennett star. (AK) The Dark Knight. In Christopher Nolan's ambitious and hugely entertaining followup to Batman Begins, the caped crusader (Christian Bale) goes up against the Joker (Heath Ledger, in a strange and memorable per formance), while tr ying to position D.A. Har vey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) as the public “white knight” to take over from his own extralegal “dark knight.” Complicating matters is that Harvey is dating Bruce Wayne's longtime love, Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Katie Holmes, in the only major casting discontinuity), and that Harvey – as anyone with a passing knowledge of Batman lore knows – is destined to go mad and turn into Two-Face. The Joker takes over Gotham crime, but for reasons scarier than greed: he is a force of chaos, who wants to wreak havoc for its own sake, to put average law-abiding citizens into a position where they must confront their own hearts of darkness. Despite the multi-thread plot and the various character and theme levels, The Dark Knight is very close to all-action. It's another step in Nolan's attempt to make action blockbusters more "serious" without stripping them of the genre's benefits. The down side: there is almost no humor; it's downright somber, even grim. (AK) Death Race. A former racer (Transpor ter toughie Jason Statham) is framed for his wife's murder and sent to a prison that is home to Death Race, an internet pay-per-view phenomenon where prisoners burn rubber around the facility in heavily armored cars decked out with creative weaponry. The winner of five races is granted their freedom by the ramrod stern warden (played, for some reason, by Joan Allen). It's like picking on the defenseless to knock a movie written and directed by a card-carrying hack (AVP's Paul W.S. Anderson) and targeted towards the young, dumb, and full of cum. But in Death Race, Anderson deserves even greater disapproval by re-imagining Paul Bartel's politically crafty, nastily violent 1975 B-movie original for his own juvenile purposes. Laughter is hard to contain as the Mortal Kombat auteur plays grownup by positing an America whose economy has collapsed and where corporations run the penal system – "Look, ma, I'm topical!" As metal flies, lips curl and sweat beads, the movie's full-throttle obnoxiousness sometimes creates a primitive pull; other wise, it's a movie about car crashes that's a car crash itself. (MK) Disaster Movie. Exactly what it sounds like: Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer, the writing/directing team behind Date Movie, Epic Movie, and Meet the Spartans, apply their comic bludgeon to yet another genre. Carmen Electra, Vanessa Minnillo, Nicole Parker, and Kim Kardashian are among the onscreen coconspirators. (AK) Elegy. Isabel Coixet’s carefully observed autumnal character study, based on Philip Roth's novel, char ts the relationship between a celebrated college professor, David Kepesh (Ben Kingsley), and Consuela Castillo (Penelope Cruz), a gorgeous student who punctures his wry, protective veneer. As their af fair ignites, frays, and recommences, Kepesh must come to grips with the possibility of a deeper love. As adapted by Nicholas Meyer, Elegy alternately gallops and yawns. Even at 112 minutes, it tries to cover too much ground and fails to fully keep up with the ambition of its narrative roots. he per formances here are committed and quietly engaging, and Coixet, serving as her own camera operator, beautifully captures the lingering, jangled spaces between all parties, and they ways even the most intelligent among us

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can build up a justification for walls of isolation. (BS) Fly Me to the Moon. The second cartoon this summer to open with ape Ham I strapping into a space suit, Fly Me to the Moon has two advantages over rival Space Chimps: it's marginally smarter and in 3-freaking-D. These are water y compliments for a pleasant unassuming film. Aside from a few oh-yeah! dazzlers, dimensionalizing the stor y of three young house flies – the hero, the geek, and the fatty – who slip aboard Apollo 11 doesn't maximize its visual potential. The plot – the usual be-a-hero stuff – is unessential; the science stops with "Wow! Look! The moon!" Back in their Houston swamps, we spend a little too much time with their families: three nervous moms nursing round pink maggots, and a daredevil Gramps still reminiscing about his old love Nadja, a Russian insect built like Charo, and his flight across the Atlantic with Amelia Earhart. Forming the killjoy truth committee are biologists in the audience compelled to note that the 41-year gap between Earhart and Armstrong would make Gramps as relatively ancient as King Tut, as well as Buzz Aldrin, who interrupts the credits to insist that at no time was the Apollo 11 infected with "contaminants." (AN) Frozen River. Two struggling single mothers – one white, the other Native American – form a dangerous axis of convenience when they collaborate to smuggle illegal immigrants across the New York-Canada border by way of the Mohawk reservation that straddles it. Ray (Melissa Leo) is a classic blue collar case – a beleaguered divorcee who simply wants to earn enough money to move her boys out of their cramped trailer and into a more luxurious double-wide. Lila (Misty Upham) is more complex – an angry widow, ostracized by her own people, bitter at whites, frustrated at her perceived inadequacies as a mother. Made on a shoestring and filmed to great effect in snow-laden upstate New York locations, the 2008 Sundance Film Festival Grand Jur y Prize-winner is written and directed with exceptional polish by Courtney Hunt – a delicate film that could easily have become more of a lecture than a character piece. As it stands, it's one of the year's best, boasting a per formance from Leo that may well land her some well-deser ved awards consideration come year-end. (WM) A Girl Cut in Two. See Latest Reviews. Hamlet 2. A grotesquely unsuccessful writer/director/actor (Steve Coogan), reduced to teaching a high school drama class, decides to save the program from budget-cut extinction by staging his own outrageously inane musical sequel to Hamlet. Since Shakespeare killed everyone off, the sequel requires Hamlet to have a time machine, allowing him to go back and change the tragic events, with some help from Einstein, Hillary Clinton, and, of course, Jesus. In short, the film is Mr. Holland's Opus crossed with Waiting for Guffman. The script from director Andrew Fleming (The In-Laws, Nancy Drew) and South Park scribe Pam Brady wrings out occasional belly laughs, but is generally uninspired. The narrative is terribly sloppy: Events lurch forward unevenly, with major developments taking place behind the audience's backs. And, if the play works for the audience in the film, it never does for the rest of us. Coogan is a master at playing jerks, but Dana is too silly, too stupid, and too unappealing to enlist us on his side. (AK) Hancock. Hancock (Will Smith) is a down-andout superhero, who looks like a wino (and pretty much is). He can't intervene in a high-speed freeway pursuit without causing far more damage than the fugitives ever could have. As a result, he's constantly taking guff from the citizenry, and he responds with misanthropic insults. When Hancock saves the life of p.r. flack Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman), Ray convinces him to work on his public image; and soon the "new" Hancock is the toast of the town. Everyone seems to love him, except for Ray's wife, Mary (Charlize Theron), who is curiously unfriendly. Peter Berg’s film star ts out as a standard superhero action/comedy, with the emphasis on the latter, in the manner of Superman or The Last Action Hero. But about three-fifths of the way in, things take a sudden turn, with a plot development that caught me (and most of the audience I was with) totally by surprise, despite a number of ambiguous hints along the way. While this switcheroo has put off many critics, it is precisely what I found most interesting about Hancock. The tone becomes more serious and the plot more complicated. (AK) The House Bunny. Anna Faris is awesome in this ramshackle entertainment, a comedy about a 27-year-old Playboy bunny, Shelley Darlingson, who gets the heave-ho from Hugh Hefner's mansion and reinvents herself as a socially empowering den mother for a group of sorority gals (led by Superbad's Emma Stone), who need to sign a big pledge class in order to keep their house and char ter. Written by the same tandem that penned Legally Blonde, the film basically just drops a gender-switch on a lot of the frat-house-clash cliches of college flicks. Things frequently get a bit awkward when everyone has to stop what

LACITYBEAT 28 SEPTEMBER 4-10, 2008

they're doing in order to drag the narrative forward, and director Fred Wolf doesn't do much to distinguish himself as a ringmaster of ensembles. It doesn't really matter, though. Unburdened by vanity, or dopey tells that indicate a winking superiority to the material, Faris–the best young screen comedienne working today–gives The House Bunny a wild, wide-eyed charm. (BS) I.O.U.S.A. According to Patrick Creadon's unnerving documentary, by 2050, 75% of the national budget will be allocated for Social Security, Medicaid, and Medicare. The remaining 25% must cover oh, say, everything else. Dave Walker and Bob Bixby, the film's activist stars, have spent the last year on a Fiscal Wake Up Tour sounding the alarm. They break down the four major debt crises – trade, savings, loan, and leadership – and clarify aspects like the GDP versus the Trade Deficit. For his end, Creadon and co-writers Christine O'Malley and Addison Wiggin do their best to muck up the clarity. The doc's editing and structure are a mess, the tone skips from plaintive to jocular, and the man-onthe-street pop quizzes seem designed to prove only that we're a nation of idiots. In this election year, we're ready to debate solutions, but Creadon lazily orders us to a website. I'd rather he budgeted the 10 minutes to spell out the tough decisions our country must make: Retool our health and retirement funds. Reclaim our factories. Readjust to the higher prices of American made goods. Pay extra now or pay exorbitantly later. (AN) I Served the King of England. Veteran Czech director Jiri Menzel's latest is a fable-like tale, told mostly in flashback, about lovable loser Jan (Ivan Barnev as a young man, Oldrich Kaiser as an older man), whose earnest ambition and indefatigable zest for life help him climb through Czech society's rigid social strata. Along the way, he enjoys some rather uproarious adventures (particularly as a waiter and hotel staffer) even as the tides of history – namely Nazism and Communism – intervene at his expense. This is hardly Menzel's best work, but it consistently manifests his best qualities and proves the septuagenarian cineaste is still at the top of his game. As always, there's a love of the absurd that falls somewhere between Fellini and the Coen brothers, along with an enduring affection for the bygone tools and tactics of the silent cinema. Barnev's performance is intentionally Chaplinesque, with numerous scenes clearly designed to evoke similar moments in Chaplin's own films – but that's hardly a bother. (WM) Iron Man. Brilliant billionaire industrialist and inventor Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr.) is kidnapped following an overseas weapons test, but escapes from his terrorist captors by building a massive suit of armor. Upon his return, this erstwhile lord of war is emotionally transformed and, after a few cybernetic and proprietary repulsor-ray upgrades to his suit, sets out to right the wrongs created by his company's complicity in humanitarian crises. This puts him at odds with longtime aide Obadiah Stane (Jeff Bridges), who wants to maintain the double-dealing status quo. Director Jon Favreau is handcuffed only slightly by a screenplay that eventually dictates conflict in the form of a more direct, larger-than-life antagonist, eliciting strong per formances from Bridges, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Terrence Howard. Then there's Downey, who's rakish and wry, but also gives us grace notes of a deeper reservoir of private pain. Slick and playful, Iron Man works in large part because the extremely hands-on nature of the character – he builds all his own gear, thank you very much, and brashly, publicly embraces his alter ego – helps separate him from a lot of his otherworldly or accidentally gifted superhero brethren. (BS) Journey to the Center of the Earth. A scientist (Brendan Fraser), his orphaned nephew (Josh Hutcherson), and a tough-as-icebergs Icelandic mountain guide (Anita Briem) plummet to, well, check the title. Director Eric Brevig knows he's not really shooting a Jules Verne mind-blower (though we do walk out having learned a sentence each about muscovite and magnesium); this is pure commercial blockbuster, and it's a fine specimen. Ever y three minutes, Brevig and the quartet of credited writers ratchets the stakes against the trio ever sur facing from the earth's core: there are dinosaurs, carnivorous plants, and carnivorous fish, not to mention an excruciating sequence with floating magnetic rocks. Every two, he reminds us that we're witnessing a 3-D spectacular with visual delights that range from a caress from a field of blowing dandelions to a slap in the face from a yoyo. (AN) Kit Kittredge: An American Girl. After three made-for-TV movies, the enormously popular American Girl brand – 14 million dolls and 123 million books sold – arrives on the big screen. Directed by Patricia Rozema (Mansfield Park) in soft golden hues, the story, set in 1934, conveys a tempered reality of the Great Depression, as seen through the bright blue eyes of Kit Kittredge (Abigail Breslin), an aspiring journalist. Kit watches helplessly as her family's car dealership fails, her father leaves Cincinnati to seek work elsewhere, and her

