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Wonkette’s Weekette! John McCain: Gorilla rapist. Third Degree. Almost-former Times-man Bill Lobdell on God, death, and taking the buy-out. To Serve Man. Jim Washburn is electrified! The Ax-Man Cometh. Times editor Russ Stanton is comforted at the O.C. Press Club.

Feature Music Now. Ron Garmon and Co. take a core sample of the L.A. music scene in a single week. Diana Ross? Bitch queen. Wanda Jackson? In neither the Country Music nor Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Lucinda Williams? Doesn’t play till next week. Ha ha!

Living Eat. Nathaniel Page sups at Wilmington’s listing Chowder Barge. And your weekly rundown of tidbits, in Bites! Eco-Topic. Coco Tanaka kills your summer buzz. As usual.

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Real Astrology. Rob Breszny totally loves Pisces best.

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The Last Sportswriter. Neal Pollack bitches about the Dodgers. Imagine that! Psycho Sudoku/Jonesin’ Crossword. Matt Gaffney is an enigma wrapped in a Sudoku grid.

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LA&E Seven Days. Garmon tells you where to get off. Film. Andy Klein ties together (in a Gordian knot) the works of Evelyn Waugh and ABBA, then sheds a tear for the plight of Roman Polanski.

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Music. Chris Morris is black and he’s proud, in Sonic Nation. The crew takes a whack at the growing pile of free shit in the office, in Merch.

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Clubland. Once more into the breach: Garmon makes new friends (but keeps the old) at the Knit hearing, does some other stuff too.

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Art. Andrew Berardini is just the slightest bit incomprehensible over the grand work of Kori Newkirk at LAXART. Plus, the best of the coming month, in Sketches.

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Stage. Don Shirley throws a Parade for the Negro Problem, then tackles your week ahead, in Currently Playing. ON THE COVER

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MORE BLOOD FOR OIL Tortured Thanks for your “Happy Birthday U.S.A.!” article [Commie Girl, July 3]. You supplied valuable info on the torture hearings not covered elsewhere. The issue’s cover is fantastic. The sobering image of the torture victim holding party sparklers with the American flag in the background, along with the caption “Happy Birthday USA!” speaks for itself. Well-done to the creator [art director Paul Takizawa] of that piece. I can’t wait to see what you bright people come up with next. –Bill Dodkin Los Angeles The torture image on the Fourth of July cover was bold in its confrontation of the reality of torture, an international crime against humanity that continues to be committed under the dark mantle of being in the interests of U.S. national security. CityBeat is applauded for taking this bold step forward in the interests of truth and condemnation of this horrific practice sanctioned in the halls of power, by officials in and directly connected to the Bush administration. This is a bold direction that journalism needs to go; to stand up and directly challenge abhorrent acts and policies of government, and to alert readers to the need to speak out and condemn, as you so eloquently spoke out on the front page of your paper. The contradiction of the celebratory nature of the holiday was vivid. We have been waging a campaign against torture since the news about Abu Ghraib became known. We were awarded “Most Valuable Crusade” by The Nation magazine in 2007 for the steadfast and uncompromising stand against torture we have taken and have spread to others. We wear the orange jumpsuits and hoods (that prisoners at Guantánamo are forced to wear during their agonizing detainment and torture there) at a variety of protests, marches, events and moments of strong dissent. If you would like to know more about The World Can’t Wait, you can contact us in Los Angeles at worldcantwait_la@ yahoo.com. You may also want to visit our national website at www. worldcantwait.org. –Christine Stone The World Can’t Wait/Los Angeles Our Miss Spook “Cissie,” unbeknownst to her, was most likely working on behalf of the CIA and their War With Drugs. [Ron Garmon’s “Miss Narco America,” July 10.] Her associate Lynn Armandt was a procurer of hot babes at the Turnberry resort in Miami, which was awash in VIPs, spooks, and coke traffickers in the ’80s. Regulars at the club included Meyer Lansky associate Don Aronow, who designed the cigarette boats preferred by drug smugglers. Aronow was a close friend of George H.W. Bush. Aronow was rubbed out in 1987 at the peak of

Bush’s transparently fraudulent War on Drugs (the day before he was to receive a subpoena). The case file was inexplicably sealed until 2020. Nothing suspicious about any of that, I suppose. Cissie, like many others, was likely allowed to operate with impunity by the CIA (which always trumps the DEA) to generate vast laundered liquid capital which the CIA could use as it pleased without a pesky Congress asking a bunch of troublesome questions. In a nutshell, she was probably an unwitting Iran/Contra operative. One could delve further, but one might risk the fate of Gary Webb, who committed “suicide” by shooting himself in the head. Twice. –“deepy” Via lacitybeat.com The editor replies: May I recommend the work of my friend and colleague Nick Schou, who literally wrote the book? In Kill the Messenger: How the CIA’s Crack-Cocaine Controversy Destroyed Journalist Gary Webb, he explains (and Nick is no mealy-mouthed mainstream media apologist) how Webb really did kill himself – yes, twice – but it was the Washington Post, L.A. Times, and New York Times (oh, and his editors at the San Jose Mercury News) who might as well have pulled the trigger. As for the rest of your delightful letter, I’ve taught political science classes at UC Irvine that focused mainly on Iran-Contra, and could not be more sympathetic to conspiracy theories in general and particularly those that say George H.W. Bush, for instance, was in Paris to negotiate that the hostages stay (he was; the denials are laughably easy to debunk) or that he killed Kennedy. (He did – with an assist, no shit, from Woody Harrelson’s dad.) So why does your letter sound so nutty? Oh, right, the part at the end. So there you go then.

BY STEVE LOWERY

Monday, July 14 This is how it goes. The sun comes up, the coffee gets made, and the publisher or editor or several hundred employees of the Los Angeles Times either quit or get laid off. This week, we get Times publisher David Hiller resigning after a 21-month stay that saw two editors come and go and deep cutbacks in staffing. Those cutbacks included today’s, which required section editors to make up Sophie’s Choice-like hit lists of their staffs. Hiller had said the cuts were necessary, explaining, “Bwahahahahahahaha!” Hiller was the third Times publisher since the paper was taken over/waterboarded by the Tribune Company, which was in turn bought by real estate developer Sam Zell. The diminutive and squishy-faced Zell, who looks like the offspring of an unholy union between a Keebler elf and a slice of beef jerky (those elves love their jerky. That, and manblood), has shown absolutely no interest in actually running a paper and appears to believe he is on an extended season of Big Brother where the object is to eliminate as many human beings as possible. This week it’s 250 folks. Good folks. I worked with a lot of them when I was at the Times, and they are terrific journalists and people; award winners, dedicated craftsmen, and a few dudes who really like to smoke weed. Fare thee well, compadres. If it’s any consolation, we’re all doomed. Tuesday, July 15 Driving my car very slowly, trying to take advantage of any prevailing tailwinds, I hear on the radio that the Auto Club is reporting the national average for gas hits an all-time high. Americans are now paying $4.11 for a gallon of regular gas. Many things go through my mind: blood for oil, conservation, Ed Begley’s tremendous hair. But there is one thought that sticks and won’t leave me: Where can I find this wonderful $4.11 gas?! Please, tell me where it is sold so I may move there, and by there I mean right next to the pump, and live with the pump and gaze upon its bargain-basement $4.11 price tag and thank it and love it and do things to it if it wants. Are you kidding me? Four freakin’ eleven?! I just rushed into an Arco because it was giving it away for the low, low price of $4.41, and I only needed a few gallons. I just like to keep the tank full so I’ll be ready when the bloodletting begins. Wednesday, July 16 The Mexican navy announces it has seized a submarine transporting cocaine off its southern coast. The news is shocking: I mean, who knew Mexico had a navy? The 33-foot submarine is intercepted 125 miles south of Puerto de Salina Cruz in Oaxaca state and was first noticed because it was blasting “Bring tha Noize.” Now, I dunno, isn’t it at the point that drug dealers get submarines that we officially

Chalk one up for the amorality, manipulation, and money monomania – “Cissie” takes the cake! Of course she doesn’t exude “survivor’s guilt” – she appears to have no sense of guilt at all over her past indiscretions. Which makes her full of shit. Even more so, since her tale paints her as anything but an innocent neophyte unaware of the negative murk she eventually dove into, which even now she still romanticizes to a degree despite the outcome of her adventures. Granted, her story – by all means – should be told. It’s a prime example of the ugliest aspects of humanity hidden behind a mask of beauty ’n’ thrills. “Cissie” isn’t a (s)hero to be celebrated, just another unrepentant opportunist in a world that’d had far too many U.O.’s before and after her. That’s the way it is, some resignedly say, but is that the way it has to be? –James Nolan Los Angeles

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declare the drug war over? It’s one thing to put a few bags up your pooper, but a submarine capable of traversing the ocean shows a whole other level of commitment and sophistication. You know who else builds and mans submarines? Nations. Thursday, July 17 The California Supreme Court refuses to take Proposition 8 off the November ballot. Prop. 8 is the antigay marriage initiative, and it will stick around for a few more months of hate and double-entendres. Proponents of gay marriage, and therefore opponents of Prop. 8 – you getting this? – are now targeting one of Prop. 8’s main supporters: San Diego hotelier Doug Manchester, who has given more than $100,000 in support of the initiative. The call is for people to boycott Manchester’s hotels, including the San Diego Grand Hyatt. Hmmmmm. You know, the Grand Hyatt has 1,625 rooms – I just checked – and I’m assuming it’s usually pretty full, pretty full with people who are not asked at the desk if they are straight or gay. And San Diego not only has a very hot gay scene – Hillcreeest! – but is a very big convention town, conventions that figure to attract gays and lesbians. (“Welcome LPGA!”) So all I’m saying is that the $125,000 Manchester donated came in part from a lot of hot gay and lesbian sex going on in his hotel. So isn’t this a little like reaching around Peter to pay Paul? Also, Paul’s an asswipe. Friday, July 18 Lovely. Saturday, July 19 Vista Hermosa Park opens, marking the first park to debut in downtown Los Angeles since 1895. That’s right, 1895 – 113 years ago. Apparently city officials had been waiting for the right time to open the next park and now that the Kaiser question has been resolved to most people’s satisfaction, they set about finding the perfect plot of land. And they found it. Vista Hermosa – it translates to “beautiful view” – is built on the old Belmont Learning Center site which, as you’ll remember, was killed because the ground was contaminated and it was an old oil field and there’s an earthquake fault. These are all horrible things for schoolkids, but apparently of no concern to kids at play. I mean, what contact are they going to have with the ground besides rolling in and consuming it? (“Mommy, it tastes like burning!”) Just as horrible as the fact that downtown hasn’t had a park in more than 100 years is the fact that only 33 percent of Los Angeles residents live within a quarter-mile of a park. Contrast this with Boston, where 97 percent of residents live within a quarter mile of a park, or New York where the number is 91 percent. And sure, park in New York is code for “bathroom,” but still. Sunday, July 20 The Dark Knight makes more than $155 million on its opening weekend, breaking the previous record of $151 million set by Spider-Man 3 and the Verne Troyer sex tape.✶

N<<B<KK< MONDAY Arnold Schwarzenegger Will Be Secretary of Something The governor of California went on George Stephanopoulos’ show the other day and said he wouldn’t turn down a Cabinet posting from whoever got elected president. In just six months, America will finally have a Secretary of Bipartisan Grabass: perhaps not the one it wants, but the one it deserves. –Sara K. Smith John McCain Looked at the Computer! It’s time to stop with all this “John McCain is from the 18th Century” nonsense, because the GOP nominee-to-be has now seen a computer and is quickly catching up with all the exciting technological developments of the past 45 years. McCain was asked by The New York Times if he actually looked at websites. He said his staffers showed him things on the computer, such as Drudge Report and Politico. His wife then yelled at him, during the interview, because he didn’t mention his daughter Meghan’s weird blog. Asked if he could actually make the computer show him a website, McCain said: “They go on for me. I am learning to get online myself, and I will have that down fairly soon, getting on myself.” Note that this is 2008, and “getting online” consists of simply looking at a computer, because computers are online all the time – we are a decade or so past the era of setting up the computer to make a phone call through a modem. But let’s be positive and applaud John McCain’s brave efforts to learn to get online, all by himself, “fairly soon.” Then he can start surfin’ for PR0N. –Ken Layne John McLaughlin Shouts About Some Fancy Biracial Snack Food Apparently someone on Earth still watches The McLaughlin Group and thank god for that, because old coot host John McLaughlin tends to say some pretty funny things about this Barack Obama character. A couple of months ago he interrupted Eleanor Clift’s Obama analysis and shouted, “WARREN HARDING WAS A NEGRO,” which is true. While McLaughlin’s performance yesterday doesn’t quite match that, it’s still a fine piece of old coot theatrics: He rants that Obama is an “Oreo,” meaning he wants to dip him in milk and eat him. –Jim Newell George Bush Asks Congress for Latest Capitulation, on Drilling President George Bush Jr. today lifted the executive ban on domestic offshore drilling for oil and natural gas, the same ban that his liberal father instituted 20-ish years ago. Take that, old retreating hack! But before the oil companies can start drilling off of your dock, Congress must lift its ban. Well that should be tough! We predict that Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi will whine about this for a good week, maybe 10 days, but should have a piece of drilling legislation ready for Bush’s Rose Garden signin’ desk by next Friday. –JN Cynthia McKinney to Be 2008’s Ralph Nader Beloved former congress-lady Cynthia McKinney is the Green Party’s presidential candidate! She’s in it to win! The Greens had a convention on Saturday, apparently, and McKinney was the big winner. Her running mate is “Rosa Clemente, a hip-hop artist and activist.” Well, all right. McKinney represented Georgia in the House for six terms, and then she slapped around a cop or something, and said Bush did 9/11, and the Jews ran her out of office, and she

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didn’t ask Bill Lobdell to smack his soon-to-be-ex-employers at the Los Angeles Times when I went to his pretty home on a wide, concrete street that used to be a landing strip during World War II; I figured the rape of the Times is mostly of interest to journalists. What I wanted to talk with him about was God, to illustrate the space just one reporter had carved out for himself. From the looks of the layoffs, the Times’s environmental reporting is about to be all but forsaken, along with the book review, opinion, and just about anything that doesn’t involve Hollywood or beach volleyball. The God beat will most likely be gone too. We sat on his patio and drank Perrier; his ridiculously hot wife, Greer, worked in her office until it would be time to hit the beach for sunset; and their four boys lounged around inside in varying degrees of shirtlessness. It was a perfect summer Sunday afternoon, the kind in which you feel churlish for seeing grief or loss. –Rebecca Schoenkopf L.A. CityBeat: It’s been a hell of a couple of weeks for you! Bill Lobdell: It has! My dad died, lost my job ... . Yeah, but you volunteered for the buy-out! You don’t get to whine about it! That’s true. I don’t get to whine about it.

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About your dad’s death: Was it expected? I mean, more than death is usually expected. Yeah, he’d been sick for a while, but he was a tough old Depression-era guy, and kept coming back. He had the tubes and everything in him, and finally said, “Enough!� The doctors gave him a couple hours, but he had 72 really good hours, with all the kids around and everything. At one point, he talked for 24 hours straight. He was just encyclopedic, and just hemorrhaged information, talking about Alexis De Tocqueville and his thoughts on the country, and then information about our family too. He died in mid-sentence.

DEGREE

How’d you become born-again? I was 27 years old, my life was a total mess. I wasn’t going anywhere professionally, I’d already been married once, and I got my girlfriend pregnant – Greer, as it turned out. [The District Weekly publisher and He was an old Times-man. What did he do our mutual friend] Will Swaim, of all there? people, said to me, “Billy, you know what He was vice president and general counsel. you need? You need God.� He was a very He was a media attorney; in his time, he different guy spiritually back then. I went was one of the top two in the country. He to Mariner’s Church, loved it ... . I’m a fairly gave me this love for newspapers. Growing compulsive person, and I just dove into up, he would take us to the corporate it. All of a sudden, there were Christiandining room, we’d have lunch with Otis themed books on my bookshelf ... . In Chandler. My heart beat a little faster the meantime, I found the media treated whenever I was in the newsroom. My goal religion very shabbily. The people I saw, in certainly wasn’t to be a lawyer ... . a fairly conservative church, didn’t se em very similar to the people interviewed in So why’d you take the buy-out from the the media – the Jerry Falwells, the Reverend Times now? Lou Sheldons. I pitched a column idea to The risk of staying there got greater the Times, and it became “Getting Religion.� than the risks of leaving. I did so very It ran on Saturdays. The stories I did were reluctantly, with great sadness. Its very good, if I do say so. They eventually trajectory, the number of layoffs ... they asked me to write about religion full-time, were offering a package I could live with which I saw as an answer to my prayer. for a while. I love journalism, but I don’t think I’ll work for newspapers again. I’m So was it the pedophile priests who drove fortunate; I do have some other stuff going you from the church? on. My book is coming out in February, in It was the cumulative effect, like a boxer a major release from HarperCollins. in the ring. One or two punches aren’t going to hurt him, but all day, every day What does that mean, a major release? ... . Every poll and study shows there’s I don’t know. They’re very much behind no basic difference ethically and morally the book? between atheists and religious people. Fundamentalists are a little more likely to And it’s about how being a religion writer be racist and get divorced, but are more made you lose your faith. I certainly hope it’s likely to give money, though less likely to called “Losing My Religion�? give to a homeless person on the street. Yes, it is. It’s Losing My Religon: How I Lost I had stopped going to church years ago, My Faith Reporting on Religion in America. but I made all these excuses. I didn’t want to admit that I had lost my faith. Now, you were Catholic and then became a Are you raising the boys with religion? What born-again Christian, is that right? I was raised Episcopalian – Minor League does Greer think about it? Greer is a cradle Catholic, so she’s got a lot Catholic – then became a born-again evangelical Christian and starting drifting more – and deeper-seated – anger about the sex abuse cases. I got to come home to toward Catholicism. By day I was getting her every night and talk about what I was lied to by bishops in sex-abuse cases, and learning, and what I was dealing with, and by night I was taking classes to become she actually stopped believing before I did. Catholic. My sister was there; it was 3:30 in the morning, and she’s trying to nod off, and he kept saying, “Are you there? Are you there?� And then he just died in the middle of a sentence, no gasping or anything.

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TUESDAY

WE ARE SHOCKED! WE ARE SHOCKED! (No, Really, We’re Shocked) BY JIM WASHBURN

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o you ever wonder if George Bush sees himself as Ferris Bueller, and the United States is just one big boring high school aching to be pranked? Before that final school bell rings next January, what great pranks might that mischievous little chimp still pull off? Bomb Iran? Rename Guantánamo “Hedonism III”? Reclassify oil shale as a vegetable? Whatever he does, he doesn’t exactly seem to be sweating his legacy. You wouldn’t either if you were looking forward to a lifetime of calling in chits with the oligarchy you’ve served so well, for whom his administration has been one long no-bid blowjob. He can leave it to his successors to mop up the spooge, while he spends his twilight years serving on corporate boards and doing the Macarena at testimonial dinners. In a lot of ways he’s been acting like the big vacation’s already started. Consider, for example, that goosestepping or whatever the fuck it was he did at the White House photo op when he endorsed McCain a few months back. I’m one of those people who is convinced Bush has been wearing a bug in his ear since at least his second debate with John Kerry in 2004. After stammering though the first debate, Bush in the next one suddenly was bursting with facts and positions, but always following a weird pause wherein the distant look on his face suggested he was listening to either God or Dick Cheney. Some also noted he was packing a bulge under his suit more consistent with a radio receiver than a Levitra layover. At nearly every speaking function since, those same awkward pauses have arisen, followed by him mouthing phrases he doesn’t seem to comprehend. In other times, it would have been an outrage if it were suspected a U.S. President was running on remote control; these days it’s more a sense of relief. But of late Bush appears to even be goofin’ on his handlers, either riffing off their lines or winging it entirely. The result is a stunning return to form, like the Bush of old, giving the fusty English language a brisk butch rub. Consider his July 15 press conference, where, when speaking of the resurgent insurgents in the emergent Afghanistan conflict, he declared, “They have no disregard for human life!”

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et’s ignore the obvious – the beaucoups disregard for human life evinced every week by our killing of Afghan civilians, or the hundreds of thousands dead or mangled and the millions displaced in Iraq – to talk

about someone else whose life has been cheapened by Bush: you. You may have missed this, because it’s hardly been reported in the U.S. press, but the Bush EPA recently devalued the cash price of a human life, yours included, from $8.04 million to $7.22 million. That’s right, on Bush’s watch, the value of your life has gone down while the value of oil has quadrupled. My first thought on hearing this news was, “I’m worth $7 million? Kill me; just let me spend the money first.”

those Islamo-fascist thugs will commit? Kill them all! Slow down. This highly decorated Staff Sergeant, Ryan Maseth, wasn’t killed by terrorists, but by a wrongly wired water pump, it was learned – after the Army had obscured the reason for months. He is one of at least 13 U.S. servicemen who have so far been electrocuted in Iraq, along with scores who have been injured in electrical mishaps, while, The New York Times reported July 18, many soldiers report receiving daily shocks in their barracks and, in one recent six-month period alone, there were over 283 electrical fires that damaged or destroyed U.S. military facilities in Iraq. Just last month, 10 buildings at a Marine base in Falluja were destroyed in an electrical fire. Jesus Christ, has Reddi Kilowatt changed his name to Sunni Kilowatt or something? Why is it that even electricity seems to be at war with us now? Of the 4,125 U.S. servicemen killed in Iraq at this writing, one out of every 317 was killed in an electrical mishap.

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“Hi Kids!” But they’re not going to give you the money, though they may very well kill you. The reason the EPA attaches a value on human life is so it can do cost/benefit analyses on environmental protections. Say that putting better pollution controls on a coal-fired electrical plant will cost $208 million: The EPA estimates how many people will die if the controls aren’t put in place, and weighs the dollar value of those lives against the expense to the business of limiting their pollution, with the higher amount deciding whether those controls are required. So by devaluing your life, the Bush EPA has with one bold stroke moved to allow a higher threshold of toxins and environmental degradation in your life, which will further cheapen it, allowing even more toxins ... . Shocking? Not really, but this is: “Green Beret Electrocuted in Shower at Iraq Base.” Is there no limit to the unmanly terror

impeached Bush, in her mind. Experts say she will end up with about 47% of votes intended for McCain, because their names are pretty much the same. –KL

o let’s get to the Kellogg, Brown & Root of the problem: KBR – the Halliburton offshoot that was given highly lucrative no-bid contracts to build facilities for our forces in Iraq – evidently used such poor materials and untrained labor, with little or no oversight, that there are systemic electrical problems throughout the theater of war. According to a report by Pentagon official Ingrid Harrison, KBR was aware of the hazards yet “chose to ignore the known unsafe conditions.” A bit of history: When Dick Cheney was Secretary of Defense under George H.W. Bush, he had the Pentagon pay millions of dollars to Halliburton to produce a study showing how, gee, Halliburton could more effectively perform the infrastructure work – construction, food service, etc. – previously done in-house by the military. Returning to private life, Cheney, who had no business experience, was made CEO and Chairman of Halliburton, and used his Pentagon contacts to weave Halliburton into military operations. The idea was that our troops would be better and more economically served by privatization. From electrocuted Green Berets to troops sickened by sewage water served as potable, from the shameful privatized conditions at Walter Reed Hospital to billions in over-billing, it’s been working out great, hasn’t it? By the EPA’s new estimate, those 13 electrocuted servicemen are worth $93.8 million. KBR’s most recent contract to service our forces in Iraq is for $150 billion. Guess who wins that cost-benefit analysis?✶

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AP’s New DC Chief Hearts Karl Rove That newish Associated Press Washington bureau chief, Ron Fournier, is making AP copy all dumb and bloggy. Also, he e-mailed this to Karl Rove about Pat Tillman, the anti-Iraq War hero who was slaughtered by his own troops in Afghanistan: “The Lord creates men and women like this all over the world. But only the great and free countries allow them to flourish. Keep up the fight.” –KL Woman, You Are Too Rich to Actually Exist In case you haven’t heard about this yet, here’s what Cindy McCain said on CNN yesterday: “In Arizona, the only way to get around the state is by small private plane.” Uh, uh … and Michelle Obama drives a hybrid that doesn’t love its country! *RUNS TO PRIVATE PLANE.* –JN Barack Obama Is Killing Comedy As the whole dumb New Yorker flap proves, the liberal media has to be super careful when dealing with Barack, lest His earnest minions go crazy like they did when Charles Gibson and George Stephanopoulos implied at that one Hillary/Obama debate that black people can’t swim and are always on welfare. Beyond the fear of exploring the backwoods trailer-trash 12 percent’s racist paranoia about Obama, there’s the problem of Obama himself: “The thing is, he’s not buffoonish in any way,” said Mike Barry, who started writing political jokes for Johnny Carson’s monologues in the waning days of the Johnson administration and has lambasted every presidential candidate since, most recently for Letterman. “He’s not a comical figure,” Barry said. The only thing truly laughable about Barack Obama, so far, has been the reaction from America’s lower classes of openly racist idiots. And as the New Yorker cover proved, the line between satirizing that crowd and seemingly supporting their weird view is very thin and very hard to find. It is, in fact, like the famous vaginal “G spot” – it’s never in the same place, and you never know how it’s going to react. –KL The Latest Gem From McCain’s Long History of Horrifying ‘Wisecracks’ John McCain’s always had a hearty arsenal of “cocktail party jokes,” including several about killing Iranian civilians with either bombs or exported American cancer, and another about Chelsea Clinton being ugly because her father is Janet Reno’s penis. These jokes, however, can’t shake a stick at the latest gem someone has unearthed from a 1986 copy of the Tucson Citizen, one that got him in a tit-bit of trouble at the time. And here we have it: McCain’s crack about the gorilla who rapes and murders some gal in the street. “Did you hear the one about the woman who is attacked on the street by a gorilla, beaten senseless, raped repeatedly, and left to die? When she finally regains consciousness and tries to speak, her doctor leans over to hear her sigh contently and to feebly ask, ‘Where is that marvelous ape?’” Oh, we get it! The girl was a slut. –JN WEDNESDAY Elizabeth Dole Wants to Name AIDS Relief Bill After Heroic AIDS Goblin Jesse Helms Maybe Senator Elizabeth Dole teaches a community college English class on the side and wants to show her students a cartoonish, real-life example of “irony,” because that’s the only way to explain her current episode of retardation. She has introduced an amendment to the HIV/AIDS/etc. relief bill nearing completion in the Senate that would rename it after dead Senator Jesse Helms, the famous hero who once said, “There is not one single case of AIDS

Explore the Channel Islands National Park HIKE... with a naturalist or on your own! ! > & >

N<<B<KK< in this country that cannot be traced in origin to sodomy.� This Senate bill, interestingly enough, will probably contain another amendment – this one from John Kerry and Gordon Smith – to remove the HIV travel and immigration ban for foreigners hoping to enter the United States. This ban, of course, began in 1987 and is called the “Helms Amendment.� So basically, Boo Elizabeth Dole! Elizabeth Dole has gonorrhea! –JN THURSDAY

Day Trips with 2-6 hrs ashore Departing from Ventura & Oxnard

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Meghan McCain Ignored by Hollywood Paparazzi Oh look, it’s John McCain’s daughter, Meghan McCain, and a performer from the teevee called Heidi Montag who is George W. Bush’s only supporter in America. But why doesn’t Meghan have any money? And why was she so terribly humiliated? The McCain “Blogetteâ€? had lunch with the teevee gal in Santa Monica yesterday, because this Heidi Montag is the star of the Tori Spelling hit “Beverly Hills Copâ€? and she is the actress of the decade who will like a Republican. (The last one was Bo Derek, in the 1970s.) But then the two blonde gals tried to find their car, but Meghan doesn’t have any money and the valet apparently doesn’t accept Cindy McCain’s tripleplatinum five-whore-diamond American Express, so the paparazzi photographers gave them some money. –KL Orrin Hatch’s Awesomely Morbid/Gay Ballad to Ted Kennedy Senator Orrin Hatch is an old conservative Republican from Utah, the most conservative Republican state in the country: so it’s no surprise that in a moment of weakness the balladeer of the Senate would pen a sweet, romantic ode to one of his male colleagues. Apparently he is great pals with Ted Kennedy, whose battle with brain cancer compelled Hatch to write a ballad called “Headed Home.â€? But it is not about heads. Here is a sample of the beautiful lyrics: Sailing home, sailing home. America, America, we’re headed home at last Just honor him, honor him, and every fear will be a thing of the past ‌ Through the darkness, we can find a pathway, that will take us halfway to the stars Shoo the shadows and doubts away, and touch the legacy that is ours, yours and mine. Amazingly, all the “sailing home ‌ at lastâ€? business is not about returning to the arms of Jesus or whatever. It’s about heading home to the Senate, which is like Heaven in the sense that it’s full of half-naked cherubs. Except in D.C. they are called “interns.â€? –SKS George W. Bush Sewage Treatment Plant One Step Closer to American Reality The SFist just sent us this breaking news from San Francisco: The ordinance initiative to changing the name of the Oceanside Wastewater Treatment Facility to the ‘George W Bush Sewage Plant’ will, in fact, be on the November ballot. This is great news for everybody, as it will provide retaliatory amusement for San Francisco voters while confirming every “bunch-a gald-damned communist lezbo fruitcakesâ€? wingnut clichĂŠ about Baghdad by the Bay. –KL Wah Wah Wah Barack Obama, speaking to popular ladies’ magazine Glamour: “Everybody who knows Michelle knows how extraordinary she is. She’s ironically the most quintessentially American woman I know. She grew up in a Leave it to Beaver family.â€? So this is your story, Hussein? Then maybe you can explain that candid photograph of her on the cover of the latest New Yorker magazine. –JN FRIDAY Dan Rather Continues to Say Strange Things on Teevee! Beloved liberal Dan Rather responded to a comment from former NFL star Tiki Barber on today’s edition of MSNBC’s Morning Joe, about Jesse Jackson’s influence in politics. We did not see the show as it aired, so we aren’t sure why arbitrary

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celebrity bums were picked off the street to host today. Point is, Dan Rather says he appreciates Jesse Jackson and that Jackson was importantly “paving the way for an Osama bin Laden to appear.â€? Our friends on the right would agree! We think he meant “Barack Osama bin Laden,â€? however. –JN Sad Independent Voters Are Excited About Nothing You know those folks who eat a lot of casseroles and know the first and last names of every contestant on America’s Next Top Model since “Cycle 1,â€? but do not know how many fingers John McCain has? (Answer: Eleven.) These people are so grossly underinformed that politicians lurve them, and every four years this coveted voting bloc called “Independentsâ€? determines who will be our next president. This year, like every year, they do not like their options: or they would not like their options if they knew what they were, which they do not. A new AP/Yahoo News poll lays out the sad facts for us: Only 21 percent of independent voters – being targeted by both Obama and Republican John McCain – said they find the election interesting – down from 31 percent in November – and just 7 percent say it’s exciting. About a quarter support each candidate, about 40 percent remain undecided, and half say they could still change their minds. Barack Obama and John McCain will both appear on Celebrity Apprentice in the fall, and whoever gets fired first will be sent to GuantĂĄnamo so that the other dude can get elected. –SKS What Inappropriate New Jokes Will McCain Make on Teevee Tonight? Tonight marks John McCain’s first appearance on the NBC comedy show Late Night With Conan O’Brien since 2005, back when he was still that funny old coot and failed presidential senator guy with black children. Now, of course, he poses the greatest possible threat to the survival of Earth and everyone hates him. But he’s still a wonderful comedian and we look forward to seeing him in his element tonight. What jokes about cunts, bestial rape, ugly young girls and killing innocent civilians will he debut tonight? Senior officials at Langley have given us hints as to what we can expect from McCain’s hilarious new routine: “Conan, where is my bowl of honey roasted nuts, you cunt.â€? “Conan, did you ever hear the one about the gorilla who raped some gal? The gorilla is actually a black man and all of you people are cunts.â€? “Where did I leave my goddamn pants.â€? “I got a bagel at a New York diner today and the fat broad waitress tells me the cream cheese spread costs an extra 18 cents. I thought that was ridiculous. 18 cents for a standard cream cheese spread. So I called her a usurious Jew and also a cunt.â€? “Conan lemme tell ya a thing or two about the Japs. They’re like the Chinese, except we didn’t nuke the Chinese. We need to nuke Russia.â€? “I hope ugly Chelsea Clinton smokes cigarettes and dies, the cunt.â€? “Take my wife. Please! She’s a cunt.â€? “I just flew in from Vegas and boy, are you a cunt, Conan.â€? See? He’s learning! If liberals say your jokes aren’t funny, make funnier jokes. –JN Ted Stevens Is Doomed The ancient snow troll who coined the most tired Internet phrase in the universe and who wanted to build a bazillion-dollar bridge to his Arctic Palace for Alcoholic Vietnam Vets ’N Herring may soon leave the Senate seat he has occupied since 1812. That’s right – Ted Stevens faces some sort of opponent in his latest re-election bid. And he’s losing to this Democrat nobody! New polls show some character named “Mark Begich,â€? reportedly the mayor of Anchorage, ahead by two whole points. Also, 61% of Alaskans would like to see Ted Stevens banished to a crab trap at the bottom of the Bering Strait, while only 27% would enjoy sending Begich to the watery deep. Ted Stevens is a million years old anyhow, so it’s probably time for him to retire. –SKS

E<NJ THIRD DEGREE CONT. FROM PAGE 6

It’s a good thing; that would be terrible for a marriage if one person was really religious and then the other ... . I wrote this story about losing my faith, and I got almost 3,000 e-mail responses; Greer put them in a binder for me, because they were really touching. Nearly every one was positive in its own way. I put a lot of myself in that story, which was hard. It’s something we don’t do ... [laughs] well, in the mainstream media. Did you feel an un-Christly pleasure when you were shiving some of these subjects? [Wryly] No, I felt a righteous joy! One of my roles as a journalist and a Christian was to expose corruption within the church. How about that Paul Crouch story? Man, I loved that one. That was fun. When I started the Trinity Broadcasting Network stories, I kept hearing this mythical story that [televangelist and founder of TBN] Paul Crouch was “involved” with someone. His chauffeur. They always said, “He’s black!” Finally I got a name: Lonnie Ford. He’d had a drug problem, he was a singer, he’d been to jail. You’d be surprised how many Lonnie Fords have been to jail on drug charges in America! So I couldn’t find him! Finally I found out his real name was Enoch. Well, that was a gift! I got a hold of this sealed lawsuit; luckily I worked for the Times, so we were able to get parts of the file unsealed, and I was able to unravel the story from there. Paul had paid $425,000 to keep this allegation, which he denied, from getting out. Every time we did a story, they’d use us as a fundraising tool: “We’re getting attacked by Satan! If you don’t want Satan to win, send your money to TBN!” And they did, of course. The story that stayed with me longest was when I went up to Alaska to cover these native Alaskans who’d been abused by Jesuit missionaries there. It was this village in the middle of nowhere – on an island, a 90-minute airplane ride from Nome. It was a pedophile’s paradise. Every boy in this village had been molested by this guy, who was a Jesuit missionary, for eight years. He raped them. He made them perform sex acts on each other. For 30 years, these guys stayed silent. They didn’t talk to each other, didn’t talk to their wives about it because they were afraid they’d be seen as gay. They were in and out of jail; they had a 100 percent alcoholism rate. I went up there in the middle of winter, then went back in the springtime. The pain and torment on their faces, the shittiness of their lives. And they were the nicest people, even with all of that. They just didn’t deserve it. I’d like to go back there. Not to cover it necessarily. Just to see them.✶

The Ax-Man Cometh

‘Times’ editor Russ Stanton takes to the OC Press Club

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hen Spring Street flushed 150 newsroom jobs last week, we knew there was only one way to mark the occasion: with a party in Newport Beach! Los Angeles Times editor Russ Stanton had long been the scheduled keynoter for the Orange County Press Club’s year-end (yes, I know) gala last Thursday, and – though perhaps a bit ashen, and maybe a little dead behind the eyes since he’d been busy laying off nearly 20 percent of his editorial workforce that very day – he kept his promise. (Don’t keep your distance.) Over actually delicious salmon at the Island Hotel (formerly the Four Seasons), the Press Club listened sympathetically – there wasn’t one of us in the room who wouldn’t have taken the chief ’s job at the L.A. Times no matter how gloomy its future, to then fall on our swords at a later date. Plus, the OC Press Club, of which I am a member, does tend to comfort the comfortable. We like power! It is sexy! (We also like to see sexy, powerful people indicted, and in O.C. at least, we had our share.) Stanton’s unprepared remarks seemed an introspective and honest explication of the future of the Times – until he mentioned the ways the Times would continue to excel, and mentioned, particularly, covering the environment. Hadn’t LAObserved reported that very day that Deborah Schoch and Janet Wilson had been laid off, and that Marla Cone had taken the buy-out? Wilson covered air quality; Schoch, according to LAO, was a past VP of the Society of Environmental Journalists and a Nieman environmental fellow at Harvard; and Cone was a noted and award-winning environmental reporter. And so that was when I realized that Stanton – for all the sympathy we in the room had for him – was sort of full of shit. But for one shining moment, Stanton told the unvarnished truth, a truth so unexpected, reporters all over the room put down their dessert spoons and grabbed for the evening’s program on which to take notes. Stanton was talking about “the big national dailies.” “To be frank,” he said, “I’m not sure we’re among them anymore.” Papers are still profitable; the Times is still profitable. If Sam Zell weren’t paying almost a billion a year in debt service for his purchase of the Tribune Company, there wouldn’t be a need to shrink again a once truly great paper. Capitalism is awesome. Smoking outside, over a glass of Champagne, I chatted with a Cal State Fullerton journalism professor. “Where were they [reporters] when Detroit shut down?” he asked, not terribly sympathetically. “Where were they when all the jobs moved to China? They weren’t there. They couldn’t have cared less when it was blue-collar people losing their jobs. They certainly never cared about unions. Now it’s different, because it’s happening to them. Guess what? Ask The Orange County Register: They can send copy editing to India after all!”✶ –Rebecca Schoenkopf

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THURSDAY CBLB!CFZPOE! (Skirball Cultural Center)

Musicians Su Hart and Martin Cradick went to live in the rainforests of Cameroon in 1992 to make recordings with the Baka tribe. Since then, their music has become a fusion of Celtic sounds and traditional Baka beats, and their band has grown to include people from Sierra Leone and the Congo. Album profits have gone to building a recording barn in the rainforest. (GP)

CJQPMBS!CFBS !(The Smell)

Doughty standbys at the Smell, these local experimentalists bid fair to be the Next Medium Thing to come out of that venerable downtown noize-kiln. To avoid any hint of L.A. snobbery, it also does a July 25 turn at the Scene in scenic Glendale. Ability to discourse intelligently on this band will constitute 50 percent of your final grade this quarter at Hipster U. (RG)

dogs like these are what rock’s always been about and they cleverly market their alienation by time-tested device of not sounding like anyone else going. (RG)

SPDLJOÖ!UIF!DPMPOJFT

! (Music Box @ Fonda) If you’re feeling nostalgic for the ’80s, like perhaps everyone else on VH1, this throwback line-up is just right for you. The alternative pop tour is making new wave new again, featuring The Alarm, The English Beat, and The Fixx!to round out the act. The sound might be a little old, but the younger fan base is a good indication of the geezers’ ability to make it fresh and compelling again. (GP)

Brigend, Wales, has a solid following among U.S. monster kiddies. Of course, getting thrown off the 2006 Rob Zombie tour for sticking up for fans instead of Zombie’s merch-gougers banks one bookoo cred among the crypt-kicker set. The undercard includes Bleeding Through and sludgefellows Cancer Bats. (RG)

DVUF!JT!XIBU!XF!BJN!GPS !(The Glass House)

Cute, indeed. But with its sophomore album, the New York-based band is moving in a more serious progression. With “Rotation,” they stick to their power choruses and satirical lyrics but also experiment with more classic power pop. (HP)

FRIDAY

CVSOJOH!CSJEFT ! (Safari Sam’s)!