mother takes in boarders and – gasp! – sells eggs to survive. The central conflict isn't immediately clear: Kit's desire to see her name in print is somewhat supplanted by her difficult transition to her family's financial woes, until a good old-fashioned mystery puts her investigative skills to work. And the climax drags, especially for the target demographic. But Breslin makes for a spunky heroine, and the supporting cast – particularly Joan Cusack as a wacky mobile librarian – is enthusiastically goofy for audiences willing to play along. (AE) Kung Fu Panda. If this really is one of Dreamworks Animation's final 2D offerings before moving up to 3D next year, they'd better reverse the tepid creative course established by Shrek the Third, Bee Movie, and this gorgeous, yet only moderately funny, exhuming of Joseph Campbell mythology. Instead of the Hero with a Thousand Faces, however, we get the Hero Weighing a Thousand Pounds, a portly panda named Po. He's a clumsy, black and white fur ball, who yearns to escape his life as a noodle seller and learn martial arts like his heroes, the Furious Five (voiced, to no great effect, by the likes of Angelina Jolie and Jackie Chan). For reasons not worth recounting, the athletically challenged Po is anointed the exalted Dragon Warrior, and the task of training him falls to Master Shifu (a terrific Dustin Hoffman). Po's ultimate challenge will be to fight vicious Tai Lung, Shifu's spurned and vengeful former student who, in a thrilling sequence, has escaped from an inescapable prison. Po is voiced by Jack Black and while his rebel-nerd humor feels too hip for this particular room, he delivers splendidly. Otherwise, the moralizing is fortune-cookie rudimentary, and the cleverness, while present, is in short supply. Consider this a modest appetizer before the summer's main course, Pixar's WALL-E. (MK) The Longshots. The true story of 11-year-old Jasmine Plummer (Keke Palmer), the first girl to play Pop Warner football, is spun by director (and former Limp Bizkit leadman) Fred Durst as fairly routine family drama cum underdog sports tale. The bookish Jasmine, an only child being raised by a single mom several years after her layabout dad skedaddled, is introduced to football by her unemployed, semihomeless uncle Curtis (Ice Cube). As surrogate family bonds begin to form, Jasmine and Curtis discover a newfound sense of purpose in life, just in time for Jasmine to quarterback the local Pop Warner team out of its doldrums and into an unlikely run for the championship. Hoosiers meets Rudy meets Gracie meets every other film of this type ever made: Nick Santora's screenplay and Durst's direction are workmanlike but painfully derivative and safe. What redeems the film somewhat are the performances – Cube continues to manifest uncanny spontaneity and naturalism in other wise lackluster par ts, while Palmer, though occasionally mannered and precocious (as she was in Akeelah and the Bee) is just as often a magnetic presence, a mountain of adult talent awkwardly trapped in an adolescent's body. (WM) Love and Honor. See Latest Reviews. Mamma Mia! In this film version of the hugely successful Broadway production, a thin story is used as an excuse to reprise 20 or so tunes by ABBA. The plot bears some similarity to both the 1968 Buona Sera, Mrs. Campbell and this year's Definitely, Maybe: Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), raised by single mom Donna (Meryl Streep) on a Greek island and about to get married, has invited three of Mom's ex-boyfriends (Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård, Colin Firth), in hopes of determining which is her father. Sadly, the execution here doesn't do justice to even ABBA's bright, shallow work. This is allegedly a musical comedy, but the first thing one notices is how flat the comedy is. Playwright/screenwriter Catherine Johnson gets points for avoiding all the creaky gags that usually show up in these contrived stories. Unfortunately, she has not replaced them with fresh gags. You can count the genuine laughs here on one hand. And, while the tunes themselves may be tried and true, musicals traditionally rely rather heavily on things like singing and dancing; but what stage director Phyllida Lloyd throws onto the screen could better be described as "singing" and "dancing." The filmmakers seem to think they can get by on sheer high spirits, but even the highest spirits can't compensate for Mamma Mia!'s deficiencies. (AK) Man on Wire. James Marsh directed this thrilling documentar y about young French wire-walker Philippe Petit, who, in 1974, snuck into the World Trade Center, still under construction, strung a wire between the towers, and not only walked, but also danced, hopped, lay down, and even playfully taunted arriving police – all at a mere 1350 feet above the hard streets and sidewalks of Manhattan. He combines stills, Petit's home movie footage from the time, and judicious reenactments to accompany a chronological narration from Petit and a half dozen of his co-conspirators. While no actual heist was pulled off, Man on Wire is exactly like a heist film, detailing the planning, recruitment, surveillance, and execution of the ca-

SEPTEMBER 4-10, 2008 29 LACITYBEAT

per...complete with internal tensions, setbacks, and mistakes, some of which ironically prove beneficial. Beautifully put together, it is every bit as suspenseful as even the best Hollywood heist films, which is even more remarkable when you consider that we know, from the first frame, that Petit will survive. (AK) Mirrors. A family is terrorized by a supernatural force that can enter their home through the mirrors. Alexandre Aja (High Tension, the 2006 remake of The Hills Have Eyes) directed this retread of Kim Sung-ho's 2003 Korean thriller, Into the Mirror. Both sound like swipes from Douglas Heyes's memorable Thriller episode, The Hungry Glass. Kiefer Sutherland and Amy Smart star. (AK) Mister Foe. See Latest Reviews. Momma’s Man. See Also Opening This Week. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. After a plodding ten-minute pre-title sequence, the intrepid archaeologist (Brendan Fraser) from the 1999 and 2001 hit Mummy movies, his wife (Maria Bello, replacing Rachel Weisz), her brother (John Hannah), and the couple’s son (Alex Ford) join forces with a threethoudand-year-old sorceress (Michelle Yeoh) to thwart a mummy-esque Chinese emperor (Jet Li), who has reawakened with plans for world domination. The 1999 film survived largely on the comedy and the romantic interaction, neither of which is present here. The script lifts from sources that were themselves tired liftings from other sources. The funniest lines don't appear to have been intended to be funny, the action sequences are flat and unexciting, and the behavior of the CGI Yetis briefly slides into Airplane!-level reality. In general, the CGI makes you long for the days of Ray Harryhausen, a comparison that becomes unavoidable when director Rob Cohen (replacing Stephen Sommers) dredges up an army of skeletons. (AK) Pineapple Express. Process server Dale (Seth Rogen) buys some rare weed dubbed Pineapple Express from stoner Saul (James Franco, actually, truly, funny). When Dale witnesses a murder by drug lord Ted (Gary Cole) and accidentally leaves a Pineapple Express-loaded joint at the crime scene, Ted traces it back to Saul; and, before long, our heroes are running for their lives. In a career turn that probably left skid marks, indie auteur David Gordon Green (George Washington) tackles a highconcept, summer comedy – the latest Bro-Epic from Judd Apatow's over worked comedy factor y – but fails to goose up an Apatow formula that's grown repetitive and stale. Here, the Apatovian schlub-hero has nothing substantive – like the onset of adult responsibilities that Rogen experienced in Knocked Up – to hang the antics onto. So the sweetness, which provided the lasting flavor in Knocked Up and The 40 Year Old Virgin, feels artificial, leaving us with a lazy, occasionally funny mess. But don't be disappointed: if you wait about 20 minutes, Apatow will release another comedy that might be better. (MK) Ping Pong Playa. See Latest Reviews. The Rocker. Twenty years after getting booted from a famous rock group, a has-been drummer (Rainn Wilson), desperate for a comeback, pushes his way into his nephew's garage band. Christina Applegate, Teddy Geiger, Josh Gad, Jeff Garlin, Jane Lynch, Will Arnett, and Howard Hesseman (!) costar. (AK) Sex and the City: The Movie. After ten years of serial drama, Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) has hit two milestones: her first black friend (Jennifer Hudson) – admittedly a paid assistant – and her first wedding, to Mr. Big (Chris Noth). At 40, she's told her nuptials aren't a minute too soon; as her Vogue editrix Enid (Candice Bergen) cautions, "It's the last year you can wear a wedding dress without a Diana Arbus subtext." But Big leaves Carrie at the altar. And no, that's not a spoiler – it happens one hour into this candied 148-minute behemoth. (Throw in the burning of Atlanta, and writerdirector Michael Patrick King, executive producer for most of the show's run, would convince you Big and Carrie are this generation's Rhett and Scarlett.) This isn't a movie – it's five episodes stretched into an event. If there were a girl alive who hadn't already heard she was a Carrie or Miranda or Charlotte or Samantha, she'd feel steamrollered. After the closing credits, she'd still have no idea what Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) does for a living, or who's that bald guy (Evan Handler) married to Charlotte (Kristen Davis). But the time ticks by easily like a lazy TV marathon, a humbler achievement than demanded by a diva flick that's self-congratulatory – even Carrie's famed pink wife beater and tutu combo sashay out for applause – but a minor triumph for inessentiality all the same. (AN) The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. A sequel to 2005's modest, well-calibrated 'tween-chick-lit hit, this picture of genial uplift reunites Alexis Bledel, America Ferrera, Amber Tamblyn, and Blake Lively as the friends who discover and share a pair of jeans that mysteriously, and per fectly, fits each of them. Having graduated from high school and branched out on their own, they find themselves caught up with flames both new and familiar, with new problems testing their commitment to keeping in touch. Condensing the narratives of three books into a single summer makes for some awkwardness, specifically in the case of Lively's stor yline, which involves both an archaeological dig in Turkey and a reconnection with her estranged grandmother (Blythe Danner). Other bits seem contrived, no matter their fidelity to the source material, but what helps all this go down like a perfectly blended fruitshake are the lived-in, naturalistic performances of leads and supporting players alike, all capably managed by director Sanaa Hamri (Something New). (BS) Space Chimps. After an unmanned space probe gets sucked into a wormhole and lands on a faraway planet, NASA nabs carefree circus performer Ham III (voiced by Andy Samberg), the grandson of the first chimpanzee astronaut, and pairs him with two other trained, in-house chimps to blast into space and gauge the viability of life. When they land on said planet, the chimps encounter alien bully Zartog (voiced by Jeff Daniels), who has appropriated the powers of the crashed space

rover to enslave his peers. There's nothing either offensive or lastingly memorable about this loose-limbed animated flick that serves up goofy, colorful aliens and talking animals doing outrageous things. Co-written and helmed by debut director Kirk De Micco, it's as affable and free from thought as its protagonist – a throwback to the animation of two decades ago, when storytelling lapses could be colorfully papered over and excused as merely part of medium. In the Pixar age, of course, that doesn't really fly. Consequently, one tunes out on Space Chimps long before it's run its course, even though it does have the virtue of brevity. (BS) Star Wars: The Clone Wars. Animated Jedis and Siths do battle in the period between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith. Yawn. Dave Filoni directed this animated feature; Matt Lanter, Tom Kane, and James Arnold Taylor are among the voice artists. (AK) Step Brothers. When lusty middle-agers Robert (Richard Jenkins) and Nancy (Mary Steenburgen) decide to marry, each brings along a fortyish live-at-home son with an extreme case of arrested development. Robert's son Dale (John C. Reilly) talks dirty, fancies himself a drummer, and collects classic porn. Nancy's son Brennan (Will Ferrell) talks dirty, fancies himself a singer, and appreciates porn – classic or otherwise. Each also resents the other, firmly convinced that their parents' marriage has destroyed what was a really good thing. The ensuing rivalry and subsequent friendship – which is supposed to be funny only because it features grown men acting like children – will probably go over big with grown men who act like children, while boring the daylights out of most anyone else. Written by Ferrell and director Adam McKay from a story the two devised with Reilly, this is a very disappointing reunion for the Talladega Nights team, essentially a threadbare sketch idea, stretched so far past the breaking point that the last half of the film feels like a giant, awkward scramble to try and formulate some kind of satisfactory conclusion. (WM) Tell No One. Eight years ago, the police suspected pediatrician Alexandre Beck (Francois Cluzet) of murdering his beloved wife Margot (Marie-Josee Croze). After a new discovery reopens the case, Alex receives an anonymous email, including recent surveillance camera footage of a woman who appears to be Margot. As he tries to unravel this mystery, another involved party turns up dead from a fatal bullet from Alex's gun, and our hero is soon on the run, trying desperately to prove his innocence. This top-drawer thriller from young French actor/writer/director Guillaume Canet (who received the Best Director Award for the film in the French equivalent of the Oscars) shows the influence of Hitchcock...or, at least, Hitchcock by way of Claude Chabrol. If there's a problem, it's that the plot becomes so complicated that, three days after viewing it, I'm already confused about which murder eight years ago was pinned on a random serial killer...or exactly who hired whom for some of the mayhem. I think it all ends up making sense, but I wouldn't swear to it. The entire cast is good, but it's Cluzet who's on screen nearly nonstop, and he carries the whole affair per fectly. (AK) Traitor. An explosives expert (Don Cheadle), trained by U.S. Special Forces, now traffics with Islamic terrorists, along with good buddy Omar (Said Taghmaoui). Two FBI agents (Guy Pearce, Neal McDonough) are hot on his trail but begin to suspect that he may an undercover agent for our side. Writer/director Jeffrey Nachmanoff does a great job keeping Samir's character in jeopardy, while dealing with the moral differences and equivalences between Us and Them in the War on Terror. But, as in his screenplay for The Day After Tomorrow, he isn't so great at the plot details. One big climactic development in particular so monumentally and crucially contradicts the setup that it comes close to completely invalidating what has gone before. After many right decisions throughout and solid work from the actors, it's a shame to see the film implode at the very end. (AK) Transsiberian. On their way back from a church trip to China, devout naif Roy (Woody Harrelson) and his wife, former bad girl Jessie (Emily Mor timer), board the Transsiberian Express for the six-day journey to Moscow. Roy immediately strikes up a friendship with a younger couple, Carlos (Eduardo Noriega) and Abbie (Kate Mara), but Jessie instantly senses that Carlos is trying to get into her pants and is probably a drug smuggler, to boot. When the situation explodes, Jessie finds herself constructing a rickety structure of lies, which is sure to tumble down when Roy makes a new friend – scary police detective Ilya (Ben Kingsley). The latest from Brad Anderson (Session 9, The Machinist) is an absolute nailbiter, one of the most plausible and best constructed thrillers in years. The only frustration is that the plot depends on the very perceptive Jessie making a series of stupid choices; most can be explained by her frazzled emotional state, but some are just too egregious, as when she spins new lies that are absolutely certain to exposed. Still, by the end, Jessie and Roy learn a lot of unpleasant truths about themselves – and so do we. (AK) Tropic Thunder. An action star on the skids (Ben Stiller, who also directed and cowrote), a "serious" Australian actor (Robert Downey Jr.), and a broad comic (Jack Black) are in the Vietnamese jungle, making the film version of the memoirs of a tough-to-the-point-of-psycho vet (Nick Nolte). The latter convinces the firsttime director (Steve Coogan), under pressure from a thuggish studio boss (an almost unrecognizable Tom Cruise), to take them without crew on a trek through the jungle to generate some real fear in their per formances. Unfortunately, local drug wholesalers think they're DEA agents, and the danger becomes real. This is a hybrid of a couple of concepts that aren't exactly new, but the pacing is snappy; the story moves along coherently, with clockwork precision; little plot details all make sense. The fake trailers at the beginning are hilarious, even though the gags are pretty easy. Stiller is terrific, and Downey is somewhat better than terrific – inspired. The entire supporting cast delivers. The only weak spot is Black, whose character is more of a cartoon than the others. Tropic Thunder really is hysterical; and it even manages,