This hard rock band from Pennsylvania, playing with Nebula and Middle Class Rut, will be arriving in their vegetable-oilpowered vehicle to play tracks off their new self-produced album Anhedonia. Be prepared for rock anthems and tubular guitar riffs. (GP)

HSBOU!MFF!QIJMMJQT (Largo)

Largo continues its never-ending awesomeness with the sexy, breathy, sorta-funky/sorta-Jude-y/little-bit-disco/ sometimes-sad swoopy fuck-music. Grant Lee Phillips, we are single! (RS)

UIF!SFQVCMJD!UJHFST ! (Spaceland)

However well or badly Kansas City, Kansas, fares, Kansas City, Missouri, is undergoing a renaissance, sending her tune-bearing sons across this fat and favored land. The Tigers are less experimentalists than poprock traditionalists; a tuneful and sophisto quartet whose laid-back sound would not have been out-of-place on one of those Mellow Gold LP comps K-Tel hawked over the UHF airwaves back during the Ford administration. Love them for the transcendent beauties of “Fight Song” and “Buildings and Mountains,” as well as the brass balls it takes to play for Spaceland jades on a Silver Lake Saturday night. (RG)

SVQB!BOE!UIF!BQSJM!GJTIFT! (California Plaza)

EJ[[FF!SBTDBM! (Echoplex)

Most musicians will tell you that music is a calling for them. They would be robbing banks if they weren’t playing music. Not songwriter and band leader Rupa – no, she splits her time between making music and being a doctor. This San Francisco native and the artists who make up the April Fishes have been compared to Pink Martini, Manu Chao, and Beirut – the band, not the Paris of the Middle East. (GP)

In a perfect world Dizzee would’ve been a huge star, but we just weren’t ready for his incredible gift. In 2003, he took the world by storm with one of the best debuts in years, his incredible Boy in Da Corner. Unfortunately, Americans just couldn’t grasp what the U.K. had repackaged as “grime,” their own version of hip-hop with a more futuristic and darker twist. No worries, as he continues to record and has since then put out two excellent records. The latest, Maths + English, features the likes of Lily Allen and American hip-hop crew UGK to provide a more mainstream flair. (CT)

EBWJE!TDPUU!TUPOF !(Mr. T’s Bowl)

UIF!MJGF!'!UJNFT !(Spaceland) I first caught up with this visionary trio at Spaceland in 2006, as they toured in support of The Magician, a release that failed to crack my year-end Top 10 by pettifogging dint of being an EP. Pavement psychedelia in the vein of an Americanized My Bloody Valentine and Swervedriver, L&T’s broad, spacious sound wars with the urgent lyrics and Allen Epley’s flat, cramped vocals result in a tension like that generated by Roger Waters’s thin Anglo yelp wallowing in the four-color madness of Pink Floyd. Outta Kansas City, MO, Midwestern road

soft-pop, melodic goodness. The Garza Brothers are pretty, and they make pretty music (a little blues, a lot of Tejano) that you are probably way too hip to listen to, because they won a Grammy and are sold in Wal-Mart, even if they did record their self-titled debut at Willie Nelson’s studio in Austin. Hear that? Willie Nelson! And Austin! The only place you’d rather be than Echo Park, right? Besides, they’re opening for Los Lobos. (RS)

BULLET FOR MY VALENTINE

FRIDAY CVMMFU!GPS!NZ!WBMFOUJOF !(The Wiltern)

Originally known as Four Pints of My Girlfriend’s Blood, this metalcore act from

MPT!MPOFMZ!CPZT (Greek Theatre)

It’s 2004 all over again, missing only a little Maroon 5 for that summer of

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Sir DSS is a skronk polymath who’s played with the aesthetically advanced likes of Mike Patton, the Locust, Kenji Heino, and the Melvins (the last describe him as “the Brian Eno of our band”) and a longtime panjandrum of L.A. experimental rock. The multitalented Mr. Stone’s also invented instruments with names like “Gut Expresser” and “Electric Thundersheet.” His set is certain to cause jaws of bibulous locals at Mr. T’s crowded bar to clatter to the floorboards, emptied of Budweiser and conversation. (RG)

UFFOB!NBSJF (Gibson Amphitheatre).

Deathly boring blue-eyed soul that goes on for EVER. And not blue-eyed soul in a cool-kitten Dusty Springfield (or even ➤

Rick Springfield) way, but blue-eyed soul as ass-numbing extendo-jam schmaltzylite-R/B suicide-bait. Had a date to see her at Staples last year with a guy who was all Studio 54 back in the day, nearly chewed off my own leg. Also? By the time a woman hits her 50s, she should usually wear sleeves. (RS)

EBSLFS!NZ!MPWF! (The Echo)

XZDMFG (House of Blues)

Frat boys and white suburban housewives agree: Wyclef Jean makes melodious, positive hip-hop you can shake your sweet little flat ass to, all about love and strippers and marijuana and NOT SHOOTING PEOPLE. Very pretty, very musical, whole lotta fun. Nice! Boy, I am old and have children (they prefer the Game). (RS)

SATURDAY UIB!BMLBIPMJLT !(Crash Mansion)

Experimental grungy blues probably best describes this local band’s sound. They’ve been a mainstay on the rock scene in L.A. and beyond – this is certainly a band to keep your (bloodshot) eye on. (GP)

Upfront Bias Dept.: I think Darker My Love is the No. 1 rock act going in L.A. Clubland today. Considered apart from the source material – a self-titled 2006 debut which made a superior pastiche of late-1960s guitar-psych and next month’s follow-up unenigmatically titled 2, which makes a startling improvement on it – but for the bravura of their live set. I bid unbelievers to their live set available on Spaceland Records, especially the bliss-bomb of a finale, “Summer Is Here.” As if making stylistic advances on the likes of Jefferson Airplane isn’t enough, they recontextualize the hallucinatory shimmer they share with Ride, Swervedriver and countless more into an elegant, energetic drive these five fellows share with no one. Slotted for the Dandy Warhols tour this fall, they came near to detonating the Echo when they finally went on last Friday night. Mooby and I were already late when we split for the park for some high-voltage booj, returning to insert ourselves into a dense packing of rock snobs and hipsters. Their early gigs here and at Spaceland were marvels of proggy meander, but the new stuff is thick with melody and funky hooks, like some compound of Rare Earth and the cubensis that grows in it. All cranked up to Live at Oxycontin Amphitheater levels and interspersed with de minimus banter, this was indeed rock music as our primitive ancestry used to do it. Tim Presley and Rob Barbato began a year-long stint with the Fall in mid-2006, doing their last show over a year ago, before cranking D My L back to life, and their time with Mark E. Smith seems to have given them a fine feel for chaos. A telephone chat with cracked-out Tim Presley yielded little more than confirmation by word and manner than he really is related to the King. (RG)

DARKER MY LOVE

CJCMJDBM!QSPPG!PG!VGPT !(Zen Sushi)

Set to help open Club Vamped at Zen Sushi, this Cleveland trio plays hard and jazzy, like a Traffic informed by grunge nihilism instead of hippie whimsy. How much difference that makes can be gauged by any MySpace idler. Play “Paranoid Akroid.” Play that fucker loud. (RG)

CMJTTFT!C !(Genghis Cohen)

This quartet of musicians from San Francisco plays experimental rock, but don’t let that word fool you. These dudes actually know how to play their instruments, and you can eat Chinese food while you’re at it. (GP)

KVOJPS!CSPXO! (Key Club)

didn’t buy tickets (they were expensive), and then Junior Brown’s wife saw it and called my paper and gave me tickets, and I went, and I didn’t take my mechanic. He was a dick! This will be a great show. Highly recommended. (RS)

SATURDAY

The late music critic Buddy Seigal (known to audiences as the Beat Farmers’ Buddy Blue) once sneered at my taste in music (as all music critics eventually must), “BR5-49 is to Junior Brown as the Monkees were to the Beatles.” Okay, first of all, deriding me in SAT-question form? You’re awesome. Second, what the fuck is wrong with the Monkees? Nothing! Neil Diamond and Carole King wrote their songs! Their songs were about the soulless death of suburban living! And they were adorable! Marsha, Marsha, Marsha! Third, BR5-49 may have been a Nashville band, and they may even have been put together like the Spice Girls, but those bitches could play, and they loved their music, and you could walk in and request something like Bobby Helms’s “Fraulein” (burning up the Army base jukeboxes throughout Europe in 1958), and they would play it, because they knew it, and from then on they’d play it when you walked in, and you wouldn’t even have to ask! Also, they were really, really nice to old ladies! My point is, Junior Brown is great, and you probably want to hear a story about him! So I was “dating” my super-hot, looked-like-Chris-Isaak mechanic for 10 months (on my lunch hour), and he and I were busy not talking one night when we saw Junior Brown on the teevee and were both blown away by his slide guitar. Soon after that, Junior Brown was coming in on tour, and so I called my mechanic and said, “Hey, Junior Brown’s coming! If I can get tickets, do you want to go?” and he goes (super mean and snotty), “I would think you would ask me if I wanted to go after you had the tickets!” so then I didn’t get tickets, and I put in my newspaper column how I

!! EBSLFTU!IPVS (Music Box @ Fonda)

is hellish spawn of death metal and hardcore punk, which is not unlike a peanut-butter-and-epoxy sandwich for the ears. Their albums have titles like Hidden Hands of a Sadist Nation; fair enough warning for a sound excruciating enough to warrant play over Radio Gitmo during naptime. They appear tonight with the earshred likes of At the Gates and Municipal Waste. (RG)

EVTUZ!SIPEFT!'!UIF!SJWFS!CBOE !(Key Club)!

Orange County songsmiths behind unrelievedly poppy odes like “Dear Honey” (“I drank away all my money; I spent the night on the street”) that are a little Poguesy, a little spaghetti-scene-from-Lady & the Tramp. Absolutely delightful; you can never have too much mandolin or accordion. Recommended! (RS)

LFOOZ!H/ (L.A. Jazz Festival @ the Greek)

headlines a posse including Will Downing, Angie Stone, and the Escovedo Family (with Sheila E.!) but all we can think is Kenny G.? More like Kenny Gay! And that is not very nice, and also is homophobic. We are sorry. (RS) ➤

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SUMMERSOUNDS BEST BUY A T

DAVID ARKENSTONE “ECHOES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW” Chiaroscuro is the painter’s solution for shaping objects from the darkness, wielding one to conjure the other. It’s this idea that inspired this collection, the desire to supply music for all the human emotions, the shadows and the sun.

BLACKMORE'S NIGHT “SECRET VOYAGE” The brilliant guitar stylings of Ritchie Blackmore, the enchanting vocals and lyrics of singer/songwriter Candice Night and the saturation of authentic Renaissance instruments woven throughout the melodies, create a unique style of music they call Renaissance/Folk/Rock.

EINSTÜRZENDE NEUBAUTEN “THE JEWELS” CALIFORNIA GUITAR TRIO “ECHOES” Their first release since 2004’s “Whitewater”. “Echoes” is a mix of never before released CGT arrangements from classical to pop classics, including the Trio’s wildly popular version of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.

FIREWATER “THE GOLDEN HOUR” Recording with a single microphone and a laptop in his pack, Tod A. captured performances with a vast array of musicians across India, Pakistan, Turkey and Israel.

The compositions were often created in one day with lyrics based on dreams. The group was guided by a system of self-developed cards (Called “Dave”) with specific instructions written on each one – sometimes clear, and sometimes cryptic.

TESLA “COMIN' ATCHA LIVE! 2008” (DVD) The first DVD from Tesla in 17 years, a full 2 hours of Live 2008 concert plus backstage footage. Featuring the new song “Dear Pvt. Ledbetter from the new studio album coming in September 2008.

THROW THE FIGHT “IN PURSUIT OF TOMORROW” With their debut album, In Pursuit of Tomorrow, Throw The Fight have put it all on the line. It’s a D.I.Y., take-no-prisoners, gritty plea to be heard and a passionate pitch for massive audiences, all of which they utterly deserve. With their debut album, In Pursuit of Tomorrow, Throw The Fight have put it all on the line. It’s a D.I.Y., take-no-prisoners, gritty plea to be heard and a passionate pitch for massive audiences, all of which they utterly deserve.

WHITESNAKE “GOOD TO BE BAD” The premier household name in melodic hard rock returns with a vengeance! Whitesnake is back with "Good To Be Bad", their 10th studio album and first in over a decade!

“On tour with Drowning Pool”

RAHSAAN PATTERSON “WINES & SPIRITS” From the fresh alternative dance beats of ‘Delirium’, to the retro-gospel shades of ‘Oh Lord’, to the infectious joy of ‘Higher Love’, Wine & Spirits is a revelation of new soul, and Rahsaan’s testament of change, growth and human experience.

VARIOUS ARTISTS “ROCK THE NET: MUSICIANS FOR NETWORK NEUTRALITY” Network Neutrality is the principle of preserving an open Internet. Wilco, Bright Eyes, They Might Be Giants, Aimee Mann, Matthew Shipp, and DJ Spooky, to name just a few, have all donated an original track to the compilation.

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FRIDAY

TOKYO POLICE CLUB

HAMMER MUSEUM Tokyo Police Club is this year’s unsurprising success story, with first full-length Elephant Shell debuting at the top of Billboard’s Heatseekers chart. In an era where indie is the new mainstream, any old garage band on an indie label can make it big now. Tokyo Police Club’s brand of garage pop won over the hearts of every 14-to-24-year-old female with bassist David Monks’ heart-on-his sleeve vocals, while their boyfriends secretly loved the uptempo hooks that reminded them of their favorite tracks from the Nuggets box sets. They’re out to take over the world with their modest stylings. (CT)

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PETER GABRIEL & VARIOUS ARTISTS “BIG BLUE BALL”

An album of collaborations, a truly international, multi-artist project that grew from a series of "recording weeks" at Peter Gabriel's Real World Studios. Guests include Karl Wallinger, Tim Finn, Joseph Arthur, Vernon Reid, Jah Wobble and many more.

SONNY LANDRETH “FROM THE REACH”

Singer, songwriter and Louisiana slide guitar phenom Sonny Landreth’s first studio album in five years unites his band with a who’s who of musical guests for a set of all-original roots rock tinged with the blues and New Orleans soul. Featured guitarists and vocalists include Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Vince Gill, Eric Johnson, Robben Ford, Dr. John and Jimmy Buffett.

WED NES DAY

Store Hours: Mon.-Thurs. 10am-9pm 1) !3 !- 0- 9 4. !- 0-

PEANUT BUTTER WOLF MUSIC BOX @ FONDA Born Chris Ganak, this Clubland mainstay was first heard

from when he and MC Charizma were briefly signed to Hollywood Basic. The up-andcoming emcee got himself dead of gunshot in 1993 and the DJ was cut adrift. He relocated to L.A., founded Stones Throw Records and went on to become one of L.A.’s more useful musical citizens, releasing rare beats, underground rap, and crate-digger masterpieces like Stark Reality Now, a 1970 funk exploration of the music of Hoagy Carmichael. As you might imagine, he owns two of the most discerning ears on the planet, mad turntable skillz, and an enviable rep as partymeister. (RG)

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EARACHE

They’ve been around doing their punk-ska thing for quite a little while, delivering sweaty mosh-pit shows with songs like “Handjobs for Jesus.� And if you’re really into that kinda thing, Big D & the Kids Table will be playing this show, too. The slightly more reggae, rocksteady-oriented band has a gentler take on ska, and will be playing songs off their last album, Strictly Rude. (GP) ! !

XBOEB!KBDLTPO (Knitting Factory)

The rockabilly queen has been recording for 54 years, and the chick still looks hot. She “toured� with Elvis; she was the first female rock & roll singer; and these days she’s recording with folks like Dave Alvin, Lee Rocker, and the Cramps – mere puppies at the feet of her jet-haired grande dame. Her set at the Hootenanny two years ago was a masterpiece in septuagenarian sex appeal – but not in a gross, Raquel Welch, tight-dress-onan-old-lady way; instead, in a not-trying, just-embodying manner where you sing about sex, and you tell us about fucking Elvis, and we like it. She is in neither the Rock & Roll nor the Country Music halls of fame. Somebody should sic Diana Ross on them. Justice must be served! (And slapped.) (RS)

MFTT!UIBO!KBLF !(The Wiltern)!

Junior high kids from the Midwest are finally jamming out to Less Than Jake, but in reality the band recently released their seventh album from their own record label, first emerging as a ska punk band but settling on a more commercial sound. Their cross of a pop-punk sound with a horn section and the lead singer’s gritty vocals keeps this band going. (HP)

EJBOB!SPTT!'!UIF!M/B/!QIJMIBSNPOJD (Hollywood Bowl) All hail the Bitch Queen of R&B! Lady sings the blues wondering where did her love go (because nobody likes her) all while probably slapping a ho (Mary Wilson, shoving onstage). Good tunes, though. Motown. Right on. (RS)

VOEFSHSPVOE!QBSUZ!$!2 !(Venue TBA)

Unknown as we go to press is the location of this widely anticipated exercise in pre-playa debauchery thrown to raise gas money for some artcar or other at this year’s Burning Man. Shuttle starts at 9:30 at the usual streetcorner downtown, then it’s off to a locale rumored deep in some warehouse district rathole that hasn’t seen a taxi since John McCain absorbed his last truncheoning from bored Communists. There, the music is DJ, but you are the live entertainment. Adventure! Romance! Intrigue! Cops! The music shuts off at 7 a.m., but you are welcome to crash in the chill space ’til the security guards show up Monday morning. (RG)

VOEFSHSPVOE!QBSUZ!$!3 (Venue TBA)

MUNICIPAL WASTE “THE ART OF PARTYING�

The kings of thrash, Municipal Waste, show us 'The Art of Partying' on their sophomore album with Earache Records. Produced by the infamous Zeuss (Hatebreed, Shadows Fall).

Same as above, but at the cool space in the Valley minions of J.Q. Law haven’t found yet. (RG)

EXJHIU!ZPBLBN ! (Greek Theatre)

He can keep his hat on. (RS)

SUNDAY

AT THE GATES “SLAUGHTER OF THE SOUL�

BU!UIF!HBUFT! (Music Box @ Fonda)

This more melodic death metal band from Gothenburg, Sweden, broke up in 1996 but after announcing their reunion in 2007 made plans for a “Suicide Final Tour� in the U.S. with Darkest Hour and!Municipal Waste. Repulsion! will also be joining them at the Music Box for this show. At the Gates will be playing all old material, featuring the typical neoclassical melodies and unconventional song structures of their album released 10 years ago, Slaughter of the Soul. Does this band have a death wish or what? (GP)

Exploding with the very best in melodic death metal, this 2 disc CD/DVD set includes the band's famed album, "Slaughter of the Soul," and DVD which features a full and previously unreleased live performance from 1995, a documentary and more!

Catch both bands performing live at the Glasshouse on 7/26, Henry Fonda Theater on 7/27

Store Hours: Mon.-Thurs. 10am-9pm /( 1 + .+ 8 2,

+ .+

CMVF!IBXBJJBOT! (Bordello)

Local surf-rockers got a lot of heat after Pulp Fiction’s focus on Dick Dale got all the hipsters searching for the perfect wave. (It didn’t really do the same for Urge Overkill, though.) Fun music, fun time, but lots of people my age and up. Fresh-faced Echo Parkers, you may feel like you’re surrounded by parents – and you are. (RS)

DBQUBJO!BIBC

! (The Smell) One (actually two, since they’re a duo) of local music’s Great Unclassifiables, this Captain holds forth from the prow of the good ship Smell several times a year, packing in a freight of gawky young weirdoes who leap with abandon at exquisitely gargled synthpop straight outen the Moroder-Mordor pit. There’s any number of disdainful old punk relics I’d love to haul to a CA show, just to see their habitual expressions change. Heh. (RG)

HOBSMT!CBSLMFZ! (Hollywood Bowl)

Just-released sophomore album The Odd Couple back in the spring plays off the mainstream’s perception of the group, when the combination is not odd, it’s nothing short of brilliant – Danger Mouse and Cee-Lo once again deliver an album that’s fresh, inventive, and experimental. It’s soulful with psychedelic lyrics, continuing the journey of their first album, St. Elsewhere, but in a more disconnected way that still makes sense. With Cee-Lo’s vocal abilities and Danger Mouse’s sick talent, this duo isn’t afraid to take risks – they’re a breath of fresh air. (HP) ➤

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EARACHE

HPMEGJOHFS !(The Wiltern)

UIF!TFDSFU!NBDIJOFT (Viper Room)

This show is sold-out, so expect lucky ticket-holders to be packed to the Viper’s buttresses and breathing in shifts for this NYC psych-indie trio. They’re set to go on tour with proggy wonder boys Coheed & Cambria later this month, but theirs is the star wallow this Sunday night at the House That Depp Built. Sensible patrons will find a congenial niche on Larrabee Street, toke until they see day-glo paisley, and stagger in, taking care to avoid entanglement in the velvet rope. Intern Gabrielle Paluch thinks she may have slept with one of the guys, but she’s not sure. (RG)

MONDAY UIF!MFBWJOH!USBJOT! (The Scene)

Falling James Moreland built the Leaving Trains out of a first-wave punk act called the Mongrels back in the anno horribilis of 1980. A late-arriving, long-staying addition to the fabled L.A. punk mishigas,

this band must be experienced by every L.A. rocker – watching the leggy Mr. Moreland careen this durably rattletrap stuff out of speakers is one of the everfewer ways left to plug into L.A.’s living rock history. Kind of like Sky Saxon!but more fun and more frequent. (RG)

KBJM!XFEEJOHT

!

(Echo) Had you been a teenager in love in jail in the ’50s, and you wanted to get married, this might just have been your band. They’d play you some nice doo-wop tunes before your conjugal visit. Part Everly Brothers, 100 percent AM radio gold. Also playing is onetime Beefheartian Moris Tepper, who scrogs up IFC at the opening credits of each and every brilliant episode of “Minor Inconveniences of Drunk Laura Kightlinger.” That’s what it’s called, yeah? (GP)

XJMMJF!OJMF (McCabe’s Guitar Shop)

McCabe’s is legendary for bringing incredible musicians to an intimate stage. Willie Nile, one who has wondered about the cell phones ringing in the pockets of

the dead, is no exception. The talented singer/songwriter has been admired by everyone you admire, Lucinda Williams, Lou Reed ... here’s a great chance to admire him up close and in person. (GP)

UIF!TUBSMJUF!EFTQFSBUJPO! (Echo)

This band was born with, like, seven tongues in its cheek. Their debut single “Hot for Preacher” has proven they have the talent for quirky lyrics and rocking guitar licks. If you’re too cool for yourself sometimes because you’re an L.A. hipster, you may just have to suck it up and go to this show. So you can stand at the back and make fun of all the other cool people who are too cool for you. (GP)

VOEFS!UIF!JOGMVFODF!PG!HJBOUT! (Spaceland)

This L.A.-based band’s appealing sound is somewhat mellow, a little bit pop, with catchy tunes and a honey-voiced singer – his high notes sound effortless. Their “sound” has yet to find a definite category; where you think they’re just a little rebellious with “Mama’s Room” they still resort back to the easy-listening “Lay Me

Down.” All around, a band worth seeing live. (HP)

TUESDAY CMBDL!LJET (El Rey)

It’s exciting to see what this band is up to, and what they’re going to do next. The indie group out of Jacksonville have been getting a lot of press since their performance at the Popfest in Athens, Georgia. The sound is a little new wave, and the kids clearly have a sense of humor about themselves as the name would suggest – or else may have a wee bit of an identity problem. Should be a fun show. Recommended! (GP)

CMPD!QBSUZ (Mayan)

It’s hard to believe that this is the same band that, three years ago, united critics and fans alike with debut album Silent Alarm. They were what we needed at the time: a great post-punk revivalist band with catchy songs and some hip, young faces behind the music. Since then,

DEERHOOF HOLLYWOOD BOWL It doesn’t get much more legendary than

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Deerhoof when it comes to the experimental rock scene from San Francisco. Their music tests boundaries while remaining accessible, partially thanks to vocalist Satomi Matsuzaki’s adorable sound. The show they played last year at the Natural History Museum among dinosaur bones and stuffed mammal species was stellar, I wouldn’t expect less from them at the Bowl, let alone compeers Gnarls Barkley. (GP)

FBS!QXS (The Smell)

Retro-futuristic 1980s synth-disco out of some fantasy late-Cold War Europe complete with Mandrax and burp guns,

little boy falls asleep to a beautiful song about hookers. (RS)

UIF!XBUTPO!UXJOT !(Echo) The Watson sisters have been making folk music together their whole lives in the form of different projects, and have worked with acts like Joe Firstman and Rilo Kiley. Most recently, they’ve released an album called Fire Songs (Vanguard), which is romantic and heartfelt. Tim Fite, too, will be playing that

VARESE SARABANDE

they’ve divided their fanbase with 2007’s A Weekend in the City, a misunderstood artrock masterpiece that has since then won over its detractors. This summer marks the release of their latest single, “Mercury,” which pushes their creative output even further into the realm of electro and IDM. (CT)

TUESDAY OST “HELLBOY II: THE GOLDEN ARMY” Danny Elfman once again flexes his superhero symphonic muscle to follow in the grand tradition of Batman, Spiderman and Men In Black. The soundtrack captures the action, humor and character-based spectacle of the kitten-loving superhero from hell and the talents from Elfman have once again shined through!

Store Hours: Mon.-Thurs. 10am-9pm 0 Fri. & Sat. 10am-10pm Sun. 11am-7pm

WATSON TWINS this stuff was actually hatched in Asheville, NC, which is pretty retro itself. Like hundreds of other bands, this duo is in town on a no-budget West Coast tour and it’ll be their honor to play tonight in L.A.’s own Palladium of Skronk and yours to yield up your five bux, hipster rabble. (RG)

night, with similarly clever songwriting and heartfelt lyrics, a perfect musical companion to the twins. (GP)

MPT!BOHFMFT!QIJMIBSNPOJD! (Hollywood Bowl)

BNCSPTJB! (Pershing Square)

is an L.A. institution almost as wellloved as the Lakers, Wolfgang’s, and scab labor. Tonight, Miguel Harth-Bedoya takes the baton for a delectable-sounding program of four dances from Ginastera’s Estancia, followed by Saint-Saëns’ Cello Concerto No. 1. That noble old standby Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 rounds out the evening. Tilt back your head, lift your gaze to the sky and know Beauty. (RG)

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(Greek Theatre; also Wednesday). James Taylor is good to listen to when you’re driving through the golden hills of San Luis Obispo with your five-yearold baby, who is also named James. Then you can rewind the cassette (remember cassettes?) to the beginning and listen to “Sweet Baby James” a dozen times in a row, while your sweet

WEDNESDAY Hey, there, groovy chicks. What’s the “biggest part” of the proggy Pedro boys? Um, the “sun” rising? Or “you” or something. Shine the light! Make a list of the things they’ll do for you! Let their love rain down on you! Oh my god, Ambrosia is FILTHY. Also, they sort of sound like Hall & Oates, but a little bit Bee Gees-er. Whatever: AWESOME! (RS)

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The ’80s were never cool, guys. The synthesizers, vocoder, the cheesy lyrics filled with double entendres none of it. Therefore, an Arab and a Jewish guy from Montreal doing kitschy throwbacks to that era is definitely uncool. But don’t let that make me stop you from dancing along. I mean, after all, what’s more uncool than a bunch of scenesters clad in American Apparel ... .✶

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FISH FOOD

Danteish delights at Chowder Barge BY NATHANIEL PAGE

PHOTOS BY JOHN GILHOOLEY

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t the upper end of the Leeward Bay Marina in Wilmington, surrounded by the looming, corroded superstructures of harbor refineries and shipping cranes, the Chowder Barge floats atop a layer of scum and motor oil. The interior of the Barge is a rectangle with a peninsular bar at one end and wrap-around windows exposing views reminiscent of a Siberian gas facility. Opposite the bar, a television cycles automatically through channels of static. The walls are covered in faux-clapboard paneling and kitschy maritime souvenirs. On a quieter day, I imagine I might be greeted by a bagpipe wailing plaintively in the fog. But today there’s a party on, and the partygoers are shifting their bulbous bodies awkwardly to the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine.� The girls wear pink blouses or pajama tops, bleach blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses. Outside, a line of oxidizing Sea-Land containers slides along one of the railroad thoroughfares that ring the restaurant, their locomotive blowing its horn and vibrating the windows. The bar is full, so I take a seat on A-deck behind the gaggle of smokers outside the door, men with handlebar mustaches and greasy pants arguing loudly about who’s drunker. All around is a Chinese puzzle of sailboat rigging. The deck is about four feet wide, overhung by a sagging trellis and a crooked old television antenna. At the table before

mine a customer berates a young waitress for calling her a drunk and a freeloader the previous night, and the waitress claims to have been too drunk to remember. Another waitress arrives to take my order while lighting a cigarette. She looks 60 but is probably younger. Wearing a pink tank top and a miniskirt, she’s bone thin with crooked teeth, covered in leathery skin, varicose veins, and faded tattoos, and she speaks in a foaming rasp. The lighter is dead. She rattles it against her ear. “Fish food!� she says, turning around, and she tosses it into the marina. “What would you like, sweetie?� For the sake of convenience, and to avoid straining my budget, I take the Fish Dinner ($9.95). It comes with both a choice of salad or chowder ($3.95 by itself ) and a choice of home fries, freedom fries, or a baked potato. After careful consideration, I choose the chowder and the baked potato. As I finish ordering, the waitress spots a vagrant loitering on the dock and suddenly runs off to accost him. The chowder comes four minutes later. Judging by the odd angle it assumes in the bowl, the Barge is listing badly. With the chowder comes a basket of individually wrapped Saltine crackers, a paper napkin, and a fork. I figure they expect me to eat the chowder with the crackers, possibly a seaport custom of which I am unaware, so I oblige them. It’s viscous, salty and oily, like the water beneath my feet. Shortly after I finish my chowder, the

leathery woman appears again to deliver my Fish Dinner. The fish is supposedly cod. Arranged tastefully over a leaf of lettuce, it comes as four deep-fried fillets of uniform shape and color that extrude oil when I push on them with the fork. I’m pleased to find the flesh intact, not reconstituted, but it’s suspiciously boneless. The breading is so greasy that I can’t finish it, but I leave feeling like I have a lump of lead in my gut nonetheless. Alongside the four fillets, the potato remains wrapped in aluminum foil. It’s the only unprocessed item on my plate, ringed by plastic tubs of whipped butter, sour cream and tartar sauce, the last separated into its constituent ingredients. Adjacent these is another leaf pointed in the opposite direction and sprinkled with canned corn. The corn has apparently been microwaved for 30 seconds; not quite warm, but sweet enough for my philistine palate. I manage to choke it down, hoping it’ll help push the fish and potato through my colon. Within 10 minutes I’ve eaten as much as I can stand. Along with a Mexican beer and a generous tip, the total comes to $17, which I find steep for said dining experience. But judging by the number of regulars there on a Saturday night, the Barge won’t soon flounder.âœś The Chowder Barge, 611 N. Henry Ford Ave., Wilmington, (310) 830-7937. Open Wed.-Mon., 8:30 a.m.-8 p.m.

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The Devil’s Food ... I have a standing rule against referring to any kind of chocolate and/or dessert as “sinfulâ€? or “decadentâ€? or making any kind of o-face when faced with a slice of goddamned cake. That is for undersexed women who replace their oxytocin with flavonoids – or something, I don’t know, I’d rather not think about it. But it’s not Dessert Decadence’s fault it was saddled with the name, and there’s no reason not to come for some of L.A.’s best chocolatiers, pastry chefs, and bakeries buttressed by a hearty dozen wineries. LA.com offers up this one Sunday at Boulevard 3 from 5 to 8 p.m. You can not miss the Flan King! (We have no idea about the Cannoli Kings, though.) For more information, visit www. drinkeatplay.com/dessertdecadence ... . Eat a Peach ... Your wallet is so heavy, it is hurting your back. You have a man crush on Joachim Splichal. You have an upcoming date, and would like to assure yourself some nookie. Patina is here to help. The restaurant group hosts a national Peach and Plum Festival Aug. 4 through Sept. 14. Sample dishes include roasted peaches with sauteed foie gras, candied walnuts and maple syrup; plum chutney with Elysian Fields rack of lamb and local ricotta; Peking duck with caramelized peaches; and crostada with roasted plums and pistachio cream. Come see the mad genius of chefs Joachim Splichal and Theo Schoenegger at Patina, 141 S. Grand Ave., L.A., (213) 972-3331. Chef Hugo Veltman at Pinot Bistro, 12969 Ventura Blvd., Studio City, (818) 990-0500. And Chef Gypsy Gifford at CafĂŠ Pinot, 700 W. Fifth St., L.A., (213) 239-6500 ... . R.I.P. Two Buck Chuck ... With the passing this week of Robert Berning, the Trader Joe’s wine buyer, let’s take a look at what he would have served this summer: San Antonio Winery is gearing up to become the new Chuck as an exclusive-to-Trader-Joe’s supplier, and $4.99 is still a very nice price. Be on the lookout for their sparklingly refreshing summer wines like Tres Pinos White – a mix of Chardonnay, Viognier, Gewurtztraminer and Muscat Canelli, and actually quite nice. They suggest it’s a “wonderful accompaniment to all fish and shellfish, mozzarella and ripe cherry tomatoes, grilled eggplant and summer squash, or just by itself while you wait for the lemon-herb chicken to sizzle off the grill!â€? and I suggest they back the hell off and let me drink my wine on a nice and empty stomach the way God and Lindsay Lohan intended it. –Rebecca Schoenkopf

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n myWonder Years-tainted memories, the soundtrack of sunny childhood summers is all Turtles, all the time. Imagine me and you, I do. The barbecue smoldered all day long and the Slip N’ Slide rippled with a steady stream of water, flooding one end of the lawn for hours at a time. The only world to worry about was the one that revolved around me and the neighbor boys I lusted after – I think I fancied myself the cul-de-sac’s Winnie Cooper, albeit loud and graceless. But my voiceover is wiser these days, and it mournfully accepts what I so blissfully ignored then: Flings don’t last, and where Earth is concerned, summer is a perennial apocalypse. Beware the ides of July. The sprinkler wastes water to cultivate an emerald lawn, the barbecue is a furnace of carbon emissions, the road trip is fast becoming a fiscal impossibility for anyone without a magic gas fountain, and my crush grew up to be a Hummer-driving tool. The Turtles never crooned anything catchy about wildfires and floods ravaging the country, so the soundtrack of summer is now more System of a Down, or latter-day Elliott Smith, if you’ve moved on from anger to depression. According to the Department of Energy, the estimated 60 million barbecues held on the Fourth of July consume enough energy to juice 20,000 homes – a little less than half of Santa Monica – for a year. Statistics like this just didn’t exist at