LACITYBEAT 30 SEPTEMBER 4-10, 2008

now and then, to surprise. (AK) Trouble the Water. Tia Lessin and Carl Deal won the Grand Jury Prize at this year's Sundance Festival for this documentary about an aspiring rap artist and her husband, from right before Hurricane Katrina hits the 9th Ward, through their attempts to escape, and to their return home. (AK) Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Two young women (Rebecca Hall, Scarlett Johansson) travel to Spain, where they are charmed by an artist (Javier Bardem), whose romantic history includes a crazy wife (Penelope Cruz), who isn’t really out of the picture. This gentle comedy/romance from Woody Allen is heavily influenced by Truffaut’s Jules et Jim, particularly in its nonchalant use of an omniscient narrator to structure the events. The voiceover gives Vicky Cristina Barcelona the feeling of a fairy tale; while it might take place in a fairy tale world, the stor y is driven by sometimes unpleasant complexities. (Not that fairy tales are always pleasant or simple.) Vicky and Cristina are obvious stand-ins for warring impulses within most of us; and Allen genially, gently suggests how close opposites can be. (AK) WALL*E. Five years after directing Finding Nemo to historic success, Pixar co-founder Andrew Stanton has managed to set an extraordinary new bar, not just for animated movies, but for the film industry at large. The astonishingly simple yet profoundly moving tale centers on a lonely maintenance robot, who has spent more than seven centuries cleaning, sorting, organizing, and collecting earth's junk, leftovers from before mankind abandoned the increasingly uninhabitable planet. But the appearance of a new probe – and a fetching female robot named Eve – set WALL*E's circuits aflutter, putting into motion an adventure that will determine the very future of mankind ... and the earth. All but certain to become the breakaway hit of the summer, WALL*E is a cautionar y fable, an old-fashioned romance, a paean to the power of the movies, a poem to the magic of dreams, and an edge-of-your-seat adventure film, this is the kind of movie Hollywood was supposed to have long since forgotten how to make. We can thank our lucky stars that Stanton and Pixar haven't. (WM) The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Unessential and boneheaded, this six-years-too-late second X-Files movie from series creator Chris Carter isn't even as good-bad as a marathon episode. Lacking aliens, Bigfoots, and brains, it's merely a Very Special Episode of CSI. Someone's slashing up West Virginia, and Scully (Gillian Anderson) has been pressed to enlist the estranged Mulder (David Duchovny), who been avoiding the FBI ever since that nasty time they sentenced him to death for murder. We've under the impression they haven't seen each other in ages – she's awkward, he's bearded – but after one instance of goo-goo eyes and zero instances of pleasant conversation, a scene finds them post-coital spooning with an upside down book spelling "SEX" on the cover, in case we were in doubt, given the absence of their once combustible chemistry. Meanwhile, there are violent Russians and a possibly psychic, definitely pedophiliac, priest (Billy Connolly) with a suspiciously good homing instinct for severed limbs. Director Carter and co-writer Frank Spotnitz have penned one of the year's most asinine flicks, with Scully and Mulder floundering about, trying to solve a mystery that could have been unraveled with a day's decent detective work. (AN)

SHOWTIMES SEPTEMBER 5-11, 2008 Note: Times are p.m., and daily, unless otherwise indicated. All times are subject to change wit hout notice.

BURBANK AMC Burbank 16, 140 E Palm Av, (818) 953-9800. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 11 a.m., 1:20, 3:40, 6:05, 8:30, 10:50; Sun 11 a.m., 1:20, 3:40, 6:05, 8:30; Mon 1:20, 3:40, 6:05, 8:30. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:50, 10:30; Mon 1:45, 4:20, 6:45, 9:35. College Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:40, 4:15, 6:55, 9:30; Mon 1:40, 4:15, 6:55, 9:30. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun noon, 3:35, 7, 10:25; Mon 3:35, 7, 10:25. Death Race Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:40, 5:20, 8, 10:40; Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:40, 5:20, 8, 10:35; Mon 2:05, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50. Disaster Movie Fri-Sat 11:05 a.m., 1:25, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35, 11; Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:25, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35; Mon 1:25, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D Fri-Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:25, 4:50, 7:10, 9:40; Mon 2, 4:45, 7:25, 9:55. Hamlet 2 Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:50; Mon 1:05, 3:25, 5:45, 8:05, 10:20. The House Bunny Fri-Sat 12:35, 3:05, 5:35, 8:10, 10:45; Sun 12:35, 3:05, 5:35, 8:10, 10:40; Mon 1:30, 4:05, 7:05, 10:05. Mirrors Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 10:10; Mon 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 10:10. Pineapple Express Fri-Sat 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 5, 7:40, 10:35; Sun 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 5, 7:40, 10:20; Mon 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 10:15. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:05, 4:40, 7:25, 10; Mon 1:35, 4:15, 6:40, 9:25. Traitor Fri-Sat 12:10, 2:50, 5:30, 8:20, 11; Sun 12:10, 2:50, 5:30, 8:20; Mon 1:50, 4:40, 7:35. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sat 11:35 a.m., 12:15, 2:20, 2:55, 5:05, 5:35, 7:45, 8:15, 10:20, 10:55; Sun 11:35 a.m., 12:15, 2:20, 2:55, 5:05, 5:35, 7:45, 8:15, 10:20; Mon 1:45, 2:55, 4:25, 5:35, 7:05, 8:15, 9:45. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 4:55, 7:30, 10:05; Mon 1:15, 4:10, 7:15, 10. AMC Burbank Town Center 8, 210 E Magnolia Bl, (818) 953-9800. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:05, 4:25, 6:50, 9:15; Mon-Thur 2:05, 4:30, 6:50, 9:15.

The Dark Knight Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:55, 6:10, 9:25; Mon-Thur 1:55, 5:20, 9. Death Race Fri-Sun 12:45, 3:40, 6:20, 9; MonThur 1, 3:30, 6:10, 8:50. Disaster Movie Fri-Sun noon, 2:20, 4:40, 7:05, 9:30; Mon-Thur 2:20, 4:40, 7:05, 9:30. The Longshots Fri-Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:30, 4:50, 7:15; Mon-Thur 2, 4:35, 7:15. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sat 11:35 a.m., 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:25; Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:15; Mon-Thur 4:45, 10:15. The Rocker Fri-Sun 9:45; Mon-Thur 9:40. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:30; Mon-Thur 1:15, 4:15, 7, 9:45. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:25, 5:05, 7:35, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:25, 7:10, 9:35. AMC Burbank Town Center 6, 770 N First St, (818) 953-9800. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sun 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 10; Mon-Thur 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 10. Bangkok Dangerous Fri 1:45, 4:20, 6:45, 9:30; Sat-Sun 11:20 a.m., 1:45, 4:20, 6:45, 9:30; MonThur 2:30, 5:10, 7:45. The House Bunny Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:35, 7:10, 9:45; Mon-Thur 1, 3:35, 6:15, 9. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Fri 1:55, 4:55, 7:45, 10:25; Sat-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:25, 5:05, 7:45, 10:25; Mon-Thur 1:30, 4:10, 7, 9:40. Traitor Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:30, 10:15; Mon-Thur 1:05, 3:40, 6:30, 9:15. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sun 1:40, 4:25, 7:05, 9:45; Mon-Thur 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:10.

CULVER CITY, MARINA DEL REY The Bridge: Cinema De Lux & IMAX Theater, The Promenade at Howard Hughes Center, 6081 Center Dr, Westchester, (310) 568-3375. Call theater for titles and showtimes. Culver Plaza Theatre, 9919 Washington Blvd, (310) 836-5516. Bottle Shock Fri-Sun 12:05, 2:35, 5:05, 7:35, 10:05; Mon-Thur 12:05, 2:35, 5:05, 7:40. Hancock Fri-Sun 3:10, 9:30; Mon-Thur 3:10. The Longshots Fri-Sun 3:15, 5:30, 10; MonThur 3:15, 5:30. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 12:50, 7:40; Mon-Thur 12:50, 8. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor FriSun 12:20, 2:50, 5:20, 10:10; Mon-Thur 12:20, 2:50, 5:20. Rock On! Fri-Sun 12:30, 3:30, 6:30, 9:30; MonTue 12:30, 3:30, 6:30; Wed 12:30, 3:30; Thur 12:30, 3:30, 6:30. Singh Is Kinng Fri-Sun 7:30; Mon-Thur 7:50. Spaceballs Wed only, midnight. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 12:45, 5:15, 7:20. Transsiberian Fri-Sun 12:30, 2:50, 5:05, 7:40, 10:05; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:50, 5:05, 7:30. Loews Cineplex Marina Marketplace, 13455 Maxella Av, (310) 827-9588. Bottle Shock Fri 1:45, 4:25, 7:10, 9:55; Sat-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:45, 4:25, 7:10, 9:55; Mon-Thur 1:55, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30. College Fri-Sun 9:45; Mon-Thur 9:20. Disaster Movie Fri 2:45, 5:15, 7:45, 10; SatSun 12:15, 2:45, 5:15, 7:45, 10; Mon-Thur 2:30, 5, 7:30, 9:40. Hamlet 2 Fri 2:25, 5, 7:40, 10:10; Sat-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:25, 5, 7:40, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:50, 7:10, 9:25. Mamma Mia! Fri 1:35, 4:20, 7:05; Sat-Sun 11 a.m., 1:35, 4:20, 7:05; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:15, 6:50. Pineapple Express Fri 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 10:05; Sat-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 10:05; MonThur 1:50, 4:30, 7, 9:35. Tropic Thunder Fri 1:40, 4:35, 7:20, 10:15; SatSun 11:05 a.m., 1:40, 4:35, 7:20, 10:15; MonThur 2, 4:40, 7:15, 9:45. Pacific Culver Stadium 12, 9500 Culver Bl, (310) 855-7519. Babylon A.D. 12:50, 3:40, 5:30, 8:20, 10:40. Bangkok Dangerous 1:30, 4:30, 7:30, 10. College 1:55, 4:55, 7:55, 10:10. The Dark Knight 12:30, 3:45, 7:05, 10:20. Death Race 1:35, 4:15, 7:10, 9:50. Disaster Movie 12:35, 2:50, 5:10, 7:45, 9:55. Hamlet 2 2:20, 4:45, 7:35, 10:25. The House Bunny 12:40, 3, 5:20, 8:10, 10:35. Mirrors 4:20, 9:45. Pineapple Express 1:05, 4:05, 7:15, 10:05. The Rocker 1:50, 7:20. Traitor 1, 4, 7, 9:40. Tropic Thunder 2, 5, 8, 10:30. UA Marina, 4335 Glencoe Av, (310) 823-1721. Babylon A.D. 1, 3:10, 5:30, 7:40, 10:10. Bangkok Dangerous 12:30, 3, 5:20, 7:50, 10:30. The Dark Knight 12:10, 3:30, 6:50, 10. The House Bunny 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:40, 7:10, 9:40. Open Captioned Performance - Selected Film - Daily Tue-Thur. Traitor 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:30, 10:20. Vicky Cristina Barcelona noon, 2:30, 5, 7:20, 9:50.

DOWNTOWN & SOUTH L.A. Laemmle’s Grande 4-Plex, 345 S Figueroa St,

(213) 617-0268. Babylon A.D. Fri 5:25, 7:40, 9:55; Sat-Sun 1, 3:10, 5:25, 7:40, 9:55; MonThur 5:25, 7:40. Bottle Shock Fri 5, 7:30, 10; Sat-Sun 1:55, 5, 7:30, 10; Mon-Thur 5, 7:30. Tropic Thunder Fri 5:10, 7:45, 10:15; Sat-Sun 1:45, 5:10, 7:45, 10:15; Mon-Thur 5:10, 7:45. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri 5:30, 7:50, 10:10; Sat-Sun 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:50, 10:10; Mon-Thur 5:30, 7:50. Magic Johnson Theaters, Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza, 4020 Marlton Av, (323) 290-5900. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sun 10:20 a.m., 12:40, 3, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15; Mon-Thur 12:40, 3, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:30, 10:05; Mon-Thur 2:20, 5, 7:30, 10:05. College Fri-Sun 10 a.m., 12:20, 2:50, 5:30, 8, 10:30; Mon-Thur 12:20, 2:50, 5:30, 8, 10:30. The Dark Knight 11:55 a.m., 3:20, 6:45, 9:50. Death Race Fri-Sat 11:20 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 2, 2:30, 4:45, 5:15, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10, 10:40; Sun 11:20 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 2, 2:30, 4:45, 5:15, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2, 2:30, 4:45, 5:15, 7:35, 8:05, 10:10. Disaster Movie Fri-Sun 10:05 a.m., 12:15, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 9:55; Mon-Thur 12:15, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 9:55. The House Bunny Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:15, 4:50, 7:20, 9:40; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:50, 7:20, 9:40. The Longshots Fri-Sat 9:55 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 12:10, 12:45, 2:25, 3:10, 4:55, 5:35, 7:45, 8:15, 10:20, 10:50; Sun 9:55 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 12:10, 12:45, 2:25, 3:10, 4:55, 5:35, 7:45, 8:15, 10:20; Mon-Thur 12:10, 12:45, 2:25, 3:10, 4:55, 5:35, 7:45, 8:15, 10:20. Mirrors Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:45, 4:35, 7:25, 10; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:35, 7:25, 10. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor FriSun 10:50 a.m., 1:35, 4:20, 7:10, 9:45; MonThur 1:35, 4:20, 7:10, 9:45. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 1:55, 4:30, 7, 9:30; Mon-Thur 1:55, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Traitor Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:35, 5:25, 8:10, 10:45; Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:35, 5:25, 8:10, 10:40; Mon-Thur 5:25 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 2:35, 8:10, 10:40. Tropic Thunder 11:45 a.m., 2:35, 5:05, 7:55, 10:35. University Village 3, 3323 S Hoover St, (213) 748-6321. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:45, 10, 12:15 a.m.; Sun-Thur 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:45, 10. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sat 1:30, 3:45, 6, 8:15, 10:30, 12:35 a.m.; Sun-Thur 1:30, 3:45, 6, 8:15, 10:30. Disaster Movie Fri-Sat 12:30, 2:45, 5, 7:15, 9:30, 11:45; Sun-Thur 12:30, 2:45, 5, 7:15, 9:30.

HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Cinemas Hollywood, 6360 Sunset Bl, (323) 464-4226. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 12:35, 2:55, 5:15, 7:45, 10:05; Sun 2:55, 5:15, 7:45, 10:05. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:45. Blade Runner: The Final Cut Sun only, 8. Bottle Shock Fri-Sun 11:25 a.m., 2:25, 5:05, 7:35, 10:15. College Fri-Sun 12:40, 2:45, 4:55. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun 12:25, 3:45, 7:25, 10:45. Elegy Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 8:10, 10:50. Hamlet 2 Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:45, 5:35, 7:10, 7:55, 9:30, 10:25. Pineapple Express Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2:50, 5:50, 8:20, 11. Traitor Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:40, 4:20, 7:20, 10. Tropic Thunder Fri 11:10 a.m., 2, 4:40, 7:40, 10:40; Sat 11:10 a.m., noon, 2, 2:40, 4:40, 5:40, 7:40, 8:30, 10:40, 11:30; Sun 11:10 a.m., 2, 3:10, 4:40, 5:50, 7:40, 8:40, 10:40, 11:30. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri 11:05 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 1:35, 2:20, 5, 5:45, 8:15, 10:55; Sat-Sun 11:05 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 1:35, 2:20, 5, 5:45, 7:30, 8:15, 9:50, 10:55. Grauman’s Chinese, 6925 Hollywood Bl, (323) 464-8111. Death Race 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10. Los Feliz 3, 1822 N Vermont Av, (323) 664-2169. Hamlet 2 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Man on Wire 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Vicky Cristina Barcelona 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Mann Chinese 6, 6801 Hollywood Bl, (323) 461-3331. Disaster Movie 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:50, 7:20, 10. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D 2, 6:50. The House Bunny 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:40, 7:10, 9:50. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D 11:30 a.m., 4:10, 9:30. Mamma Mia! 11:20 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7, 9:40. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri 12:30, 3, 5:30; Sat 3, 5:30; Sun-Wed 12:30, 3, 5:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Wed 8, 10:30. Pacific’s El Capitan, 6838 Hollywood Bl, (323) 467-7674. Sleeping Beauty Fri-Sat 10 a.m., 12:15, 2:30, 4:45, 7, 9:15; Sun-Wed 10 a.m., 12:15, 2:30, 4:45, 7; Thur 10 a.m., 12:15, 2:30, 4:45. Pacific’s The Grove Stadium 14, 189 The Grove Dr, Third St & Fairfax Av, (323) 692-0829. Baby-

lon A.D. 12:30, 2:55, 5:20, 7:50, 10:25. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sat 12:05, 2:50, 5:25, 8:05, 10:50, 11:55; Sun-Thur 12:05, 2:50, 5:25, 8:05, 10:50. College 11:45 a.m., 4:50. The Dark Knight Fri-Tue 12:10, 3:40, 7:05, 10:35; Wed 12:10, 3:40, 10:35; Thur 12:10, 3:40, 7:05, 10:35. Death Race 11:55 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:45, 10:30. Disaster Movie 11:35 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:35. Hamlet 2 Fri-Sun 12:45, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:40; Mon 11 a.m., 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:40; Tue-Thur 12:45, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:40. The House Bunny 11:50 a.m., 2:35, 5:05, 7:35, 10:15. Mamma Mia! Sing-a-Long 11:15 a.m., 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:45. Pineapple Express 10:50 a.m., 2, 4:40, 7:25, 10:20. Traitor 11:40 a.m., 2:25, 5:15, 7:10, 8:10, 11:15. Tropic Thunder Fri-Tue 11:05 a.m., 12:25, 1:55, 3, 4:30, 5:35, 7:20, 8:15, 10:05, 11:10; Wed 11:05 a.m., 12:25, 1:55, 3, 4:20, 5:35, 7:20, 8:15, 10:35, 11:10; Thur 11:05 a.m., 12:25, 1:55, 3, 4:30, 5:35, 7:20, 8:15, 10:05, 11:10. Vicky Cristina Barcelona 10:40 a.m., 12:55, 2:20, 3:20, 5:50, 8:20, 10:10, 11:05. Regent Showcase, 614 N La Brea Av, (323) 9342944. Cthulhu 5:30. Transsiberian Fri 7:30; Sat-Sun 3, 7:30; Mon-Thur 7:30. Vine, 6321 Hollywood Bl, (323) 463-6819. Vista, 4473 Sunset, (323) 660-6639. Tropic Thunder Fri 4:20, 7, 9:40; Sat-Sun 1:40, 4:20, 7, 9:40; Mon-Thur 4:20, 7, 9:40.

NORTH HOLLYWOOD, UNIVERSAL CITY Century 8, 12827 Victory Bl, (818) 508-6004. Babylon A.D. 12:30, 2:50, 5:05, 7:30, 9:50. Bangkok Dangerous noon, 2:35, 5:10, 7:45, 10:20. The Dark Knight 11:55 a.m., 3:30, 7, 10:15. Death Race 12:05, 2:45, 5:15, 7:50, 10:25. Disaster Movie 12:40, 3, 5:20, 7:35, 10. The House Bunny 11:30 a.m., 1:55, 4:25, 7:10, 9:40. Traitor 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:30. Tropic Thunder 11:25 a.m., 2, 4:45, 7:20, 9:55. Loews CityWalk Stadium 19 with IMAX, 100 Universal City Dr at Universal CityWalk, (818) 5080588; IMAX Theater (818) 760-8100. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 12:15, 2:30, 4:50, 7:10, 9:35, 11:55; Sun 12:15, 2:30, 4:50, 7:10, 9:35; Mon-Thur 2:30, 4:50, 7:10, 9:35. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30, midnight; Sun 11:30 a.m., 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30; Mon-Thur 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. College Fri-Sat 3:35, 5:55, 8:30, 11:20; Sun-Thur 3:35, 5:55, 8:15, 10:30. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 1, 4:20, 7:45, 11:10; SunThur 1, 6, 9:20. The Dark Knight: The IMAX Experience IMAX FriSun 12:15, 3:30, 6:45, 10; IMAX Mon-Thur 12:45, 3:50, 6:55, 10:05. Death Race Fri-Sat 11:50 a.m., 1:30, 2:25, 4, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 9, 10:10, 11:35; Sun 11:50 a.m., 1:30, 2:25, 4, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 9, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:30, 2:25, 4, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 9, 10:10. Disaster Movie Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:10, 4:25, 6:50, 9:20, 11:40; Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:10, 4:25, 6:50, 9:15; Mon-Thur 2:10, 4:25, 6:50, 9:15. Hamlet 2 Fri-Sat 12:50, 3:20, 5:40, 8, 10:45; Sun 12:50, 3:20, 5:40, 8, 10:25; Mon-Thur 1, 3:20, 5:40, 8, 10:25. The House Bunny Fri-Sun 12:05, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:20; Mon-Thur 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:20. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:15, 9:40; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:40, 7:15, 9:40. The Longshots 1:10. Mirrors Fri-Sat 11:40 a.m., 2:45, 5:20, 8:20, 11; Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:45, 5:20, 8, 10:35; Mon-Thur 2:45, 5:20, 8, 10:35. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor FriSun 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 4:55, 7:50, 10:30; MonThur 2:20, 4:55, 7:50, 10:30. Pineapple Express Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:20, 10:15; Mon-Thur 2:05, 4:45, 7:20, 10:15. Step Brothers 7:55, 10:35. Traitor Fri-Sun noon, 2:35, 5:15, 8:05, 10:40; Mon-Thur 2:35, 5:15, 8:05, 10:40. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sat 12:10, 1:20, 2:50, 4, 5:30, 6:35, 8:10, 9:10, 10:50, 11:50; Sun 12:10, 1:20, 2:50, 4, 5:30, 6:35, 8:10, 9:10, 10:40; Mon-Thur 1:20, 2:50, 4, 5:30, 6:35, 8:10, 9:10, 10:40. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:25 a.m., 1:40, 4:10, 6:55, 9:25; Mon-Thur 1:40, 4:10, 6:55, 9:25. You Don’t Mess With the Zohan Fri-Sun 12:20, 2:55, 5:25; Mon-Thur 2:55, 5:25.

The Dark Knight noon, 3:20, 6:40, 10. Death Race 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:40, 10:20. Disaster Movie 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:30, 6:50, 9:10. The House Bunny 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:20, 7, 9:30. Pineapple Express 11 a.m., 1:40, 4:10, 7:10, 9:50. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 12:30, 3:10. Tropic Thunder 11:30 a.m., 2:20, 5:20, 7:50, 10:30. Pacific’s Northridge Fashion Center All Stadium 10, 9400 N Shirley Av, (818) 501-5121. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 2:05, 4:35, 7:05, 9:45; Sun 2:05, 4:35, 7:05, 9:30; Mon-Thur 2:10, 4:45, 7:15. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sat 2:25, 5, 7:30, 10; Sun 2:25, 5, 7:30, 9:55; Mon-Thur 2:45, 5:20, 7:55. College Fri-Sat 2:10, 4:45, 7:15, 9:40; Sun 2:10, 4:45, 7:15, 9:35; Mon-Thur 2:20, 4:55, 7:25. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 2:30, 7, 10:20; Sun 2:30, 7, 10:15; Mon 1:20, 4:35, 7:50; TueThur 1:15, 4:30, 7:50. Death Race Fri-Sat 2:35, 5:10, 7:45, 10:25; Sun 2:35, 5:10, 7:45, 10:15; Mon-Thur 2, 4:40, 7:20. Disaster Movie Fri-Sat 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:30; Sun 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:25; Mon-Thur 2:50, 5:25, 8. The House Bunny Fri-Sat 2:20, 4:50, 7:35, 10:05; Sun 2:20, 4:50, 7:35, 10; Mon-Thur 2:30, 5, 7:35. Mamma Mia! Fri 1:35, 4:25; Sat 7:25, 10:15; Sun 7:25, 10:05; Mon-Thur 5:15, 8:10. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Fri 7:25, 10:15; Sat-Sun 1:35, 4:25; Mon-Thur 2:25. Traitor Fri-Sun 1:45, 4:30, 7:20, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2:40, 5:30, 8:15. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sat 2, 4:55, 7:40, 10:35;

FABULOUS,

“

FUN AND FRESH! ANNA FARIS’ CHARM IS INFECTIOUS.” Shawn Edwards, FOX-TV

“ALL

HAIL ANNA FARIS...”

Nathan Lee, THE NEW YORK TIMES

COLUMBIA PICTURES PRESENTS IN ASSOCIATION WITH RELATIVITY MEDIA A HAPPY MADIMUSICSON PRODUCTION IN ASSOCIATION WITH ALTA LOMA ENTERTAINMENT “THE HOUSE BUNNY” COLIN HANKS EMMA STONE SUPERVISION BY MICHAELWRITTENDILBECK BROOKS ARTHUR EXECUTIVE MUSIC BY WADDY WACHTEL PRODUCERS ANNA FARIS KIRSTEN SMITH KAREN M CCULLAH LUTZ BY KAREN MCCULLAH LUTZ & KIRSTEN SMITH PRODUCED DIRECTED BY ADAM SANDLER JACK GIARRAPUTO ALLEN COVERT HEATHER PARRY BY FRED WOLF

NOW PLAYING CENTURY CITY AMC Century 15 • 310/289-4AMC Daily 11:10 AM, 1:50, 4:40, 7:20 & 9:55 PM 3 Hours Free Parking Additional 2 Hour Parking $3.00 with AMC Validation

L.A./BEVERLY HILLS Pacific’s The Grove Stadium 14 • 323/692-0829 #209 Daily 11:50 AM, 2:35, 5:05, 7:35 & 10:15 PM 4 Hours On-Site Validated Parking Only $2.00

HOLLYWOOD Mann Chinese 6 • 323/777-FILM #002 Daily 11:40 AM, 2:10, 4:40, 7:10 & 9:50 PM

NORTHRIDGE, CHATSWORTH, GRANADA HILLS Mann Granada Hills, Devonshire St & Balboa Av, (818) 363-3679. Babylon A.D. 12:20, 2:40, 5, 7:20, 9:40. College 5:40, 8, 10:40.

SEPTEMBER 4-10, 2008 31 LACITYBEAT

Sun 2, 4:55, 7:40, 10:25; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5:05, 7:45. Pacific’s Winnetka All Stadium 21, 9201 Winnetka Av, Chatsworth, (818) 501-5121. Babylon A.D. 12:05, 1, 2:30, 3:35, 4:55, 5:55, 7:25, 8:25, 9:55, 10:50. Bangkok Dangerous Fri 12:20, 1:55, 2:55, 4:30, 5:30, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 10:50; Sat-Sun 11:15 a.m., 12:20, 1:55, 2:55, 4:30, 5:30, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 10:50; Mon-Thur 12:20, 1:55, 2:55, 4:30, 5:30, 7:10, 8:10, 9:50, 10:50. College 12:55, 3:20, 5:45, 8:05, 10:30. The Dark Knight 12:15, 3:40, 7:05, 10:30. Death Race Fri 12:30, 2:10, 3:10, 4:50, 5:50, 7:30, 8:30, 10:15; Sat-Sun 11:35 a.m., 12:30, 2:10, 3:10, 4:50, 5:50, 7:30, 8:30, 10:15; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:10, 3:10, 4:50, 5:50, 7:30, 8:30, 10:15. Disaster Movie 12:25, 2:45, 5:10, 7:35, 10. Hamlet 2 12:25, 2:45, 5:05, 7:30, 9:55. The House Bunny Fri 12:35, 2:05, 4:40, 5:35, 7:05, 9:35, 10:35; Sat-Sun 11:40 a.m., 12:35, 2:05, 4:40, 5:35, 7:05, 9:35, 10:35; Mon-Thur 12:35, 2:05, 4:40, 5:35, 7:05, 9:35, 10:35. Mamma Mia! Sing-a-Long Fri 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 10:05; Sat-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 10:05; Mon-Thur 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 10:05. Mirrors Fri 1:35, 4:15, 7, 9:45; Sat-Sun 11 a.m., 1:35, 4:15, 7, 9:45; Mon-Thur 1:35, 4:15, 7, 9:45. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Fri 1:45, 4:25, 7:15, 10:05; Sat-Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:45, 4:25, 7:15, 10:05; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:25, 7:15, 10:05. Pineapple Express Fri 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:20; Sat-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:20; Mon-Thur 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:20. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 1, 3:25, 5:50, 8:15, 10:40. Step Brothers 3:05, 8:05. Traitor Fri 2:15, 5, 7:50, 10:35; Sat-Sun 11:25 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:50, 10:35; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5,

4 Hour Parking at Hollywood & Highland Only $2.00 (with Validation)

WESTWOOD AMC Avco 310/475-0711 Fri, Sun-Thur 1:50, 4:10, 7:10 & 9:30 PM Sat 11:30 AM, 1:50, 4:10, 7:10 & 9:30 PM $4.00 Parking Fri-Sun/$3.00 Parking Mon-Thur At The Avco Center Parking

SANTA MONICA AMC Santa Monica 7 • 310/289-4AMC Fri-Sun 11:40 AM, 2:10, 4:40, 7:10 & 9:45 PM Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:35, 5:00, 7:20 & 9:40 PM SHERMAN OAKS ArcLight Cinemas At The Sherman Oaks Galleria 818/501-0753 Daily 12:10, 2:35, 5:00, 7:55 & 10:25 PM 4 Hours Free Validated Parking

UNIVERSAL CITY CityWalk Stadium 19 with IMAX® 800/FANDANGO #707 Fri-Sun 12:05, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40 & 10:20 PM Mon-Thur 2:40, 5:10, 7:40 & 10:20 PM

Movie Parking Rebate $5 General Parking Rebate at Box Office with Movie Ticket Purchase (Excludes Preferred & Valet)

WEST LOS ANGELES The Bridge Cinema De Lux 310/568-3375 Digital Projection Daily 11:55 AM, 2:15, 4:40, 7:10 & 9:45 PM Fri & Sat Late Show 12:00 Midnight

AND AT A THEATER NEAR YOU FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION CHECK LOCAL LISTINGS

7:50, 10:35. Tropic Thunder Fri noon, 1:40, 2:40, 4:20, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:45, 10:45; Sat-Sun 11 a.m., noon, 1:40, 2:40, 4:20, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:45, 10:45; Mon-Thur noon, 1:40, 2:40, 4:20, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:45, 10:45. Vicky Cristina Barcelona 12:15, 2:50, 5:15, 7:40, 10:10.