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our swim team weenie roasts. If Thomas Jefferson had known that declaring independence would result in the annual one-day burning of the equivalent of 2,300 forest acres and the release of 225,000 metric tons of CO2, would he still have bullied all his buddies into signing away all that tea, and those smarty-pants accents? But don’t let this kill your buzz! Greenies haven’t taken all the stuffing out of everyone’s favorite planet-pillaging season. As always, they’ve left us with loads of handy tips and alternatives for our wet hot American summers. And as any food chain champion (that’s us, humans!) knows, a solid summer begins and ends with beef. At the risk of estranging PETA zealots (I respect your verve, PETA, but you terrify me), a summer without charred animal flesh is like a winter without Santa Claus, or a winter without charred animal flesh. Yes, raising Bessie for food causes crazy greenhouse-gas emissions, as does barbecuing her luscious flanks. And yes, I’m in with the 75 percent of Americans who own at least one barbecue and cannot survive on rabbit food alone. Let’s agree to disagree and move on to gas versus charcoal. Gas may be worse in the long term if you’re one of those jerks who leaves his grill on all day, but charcoal is a veritable skid mark on the panties of the planet. It emits 91 percent more carbon dioxide than electric grills and presents a major disposal issue, and the lighter fluid that novice grillers like me use to supersoak every last briquette contributes more to ground-level ozone. A chimney starter, while less Backdrafty and thus less cool, is eco-friendlier. In the spirit of conscientious creation, check out Wicked Good Charcoal briquettes – they’re additive-free and certified sustainable by the Forest Stewardship Council. Should something unexpected or clothing-like ignite whilst braising your tri-tip, have some of that toilet-to-tap reclaimed water handy. As for the sprinklers through which Humbert Humbert lovingly gazed at his middle school nymphets, it should go without saying that the hue of the front yards of SoCal’s little boxes made of ticky-tacky has little in common with the green movement. A recent NASA study determined that lawns and golf courses in the U.S. cover nearly 50,000 square miles, about the size of New York. Maintaining neighbor-approved verdure of all that would take about 200 gallons of water per person, every day. Mayor Villaraigosa is taking some revolutionary steps to jump start water awareness with a proposal that would reinstate some of the ’90s prohibitions, banning Angelenos from letting sprinklers inundate gutters and limiting lawn watering to certain days of the week. Anyone in possession of a Slip N’ Slide is to go thirsty for a month. Hell is hot, kiddles. Enjoy those Otter Pops while they last.âœś

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LOST IN TRANSLATION BY NEAL POLLACK

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ver the last couple of weeks, while the sports talk guys tried to decide whether Elton Brand’s text messages to his former Clipper teammates were legally binding, and everyone on Earth blathered on about the legendary mystique of Yankee Stadium, I bit my mustache worrying about what the Dodgers were going to do next. My worries didn’t have much to do with their performance on the field. By now, we pretty much know the pattern: Great pitching, horrible pinch-hitting, and vaguely incomprehensible lineups. Instead, like any over-thinking fan, I worried about the general manager. The worries grew even greater when, the Saturday before the All-Star Break, Takashi Saito started shaking his hand around with two outs in the bottom of the ninth of a tie game. Dodgerland began buzzing, and the buzz became a screaming panic on Sunday morning when, somehow, we learned that Saito hadn’t been able to hold his toothbrush upon waking. I hoped that this was some baseball version of Lost in Translation, that “not being able to hold your toothbrush” was actually Nippon slang for “arm feels stronger than ever,” but the MRI revealed otherwise and Saito was placed on the DL until at least September. Given the general incompetence of the Dodger training staff, he’ll be lucky to survive 2008 with all his limbs, and we’ll probably never again get the unique pleasure of watching a slim Japanese man jog toward the mound from the bullpen to the tune of “Bad to the Bone.” But this is baseball and injuries happen. The best franchises rise above setback. By now, we’ve all come to realize that the Dodgers are not among those best franchises. Across the Dodger chat boards, which work themselves into a frothy panic anyway over such matters as if Andy LaRoche should start at third over Blake DeWitt, terrified posters began throwing around names of bad relief pitchers for whom blissfully incompetent Dodger general manager Ned Colletti might trade rather than insert setup man Jonathan Broxton – steer-sized and with a 100 mph fastball – into the closer’s role. Jon Rauch and Brian Wilson would be bad enough, but worst of all, Dodgerland feared the arrival of declining Oakland bullpen ace Huston Street, whom A’s GM Billy Beane has been shopping. If Billy Beane is trying to trade you, anyone who’s read Moneyball knows, then your baseball utility is fading. Just ask the Giants, who are paying Barry Zito one trillion dollars to go 3-12 with an ERA over five. Can you blame Dodger fans for being worried? Three players that Colletti let go – Milton Bradley, JD Drew, and Dioner Navarro – featured prominently in the AL’s All-Star Game win this year, and

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Drew actually won the MVP. Instead of Drew, Colletti signed Juan Pierre, about whom I can muster not much more strength to complain in this space, and then to compensate for Pierre’s lack of ability to throw the ball more than three feet, he signed Andruw Jones. According to the statistics gods, Jones is at present having the worst offensive season in baseball history, for which – please don’t die when you read this – he is being paid 18 million dollars. At this point, I don’t even know if Colletti’s incompetence has to do with an unnatural preference for washed-up veteran players over young players. Lord knows the battlefield is littered with young Dodgers these days, some of whom are doing better than others. Besides, there are plenty of good veteran players, like, say, Chipper Jones or Manny Ramirez, whom I’d welcome to the Dodgers for $18 million. It’s more that Colletti has no idea what he’s doing. If he’s heard of a player, then that player must be good. A few of those players, like Julio Lugo and Wilson Betemit, have gone on to moderate success, after the Dodgers got rid of them in favor of lesser alternatives. But most, like Bill Mueller and Jason Schmidt, have broken down completely the second they put on the Blue. Colletti is a sucker in a used-car lot, thinking that the next vehicle he buys will be the one that finally gets him to Vegas, but each one is a bigger lemon than the last. Yet the Dodgers are only a game out of first despite the fact that they are three games under .500. The playoffs, remarkably, remain a very real possibility. Does anyone really think, though, that genuine help is on the way, that the Dodgers will make sensible roster moves to put them over the top? If you do, let me bring you back to early July. For one brief shining week, the only veteran in the lineup was Jeff Kent, who can occasionally rumble with the youngsters. The Dodgers won five out of seven, and then seven out of 10, and a little promise began to shine through the gloom. Then Andruw Jones returned from the DL before he was ready and started striking out five times a game. Nomar took over at shortstop, with the range of a pillar of salt. The Florida Marlins came to town, with a payroll only slightly more than Jones’s salary, and took three out of four. Now Mark Sweeney and his sub-.100 batting average are threatening to take the roster spot of someone who could still have a legitimate career, and Juan Pierre’s recovery is moving along “quicker than expected.” This means that the Dodgers’ season will quickly go into the tank, management will publicly blame the wrong people, and the used-car dealers of Major League Baseball will lick their lips and start dialing the front office at Chavez Ravine.✶

metro.net/nightlife

We’re on Sunset, after sunset. Go Metro, after hours. Clubs. Dining. Shopping. Theatre. You’ll find it all on Sunset Boulevard, and Metro Local Line 2 gets you there. From Silverlake to Hollywood and the Sunset Strip, we connect you with LA’s hottest nightspots. Just buy your Day Pass and hop on board. We’ll take care of the driving so you can enjoy your evening.

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Kaidoku Each of the 26 letters of the alphabet is represented in this grid by a number between 1 and 26. Using letter frequency, word-pattern recognition, and the numbers as your guides, fill in the grid with well-known English words. Only lowercase, unhyphenated words are allowed in kaidoku, so you wonĂ­t see anything like STOCKHOLM or LONG-LOST in here (but you might see AFGHAN, since it has an uncapitalized meaning, too). Now stop wasting my precious time and SOLVE!!

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$ Find last week’s Psycho Sudoku answers on page 57

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AFE<J@EĂ‹ :IFJJNFI; “Bizarro Worldâ€? --everyone’s against me! by Matt Jones

Across 1 Series of shots 6 Curvy letters 11 “Gone Country� network 14 Add, like sound effects at an editing board 15 Expressed viewpoint 16 Bread for a pastrami sandwich 17 Street where tires never slip? 19 Bullring cheer 20 Adirondacks components: abbr. 21 It can be ordered soft or crunchy 22 James T. Kirk, by state of birth 24 Nintendo DS competitor, for short 25 People who cross out a substance that causes an immune response? 28 Ample-sized property for a home 30 Therefore 31 Cell phone display items 33 Japanese horror film series about a cursed videotape that inspired a similarly-titled American remake 35 ___-pitch softball 38 What opposites are written down on? 42 “Unsafe at ___ Speed� (Ralph Nader book) 43 Berry of “Things We Lost in the Fire� 44 Schedule an engagement

45 One may carry the best of the wurst 46 With 48-down, Oscar category 48 Where to store a type of brakes? 53 Sounds of “I get it� 56 Four-door alternative 57 When repeated, a song-like taunt 58 Kicks 59 Johnson of “Plan 9 From Outer Space� 60 “Hey, toss over that pamphlet on breaking up monopolies�? 64 Yoko who funded the Central Park Strawberry Fields memorial 65 “SNL� cast member Will 66 “Keep on whispering in ___� (line from “What I Like About You�) 67 Button on a DVD player: abbr. 68 Like some chard or steak 69 African antelope Down 1 Rapscallion 2 Women in a tree? 3 Celebratory shout 4 Seven, on some watches 5 GM emergency service 6 Vote off, a la “Big Brother� 7 Words of agreement 8 Honorary title given to Bill Gates 9 Earth Day prefix 10 Stitching closed 11 Director Cameron 12 Birthday balloon material 13 Cold temperature range 18 “Damaged� girl group Danity ___

23 Tic-tac-toe line 26 Bottle resident 27 Rowing machine units 29 Series set in Las Vegas 31 Merino noise 32 “Raggedyâ€? doll 33 Big find at an archaeological dig 34 Manhattan, for one: abbr. 35 Just a little cupful, in Britain 36 Affectionate sign, so it’s said 37 Planet where Orson was often heard 39 Toronto NHL team, to fans 40 Ring around the holy? 41 Crunch targets 45 Easy addition to a potluck party 46 Male guinea pig 47 Return from the grave? 48 See 46-across 49 Hardly a packed house 50 Lawyer/author Scott 51 Makes a scarf 52 8-bit units 54 Earthling 55 Edgar Bergen dummy Mortimer ___ 61 When brats want something 62 Prefix for lateral 63 Word part: abbr. Š2008 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 #0372.

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C@M@E> Week of July 31

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ARIES (March 21-April 19)

Work can be hazardous for the actors who portray cartoon and fairy tale characters at Disney theme parks. The U.S. Health and Safety Administration reports that one-third of them have suffered on-the-job injuries. A prime cause of the mayhem: kids who kick and punch, sometimes out of misplaced exuberance and other times out of Lord-ofthe-Flies-style malice. I wanted to preface my advice to you with that story, Aries. Your assignment this week is to summon the angelic 85 percent of your inner child to come out and play. As for the other 15 percent -- the part of your inner child that might be inclined to pummel Mickey Mouse or headbutt Cinderella: Keep that rascal under wraps.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20)

Sometimes hope is an irrelevant waste of time, even a stupid self-indulgence. Let’s say, for instance, that I’m really hoping that a certain disagreeable person I’ve got to communicate with won’t answer when I call on the phone. That way I can simply leave a message on his voice mail and avoid an unpleasant exchange. But it doesn’t matter what I hope. The guy will either answer or not, regardless of what I want. But there is another kind of hope that’s invigorating and transformative. Let’s say I have a hope that we humans will reverse the environmental catastrophes we’re perpetrating. Let’s say that my hope motivates me to live more sustainably and to inspire others to live more sustainably. Then my hope is a catalyst. Meditate on these things, Taurus. It’s a perfect time for you to get very clear about the two kinds of hope.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20)

The Futurist magazine predicts that by 2025, there’ll be a billion millionaires in the world. I hope you will be one of them. If you do end up in that fortunate position, it may well be because of the smart, aggressive actions you initiate in the next four months. Cosmic tendencies are in place for you to ensure your prosperity well into the future; now all you have to do is understand and capitalize on those tendencies. Here’s a good place to start: Spend some quality time taking inventory of your financial life and brainstorming about a 17-year plan to make you a millionaire.

CANCER (June 21-July 22)

The world record for attaching clothespins to one’s face is 153. Even if you’re tempted to surpass that mark, I beg you not to.

Inflicting pain on yourself in order to impress someone or prove a point is never a good idea, but it’s an especially misguided notion right now. I wouldn’t object, however, if you did the opposite, which is to barrage yourself with pleasure in order to impress someone or prove a point. In my astrological opinion, it’s a perfect time to intensify your commitment to making yourself feel good. This is true for many reasons, but here’s one of the most important ones: It will have a magically tonic effect on your relationships with others.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22)

I would love to see you walking down the street dressed in a feathered headdress and white boots and leopard-print cashmere pants, plus maybe some scarlet velvet gloves and a silk t-shirt that says, “You don’t scare me.� To present yourself in such a bold and forthright manner would be in perfect alignment with your astrological omens. If that particular form of expression doesn’t feel right to you, please find an equivalent that does.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)

Could you get access to a crane with a wrecking ball? How about a chainsaw or sledgehammer? Metaphorically speaking, you may need some heavy equipment to do all the demolition work that’s necessary right now. Among the structures that could be due for destruction: a mental block you’ve been preserving out of perverse nostalgia; a prison cell you lock yourself inside on your off days; a half-built bridge you’re no longer interested in or capable of completing; a pedestal on which your fallen idol used to stand; and a door you nailed shut in order to seal yourself off from a person with whom you still have unfinished business.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)

This is your best chance in a long time to meet people you’ve always wanted to meet. It’s also a favorable time to turn pretty good connections into excellent collaborations, and to adjust your role in your web of alliances so it’s closer to where you want it to be. None of these fine developments in your social life will magically unfold on their own, however. You can’t just sit back passively and hope that cosmic forces will somehow make them happen. So formulate your intentions crisply and act aggressively

the coming week. Better yet, don’t get so wasted that you hurl anywhere. It’s one of those rare periods when every little sin will be quickly punished, when every excess will provoke an equal and opposite reaction. On the other hand, this is also a time when even minor eruptions of virtue will be immediately rewarded, when every brave act and selfdisciplined shift will bring you an opportunity.

to manifest them.

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)

Don’t just shamble down to the pizzeria and gobble a slab of greasy cheese, tomato sauce, and dough. Instead, arrange for an interesting person who likes you to home-deliver a pizza lovingly prepared by a gourmet chef. For that matter, Scorpio, don’t tolerate mediocrity or the lowest common denominator in any area of your life. The Season of the Peak Experience is here -- a time when you have a sacred duty to give your best, commune with the highest, and ask for excellence.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)

I don’t recommend that you go on a spiritual retreat at the Zen monastery near Mount Kumgang in North Korea. As exquisite as the place is, the repressive government’s secret police are suspicious of tourists and would probably make your trip miserable. Likewise, don’t take a vacation on the gorgeous beaches of eastern Somalia. Pirates prowl the coastal areas of that lawless land, and anyone can buy a hand grenade for $10 at the outdoor markets in nearby Mogadishu. No, Sagittarius, while it is an excellent time to leave your familiar haunts and expose yourself to exotic scenes, you should be acutely discerning about where you go. In my opinion, you need a sanctuary that simultaneously surprises you and deepens your sense of being at home in the world.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)

“You have to love life when you’re in really deep trouble,� said poet Robin Blaser. So what about if, on the other hand, you’re in only shallow trouble? Do you have a mandate to just sort of like life a little more? Or can you, with a little work, exploit the mild disturbance that the shallow trouble provides in order to dramatically pump up your adoration of life? I hope that your actions in the coming week, Capricorn, will be a big “yes� in response to that question. I’m happy to tell you that you can wangle a big boost from a small inconvenience.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)

Some bars are now charging fines to people who drunkenly puke on their floors. I advise you to stay out of such places in

By Rob Brezsny

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20)

Two friends of mine, a couple engaged to be wed, rode their bicycles for days up the Northern California coast from San Francisco to Oregon. They saw many other riders pedaling from north to south during their trip, but they rarely encountered anyone heading in the same direction they were. Why? The wind was blowing against them the entire way. When they stopped to rest they would sometimes meet and talk with bicyclists whose destination was San Francisco. “Why are you riding against the wind?� the other travelers inevitably wanted to know. My friends enjoyed replying, “We’re building our characters so we’ll be strong enough to stay in love after we’re married.� They’re your role models for the coming weeks, Pisces. Do some against-the-wind work to prepare yourself for your next big assignment, which is to make your intimate relationships more interesting and invigorating and enduring.

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�

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“EVERY GUN MAKES ITS OWN TUNE� Tonight, the Aero is doubtless proud to present Sergio Leone’s masterpiece, The Good, the Bad & the Ugly (1966). Three verminous gunfighters on a long and twisted quest for a buried $200,000 in the Civil Warera Eurowest gun down every smelly owlhoot in their paths. Thrill to Ennio Morricone’s peerless score as Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, and Eli Wallach (“in the role of Tuco�) exchange treacherous sidelong glances in glorious Techniscope. The last-named’s 360-degree run through a desolate cemetery, scrambling ratlike for the grave of “Arch Stanton� and a final payout that’s already taken the lives of dozens, opens the greatest showdown in Western-movie history. $10. 7:30 p.m., 1328 Montana Ave., Santa Monica. americancinematheque.com/aero.

FRIDAY ),

LET THE SYRUP COMMENCE International Pop Overthrow kicks off its 11th annual installment tonight at The Knitting Factory’s AlterKnit Lounge, with the sugary likes of A Penny for Jane, The Craze and The Trainwrecks. As usual, IPO will spread the sunshine all over Clubland, with turns at Fitzgerald’s, the Joint, Spaceland, Molly Malone’s, and the Bordello before wrapping up at the Good Hurt Aug. 9. Over 140 bands will play over the course of 14 shows, which is enough chiming guitars and McCartneyesque melodicism to madden a mastodon. $10. 7 p.m. 7021 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood. knittingfactory.com.

SATURDAY )-

The ghoulish folk over at Esotouric (your four-wheeled carnival of carnage) tonight take a few hardy souls on their Pasadena Confidential crime-bus tour. Join Crimebo the Crime Clown on a romp around the snooty old burg, with stops along Millionaires Row and sites of such notable disasters as the 1926 Rose Parade Grandstand Collapse, the dread heights of Suicide Bridge, and the spot where famed lunatic Jack Nance (Henry from Eraserhead) made his final exitus. Everywhere has a vile and horrible past and the good folks at Esotouric will take you right to where the skeletons are buried. $38. 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Departs from Fair Oaks/Arlington in Pasadena. esotouric.com.

PALPITATIONS

Tonight at LACMA is the final L.A. performance by the iPalpiti (Italian for

MONDAY )/ TOBACK SIDE-BY-SIDE

The New Bev presents two modern classics by James Toback, the eccentric American director (who claims to hold the record for most hits of LSD swallowed by a biped) whose compulsion was the basis of Karel Reisz’s The Gambler (1974). Screening first is Fingers (1978), featuring Harvey Keitel as a hit man who dreams of becoming a concert pianist. Paired with Exposed (1983), which again features heavy-faced Harvey – though the focus this time is on Nastassja Kinski’s ravishing naturalism as a Wisconsin farm girl adrift in ambition and intrigue in New York. $7. 7:30 & 9:20 p.m., 7165 W. Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles.

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POLITICS: THE ACTION-ADVENTURE WAY DreamCatcher Films presents the world premiere of Finding Our Voices at the Action on Film Festival in Pasadena tonight. The film tells the stories of eight dissidents who departed from the cultural script and spoke out against the unending U.S. war in Iraq, and the festival is a tribute to the actionadventure film, broadly construed. If protest and cops aren’t action-adventure, what, I ask, is? $8. 8 p.m. Laemmle’s One Colorado, 42 Miller Alley, Pasadena. aoffest.com.

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‘BRIDESHEAD’ AND BRIDE’S DAD Welcome to the Niall Buggy Film Festival! BY ANDY KLEIN

A

daptations of Brit novelist Evelyn Waugh have never quite connected with audiences on the big screen. Tony Richardson’s film version of The Loved One (1965) – very much a 1960s time capsule – remains the most enjoyable, but the sensibility of screenwriter Terry Southern overpowered the source material. Stephen Fry’s 2004 Bright Young Things was delightful but never found a substantial audience. By far the best known Waugh adaptation is the 11-part 1981 TV production of Brideshead Revisited, perhaps the author’s most acclaimed novel. Despite the intimidating shadow of that presentation, director Julian Jarrold (Becoming Jane) and screenwriters Jeremy Brock and Andrew Davies have taken a whack at a big-screen version, with Matthew Goode and Ben Whishaw stepping into the roles that conferred stardom, and something a little short of stardom, on (respectively) Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews. Goode plays Charles Ryder – an aspiring artist attending Oxford in the 1920s – who becomes fast friends with aristocratic Sebastian Flyte (Whishaw). At Sebastian’s first appearance, another character dismisses him as a “sodomite,” foreclosing the possibility that we might interpret his gay manner as merely British. Sebastian is, at a minimum, infatuated – maybe even in love – with Charles. But, even though Charles is our protagonist and occasional narrator, we are never as certain about his feelings toward Sebastian. Middle-class by origin, he is bowled over by Sebastian’s family status and, even more, his family estate, Brideshead. The degree to which their relationship is sexual is also a mystery: At first, the audience is left to wonder, “Are they doing it or not?” A halfhour in, the question is acknowledged, but the answer remains ambiguous. Sebastian’s overbearing, manipulative mother, Lady Marchmain (Emma Thompson), is an utterly devout Catholic; her sanctimony is one of several reasons Lord Marchmain (Michael Gambon) has fled

to Venice with his mistress (Greta Scacchi). Unsurprisingly, Lady Marchmain is worried for Sebastian’s soul, so she recruits Charles to keep an eye on him. But Charles falls from her favor as the increasingly tormented Sebastian slips into alcoholism. Worse yet, Charles – an unrepentant atheist – tries to court Sebastian’s sister, Julia (Hayley Atwell). All of this plays out in the familiar manner of tony British literary adaptations, in the Merchant/Ivory manner. But, by being boiled down to a manageable 2 1/4 hours, the story is uneven. More importantly, the thematic development becomes lopsided. (Actually, this may be true in Waugh’s book, if hazy memory serves.) That is, the Marchmain family’s Catholicism appears for most of the running time to be a plot mechanism rather than the thematic center. But, at the very end, questions of faith and grace are suddenly revealed as the very heart of things. For some viewers, particularly those to whom such issues seem arcane and maybe downright silly – yes, that would be me – it’s jarring. We’ve been swept along with the story’s romantic conflicts and melodrama, and suddenly it turns out that what it’s really concerned with is a theological argument from the Second Council of Trent or something. The trappings and iconography of Christianity – most strongly in the form of Catholicism – are among the foundations of Western culture; there are innumerable works derived from them whose impact can be experienced by anyone raised within the dominant culture of America. (Bach’s B minor Mass and the Sistine Chapel are more than just A-OK by me.) But Catholicism also includes elements that are, 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 FinnoUgric for the final scenes. And this brings us to Mamma Mia! – which, to the untrained eye, might seem to

have nothing in common with Brideshead Revisited beyond the presence in both of Irish actor Niall Buggy playing a clergyman. (Talk about typecasting: According to the IMDb, Buggy has been a man of the cloth in six of his last 10 movies. I have always noted Buggy’s appearances, not merely because of his talents, but because I’ve been giggling at his name ever since Zardoz. It was then that I first dreamt of getting into a brawl with him, just for the chance to disparage him as the “whoreson Buggy.”) But once again we have a movie that seems so designed for a certain demographic that it excludes everyone else (by which I mean: me). However much I am not Catholic, I am twice as much not whatever the target audience is for this painful musical. Is that sentence even comprehensible? Well, you get the drift. I hope. Amidst the notes I took at the press screening are such queries as “Why does this film exist?” and “Is this supposed to be grotesque?” and “Is this worse than The Apple?” (For those who have missed it, The Apple is pretty much Musical 9 from Outer Space.) As virtually the entire western world knows, Mamma Mia! is a film version of a hugely successful Broadway production, in which a thin story is used as an excuse to reprise 20 or so tunes by ABBA – the pop band named after a rhyme scheme. 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. I’ve got nothing against ABBA. Somewhere in my closet is an original 45 of “Waterloo.” But the execution here doesn’t do justice to even ABBA’s bright, shallow work. This is, I believe, considered a “musical comedy.” Yet the first thing one notices

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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.” Outside of Christine Baranski’s big production number, Lloyd’s notion of dancing never gets past the “running and jumping up and down” style of ’60s/’70s “rock musicals” like Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar – choreography for non-dancers. As for the singing, I didn’t expect much from Brosnan, but it’s painful to watch him, because he’s straining and he knows it. Streep, who brought a fine singing voice to Postcards from the Edge and A Prairie Home Companion, is good most of the time, but in some numbers even she is at a loss. 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. ✶

Brideshead Revisited. Directed by Julian Jarrold. Screenplay by Jeremy Brock & Andrew Davies; based on the novel by Evelyn Waugh. With Matthew Goode, Hayley Atwell, Ben Whishaw, Emma Thompson, Michael Gambon, Greta Scacchi, and Niall Buggy. Opens Friday at Pacific’s The Grove, Landmark West Los Angeles, Laemmle’s Playhouse 7, and Pacific’s Arclight Sherman Oaks. Mamma Mia! Directed by Phyllida Lloyd. Written by Catherine Johnson. Music by Stig Anderson, Benny Andersson, and Björn Ulvaeus. With Meryl Streep, Amanda Seyfried, Pierce Brosnan, Stellan Skarsgård, Colin Firth, Julie Walters, Christine Baranski, and Niall Buggy. Citywide.

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ROMAN SCANDALS

New documentary reopens Polanski’s past BY ANDY KLEIN

O

ne of the most important things to know about Roman Polanski is that he’s among the greatest film directors to emerge in the ’60s, with Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, Chinatown, The Tenant, and The Pianist among his achievements. Another is that his life has been marked by tragedies of almost unbearable magnitude: being torn from his Jewish family as a child during World War II; surviving, but learning that his parents had been killed by the Nazis; having finally achieved success and happiness in Hollywood, only to have it shattered when the Manson family brutally killed his wife, Sharon Tate, and their unborn child; and having to endure sleazy press accounts suggesting that he was somehow behind the killings. A third is that he raped a 13-year-old girl. Feel free to order those bullet points as you will. Polanski’s story is so familiar that the broad outline doesn’t need to be repeated for readers of a certain age. But the value of Marina Zenovich’s documentary is that it fills in a lot of crucial details (including a few new ones), primarily about the rape and its aftermath. The moral complication is that – although there is no disputing that rapist Polanski drugged, came on to, and finally physically forced himself on Samantha Gailey, who, even in the absence of those factors, would have been too young to make any sort of informed consent – there is also little disputing that defendant Polanski got royally fucked over by the legal system. In new interviews, Assistant D.A. Roger Gunson, defense attorney Douglas Dalton, and Gailey’s attorney, Lawrence Silver, relate how Santa Monica-based Judge Laurence Rittenband adjudicated the case based on how he himself would look in the media. Rittenband even went so far as to orchestrate, in chambers, a series of dog-and-pony shows – with the attorneys barking and neighing – to enable Polanski to serve minimal time without looking like he was going soft on a celebrity. And when some coincidences and

-AIN’T IT COOL NEWS

non-criminal poor judgment on Polanski’s part caused a new press uproar, Rittenband simply welshed on the agreements that all the parties – including the girl’s family and attorney – had reached. You can be enraged at Rittenband’s utterly unethical decisions without abandoning your loathing of what Polanski did. One of the main participants in Zenovich’s film is Samantha Gailey Geimer herself, now a happily married middle-class wife, mother, and realtor’s assistant, who, in an L.A. Times op-ed piece in the late ’90s, essentially spoke on Polanski’s behalf regarding his legal situation. Here, as in other interviews in the last decade, she reiterates her position: “Straight up, what he did to me was wrong. I think he’s sorry, I think he knows it was wrong. I don’t think he’s a danger to society. I don’t think he needs to be locked up forever and no one has ever come out ever – besides me – and accused him of anything ... . I’m sure if he could go back, he wouldn’t do it again. He made a terrible mistake but he’s paid for it.â€? The way Zenovich has organized the material verges on a polemical plea in Polanski’s favor, which is likely to infuriate some viewers. The issue is largely a theoretical one at this point: The only real restriction his legal status has put on him is that he can’t return to the U.S. without being immediately arrested. But he’s also expressed very little interest in returning. He has managed to establish a happy life in France, with his wife, Emmanuelle Seigner, and two children, one of whom, a daughter, is now slightly older than Geimer was at the time. I’d like to think that raising a daughter may have driven home the heinousness of his behavior even more forcefully. âœś

Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired. Directed by Marina Zenovich. Written by Joe Bini, P.G. Morgan, and Marina Zenovich. With Douglas Dalton, Mia Farrow, Roger Gunson, and Samantha Geimer. At the Regency Fairfax.

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STARTS FRIDAY, JULY 25TH! WEST HOLLYWOOD Laemmle’s Sunset 5 (323) 848-3500 Tickets available @ laemmle.com "(*4 5 5 5 5

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LATEST REVIEWS AMERICAN TEEN No matter how candy floss enjoyable Nanette Burstein’s documentar y 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. Megan is the athletic mean girl whose friends suffer as outlets of her pressure to get in to Notre Dame; Jake seems comfortable dismissing himself as a “marching band supergeek,” but trembles with optimism when a girl might like him. Basketball jock Colin doesn’t say much; his dad, an Elvis impersonator, is louder in insisting he win a sports scholarship. And then there’s Hannah, who most hip city viewers will identify with. Quirkily pretty and independent, she fights for permission to move to San Francisco after graduation and be a filmmaker – qualities that seem to have caused Burstein 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 warfare 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 analyzing their MySpace pages. (Amy Nicholson) (Pacific’s ArcLight, AMC Century 15, Pacific’s Arclight Sherman Oaks)

BAGHEAD The actors are nobodies, the talky script is semi-improvised, and the budget would barely cover your popcorn and parking: But

that’s “mumblecore,” the coolest movie genre you’ve never heard of – one whose films contain the most low-budget authenticity since John Cassavetes hauled his 16mm camera around Manhattan. The Duplass brothers are mumblecore’s torchbearers, and here they take the genre’s standard ingredients – aimless, post-college characters and DIY production values – and add a dash of horror. In the brothers’ follow-up to mumblecore touchstone The Puffy Chair, four unemployed actors repair to a woodsy cabin to write a horror movie they can also star in. Matt (Ross Partridge) and Catherine (Elise Muller) are on-again, off-again lovers. Chad (Steve Zissis, casting directors take note) has a major crush on Michelle (Greta Gerwig). The foursome’s booze-enhanced, brainstorming weekend takes a dark turn when they’re threatened by a stranger with a bag over his head. Although the mystery wouldn’t escape the writer’s room at Scooby Doo, the brothers surely (or hopefully) know that. The lame ending is forgivable, because the performers underact with precision detail, naturalism, and a keen sense of interpersonal awkwardness. When Michelle tells the smitten Chad, “you’re like my best friend but also my brother,” Freddie Krueger himself couldn’t stick the knife in any deeper. (Mark Keizer) (Laemmle’s Sunset 5, Laemmle’s Monica 4, Laemmle’s Playhouse 7)

BOY A After fourteen years in prison for a horrific crime committed during childhood, Jack Burridge (Andrew Garfield) is getting a second chance. Identified in the Irish press at the time simply as “Boy A,” he now endeavors to piece together some semblance of normal daily living, maintaining a new identity while staying one step ahead of those who will never forgive. Dealing with otherwise simple aspects of life – job, friends, girls – is a challenge for the painfully shy young man, whose past is methodically revealed in flashbacks to that fateful day fourteen years earlier, as the film slowly pieces together a devastatingly tragic portrait of reverberating loss. Adapted by Mark O’Rowe from the Jonathan Trigell novel, this tense, sensitive

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drama from director John Crowley (Intermission) is a profoundly magnificent achievement which, with proper handling, should see its fortunes rise once again during the year-end awards season. Shot and directed with uncanny confidence and visual economy, Crowley’s film also boasts some of the most agonizingly honest performances of the year, all contributing to a nearly flawless overall effort – proving, yet again, that the very best filmmaking needs neither money nor stars. (Wade Major) (Nuart)

BRIDESHEAD REVISITED See Film feature.

BUSTIN’ DOWN THE DOOR The success of 2001’s Dogtown and Z-Boys – about the rise of the 1970s skateboarding culture, and the colorful characters who populated it – kicked off a string of alt-sports documentaries that shone a spotlight on the new favorite pastimes of all those X-treme kids targeted in Mountain Dew commercials. Telling a bit more specifically focused story than the Oscar-shortlisted Riding Giants, debut director Jeremy Gosch’s engaging yet somewhat myopic film chronicles a half dozen golden-skinned kids, Aussies and South Africans, who in the mid-’70s crashed the North Shore of Oahu and, through headstrong force of will, dragged the laid-back surf culture toward the multibillion-dollar industry that it is today. Narrated by Edward Norton, Bustin’ Down the Door features an abundance of prodigious wipeouts and other amazing footage from the era, with shimmering walls of wave backing up the legendary birth-ofa-sport stories from Wayne Bartholomew, Shaun Tomson, Ian Cairns, Mark Richards, and others. Gosch exhibits precious little skill at, or interest in, framing this story for outsiders – with references to “backsiders dropping into the temple going the wrong way.” Consequently the movie works more by slow seduction, with the personalities of the various subjects eventually winning you over. It’s not until two-thirds through that the movie catches its biggest wave, as it dives more explicitly into the tension, fisticuffs, and even death threats between some of the Aussies and the “Da Hui,” a native Hawaiian group that felt it had been dissed in cocky media interviews used to inflate the reputations of the outsiders. (Brent Simon) (Laemmle’s Monica 4)

LOVE COMES LATELY Director Jan Schütte’s ambitious melding of three short stories by Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer stars feisty Austrian Otto Tausig as Singer surrogate Max Kohn, an elderly author of moderate renown, whose lectures are hardly SRO affairs. In the narrative through-line (based on Singer’s “The Briefcase”), Max travels by train to some East Coast speaking engagements, carrying a new briefcase given to him to by jealous longtime girlfriend Reisel (Rhea Perlman). Like Philip Roth’s alter ego Nathan Zuckerman, Max is still consumed with sex – past liaisons and future prospects. When he falls asleep on the train, he basically dreams the story “Alone” (featuring Elizabeth Peña as a sexually desirous Cuban housekeeper); and, later, when he loses the briefcase containing his lecture and has to write a new work, he creates the melancholy “Old Love.” Schütte can’t be faulted for his unique approach to an author whose work is underrepresented in film. However, by stuffing three Singer stories into 86 minutes, he shortchanges all of them; the result is thin and dull. No one will quite believe that the seventysomething Max has enough remaining mojo to bed a long-ago student (Barbara Hershey). But in case anyone pities Max as his real and imagined sexual lives combine to form an armor of fear and regret, check the time: If you live long enough, it may happen to you, too. (Mark Keizer) (Laemmle’s Music Hall 3, Laemmle’s Town Center 5)

MAMMA MIA! See Film feature.

A MAN NAMED PEARL A wondrous, affecting snapshot of a most unlikely real-life Edward Scissorhands, this documentary centers around Pearl Fryar, a 66-year-old retired factory worker with no sculptural topiary training beyond a cursory three-minute demonstration. Filling his three-acre plot with plants cast off by a local nursery, and turning an abstract eye on them, Fryar has created a sprawling, personal garden that baffles plant pathologists and enthralls neighbors and art critics alike.

LACITYBEAT 38 JULY 24-30, 2008

Co-directed by Brent Pierson and Scott Galloway, this simple tale of pay-it-forward positivism swells the heart without ever coming across as manipulative. The son of a hard-working sharecropper, Fryar oozes basic decency, and his work has had a transformative effect on the small, rural town of Bishopville, in dirt-poor Lee County, South Carolina. With a score featuring jazz-inflected compositions from Fred Story, this is an honest, feel-good tale of communal embrace and outwardly expanding ripples of goodwill. (Brent Simon) (Laemmle’s Music Hall 3, Laemmle’s One Colorado, Laemmle’s Town Center 5)

ROMAN POLANSKI: WANTED AND DESIRED See second Film feature.