SANTA MONICA AMC Santa Monica 7, 1310 Third Street Promenade, (310) 395-3030. Death Race Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2, 4:50, 7:30, 10:15; Mon-Thur 12:05, 2:40, 5:15, 7:50, 10:20. Disaster Movie Fri-Sun 12:30, 3:05, 5:30, 8, 10:20; Mon-Thur noon, 2:30, 5:10, 7:30, 10. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:20, 3:30, 5:40, 7:50, 10; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:45, 5:05, 7:15, 9:30. The House Bunny Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:40, 7:10, 9:45; Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:35, 5, 7:20, 9:40. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:45, 4:30, 7:20, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:25. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri-Sun 1:50, 4:20; Mon-Thur 12:40, 3:05. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sun 11:05 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7, 7:45, 9:40, 10:30; Mon-Thur 1:40, 4:20, 5:25, 7, 8, 9:50, 10:30. Laemmle’s Monica 4-Plex, 1332 Second St, (310) 394-9741. Anita O’Day: The Life of a Jazz Singer 4, 9:25. Bottle Shock 1:30, 4:10, 7, 9:55. Elegy 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50. I.O.U.S.A. 1:40, 7. Tell No One 1:20, 4:20, 7:20, 10:15. Loews Cineplex Broadway, 1441 Third Street Promenade, (310) 458-1506. Call theater for titles and showtimes. Mann Criterion, 1313 Third Street Promenade, (310) 395-1599. Babylon A.D. 12:50, 3:10, 5:30, 7:50, 10. The Dark Knight 12:20, 3:40, 7, 10:30. Mamma Mia! 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:40, 7:20, 9:50. Pineapple Express 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20. Traitor 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:30, 10:10.

SHERMAN OAKS, ENCINO ArcLight Sherman Oaks, 15301 Ventura Bl, Sherman Oaks, (818) 501-0753. Babylon A.D. 12:05, 2:55, 5:15, 7:40, 10:05. Bangkok Dangerous 11:45 a.m., 12:45, 2:20, 3:20, 4:50, 5:50, 7:35, 8:30, 10, 11. Burn After Reading Thur only, midnight. The Dark Knight 11:50 a.m., 3:30, 7:05, 10:30. Death Race 11:55 a.m., 2:30, 5:10, 7:45, 10:40. Disaster Movie Fri-Tue 11:20 a.m., 1:40, 4:20, 7:25, 9:50; Wed 11:20 a.m., 1:40, 4:20; Thur 11:20 a.m., 1:40, 4:20, 7:25, 9:50. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D 12:20, 2:25, 4:40, 7:10, 9:45. Hamlet 2 11:35 a.m., 2:10, 4:45, 7:50, 10:15. The House Bunny 12:10, 2:35, 5, 7:55, 10:25. Mamma Mia! Sing-a-Long 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:15, 10:20. Pineapple Express Fri-Mon 11:40 a.m., 2:45, 5:25, 8:10, 10:55; Tue 11:40 a.m., 2:45, 10:55; Wed-Thur 11:40 a.m., 2:45, 5:25, 8:10, 10:55. Righteous Kill Thur only, midnight. Traitor 11:30 a.m., 1:30, 2:15, 4:55, 7:20, 8:05, 10:45. Tropic Thunder Fri-Mon 11:15 a.m., 12:15, 1:50, 2:50, 4:25, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:35; Tue-Wed 11:15 a.m., 1:50, 4:25, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:35; Thur 11:15 a.m., 12:15, 1:50, 2:50, 4:25, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:35. Vicky Cristina Barcelona 11 a.m., noon, 2:40,

LA

CI T Y BEAT

DOT C OM ! WE’RE ALWAYS ON

4:10, 5:05, 7:30, 10:10, 10:50. The Women Thur only,.midnight. Laemmle’s Town Center 5, 17200 Ventura Bl, Encino, (818) 981-9811. Dayereh-e zangi noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10. Elegy noon, 2:35, 5:10, 7:50, 10:15. Frozen River 1:50, 4:20, 7:20, 9:50. Momma’s Man 12:20, 2:45, 5:15, 7:40, 10:10. Tell No One 1, 4, 7:10, 10. Mann Plant 16, 7876 Van Nuys Bl, Panorama City, (818) 779-0323. Babylon A.D. 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:40, 7:10, 9:40. College 7:45, 10:15. The Dark Knight noon, 3:15, 6:30, 9:50. Death Race 12:20, 2:50, 5:20, 7:50, 10:20. Disaster Movie 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:40, 4:10, 5:10, 6:40, 7:40, 9:10, 10:10. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D 1:50, 6:50. Goal! 2: Living the Dream 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:30, 10:10. Hamlet 2 7:20, 9:50. The House Bunny 11:15 a.m., 1:45, 4:15, 6:45, 9:15. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D 11:20 a.m., 4:20, 9:20. The Longshots 12:15, 2:45, 5:15. Mirrors 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor 1:30, 4:10, 6:50, 9:30. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:50. Traitor 1:20, 4:20, 7:10, 10. Tropic Thunder 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:45. Pacific’s Sherman Oaks 5, 14424 Millbank St, Sherman Oaks, (818) 501-5121. Bottle Shock 1:20, 4:25, 7:15, 9:55. College 1:40, 4:30, 7:30, 10:05. The Longshots 1:30, 4:15, 7:10, 9:40. Mamma Mia! 1, 4:10, 7:20, 9:55. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 7, 9:50. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 1:10, 4:05.

WEST HOLLYWOOD, BEVERLY HILLS, CENTURY CITY AMC Century City 15, 10250 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 277-2011. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 10 a.m., 12:15, 2:45, 5:25, 8:15, 10:45; Sun 12:15, 2:45, 5:25, 8:15, 10:45; Mon-Thur 12:15, 2:45, 5:25, 7:50, 10:15. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:55, 4:50, 7:40, 10:25; Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:45, 10:20. College Fri-Sun 2:10, 4:55, 7:35, 10:15; MonTue 4:15, 7:05, 9:20; Wed 9:50; Thur 4:15, 7:05, 9:20. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 3:10, 6:45, 10:10; Mon-Thur 12:05, 3:25, 6:45, 10:10. Death Race Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 2:15, 5:05, 7:55, 10:30; Mon-Thur 3, 5:35, 8:10, 10:40. Disaster Movie Fri-Sun 10:10 a.m., 12:30, 2:55, 5:15, 8:05, 10:35; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:55, 5:15, 8:05, 10:30. Elegy Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 1:40, 7:10, 9:50; Mon-Thur 1:30, 4:30, 7:10, 9:45. Fly Me to the Moon 3-D Fri-Sun 10:45 a.m., 1:15, 3:20, 5:30, 7:35; Mon-Thur 12:45, 2:50, 5, 7:15. The House Bunny Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:20, 9:55; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 9:55. The Longshots Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m.; Mon-Thur 1:10. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 10:30 a.m., 1:20, 4:10, 7:15, 10; Mon-Thur 12:20, 3:10, 5:45, 8:20. Pineapple Express Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 5, 7:50, 10:40; Mon-Thur 1, 4:20, 7:20, 10. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 Fri-Sun 11:05 a.m., 4:30, 10:05; Mon-Wed 4:35, 10:05; Thur 4:35. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri-Sun 2, 7:30; MonThur 1:45, 7:40. Step Brothers Fri-Sun 4:20, 9:40; Mon-Thur 12:35, 9:30. Traitor Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:35, 5:20, 8:10, 10:55; Mon-Thur noon, 2:35, 5:30, 8:10, 10:45. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:20, 3:50, 5:10, 7, 8, 9:45, 10:50; Mon-Wed 1:15, 4, 5:40, 7, 8:15, 9:40, 10:45; Thur 1:15, 4, 7, 9:40, 10:35. WALL-E Fri-Sun 10:20 a.m., 1; Mon-Wed 12:40, 3:05. Laemmle’s Music Hall 3, 9036 Wilshire Bl, (310) 274-6869. Brideshead Revisited Fri 5, 8:10; Sat-Sun 1:40, 5, 8:10; Mon-Wed 5, 8:10; Thur 7. Dayereh-e zangi Fri 5, 7:30, 10; Sat noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10; Sun 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10; Mon-Wed 5, 7:30, 10; Thur 5, 10. Il Trittico at La Scala Sun only, 11 a.m. Love and Honor Fri 5:40, 8:30; Sat-Sun noon, 2:50, 5:40, 8:30; Mon-Thur 5:40, 8:30. Maria Stuarda Thur only, 7:30. What About Sal Tue-Thur 4:15, 4:50. Laemmle’s Sunset 5 Theatre, 8000 Sunset Bl, (323) 848-3500. Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild 1:45, 4:20, 7:10, 9:45. Bloom Fri-Sun 11:55 a.m., 12:40. Man on Wire 1:45, 4:40, 7:30, 10. Momma’s Man 1:15, 4:15, 7:15, 9:55. Skhizein Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 12:35.

Tell No One 1, 4, 7, 9:55. Trouble the Water 1:30, 4:30, 7:25, 9:55. Beverly Center 13 Cinemas, 8522 Beverly Blvd., Suite 835, (310) 652-7760. America the Beautiful 12:40, 2:50, 5:10, 7:30, 10. American Teen 7:20, 9:40. Goal! 2: Living the Dream noon, 2:30, 5, 7:20, 9:40. Iron Man 12:20, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10. Kit Kittredge: An American Girl 12:30, 2:20, 4:40. Kung Fu Panda 12:50, 2:50, 4:50. Mirrors 12:30, 3, 5:20, 7:50, 10:10. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor 12:40, 3, 5:20, 7:40, 9:50. Sex and the City 6:30, 9:30. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 12:10, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 9:50. Space Chimps 1:10, 3:20, 5:30, 7:10, 8:50. Star Wars: The Clone Wars 12:20, 2:40, 4:50, 7, 9:10. Step Brothers 1, 3:10, 5:30, 7:50, 10. WALL-E noon, 2:10, 4:20, 6:40, 8:50. You Don’t Mess With the Zohan 12:10, 2:20, 4:40, 7, 9:30.

WESTWOOD, WEST L.A. AMC Avco Center, 10840 Wilshire Bl, (310) 475-0711. Babylon A.D. Fri 2:30, 4:45, 7:25, 9:45; Sat 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 4:45, 7:25, 9:45; Sun-Thur 2:30, 4:45, 7:25, 9:45. College Fri 2:15, 4:50, 7:15, 9:40; Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:50, 7:15, 9:40; Sun-Thur 2:15, 4:50, 7:15, 9:40. The House Bunny Fri 1:50, 4:10, 7:10, 9:30; Sat 11:30 a.m., 1:50, 4:10, 7:10, 9:30; Sun-Thur 1:50, 4:10, 7:10, 9:30. Traitor Fri 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:35; Sat 11:15 a.m., 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:35; Sun-Thur 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:35. Laemmle’s Royal Theatre, 11523 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 477-5581. I Served the King of England 1:20, 4:10, 7, 9:45. Landmark’s Nuart Theater, 11272 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 281-8223. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter Fri only, midnight. A Girl Cut in Two Sub-Titled Fri-Sun 1:45, 4:30, 7:15, 9:55; Sub-Titled Mon-Thur 4:30, 7:15, 9:55. The Rocky Horror Picture Show Sat only, midnight. Landmark’s Regent, 1045 Broxton Av, (310) 281-8223. Brideshead Revisited 1, 4, 7. Hamlet 2 10. The Landmark West Los Angeles, 10850 W Pico Bl, (310) 281-8223. Bottle Shock 11:40 a.m., 2:25, 5:10, 7:45, 10:15. The Dark Knight Fri-Mon 11 a.m., 1, 2:15, 4:10, 5:30, 7:20, 8:45, 10:30; Tue 1, 4:10, 7:20, 10:30; Wed-Thur 11 a.m., 1, 2:15, 4:10, 7:20, 10:30. Frozen River 12:10, 2:30, 4:55, 7:15, 9:40. Hamlet 2 Fri-Mon 12:10, 1:20, 2:40, 5:10, 6:20, 7:30, 9:55; Tue 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:30, 9:55; Wed-Thur 12:10, 1:20, 2:40, 5:10, 6:20, 7:30, 9:55. Man on Wire 12:15, 2:40, 5:05, 7:30, 9:55. Mister Foe 12:30, 2:50, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15. Tell No One 11:05 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:35, 10:25. Traitor Fri-Mon 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 3:40, 4:50, 7:40, 8:45, 10:20; Tue 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:40, 10:20; Wed-Thur 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 3:40, 4:50, 7:40, 8:45, 10:20. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:30, 4:50, 6, 7:20, 8:30, 9:50, 10:50; Sun-Mon 11:45 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:30, 4:50, 6, 7:20, 8:30, 9:50; Tue 11:45 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:30, 4:50, 7:20, 9:50; Wed-Thur 11:45 a.m., 1, 2:20, 3:30, 4:50, 6, 7:20, 8:30, 9:50. Majestic Crest Theater, 1262 Westwood Bl, (310) 474-7866. Vicky Cristina Barcelona 12:45, 3, 5:15, 7:30, 9:45. Mann Bruin, 948 Broxton Av, (310) 208-8998. Bangkok Dangerous 11:40 a.m., 4:50, 7:30, 10, 11:40. Mann Festival 1, 10887 Lindbrook Av, (310) 2084575. Call theater for titles and showtimes. Mann Village, 961 Broxton Av, (310) 208-5576. Tropic Thunder 11:10 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50.