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, not unlike something Ferrell and McKay would have cooked up in their SNL days, 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. The film also adheres to the new Hollywood rule that all studio comedies must somewhere indicate the participation of Judd Apatow (here serving only as producer), who risks seeing his creative capital vanish just as quickly if he continues to put his name on stinkers like this. (Wade Major) (Citywide)

TAKE Though they rarely interact, Ana (Minnie Driver) and Saul (Jeremy Renner) are fixated on each other. She lost her son Jesse (Bobby Coleman); Saul is the one responsible, and he is scheduled to die by lethal injection. Charles Oliver’s hushed melodrama cuts between crime day and execution day tracing the path to the pair’s mutual emptiness. Saul is a lunkhead, not a murderer; by framing the child’s death as snowballing missteps, Oliver earns Saul sympathy at the cost of depth and conflict. There are no shades of gray, only of beige; both Ana and Saul have plenty of close-ups, but no personalities other than “steely, blue-collar mom” and “hapless gambler.” As the doomed child, Coleman is realistically – not cloyingly – annoying and hyper. Driver and Renner are so restrained they’re practically nonexistent, though there’s some life in a scene where the convict chews out a priest for suggesting he trust in God’s will. A closing play for inner peace fades into a pitch for a correctional concept called Restorative Justice – a sensible program that encourages victims to confront perps so that purse snatcher and purse snatchee can humanize the other. (Amy Nicholson) (Laemmle’s Monica 4, Laemmle’s Town Center 5, Laemmle’s Playhouse 7)

ALSO OPENING THIS WEEK: Asian Stories. After his fiancée ditches him, a young Chinese-American man (James Kyson Lee) asks his best friend (Kirt Kishita) – who happens to be a professional killer – to put him out of his misery. Ronald Oda wrote and (with producer Kris Anthony Chin) co-directed. (AK) (ImaginAsian Theatre, 251 S. Main St., 213-617-1033, Theimaginasian.com/la) CSNY: Déjà Vu. Bernard Shakey, a.k.a. Neil Young, directed this concert film that tracks Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young during the group’s 2006 Freedom of Speech tour. (AK) (The Landmark West Los Angeles) Eight Miles High. Natalia Avelon portrays real-life Rolling Stones groupie/flower-child Uschi Obermaier, who, during the ’60s, scandalized the bourgeoisie. Achim Bornhak directed this German box office hit. (AK)

(Laemmle’s Sunset 5) No Regret. Leesong Hee-il wrote and directed this stor y of a young man (Lee Young-hoon), who leaves his orphanage home and goes to the big city, where he becomes involved with a man (Lee Han) from a rich background. When he finds out that his lover is planning on marrying a girl from his own social class, he responds with a risky criminal scheme. (AK) (Laemmle’s Sunset 5) The X-Files: I Want to Believe. Scully and Mulder, together again! Series creator Chris Carter directed from a script cowritten with Frank Spotnitz; the cast includes Amanda Peet, Billy Connolly, Xzibit, and Callum Keith Rennie, in addition to, you know, those other two. (AK) (Citywide)

SHOWTIMES JULY 25-1, 2008 Note: Times are p.m., and daily, unless otherwise indicated. All times are subject to ch ange without notice.

BURBANK AMC Burbank 16, 140 E Palm Av, (818) 953-9800. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:30 a.m., 10:10 a.m., 12:10, 1, 1:45, 3:40, 4:35, 5:15, 7:15, 8:10, 8:50, 10:50, 11:45, 12:25 a.m.; Sun 9:30 a.m., 10:10 a.m., 12:10, 1, 1:45, 3:40, 4:35, 5:15, 7:15, 8:10, 8:50, 10:50, 11:30. Hancock Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 1:55, 4:20, 6:50, 9:20, 11:50; Sun 11:30 a.m., 1:55, 4:20, 6:50, 9:20. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 10:45 a.m., 1:35, 4:30, 7:30, 10:40. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 9:40 a.m., 12:15, 2:50, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15. Long Way Down Thur only, 7:30. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sat 9:45 a.m., 10:35 a.m., 12:35, 1:20, 3:25, 4:05, 6:10, 6:55, 8:55, 9:45, 11:40, 12:30 a.m.; Sun 9:45 a.m., 10:35 a.m., 12:35, 1:20, 3:25, 4:05, 6:10, 6:55, 8:55, 9:45. Space Chimps Fri-Sat 11 a.m., 1:25, 3:35, 5:55, 8:15, 10:25; Sun 11:35 a.m., 1:50, 4:10, 6:25, 8:40, 10:45. Step Brothers Fri-Sat 10 a.m., 10:40 a.m., 12:40, 1:15, 3:15, 3:50, 5:50, 6:30, 8:30, 9:10, 11:10, 11:55; Sun 10 a.m., 10:40 a.m., 12:40, 1:15, 3:15, 3:50, 5:50, 6:30, 8:30, 9:10, 11:10. The Wackness Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:35, 5:10, 7:45, 10:30. WALL-E Fri-Sat 9:35 a.m., 12:05, 2:45, 5:25, 7:55, 10:25; Sun 12:05, 2:45, 5:25, 7:55, 10:25. Wanted Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 4:50, 7:35, 10:20. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 9:50 a.m., 12:30, 3:10, 6, 8:45, 11:30; Sun 9:50 a.m., 12:30, 3:10, 6, 8:45, 11:35. AMC Burbank Town Center 8, 210 E Magnolia Bl, (818) 953-9800. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 2:20, 5:55, 9:30; Mon-Thur 2:20, 5:55, 9:30. Get Smart Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:45, 4:35, 7:20, 10:05; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:35, 7:20, 10:05. Hancock Fri 12:40, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:20; Sat-Sun 10:15 a.m., 12:40, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:20; Mon-Thur 12:40, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:20. Kung Fu Panda Fri-Sun 11:25 a.m., 2, 4:25, 7:05, 9:40; Mon-Thur 2, 4:25, 7:05, 9:40. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 12:10, 2:25, 4:40, 7, 9:15; Mon-Thur 12:15, 2:25, 4:40, 7, 9:15. Step Brothers Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 1:55, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50; Mon-Thur 1:15, 3:50, 6:30, 9:10. WALL-E Fri 1:05, 3:40, 6:15, 8:50; Sat-Sun 10:30 a.m., 1:05, 3:40, 6:15, 8:50; Mon-Thur 1:05, 3:40, 6:15, 8:50. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 10:40 a.m., 1:20, 4:05, 6:50, 9:35; Mon-Thur 1:20, 4:05, 6:50, 9:35. AMC Burbank Town Center 6, 770 N First St, (818) 953-9800. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun 11:25 a.m., 3, 6:35, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:45, 5:15, 8:50. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 12:15, 3:10, 6:05, 9; Mon-Thur 1:35, 4:30, 7:30, 10:25. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:35; Mon-Thur 1:20, 4:05, 6:55, 9:45. Step Brothers noon, 2:35, 5:10, 7:50, 10:30. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7:05, 9:40; Mon-Thur 1:50, 4:25, 7:05, 9:40. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:55, 7:40, 10:25; Mon-Thur 12:30, 3:10, 6, 8:45.

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. Get Smart 5:05, 10:15. The Incredible Hulk 3:20, 9:45. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Fri-Tue 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:05, 7:45, 10:10; Wed 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 10:10; Thur 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:05, 7:45, 10:10. Iron Man 2:20, 9:45. Kismat Konnection Fri noon, 3:15, 6:30, 9:45; Sat

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.FROM THE TEAM BEHIND TALLADEGA NIGHTS. ”YOU’LL BE QUOTING IT ALL SUMMER!” - IN TOUCH MAGAZINE -

COLUMBIA PICTURES PRESENTS IN ASSOCIATION WITH RELATIVITY MEDIA AN APATOW COMPANY/MOSAI C MEDIMUSICA GROUP/GARY SANCHEZ PRODUCTION A FILM BY ADAM MCKAY “STEP BROTHERS” MUSIC EXECUTIVE RICHARD JENKI NS MARY STEENBURGEN ADAM SCOTT KATHRYN HAHN SUPERVISION BY HAL WILLNER BY JON BRION PRODUCERS WILL FERRELL ADAM MCKAY DAVID HOUSEHOLTER DIRECTED STORY SCREENPLAY PRODUCED BY ADAM MCKAY BY WILL FERRELL & ADAM MCKAY & JOHN C. REILLY BY WILL FERRELL & ADAM MCKAY BY JIMMY MILLER JUDD APATOW STARTS FRIDAY, JULY 25 CENTURY CITY AMC Century 15 • 310/289-4AMC On 2 Screens Fri-Sun 9:35 & 11:25 AM, 12:10, 2:05, 2:50, 4:50, 5:35, 7:35, 8:20, 10:15 & 11:10 PM Mon-Thur 11:45 AM, 12:30, 2:25, 3:10, 5:00, 5:45, 7:40, 8:30, 10:15 & 11:05 PM Fri & Sat Late Show 12:45 AM 3 Hours Free Parking Additional 2 Hour Parking $3.00 with AMC Validation

SANTA MONICA AMC Santa Monica 7 • 310/289-4AMC On 2 Screens Fri-Sun 11:30 AM, 12:45, 2:00, 3:15, 4:30, 5:45, 7:00, 8:15, 9:40 & 10:45 PM Mon-Thur 12:45, 2:00, 3:15, 4:30, 5:35, 7:00, 8:05, 9:40 & 10:30 PM

HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Cinemas At Sunset & Vine 323/464-4226 On 2 Screens Daily 10:55 AM, 12:05, 1:25, 2:35, 4:05, 5:15, 7:15, 8:05, 9:45 & 10:55 PM 4 Hours Validated Parking - $2

SHERMAN OAKS Arclight Cinemas At The Sherman Oaks Galleria 818/501-0753 On 2 Screens Fri-Sun 11:45 AM, 1:20, 2:15, 5:15, 7:20, 8:10, 10:00 & 11:00 PM Mon-Thur 11:45 AM, 1:20, 2:20, 5:15, 7:10, 8:10, 10:00 & 11:00 PM Fri-Sun Late Show 12:20 AM 4 Hours Free Validated Parking

L.A./BEVERLY HILLS Pacific’s The Grove Stadium 14 • 323/692-0829 #209 On 2 Screens Daily 10:45 & 11:55 AM, 1:35, 2:35, 4:25, 5:15, 7:20, 8:05, 10:10 & 10:55 PM Fri & Sat Late Show 12:35 AM 4 Hours On-Site Validated Parking Only $2.00

UNIVERSAL CITY CityWalk Stadium 19 with IMAX® 800/FANDANGO #707 On 3 Screens Fri-Sun 10:20 & 11:20 AM, 12:05, 1:15, 1:50, 4:00, 4:30, 5:10, 6:40, 7:20, 9:20, 10:00, 10:35 & 11:55 PM Mon-Thur 12:05, 1:15, 1:50, 4:00, 4:30, 5:10, 6:40, 7:20, 9:20, 10:00 & 10:35 PM Fri & Sat Late Show 12:35 AM Movie Parking Rebate $5 General Parking Rebate at Box Office with Movie Ticket Purchase (Excludes Preferred & Valet)

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WESTWOOD AMC Avco 310/475-0711 Fri, Mon-Thur 12:05, 2:25, 4:45, 7:15 & 9:40 PM Sat & Sun 9:50 AM, 12:10, 2:30, 4:55, 7:15 & 9:40 PM $4.00 Parking Fri-Sun/$3.00 Parking Mon-Thur At The Avco Center Parking

WEST LOS ANGELES The Bridge Cinema De Lux 310/568-3375 On 3 Screens Digital Projection Daily 11:45 AM, 12:15, 2:10, 2:40, 4:35, 5:05, 7:00, 7:30, 9:25 & 9:55 PM Fri & Sat Late Shows 11:50 PM & 12:20 AM 35MM Projection Daily 11:15 AM, 1:40 & 8:55 PM Fri & Sat Late Show 11:20 PM

FOR ADDITIONAL INFORMATION CHECK LOCAL LISTINGS. SORRY, NO PASSES ACCEPTED FOR THIS ENGAGEMENT.

noon, 3:15, 6:30; Sun-Thur noon, 3:15, 6:30, 9:45. Kung Fu Panda 11:30 a.m., 1:25, 5:40, 7:40. The Last Mistress 12:05, 5:10, 7:30. Mongol 11:55 a.m., 2:40, 5:15, 7:45, 10:15. Scarface Wed only, 7. Sex and the City 11:20 a.m., 2:15, 7:20. Loews Cineplex Marina Marketplace, 13455 Maxella Av, (310) 827-9588. Hancock Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 4:50, 7:15, 9:50; Mon-Thur 2:30, 4:50, 7:15, 9:50. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 10:25 a.m., 12:40, 5:45, 8:15, 10:40; Mon-Thur 1:35, 7:20, 9:45. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 3, 5, 7:45, 10, 10:35; Mon-Thur 2:15, 4:30, 5, 7:45, 10, 10:35. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 10:45 a.m., 1, 3:30, 5:35, 8; Mon-Thur 1:15, 3:30, 5:35, 8. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:30; Mon-Thur 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 2, 4:45, 7:35, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2, 4:45, 7:35, 10:30. Pacific Culver Stadium 12, 9500 Culver Bl, (310) 855-7519. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 10 a.m., 12:15, 1:20, 4, 5, 7:30, 8:30, 11, midnight; Sun 10 a.m., 12:15, 1:20, 4, 5, 7:30, 8:30, 11; Mon-Thur 12:15, 1:20, 4:05, 5:10, 7:30, 8:40, 10:55. Hancock Fri-Sat 10:10 a.m., 12:25, 2:45, 5:05, 7:25, 9:50, midnight; Sun 10:10 a.m., 12:25, 2:45, 5:05, 7:25, 9:50; Mon-Thur 12:25, 2:45, 5, 7:25, 9:50. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 10:45 a.m.,

1:30, 4:15, 7:20, 10:05; Mon-Thur 12:05, 2:55, 5:35, 8:25, 11:05. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D Fri-Sun 10:05 a.m., 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 9:55; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:50, 5:25, 7:50, 10:15. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sat 10:35 a.m., 1:10, 4:05, 7:05, 9:40, midnight; Sun 10:35 a.m., 1:10, 4:05, 7:05, 9:40; Mon-Thur 12:45, 3:20, 5:50, 8:30, 11. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 10:25 a.m., 12:50, 4:35, 7, 9; Mon-Thur noon, 2:10, 4:35, 7, 9. Step Brothers Fri-Sat 10:30 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1, 2, 3:25, 4:25, 5:50, 7:10, 8:15, 9:40, 10:45, midnight; Sun 10:30 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1, 2, 3:25, 4:25, 5:50, 7:10, 8:15, 9:40, 10:45; Mon-Thur 12:10, 1, 2:35, 3:25, 5:15, 5:50, 7:40, 8:15, 10:05, 10:45. WALL-E Fri-Sun 10:10 a.m., 12:40, 3:10, 5:40, 8:05, 10:40; Mon-Thur 12:40, 3:10, 5:40, 8:05, 10:40. Wanted Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7:40, 10:20; Mon-Thur 12:20, 3:05, 5:55, 8:35, 11:10. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 10:15 a.m., 12:45, 4:05, 7, 9:30, midnight; Sun 10:15 a.m., 12:45, 4:05, 7, 9:35; Mon-Thur 12:35, 3:05, 5:30, 8:10, 10:50. UA Marina, 4335 Glencoe Av, (310) 823-1721. The Dark Knight 9 a.m., 9:30 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 12:20, 12:50, 3:10, 3:40, 4:10, 6:30, 7, 7:30, 9:50, 10:20, 10:50. Hellboy II: The Golden Army 9:50 a.m., 12:40, 3:30, 7:10, 10. Open Captioned Performance - Selected Film - Daily .

Step Brothers 9:20 a.m., noon, 2:30, 5, 7:40, 10:30. Wanted 9:10 a.m., 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 5:10, 7:50, 10:40.

DOWNTOWN & SOUTH L.A. Laemmle’s Grande 4-Plex, 345 S Figueroa St, (213) 617-0268. The Dark Knight Fri 3:40, 7, 10:20; Sat-Sun 12:20, 3:40, 7, 10:20; Mon-Thur 5, 8:20. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 1:30, 4:20, 7:10, 10; Mon-Thur 5:20, 8:10. Step Brothers Fri 5:10, 7:40, 10:10; Sat-Sun 12:15, 2:45, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10; Mon-Thur 5:10, 7:40. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri 5:20, 7:50, 10:15; Sat-Sun 12:30, 2:55, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15; Mon-Thur 5:20, 7:50. Magic Johnson Theaters, Baldwin Hills Crenshaw Plaza, 4020 Marlton Av, (323) 290-5900. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:30 a.m., 10 a.m., 11 a.m., 12:10, 12:45, 1:30, 2:35, 3:35, 4:15, 5, 6:15, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:45, 10:30, 11:15; Sun 9:30 a.m., 10 a.m., 11 a.m., 12:10, 12:45, 1:30, 2:35, 3:35, 4:15, 5, 6:15, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:45, 10:30; Mon-Tue 12:15, 12:45, 1:30, 2:35, 3:35, 4:15, 5, 6:15, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:45, 10:30; Wed 11 a.m., 12:15, 12:45, 1:30, 2:35, 3:35, 4:15, 5, 6:15, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:45, 10:30; Thur 12:15, 12:45, 1:30, 2:35, 3:35, 4:15, 5, 6:15, 7, 7:45, 8:30, 9:45, 10:30, 11:15. Hancock Fri-Sun 10:10 a.m., 12:30, 3, 5:35, 8, 10:40; Mon-Thur 12:30, 3, 5:35, 8, 10:25.

Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sat 10:45 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:40, 2:30, 4:30, 5:15, 7:35, 8:15, 10:35, 11:05; Sun 10:45 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:40, 2:30, 4:30, 5:15, 7:35, 8:15, 10:35; MonTue 1:40, 2:30, 4:30, 5:15, 7:35, 8:15, 10:20; Wed 10:45 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:40, 2:30, 4:30, 5:15, 7:35, 8:15, 10:20; Thur 1:40, 2:30, 4:30, 5:15, 7:35, 8:15, 10:20, 11. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:35; Mon-Tue 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:35; Wed 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:35; Thur 2:15, 4:40, 7:10, 9:35, 11:50. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:20; Mon-Tue 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:10; Wed 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:10; Thur 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:10. Meet Dave Fri-Sun 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30; Mon-Tue 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30; Wed 11:35 a.m., 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30; Thur 2:05, 4:25, 7:05, 9:30, 11:40. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Thur only, 12:01 a.m. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 1, 3:10, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40; Mon-Tue 1, 3:10, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40; Wed 10:50 a.m., 1, 3:10, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40; Thur 1, 3:10, 5:20, 7:30, 9:40, 11:45. Step Brothers Fri-Sun 11:55 a.m., 2:25, 4:55, 7:50, 10:25; Mon-Thur noon, 2:25, 4:55, 7:50, 10:15. Surf’s Up Wed only, 10 a.m. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:45, 7:20, 9:50; Mon-Tue 2:10, 4:45, 7:20, 9:50; Wed 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:45, 7:20, 9:50; Thur 2:10, 4:45, 7:20, 9:50. Wanted Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:20, 5:05, 7:55, 10:45; Mon-Thur 2:20, 5:05, 7:55, 10:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:25, 10; Mon-Tue 1:55, 4:35, 7:25, 10; Wed 11:10 a.m., 1:55, 4:35, 7:25, 10; Thur 1:55, 4:35, 7:25, 10. University Village 3, 3323 S Hoover St, (213) 7486321. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 2:45, 6, 9:15, 12:30 a.m.; Sun-Thur 11:30 a.m., 2:45, 6, 9:15. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sat 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:25, 12:45 a.m.; Sun-Wed 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:25; Thur 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Thur only, midnight. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 12:30, 3, 5:30, 8, 10:30, 12:45 a.m.; Sun-Thur 12:30, 3, 5:30, 8, 10:30.