WOODLAND HILLS, WEST HILLS, TARZANA AMC Promenade 16, 21801 Oxnard St, Woodland Hills, (818) 883-2262. Babylon A.D. Fri-Sat 10:45 a.m., 1:05, 3:30, 5:50, 8:20, 10:45; Sun 10:45 a.m., 1:05, 3:30, 5:45, 8:05, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2:10, 4:40, 7:10, 9:30. Bangkok Dangerous Fri-Sat 10:30 a.m., 12:30, 3, 5:30, 8:05, 10:40; Sun 10:30 a.m., 12:30, 3, 5:30, 7:55, 10:25; Mon-Thur 1, 3, 5:25, 7:55, 10:15. College Fri-Sat 2:45, 5:10, 7:35, 10; Sun 2:45, 5:10, 7:30, 9:50; Mon-Thur 5:30, 7:50, 10:05. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 12:15, 3:35, 7, 10:25; Sun 10:40 a.m., 2, 5:30, 9; Mon-Thur 2, 5:25, 9. Death Race Fri-Sat 11:15 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7:05, 9:45; Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7:05, 9:35; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:20, 7, 9:35. Disaster Movie Fri-Sat 10:35 a.m., 12:55, 3:20, 5:40, 8, 10:20; Sun 10:35 a.m., 12:55, 3:20,

LACITYBEAT 32 SEPTEMBER 4-10, 2008

5:35, 7:50, 10:05; Mon-Thur 1, 3:15, 5:30, 7:45, 10. Hamlet 2 Fri-Sat 12:50, 3:05, 5:25, 7:50, 10:20; Sun 12:50, 3:05, 5:25, 7:45, 10:05; Mon-Thur 2:45, 5:05, 7:30, 9:45. The House Bunny Fri-Sat 11 a.m., 1:30, 4:05, 7, 9:35; Sun 11 a.m., 1:30, 4:05, 7, 9:25; Mon-Thur 1:30, 4:05, 7, 9:25. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sat 12:05, 2:30, 4:50, 7:15, 9:40; Sun 12:05, 2:30, 4:50, 7:15, 9:30; Mon-Thur 1:05, 3:20, 5:40, 8, 10:10. The Longshots Fri-Sun 12:20; Mon-Thur 3:15. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sat 11:05 a.m., 1:45, 4:25, 7:15, 9:55; Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:45, 4:25, 7:10, 9:45; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:25, 7:05, 9:40. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor FriSat 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:25, 10:10; Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:20, 9:55; Mon-Tue 1:55, 4:35, 7:15, 9:50; Wed 1:55, 4:35; Thur 1:55, 4:35, 7:15, 9:50. Pineapple Express Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:25, 5:05, 7:45, 10:35; Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:25, 5:05, 7:40, 10:20; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:55, 7:40, 10:15. Star Wars: The Clone Wars Fri-Sat 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:20, 9:50; Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:20, 9:40; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:40, 7:20, 9:40. Traitor Fri-Sat 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:30; Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:35, 10:10; Mon-Thur 2:20, 5, 7:35, 10:05. Tropic Thunder Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:30, 10:15; Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:25, 10; Mon-Thur 2:05, 4:45, 7:25, 9:55. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri-Sat 11:25 a.m., 2, 4:30, 7:10, 9:40; Sun 11:25 a.m., 2, 4:30, 7:10, 9:30; Mon-Thur 2, 4:30, 7:10, 9:30. Laemmle’s Fallbrook 7 Cinemas, Fallbrook Mall, 6731 Fallbrook Av, West Hills, (818) 340-8710. Anita O’Day: The Life of a Jazz Singer Fri-Sun 12:40, 5:30; Mon-Thur 1:40, 6:30. Bottle Shock Fri-Sun 1:30, 4:10, 7:30, 10; MonThur noon, 2:30, 5:10, 8:30. Elegy Fri-Sun 1:20, 4, 7, 9:40; Mon-Thur noon, 2:20, 5, 8. I Ser ved the King of England Fri-Sun 12:40, 3:50, 7:10, 9:55; Mon-Thur 1:40, 4:50, 8:10. Man on Wire Fri-Sun 3, 7:50, 10:10; Mon-Thur 4, 8:50. The Rocky Horror Picture Show Fri only, 11:55. Traitor Fri-Sun 1:40, 4:20, 7:20, 10; Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:40, 5:20, 8:20. Transsiberian Fri-Sun noon, 2:35, 5:10, 7:45, 10:15; Mon-Thur 1, 3:35, 6:10, 8:45. Vicky Cristina Barcelona Fri-Sun 1:50, 4:30, 7, 9:20; Mon-Thur 12:20, 2:50, 5:30, 8.

SPECIAL SCREENINGS THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre, Santa Monica, (323) 4663456. Aerotheatre.com. Rock Docs: A Celebration of Rock Documentaries – The Other Side of the Mirror: Bob Dylan Live at the Newport Folk Festival, 7:30; followed by Bob Dylan '65 Revisited. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre, Hollywood, (323) 655-2520. Silentmovietheatre.com. Word Is Born: Hip-Hop at the Movies – Wild Style, 8; followed by Bongo Barbershop. Followed by Q&A with director Charlie Ahearn. New Beverly Cinema, L.A., (323) 938-4038. Newbevcinema.com. Robocop, 7:30; Die Hard, 9:35.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Live Commentar y Series (Just like on your DVDs!) – Time After Time, 7:30. Director Nicholas Meyer will comment on the making of the film while it is screening. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre, Hollywood, (323) 466-3456. Egyptiantheatre.com. New 70mm print – Star!, 7:30. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre Beatty in the 1960's – Splendor in the Grass, 7:30. When Cougars Attack – Class, 10:15; followed by Weird Science. New Beverly Cinema Defending Your Life, 7:30; Death Becomes Her, 9:45. UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theater, Hammer Museum, 10899 Wilshire Bl, L.A., Info: (310) 206-3456 or Hammer.ucla.edu. Selected Works by Nicolas Philibert – Return to Nor-

mandy, 7:30; followed by I, Pierre Rivier, Having Slaughtered My Mother, My Sister and My Brother…

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Live Commentar y Series (Just like on your DVDs!) – Iron Man, 7:30. Director Jon Favreau will comment on the making of the film while it is screening. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Jean Gabin: The World's Coolest Movie Star – The Sicilian Clan (Le Clan Des Siciliens), 7:30; followed by Moontide. Book signing preceding the screening at 6:30 with Charles Zigman, author of The World's Coolest Movie Star: The Complete 95 Films (and Legend) of Jean Gabin Vol. 1 & 2. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre Viva Pedro! – Talk to Her, 5; followed by Bad Education. HolyFuckingShit: Christploitation – Mondo Christploitation, 10. New Beverly Cinema Defending Your Life, 3:10, 7:30; Death Becomes Her, 5:25, 9:45. Idle Hands, 11:59. UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theater, Hammer Museum Selected Works by Nicolas Philiber t – Animals and More Animals, 7:30; followed by Louvre City.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 7 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Special One Night Event – The Rose, 7:30. Discussion with director Mark Rydell and Frederic Forrest. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Jean Gabin: The World's Coolest Movie Star – House on the Waterfront (Port Du Desir), 7:30; followed by Grisbi (Touchez Pas Au Grisbi). Book signing preceding the screening at 6:30 with Charles Zigman, author of The World's Coolest Movie Star: The Complete 95 Films (and Legend) of Jean Gabin Vol. 1 & 2. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre, Co-presented by Don't Knock the Rock – Ladies and Gentleman, The Fabulous Stains, 8. New Beverly Cinema Young Sherlock Holmes, 3:25, 7:30; The Warriors, 5:35, 9:40. UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theater, Hammer Museum The Outfest Legacy Project Screening Series – More Rare Treasures from the ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives. Appearance by Archives President Joseph Hawkins.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8 American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Outfest Wednesdays – 9 to 5, 7:30. Discussing following with Patricia Resnick. New Beverly Cinema Young Sherlock Holmes, 7:30; The Warriors, 9:40.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9 American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Co-presented with L.A. Opera – The Fly (1958), 7:30; followed by Return of the Fly. L.A. County Museum of Art, Leo S. Bing Theatre, L.A., (323) 857-6010. Lacma.org. Tuesday Matinee – Treasure Island (1934), 1. New Beverly Cinema Young Sherlock Holmes, 7:30; The Warriors, 9:40.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Sneak Preview – Burn After Reading, 7:30; followed by Fargo. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre Lost Worlds – Die Nibelungen, Parts I and II, 8. New Beverly Cinema Three O'Clock High, 7:30; State of Grace, 9:30.

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CHARITY AUCTION

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The first Saturday of every month, Amoeba has a good time and raises money for great causes! Bid on Brian Wilson Hollywood Bowl Tickets at the September 6th auction!! Courtesy of our friends at the Bowl.

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THE PARSON RED HEADS LA’s Parson Red Heads mezmerize with a live set at Amoeba in support of their CD King Giraffe (out now). “... the feel of a bright blue summer day melting into a cotton-candy pink twilight — 11 songs and 45 minutes of Byrdsian jangle, super ball bouncy bass lines, stone-washed four-piece harmonies, and the occasional drowsy slide guitar lick.� — Stylus

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CAVA AND GOMEZ COMES ALIVE!

SOUTHERN CULTURE ON THE SKIDS AND FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE Sunday, Aug. 31, at the Echo

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BY REBECCA SCHOENKOPF

6PM: DJ SET FROM GOMEZ COMES ALIVE! Spinning all genres of musica Mexicana - from CafĂŠ Tacuba to Jose Alfredo Jimenez, Nortec Collective to Sonidero Nacional and beyond‌ 7PM: LIVE PERFORMANCE FROM CAVA “... set about showing how the natives do it, and the growing crowd didn’t have to be invited to dance. Cava is the nickname for Claudia Gonzalez, who could be la morena del norte...â€? — LA Times

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KASEY CHAMBERS & SHANE NICHOLSON

Kasey Chambers and her husband, Shane Nicholson celebrate their new CD Rattlin’ Bones with a live show and CD signing! (CD is out 9/16 on Sugar Hill Records).

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ETRAN FINATAWA

Among the grasslands of the Sahel and the shifting dunes of the Sahara desert, two legendary nomadic peoples, are joined together in the raunchy guitars and haunting voices of Etran Finatawa. Their new CD Desert Crossroads is out now!Performing live September 25th at the Japan American Community and Cultural Center.

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hat the hell were we doing spending a beautiful Sunday afternoon in a dark concretish box? On Labor Day weekend, for fuck’s sake? Well, when Grand Ole Echo calls with Southern Culture on the line, we put away the sunscreen and fall in. A dark concretish box it is! For a while it looked like we might be the only citizens answering the call, since the Echo’s usual Sunday audience of roots-ninnies and hepcats would be making the scene at the Dog & Pony Show instead. But as usual, we were so, so wrong: The kids came for Culture, and then caravanned to Safari Sam’s after, everyone in matching double wristbands, one for each good time. Southern Culture on the Skids is a crunchy, greazy, trans-fats-filled pile o’ sugar, all bouffant hairdos and bowling shirts and yowlinggood guitars. And they were fine this night, playing a mix of songs stomping nastily over their ’90s canon, from ’94’s “Biscuit Eater� and ’98’s Belafonteish “House of Bamboo� to ’99’s spooky “Zombified,� and just about everything good (which is all of it) off their biggest album, 1995’s Dirt Track Date. But, well, last time we’d seen them (a decade in the rearview mirror) was at the late, great Foothill in Long Beach, a storm of a dancehall where Patsy and Johnny and El Vez and 00 Soul used to play, before the late owner’s son sold it for scrap, and at the Foothill, goddamn

it, people would dance. We stayed an hour, and then we hoofed it to Safari Sam’s to see Dave Alvin get his thang on. Before Southern Culture, though, was the best thing I’d seen since I saw Ruby Friedman the night before: the juicy chicks in square-dancing minis (and their Jewy, Gram Parsonsy, openshirt guy on guitar) of Five O’Clock Somewhere. More Mandrell Sisters than anything else, they opened up a rollicking, Demolition String Bandstyle set of happy, upbeat Kountry Klassics like Tammy Wynette’s “Your

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Good Girl’s Gonna Go Bad,â€? some Dwight Yoakam, some crap David Allan Coe (I once saw some fat chick yell along, her piggy eyes bulging, Hitler-like, with one of his many, many lyrics about “niggersâ€?), and some of Blondie’s previously unknown country numbers. Good choices (except for the crap Coe – “Redneck,â€? I believe), low sultry voices, and we liked them up real purty and good. âœś This Sunday, Grand Ole Echo hosts Mike Stinson, 5-9 p.m. 1822 Sunset Blvd., Echo Park. $10-$12.

SCOTS: NITTY GRITTY

GRAVEYARD

UFO

Best of UFO, 1974-1983 (Chrysalis) Are! You! Ready! To‌ well, jerk your head and throw the horn to 19 songs from these 1970s U.K. metalheads. Big everywhere but these shores, UFO began in 1969 as Hocus Pocus, a London quartet enjoying little renown until 1974, when they swiped guitarist Michael Schencker from the Scorpions and got a deal from Chrysalis. The resultant album, Phenomenon, produced “Rock Bottom,â€? “Oh My,â€? and the lingering suspicion a decade on that UFO exerted a decisive influence on Spinal Tap, that reductio ad stoliditas of all blues-based heaviness. This impression isn’t at all dispelled by extracts from their later output – tunes like “Shoot, Shootâ€? and “Natural Thingâ€? are the kind of straight-ahead goodtime classic rock now roaring back from the indie bone-grove. These boys were orthodox to their bootsoles, but that also means they follow in the great greatest-hits tradition of including one mindblower you’ve never heard and only dreamt existed; in this case, the seven-minute-plus “Love to Love,â€? off 1977’s Lights Out. The 7-inchers included are all worthy, from “Only You Can Rock Meâ€? to live covers of “Young Bloodâ€? and “Doctor, Doctor.â€? Schenker’s guitar is required listening for any would-be axe-choker, and they could’ve used Phil Mogg’s classy vocals in Klaatu, if not the Mothers of Invention. Schenker went on to form the Michael Schenker Group, UFO (temporarily) disbanded in the early 1980s, and the world’s taken many a weird old turn since. –Ron Garmon

Carney

Nothing without You EP (DAS) For a band from Los Angeles, it is only appropriate that Carney’s sound encapsulates the very concept of being big. Everything on their debut EP reeks of ambitious bombast, from the Geddy Lee-like vocals of Reeve Carney to the reverb-drenched solos of his brother Zane. Everything on this EP is straight out of the ’70s classic rock playbook: the heavy riffs, the howling vocals, the symphonic production, and even the gospel female backing vocals. “There She Goes� recalls Todd Rundgren at his poppiest with its rolling rhythm, while “Testify� strives for a fuller, Zeppelinesque sound with Reeve Carney in full-on “Lord hear my call!� mode. For a band reaching for a higher power, one can only expect much grander things in their future. –Carman Tse

Various

Ruckwarts Im Uhrzeigersinn (Das Drehmoment) The new compilation from Berlin-based label Das Drehmoment is an absolute must for all those who daydream in outerspace. Chock full of neue electro, minimal tech pop, EBM, and spacelounge, Ruckwarts Im Uhrzeigersinn is the soundtrack for your next voyage on that fabulous German disco-spaceship. Gaze out the starboard porthole and pontificate to nunew wave tracks by Syn and Replicant. Pick up mysterious Italian hitchhikers and treat them to Kalson’s spooky Italo-disco. Let those obnoxious goth teenagers onboard take over the space-dance floor with dark, brooding electronica by Lesbian Mouseclicks. Seduce the captain with the sci-fi-rific techno track “I Drive My Spaceship� by Direct Control. As the oxygen reserves get low, you can hallucinate with interplanetary paranoia to “Tourist,� by Transactive Nightzone, which sounds like the lovechild of the B-52’s and Berlin (of “Metro� fame). With 16 tracks of pure interstellar bliss, Ruckwarts will take you to exotic electronic galaxies, and then return you safely to your Weltraumhafen. (That’s German for spaceport.) –Ramie Becker

Polysics

We Ate the Machine (MySpace Records) A beautiful balancing act that the Japanese have long been performing is finding the perfect harmony between kitsch and art. With their latest release, Polysics find themselves continuing their Devo-inspired take on new wave without completely overdoing the same act they have been doing for almost a decade. Combining the fury of a technological punk band and borrowing a few vocoders from Daft Punk, We Ate the Machine is another goofy ride into a dysfunctional dystopian future of robot love and digital dancing. “Moog Is Love� owes heavily to Daft Punk’s own “Robot Rock,� while the beautifully intricate “Irotokage� resembles what we think Michael Jackson would be recording now if he were Japanese and not crazy. It’s a strange future these guys come from, and I just want to party in it all night long. –Carman Tse

For information on shows, booking, etc., contact Mike.

818.780.5525

MANIFEST DESTINY II A celebration of California and stoner rock – cuz the two just go hand in hand, natch – Tee Pee Records’s Manifest Destiny II shebang is set in alternate Jack Kirby world where the Cal Jam megashows of the ’70s are intimate affairs; where the gods of space rock and heavy blooze corral bands from America and Europe to play for a small gathering of the beautifully wasted youth of southern California. Dig the lineup: Witchcraft (analog Sabbath from the woods of Sweden), Witch (Blue Cheerlike fuzzfreaks with J Mascis on drums), Graveyard (more Swedish boogie-chillen riffarama), The Warlocks (L.A. psychedelic lords), T.K. Webb & the Visions (Brooklyn-based guitar prodigy and his henchmen), as well as Earthless, Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound, Ancestors, and Night Horse. Cross over, people; all are welcome. –Joshua Sindell Sun. at the Echoplex, 1154 Glendale Blvd., Echo Park, (213) 413-8200, attheecho.com.

THIS WEEK’S HIGHLIGHTS THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

Agent Steel, Bonded By Blood, Fueled By Fire. The ’80s speed-metal sensation, now re-formed. Plus Earache Records’s local signees Bonded By Blood. Knitting Factor y, Hollywood, knittingfactor y.com. The Bad Plus. Jazz trio known for their reworkings of classic rock and pop hits. Catalina Bar & Grill, Hollywood, catalinajazzclub.com. Two shows nightly through Sat. Bullets and Octane, Cockpit. Gutter rock from B&O; plus local metal lasses Cockpit. Viper Room, West Hollywood, viperroom.com. OTEP. L.A.’s screaming metal poet and her band return. Key Club, West Hollywood, keyclub.com. Rock4Change Benefit Concert. Per formers include Tom Morello, Flea and John Frusciante, Angie Stone, Lalah Hathaway, and many more. Hosted by Dane Cook. Gibson Amphitheatre, Universal City, livenation.com. Shinedown. Nickelback soundalikes from Jacksonville. House of Blues Sunset Strip, West Hollywood, hob.com. C.W. Stoneking & His Primitive Horn Orchestra. 1920s blues and traditional folk from Australian troubadour, banjo- and steel guitar-player. Redwood Bar & Grill, downtown L.A., redwoodbar.com. Through Mon. Why?, Rafter. Oakland indie-folkers Why? team up with the death-obsessed singer Rafter Rober ts. The Echoplex, Echo Park, attheecho.com. Jonathan Wilson, Lion of Panjshir. Neo-folk ar tists with Eastern and ’60s rock influences. Tangier, Silver Lake, foldsilverlake.com.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 5

Nada Surf. Long-running alt-rockers now hitting their stride with current release, Lucky. With the Watson Twins. The Troubadour, West Hollywood, troubadour.com. Also Sat., with Inara George. Xavier Rudd, Griffin House. Australian one-man band Rudd has earned a rep as an engaging per former by playing festivals. He’s joined tonight by punk-rocker/folkie House. House of Blues Sunset Strip. War. The low-ridin’ legends play their streetwise mix of funk and R&B for fairgoers. L.A. County Fair, Pomona Fairplex, lacountyfair.com.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6

Confederacy of Horsepower. Sleazy biker-rock from local tattooed crew. Whisky a Go-Go, West Hollywood, whiskyagogo.com. DJ Quik. Compton G-funk star keeps it real. Key Club. Murry Hammond. Old 97’s bassist plays songs from his new solo album. With Billy Har vey. Largo’s Little Room, Los Angeles, largo-la.com. Nine Inch Nails, Deerhunter. Hotter than he’s been in quite a while, the label-free Trent Reznor testifies at L.A.’s veteran arena. With Atlanta ar t-rockers Deerhunter. The Forum, Inglewood, thelaforum. com. Panic at the Disco, Plain White T’s. Teen hear tthrobs play the launch par ty for Rock Band 2. House of Blues Sunset Strip. Sugarland. Multiplatinum countr y stars hit the 2008 fairground circuit. L.A. County Fair.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 7

Lesser Gonzalez Alvarez, Jana Hunter. More neo-folk. Tangier Lounge, foldsilverlake.com. Asesino, Divine Heresy. For his bir thday bash, former Fear Factor y guitarist Dino Cazares pulls double duty for his groups Asesino and Divine Heresy. Whisky a Go-Go. Death Vessel. New Sub Pop signees with a cool line in air y folk-rock. Spaceland, Silver Lake, clubspaceland.com. The Doobie Brothers, Grand Funk Railroad. ’70s greats keep on puf fing. (Just don’t look for original Grand Funker Mark Farner.) L.A. County Fair. Inara George & Greg Kurstin. The duo of the Bird & the Bee play with good friends. Tangier Restaurant, foldsilverlake.com. Grand Ol’ Echo. The hoedown begins at 5 p.m. with guests Mike Stinson, West of Texas, the Lincoln Bedroom, the Hello Darlins, and more. The Echo, Echo Park, attheecho.com. Billy Bob Thornton & the Boxmasters. The character actor sings about American characters, with his band of “electric hillbillies.� House of Blues Sunset Strip.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 8

Amos Lee, Lucy Wainwright Roche. The young soul-jazz prodigy headlines his first major local show. Plus, the daughter of two musical dynasties, Lucy Wainwright Roche, per forms. Music Box @ Fonda, Hollywood, henr yfondatheatre.com. Sigh, Zimmers Hole. Japanese black metallers Sigh join forces with humorous Canadian extreme types Zimmers Hole (featuring the awesome Gene Hoglan on drums). Knitting Factor y.

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TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9

Balkan Beat Box, DeLeon. Mixing eclectic and global folk music with beat-box sounds, Israeli-American duo Balkan Beat Box has a devoted fanbase. Brooklyn’s DeLeon and their Spanish pop opens the event. El Rey Theatre, Miracle Mile, theelrey.com. Alejandro Escovedo. The return of the iconic Austin-based punk guitarist-songwriter. With David Garza, and Carrie Rodriguez. The Troubadour. Damien Jurado, Jennifer O’Connor. Christian singer-songwriter Jurado is promoting latest disc Caught in the Trees. Jennifer O’Connor’s latest album for Matador is Here With Me Spaceland. Mogwai, Fuck Buttons. Post-rock fans are hailing the return of Scotland’s adventurous and experimental Mogwai after a long absence from Californian stages; Fuck Buttons’s noisy drone is always welcome, as well. The Wiltern, Los Angeles, livenation.com. Ratatat. Is ever yone from Brooklyn in town this week? Seems like it. Here’s the borough’s best electronica duo, for two nights. Music Box @ Fonda. Also Wed.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10

Built to Spill. Doug Mar tsch’s crew plays its 1997 masterpiece, Per fect From Now On, in its entirety. The Troubadour. Nels Cline & Jon Brion. Collaborative jams from avant-jazz guitarist Cline and songwriter Brion. Largo. Eleni Mandell. The acclaimed singer-songwriter plays a low-key, free show. Tangier. Nebula, Totimoshi, Chingalera. More stoner rock and soupy guitar jams. Viper Room. Squeeze. The British tunesmiths first formed back in 1973, if you can believe it! Orpheum Theatre, downtown L.A., laorpheum.com. Kate Voegele. Youthful Ohioan big with Radio Disney listeners. The Roxy, West Hollywood, theroxyonsunset.com.

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HA HA HA

A month’s worth of good comedy, for you, from us. THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 4 After making “MatchGame Live” one of the most strangely popular live comedy shows in Los Angeles, Jimmy Pardo was inexplicably passed over by execs for the hosting job of TV’s new version of the game show. Once you see him, you’ll understand why even a game show – in this case, You Bet Your Life – is entertaining with him in it. He’s the fastest brain alive. 9:30 p.m. $5. UCB Theater, 5919 Franklin Ave., Hollywood, (323) 908-8702. losangeles.ucbtheatre.com.

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AL MADRIGAL

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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6 Maybe you’ve seen the hilarious Jen Kirkman on YouTube in an original Drunk History short video (not one of the terrible rip-offs). Get your drink on as this storyteller comic spins a short one. Dan Bialek’s great little concept show features 12 comics doing five-minute sets, plus all the free beer you can drink. The 12 Shiny Nickels show. 11 p.m. $8. 21+. The Gardner Stage (behind Toi on Sunset), 1501 N. Gardner St., Hollywood. 12shinynickels.com, online reservations recommended.

Wow. So do you think you have enemies out there? You know, one time I was onstage, when I was still firing people, I looked out in the audience and there was a guy stage left, in the middle, and on the right: three guys I’d canned – in the same show – glaring at me. “Hey fellas, what’s going on?”

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 9 This is your lucky day. Take out your lucky quarter. Flip it. Heads, you go to Comedy Death Ray – consistently one of the best lineups L.A. has to offer. Tails, you see the Paul F. Tompkins Show to witness a snoot in a suit whom I once heard complain, “The word genius is used too liberally.” But you’ll leave thinking the word fits him perfectly. You can’t lose. CDR, 8:30 p.m. $5. The UCB Theater; The Paul F. Tompkins Show, 8:30 p.m. $20, Largo @ the Coronet, 366 N. La Cienega Blvd., L.A., (310) 8550350. largo-la.com.

You do well in a variety of rooms. You know, there’s all these ethnic theme nights – I’ll do “Refried Fridays,” I’ll do my exact same act that I do at Largo or the Comedy Store on a regular night. But I get a little nervous. Like I’m doing this thing, 826LA’s Yukfest Benefit, listen to this lineup: Tim and Eric, Patton, Janeane ... . Jimmy Pardo ... Jimmy, Dana Gould, Bill Burr – that’s comedy legends.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14 One top-notch guest comic tells a story. A gaggle of L.A.’s best improvisers make up scenes based on the story told. Get there early for a seat. ASSSCAT, 7:30 p.m. FREE! The UCB Theater. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 19 I first saw the Transformers do their one-of-a-kind long-form improv show a hundred years ago at the now defunct Upfront Theater in Santa Monica. My girlfriend got scared because I laughed so hard and so long a vein in my forehead bulged out like a firehose. With popular pros the Waterbrains. 8 p.m. $8. The Westside Eclectic Theater, 1323A Third Street Promenade, Santa Monica, (310) 451-0850. westsideeclectic.com. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 20 As The Tomorrow Show’s name suggests, this dark variety act is so cutting-edge it seems to be from the near future. Emphasis on comedy, but I’ve seen acts from magicians to opera singers mesmerize the audience. The true genius lies in the hosting of the three comics who run it – Craig Anton, Ron Lynch, and Brendon Small. They’re smooth like the Rat Pack and nihilistic like whatever that simile would be. Midnight. $5. Steve Allen Theater at the Center For Inquiry West, 4773 Hollywood Blvd., L.A., (323) 6664268. steveallentheater.com. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22 Tig has a DVD for sale: Have Tig at Your Party. It’s an hour of Tig standing and nodding and looking out at you, meant to be played at your party. If she launches into some of her hilarious audience interaction at this live show, you will surely love her almost as much as I do. Tig Has Friends. 9 p.m. Little Room @ Largo at the Coronet. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 23 Karen Kilgariff used to call me “Diva.” If you met me, you’d realize how inappropriate that is. She’s the head writer on an Emmy-winning TV show, she sings like a bird, and she’s good at standup. Unfortunately, I’ll be out of town for her show Everything’s Different Now. But you won’t. 9 p.m. The Little Room @ Largo at the Coronet. ANY TIME, DAYTIME COMEDY RECOMMENDATION: Get over to Amoeba and pick up Mitch Hedberg’s album, Do You Believe in Gosh? Captured two month’s prior to Mitch’s death, it reportedly contains 40 minutes of previously unreleased material. According to Comedy Central’s website and an Amoeba clerk I asked, the release date is Sept. 9. Listen to it on your car ride home. Man, that guy could write a joke. Amoeba Music, 6400 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, (323) 245-6400. www.amoeba.com. --Tom Sharpe

worked her way up and bought the business. Took it over. My job was to fire people. My family’s company had about 3,000 employees all over the Bay Area, and everyone’s screwing up constantly so what our company did is professionally manage your staff, like outsourcing your HR department. People needed to get hired and people needed to get fired. And I would play this song by Brand Nubian. And it was this song about shooting people, like doing a drive-by. [gangsta rap voice] “Are you ready to do this shit, man? Are we gonna do this shit?” I’d play it before I’d go fire people. “But if you’re down, say you’re down/If you’re scared say you’re scared/This is the shit don’t come unprepared/Cuz you might slip.” [laughs] And I’d go fire somebody. I’d get fired up and I’d say, “All right, let’s do this shit.” I’d straighten my tie and walk in there with a briefcase. It was horrible. I fired over a thousand people.

A

l Madrigal is a natural. And while the television characters he portrays may be stylized (he’s starring alongside Jay Mohr in Project Gary this fall, and he was hysterical as Jesus, the concierge in the short-lived CBS sitcom Welcome to the Captain with Jeffrey Tambor), seeing him with a mic in his hand, I’ve never once thought, “This is an act.” At his show, it’s Al telling you stories and talking to you, and it happens to make audiences laugh and laugh. I don’t know if his nickname, “Latin Breeze,” is a joke. I know it fits him. This Wednesday, Madrigal (along with Patton Oswalt, Janeane Garofalo, and a cavalcade of stars) brings his act to the Avalon in a do-goody kind of benefit for 826LA. –Tom Sharpe L.A. CityBeat: I thought I could just fire some random questions, because I don’t want to do a “how did you get started in comedy and who are your influences”-type thing. Al Madrigal: Yeah, that’s horrible. Al Madrigal, what bothers you? What gets under your skin? I think, in L.A., actors ... actors in acting classes. There was this guy – this just happened. It was an exercise in acting class. The whole thing is, you had to bring in a personal object and say what it meant to you. And I brought in a colander filled with heirloom tomatoes. And everyone was bringing in, oh, music that made them sad and they started crying in front of everybody.

And I go, okay, I can think of something sad, let’s try to do something different. What am I proud of? Here, I’m a dad with two kids, but I have these heirloom tomatoes that I really spent a lot of time with, so I brought in this basket of tomatoes. I got some laughs, I was doing pretty well, and this guy, this actor guy, says to the teacher, “Do you think Al is just masking his sadness with comedy?” What ... what do ... why is the fat actor guy critiquing my object? This is horrible. I hate this acting guy, and they were all like that. What was your reaction? I got really upset. And did you cry at that point? I was very upset, and I spent the rest of the class heckling the guy. I’m bothered by people who take themselves way too seriously. And how did you get started in comedy and who are your influences? That answer was that bad that we had to go to that? No, it was awesome, what are you talking about? Well, I was watching some of your clips online ... I’m trying to get rid of the clips online. That’s what bothers me. You came to standup circuitously. I read that your family had a human resources business. My mom has this great story: She was cleaning houses for $6 an hour for this business, and

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And 826, this is a literacy program for kids. Yeah, schools are doing the best they can with what they have. My wife is a first grade teacher and 826 sends tutors out to her classroom. They’re going to the schools and they’ve opened up a series of storefronts in L.A., there’s one in Venice, there’s one in Echo Park. I believe the Echo Park is a time-travel supply store – everything for time-travel you might need – and you go to the back and there are huge tables, after school programs, help the kids with their writing homework, give them extra writing assignments. My two good friends started 826 with [Dave] Eggers. I taught a comedy writing class at the Hammer museum, and the kids come out, and I’m walking around punching it up, you know, “Put boogers in it. Fantastic.” The kids are loving it. You know, just the funniest story possible. Little kids at a table coming up with a story. And it’s amazing, and the kids are having fun writing, and they’re becoming great writers. And I get this phone call to do a benefit in L.A., so I met the guy and he mentioned this theater show, and could we help ... . Yeah, and they got a horrible theater deal. The Avalon really screwed them. They got this phone call – I tried to get them out of the deal, but now we’re trying to embrace it – because they got a corporate rate and somebody donated a deposit. It was just this big sticky situation where they have to spend over $8,000 at the bar the night of the show, or there’s a penalty. So we need to tell people to drink. Drink, drink, drink! And please come to the show. Not only is it a wonderful lineup, but if we break even we’re going to be thrilled. So help 826LA not lose money. ✶ 826LA’s Fall-Time Yuk-Fest featuring Patton Oswalt, Janeane Garofalo, Tim & Eric, Jimmy Pardo, Bill Burr, Al Madrigal, Bob Moore’s Amazing Mongrels and special guests. Wed., 9 p.m. (Doors open at 8 p.m.) The Avalon Hollywood, 1735 Vine St., L.A. $25-$35. 18+ www.wantickets.com.

PHC

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Abigail’s Party. In Mike Leigh’s 1977 anatomy of a suburban social meltdown, we’re actually at a party hosted by Beverly (Nikki Glick), not the 15-year-old Abigail who’s hosting her own teen-oriented bash next door. Abigail’s divorced and distressed mother (Cerris Morgan-Moyer) is one of Beverly’s guests, as are the younger new neighbors (Phoebe James, Jonathan LaPaglia). The two married women are loud and chatty, but the men – especially Beverly’s workaholic husband (Darren Richardson, who looks too young) – are not natural party animals. Julian Holloway’s acidic staging initially seems swamped by suburban trivia but eventually explodes, wading into issues of life and death. Odyssey Theatre, West L.A. (310) 477-2055. odysseytheatre.com. Closes Oct. 19. As U2 Like It. Troubadour Theater’s take on Shakespeare’s As You Like It, with musical numbers inspired by U2, is a comic wildfire. The laughs are huge, as is the wrestler Charles (Dan Waskom, on stilts). A few eyebrows rise over the love between Rosalind (Breanna Pine) and Celia (Katie Nunez) – who pretends to be Selena, the Tejana pop star, while in the woods. Rick Batalla has sensational shtick in two roles, Matt Merchant is an especially dashing Orlando, and director Matt Walker takes on Touchstone as a red-nosed clown. Beth Kennedy’s white-faced, Pierrot-like Jaques delivers a “Seven Ages of Man” that works both as broad caricature and as homage to the original. The ensemble demonstrates how some of the U2 melodies sound somewhat alike. The previously unseen visitor in the finale is no longer a mortal with earthly tidings, or even Bono, but rather Jesus himself. Falcon Theatre, Burbank. (818) 955-8101. FalconTheatre.com or Troubie.com. Closes Oct. 12. Bury the Dead. Irwin Shaw’s 1936 antiwar play is set on a fantasy battlefield. A burial detail is suddenly confronted by a group of corpses of soldiers who refuse to take death lying down and start calling attention to the senselessness of their sacrifices. In order to avoid publicity that

could undermine the war effort, the authorities call in the dead men’s womenfolk to try to persuade them to go gently. It’s an arresting set-up, and a couple of stark images stand out. Like the corpses themselves, however, the one-act play lingers a little too long in Matthew Huffman’s sometimes lugubrious staging. Actors’ Gang, Culver City. (310) 838-4264. theactorsgang.com. Closes Sept. 13.

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The Pavilion. Playwright Craig Wright and a narrator (Chris Smith) take us to a high school reunion where the former Cutest Couple (Kristin Chiles, Tim Hamelin) are the focus. Their parting, at age 17, was less than cute, and now he’s regretful and she’s resentful. Smith, playing everyone else of both genders, creates a chain of comic punctuation marks that’s reminiscent of Greater Tuna, but as the narrator he offers more cosmic observations reminiscent of Thornton Wilder. Director Obren Milanovic sets the reunion at 10 years after graduation instead of the 20 years in previous productions elsewhere. This somewhat dilutes the notion that these characters made irrevocable decisions at age 17. However, Chiles and Hamelin are convincing in their angst, and Wright’s no slouch at conjuring brief phrases that ponder big issues. Lyric Theatre, Los Angeles. (323) 939-9220. LyricTheatreLA.com. Closes Oct. 5. Sona Tera Roman Hess. Taking on the theme of stepmother/stepson lust previously explored by many classic playwrights, Dennis Miles imagines a rural American household vaguely in the past. The straying couple (Dawn Greenidge, Ian Crossland) apologetically returns to the patriarch/ painter (Greg Wall) they betrayed. A visiting troupe of circus performers (huh?) leavens the mood, but grim currents resume when the son goes off to war. The wife/stepmother’s partly demented mother (Kathleen Mary Carthy, looking too young despite obvious aging makeup) also lives in the house. She starts the ball rolling with a rather opaque monologue that doesn’t do the play any favors. In Kiff Scholl’s staging the play never reaches the tragic grandeur Miles seeks, coming off as more pretentious than portentous. Lounge Theatre, Hollywood. (323) 960-7864. plays411. com/roman. Closes Sept. 21. –Don Shirley

saturday, sept. 13th, 1pm arroyo verde park

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THREE LITTLE PALINS TAKE THE STAGE IN VANITIES

CRAIG SCHWARTZ

STAGE

WANTING IT ALL

Our critic calls Sarah Palin’s office BY DON SHIRLEY

W

ith Sarah Palin making her debut on the national stage, the time is ripe for examining the depiction of women’s choices on the L.A. stage. Of course the Palin pick is about a pandering John McCain as much as it’s about Palin’s choice to understudy him. But thoughts of Palin kept straying into my weekend theatergoing. Palin surely could relate to the three characters who sing “I want it all,” a hyperenergized trio from the 1983 Richard Maltby Jr./David Shire musical Baby, in a B-level revival at West Valley Playhouse. The trio of women, each about 10 years apart, believe they’re pregnant (although one of them is misinformed). Meeting by chance in their ob-gyn office, they compare their aspirations – and exaggerate them. One of them – who is no anthropologist – claims she wants to be Margaret Mead and a great mom. The oldest, who’s already a seasoned mother and later will consider an abortion, is skeptical about “having it all,” but soon she’s singing along. Palin seems to have adopted the song’s sentiment quite literally. Except for the right to abort, the fledgling governor also wants it all. She’s the mother of five kids, including a newborn who has Down syndrome and a pregnant, unmarried 17-year-old. She’s currently undergoing an investigation into a possible abuse of her power. But she apparently has enough free time to take on a 24/7 campaign that would be grueling even if she had been studying national and international issues for decades. Is this brave or foolhardy? Will the Peter Principle be renamed the Palin Principle? Meanwhile, at Pasadena Playhouse, the girls who become women during the musical version of Jack Heifner’s play Vanities are first glimpsed practicing their cheerleader routines on Nov. 22, 1963, oblivious to any larger issues – including the fact that the vice president has just become the president. Among the three girls are a super-organized leader (Anneliese van der Pol) and a conventional follower (Sarah Stiles) who’s interested only in marriage and kids. If Palin were transported into the play, these two might have been her friends. But she probably wouldn’t have associated with the relatively wild one (Lauren Kennedy). Or hey, maybe she would.

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The remaining scenes in Vanities take the characters to tentative divisions during their senior year in college and to bitter schisms six years later, with abortion one among many issues. Then, in a new scene written for the musical, the women reunite happily when they’re 44. We’re curious about their fates, but this finale asks us to swallow so many quickly sketched interim events – and leaves out so many pertinent details – that it can’t help but feel phony. Apparently someone thinks musicals require happy endings. Still, in a sense these Vanities characters feel strangely authentic. At least the musical acknowledges that the women face hard choices and that each choice has potential risks as well as rewards. David Kirshenbaum’s score helps bridge the chronological gaps and focus the emotions. Judith Ivey’s taut staging feels more pointed than Heifner’s text. Also just opened is an early, autobiographical play by Josefina Lopez, Boyle Heights, that outlines the yearning of a young woman (Nicole Ortega) to escape her own family’s tradition of out-of-wedlock pregnancies followed by coerced marriages – which sounds a lot like what might be happening inside another family we’ve been hearing about. Boyle Heights is a sloppily structured work, and its protagonist needs something to do beyond sitting on a rooftop reciting her own juvenile poetry. However, it vividly depicts how women’s lives can wither when all of their choices – including abortion – are tightly circumscribed. Perhaps if Palin has a few free hours in L.A., she might want to take a look. ✶

Baby, West Valley Playhouse, Canoga Park, (818) 884-1907. wvplayhouse.com. Closes Sept. 7. Vanities, Pasadena Playhouse, (626) 356PLAY. pasadenaplayhouse.org. Closes Sept. 28. Boyle Heights, Casa 0101, Boyle Heights, (323) 263-7684. casa0101.org. Closes Sept. 14. For more theater commentary, go to lacitybeat.com.

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