NARRATED BY EDWARD NORTON

“THE BEST SURF

DOCUMENTARY EVER MADE.” Chris Cote, TRANSWORLD SURF

H SHAUN Q&A WIT K RICHARDS, R A M N , TOMSON RTHOLOMEW, IA D N BA E N IT W B O B T A R R ND PETE :40 SHOWS A S N IR CA &9 T HE 7:10 AFTER T TURDAY 7/26 A ON SA A. IC N O M THE

HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Cinemas Hollywood, 6360 Sunset Bl, (323) 464-4226. American Teen 10:40 a.m., 1, 3:20, 5:40, 8:20, 10:50. Brideshead Revisited 11 a.m., 2:20, 5:10, 8:10, 11. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:30 a.m., 10 a.m., 11:05 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:10, 1:30, 2:25, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 5:45, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:25, 9:05, 10:05, 10:35, 11:10, 11:30, 11:50, 12:25 a.m.; Sun 9:30 a.m., 10 a.m., 11:05 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:10, 1:30, 2:25, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 5:45, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:25, 9:05, 10:05, 10:35, 11:10, 11:30, 11:50; Mon 10 a.m., 11:05 a.m., noon, 1:10, 1:20, 2:25, 3:30, 4:30, 5, 5:45, 7, 8, 8:25, 9:05, 10:05, 10:35, 11:30, 11:50; Tue-Wed 10 a.m., 11:05 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:10, 1:30, 2:25, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 5:45, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:25, 9:05, 10:05, 10:35, 11:10, 11:30, 11:50; Thur 10 a.m., 11:05 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:10, 1:20, 2:25, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 5:45, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:25, 9:05, 10:35, 11:10, 11:30, 11:50. Hancock Fri-Sun; Mon 11:10 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7:20, 10:10; Tue-Wed. Mamma Mia! Fri-Wed 10:50 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:20, 2:05, 4:10, 4:35, 7:10, 7:45, 9:40, 10:25; Thur 10:50 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 1:30, 2:05, 4:10, 4:35, 7:10, 7:45, 9:40, 10:25. Rebel Without a Cause Wed only, 8. Step Brothers 10:55 a.m., 12:05, 1:25, 2:35, 4:05, 5:15, 7:15, 8:05, 9:45, 10:55. The Wackness Fri-Wed 10:35 a.m., 1:15, 4:15, 7:25. Wanted Fri-Tue 10:30 a.m., 1:40, 4:50, 7:40, 10:20; Wed 10:30 a.m., 1:40, 4:50; Thur 10:30 a.m., 1:40, 4:50, 7:40, 10:20. Grauman’s Chinese, 6925 Hollywood Bl, (323) 464-8111. The X-Files: I Want to Believe 11 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:30, 10:20. Los Feliz 3, 1822 N Vermont Av, (323) 664-2169. Mamma Mia! 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Step Brothers 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe 2, 4:30, 7, 9:30. Mann Chinese 6, 6801 Hollywood Bl, (323) 4613331. Get Smart Fri-Tue 1:10, 7:10; Wed 1:10; Thur 1:10, 7:10. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Mon 11:10 a.m., 1, 2, 3:50, 4:50, 6:40, 7:40, 9:30, 10:30; Tue 11:10 a.m., 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:30; Wed 11:10 a.m., 1, 2, 3:50, 4:50, 6:40, 7:40, 9:30, 10:30; Thur 11:10 a.m., 1, 2, 3:50, 4:50, 7:40, 10:30. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D noon, 2:30, 5, 7:20, 9:40. Private Screening Tue-Wed 7:30; Thur 8. Sex and the City Fri-Tue 4, 10; Wed 4; Thur 4, 10. Space Chimps 12:10, 2:20, 4:30, 7, 9:10. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 10:20 a.m., 12:50, 3:40, 6:30, 9:20, 11:45; Sun-Thur 10:20 a.m., 12:50, 3:40, 6:30, 9:20. Pacific’s El Capitan, 6838 Hollywood Bl, (323) 467-7674. WALL-E 10 a.m., 1, 4, 7, 9:45. Pacific’s The Grove Stadium 14, 189 The Grove Dr, Third St & Fair fax Av, (323) 692-0829. Brideshead Revisited 10:50 a.m., 1:50, 4:50, 8, 11:10. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:20 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 12:10, 12:50, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 7:10, 7:40, 8:10, 10:50, 11:20, midnight; Sun-Tue 9:20 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 12:10, 12:50, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 7:10, 7:40, 8:10, 10:50, 11:20; Wed 9:20 a.m., 11:15 a.m., noon, 12:50, 3:30, 3:35, 4:30, 7:10, 8:10, 10:50, 11:20; Thur 9:20 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 12:10, 12:50, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 7:10, 7:40, 8:10, 10:50, 11:20. Hancock 11:40 a.m., 2:25, 5:10, 7:50, 10:25. Hellboy II: The Golden Army 10:10 a.m., 1:05, 4:10, 7:15, 10:20. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:30, 10:05. Mamma Mia! 10:55 a.m., 11:35 a.m., 1:45, 2:30, 4:35, 5:35, 7:35, 8:35, 10:35, 11:35. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 9:30 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:55, 7:25; Mon 9:30 a.m., 11:40 a.m., 1:55, 4:15; Tue-Thur 9:30 a.m., 11:50 a.m., 2:15, 4:55, 7:25. Step Brothers Fri-Sat 10:45 a.m., 11:55 a.m., 1:35, 2:35, 4:25, 5:15, 7:20, 8:05, 10:10, 10:55, 12:35 a.m.; Sun 10:45 a.m., 11:55 a.m., 1:35, 2:35, 4:25, 5:15, 7:20, 8:05, 10:10, 10:55; Mon 11 a.m., 11:55 a.m., 1:35, 2:35, 4:25, 5:15, 8:05, 10:30, 11:05; Tue-Thur 10:45 a.m., 11:55 a.m., 1:35, 2:35, 4:25, 5:15, 7:20, 8:05, 10:10, 10:55. Wanted 11:25 a.m., 2:20, 5:20, 8:15, 11:15. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:40, 5:35, 8:30, 10:15, 11:25, 12:25 a.m.; SunThur 11:45 a.m., 2:40, 5:35, 8:30, 10:15, 11:25. Regent Showcase, 614 N La Brea Av, (323) 9342944. Call theater for titles and showtimes. Vine, 6321 Hollywood Bl, (323) 463-6819. Vista, 4473 Sunset, (323) 660-6639. The Dark Knight 2:45, 6:15, 9:45.

NORTH HOLLYWOOD, UNIVERSAL CITY

EXCLUSIVE ENGAGEMENTS

START FRIDAY, JULY 25TH! ! SANTA MONICA Laemmle’s Monica (310) 394-9741 Tickets available @ laemmle.com Daily: 1:40 • 4:20 • 7:10 • 9:40 ! NEWPORT BEACH Regency Lido Cinema (949) 673-8350 Daily: 1:00 • 3:15 • 5:30 • 7:45 • 9:55

!Presented in

WWW.BUSTINDOWNTHEDOOR.COM

LACITYBEAT 40 JULY 24-30, 2008

Century 8, 12827 Victory Bl, (818) 508-6004. The Dark Knight 10:25 a.m., 12:10, 1:55, 3:40, 5:25, 7:10, 8:55, 10:25. Hancock Fri-Tue 10:20 a.m., 12:45, 3, 5:20, 7:40, 10. Hellboy II: The Golden Army 11:10 a.m., 2, 4:40, 7:25, 10:10. Journey to the Center of the Earth 10:30 a.m., 12:50, 3:10, 5:35, 7:50, 10:15. Mamma Mia! 11 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7, 9:40. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Midnight Thur only,.

Step Brothers 10:15 a.m., 12:40, 3:05, 5:30, 7:55, 10:20. The X-Files: I Want to Believe 11:30 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:30. Loews CityWalk Stadium 19 with IMAX, 100 Universal City Dr at Universal CityWalk, (818) 5080588; IMAX Theater (818) 760-8100. The Dark Knight: The IMAX Experience IMAX Fri-Sun 9:45 a.m., 1, 4:15, 7:35, 10:55; IMAX Mon-Tue 1, 4:15, 11; IMAX Wed-Thur 1, 4:15, 7:35, 10:50. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Thur only, 12:01 a.m.

SANTA MONICA AMC Santa Monica 7, 1310 Third Street Promenade, (310) 395-3030. Hancock 12:20, 2:40, 5:15, 7:30, 10:10. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 11:15 a.m., 1:40, 4:15, 6:50, 9:20; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 10:05. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:05, 3:20, 5:30, 7:45, 10; Mon-Thur 1:05, 3:20, 5:30, 7:40, 10. Step Brothers Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 12:45, 2, 3:15, 4:30, 5:45, 7, 8:15, 9:40, 10:45; Mon-Thur 12:45, 2, 3:15, 4:30, 5:35, 7, 8:05, 9:40, 10:30. WALL-E Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:10, 4:45, 7:15, 9:50; Mon-Thur noon, 2:20, 4:45, 7:15, 9:50. Wanted Fri-Sun 11:40 a.m., 2:15, 5, 7:50, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5, 7:45, 10:20. Laemmle’s Monica 4-Plex, 1332 Second St, (310) 394-9741. Baghead 1:10, 3:20, 5:30, 7:40, 9:50. Brick Lane Sat-Sun 11 a.m. Bustin’ Down the Door 1:40, 4:20, 7:10, 9:40. Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson Sat-Sun 11 a.m. Kenny Sat-Sun 11 a.m. Take 1:30, 4:10, 7, 9:30. The Wackness 1:50, 4:30, 7:20, 9:45. Loews Cineplex Broadway, 1441 Third Street Promenade, (310) 458-1506. Get Smart Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 1:50, 4:35, 7:10, 9:55; Mon-Thur 2:15, 5, 7:40, 10:15. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:50, 7:40, 10:25; Mon-Thur 1:30, 4:10, 7, 9:50. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 11 a.m., noon, 1:40, 2:40, 4:20, 5:20, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:40; MonThur 12:20, 1:20, 2:45, 4, 5:15, 6:30, 7:50, 9:05, 10:20. Mann Criterion, 1313 Third Street Promenade, (310) 395-1599. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 10:10 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 12:30, 1:30, 3, 4:05, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 8:30, 10, 11, midnight; Sun-Thur 10:10 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 12:30, 1:30, 3, 4:05, 5, 6:30, 7:30, 8:30, 10, 11. Mamma Mia! 11 a.m., noon, 1:40, 2:40, 4:15, 5:15, 7, 8, 9:40, 10:40. Sex and the City Fri-Wed 12:10, 3:20, 6:40, 9:50; Thur 12:10, 3:20. Ultramarathon Man: 50 Marathons, 50 States, 50 Days Thur only, 7, 9:30.

SHERMAN OAKS, ENCINO ArcLight Sherman Oaks, 15301 Ventura Bl, Sherman Oaks, (818) 501-0753. American Teen FriSun 10:30 a.m., 12:55, 3:10, 5:45, 8:15, 10:45; Mon-Thur 12:55, 3:10, 5:45, 8:15, 10:50. Brideshead Revisited Fri-Sun 10:20 a.m., 1:25, 4:15, 7:10, 9:50; Mon-Thur 1:25, 4:15, 7:20, 10:10. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 10:15 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1, 1:35, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50, 11:30, midnight, 12:25 a.m., 12:26 a.m.; Sun 10:15 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1, 1:35, 3:30, 4, 4:30, 5, 7, 7:30, 8, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50, 11:30; Mon-Thur 11 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1, 2:15, 3:40, 4, 4:30, 5:30, 7, 7:30, 8, 9:30, 10:20, 10:45, 11:15. Hancock Fri-Sat 11:25 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7:15, 9:45, 11:55; Sun-Thur 11:25 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 7:15, 9:45. Hellboy II: The Golden Army 11:50 a.m., 2:40, 5:25, 8:20, 11:10. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D Fri-Sun 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:25, 9:55; Mon-Wed 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:45, 10:15; Thur 11:20 a.m., 2:05, 4:45, 7:45, 10:05. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:35, 4:10, 5:10, 7:05, 8:05, 9:40, 10:40, 12:05 a.m.; Mon 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:35, 4:05, 5:10, 8:05, 10:40; Tue-Wed 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:35, 4:10, 5:10, 7:05, 8:05, 9:40, 10:40; Thur 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:35, 4:10, 5:10, 7:05, 8:05, 9:40. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 11 a.m., 1:05, 3:15, 5:20, 7:40; Mon-Thur 11:05 a.m., 1:05, 3:15, 5:20, 7:40. Step Brothers Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 1:20, 2:15, 5:15, 7:20, 8:10, 10, 11, 12:20 a.m.; Mon-Thur 11:45 a.m., 1:20, 2:20, 5:15, 7:10, 8:10, 10, 11. WALL-E Fri-Mon 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:55, 10:30; Tue; Wed-Thur 11:40 a.m., 2:10, 4:50, 7:55, 10:30. Wanted Fri-Sun 10:40 a.m., 4:05, 9:50; Mon 4:10, 9:50; Tue-Thur 4:05, 9:50. The Wizard of Oz Mon only, 7:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:30, 5:30, 8:30, 11:20; Mon 11:30 a.m., 2:30, 5:40, 8:30, 11:20; Tue-Thur 11:35 a.m., 2:30, 5:40, 8:30, 11:20. Laemmle’s Town Center 5, 17200 Ventura Bl, Encino, (818) 981-9811. The Grocer’s Son 1:40, 4:30, 7:30, 9:55.

Live and Become 12:45, 3:50, 7, 10. Love Comes Lately 12:45, 3, 5:20, 7:50, 10:10. Tell No One 1, 4, 7:10, 10. The Wackness 1:50, 4:20, 7:20, 9:45. Mann Plant 16, 7876 Van Nuys Bl, Panorama City, (818) 779-0323. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 10:10 a.m., 11:30 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:30, 3, 3:30, 4:05, 5, 6:30, 7, 7:30, 8:30, 10, 10:30, 11, midnight; Sun-Thur 10:10 a.m., 11:30 a.m., noon, 12:30, 1:30, 3, 3:30, 4:05, 5, 6:30, 7, 7:30, 8:30, 10, 10:30. Hancock 11:20 a.m., 1:50, 4:20, 6:50, 9:20. Hellboy II: The Golden Army 10:45 a.m., 12:50, 1:45, 3:50, 4:45, 6:50, 7:45, 9:50, 10:30. Journey to the Center of the Earth 10:15 a.m.. Journey to the Center of the Earth 3D 11:50 a.m., 2:20, 4:50, 7:20, 9:50. Mamma Mia! 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:15, 9:45. Space Chimps 10:10 a.m., 12:20, 2:30, 4:50, 7, 9:10. Step Brothers 11:40 a.m., 12:30, 2:10, 3, 4:40, 5:30, 7:10, 8, 9:40, 10:20. WALL-E 11:15 a.m., 1:45, 4:15, 6:45, 9:15. Wanted 11:50 a.m., 2:30, 5:15, 7:50, 10:20. The X-Files: I Want to Believe 11:10 a.m., 12:10, 1:40, 2:40, 4:10, 5:10, 6:40, 7:40, 9:10, 10:10. Pacific’s Sherman Oaks 5, 14424 Millbank St, Sherman Oaks, (818) 501-5121. The Dark Knight 12:30, 4:05, 7:30, 10:50. Get Smart 12:10, 2:55, 5:40, 8:15, 10:55. Mamma Mia! noon, 2:45, 5:30, 8:10, 10:45. Step Brothers 12:15, 2:50, 5:25, 8, 10:40. WALL-E 12:20, 2:50, 5:20, 7:50, 10:20.

WEST HOLLYWOOD, BEVERLY HILLS, CENTURY CITY AMC Century City 15, 10250 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 277-2011. American Teen Fri-Sun 11:30 a.m., 2:10, 4:40, 7:15, 10:05; Mon-Tue 11:25 a.m., 2, 4:45, 7:20, 9:50. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:30 a.m., 10:45 a.m., noon, 12:50, 2:30, 3:30, 4:30, 6:10, 7:10, 8:10, 9:55, 10:55, 11:50, 12:50 a.m.; Sun 9:30 a.m., 10:45 a.m., noon, 12:50, 2:30, 3:30, 4:30, 6:10, 7:10, 8, 9:55, 10:55, 11:20; Mon 10:45 a.m., 11:40 a.m., 12:45, 2:20, 3:20, 4:20, 6, 7, 8, 9:30, 10:30, 11:20; Tue 10:45 a.m., 11:40 a.m., 2:20, 3:20, 6, 7, 9:30, 10:30. Get Smart Fri-Sat 9:15, 11:55; Sun 9:15; MonTue 9:45. Hancock Fri-Sat 9:45 a.m., 12:15, 2:45, 5:20, 7:55, 10:20; Sun 12:15, 2:45, 5:20, 7:55, 10:20; Mon-Tue 10:35 a.m., 12:55, 3:15, 5:40, 8:05, 10:35. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 10:20 a.m., 1:20, 4:20, 7:30, 10:35; Mon-Tue 10:55 a.m., 1:45, 4:40, 7:35, 10:25. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sun 9:50 a.m., 12:25, 3, 5:30, 8:05, 10:40; Mon-Tue 12:05, 2:35, 5:05, 7:45, 10:20. Long Way Down Thur only, 7:30. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 10:15 a.m., 11 a.m., 1:05, 1:50, 4, 4:45, 7, 7:45, 10, 10:45; Mon-Tue 10:40 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:25, 2:10, 4:10, 4:55, 7:05, 7:50, 10, 10:45. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Thur only, 12:01 a.m. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 10 a.m., 12:20, 2:35, 4:50, 7:05; Mon 10:40 a.m., 12:50, 3, 7:30; Tue 10:40 a.m., 12:50, 3, 5:10, 7:30. Step Brothers Fri-Sat 9:35 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 12:10, 2:05, 2:50, 4:50, 5:35, 7:35, 8:20, 10:15, 11:10, 12:45 a.m.; Sun 9:35 a.m., 11:25 a.m., 12:10, 2:05, 2:50, 4:50, 5:35, 7:35, 8:20, 10:15, 11:10; Mon 11:45 a.m., 12:30, 2:25, 3:10, 5, 5:45, 7:40, 8:30, 10:15, 11:05; Tue 11:45 a.m., 12:30, 3:10, 5:45, 8:30, 11:05. WALL-E Fri-Sun 9:40 a.m., 12:05, 2:40, 5:15, 7:50, 10:25; Mon-Tue 11:35 a.m., 2:15, 4:50, 7:25, 9:55. Wanted Fri-Sun 10:55 a.m., 1:45, 4:35, 7:25, 10:10; Mon 10:50 a.m., 1:35, 4:25, 7:10, 10:05; Tue 10:50 a.m., 1:35, 4:25, 10:40. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sat 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:55, 7:40, 10:30, 12:40 a.m.; Sun 11:20 a.m., 2, 4:55, 7:40, 10:30; Mon-Tue noon, 2:30, 5:15, 7:55, 10:50. Laemmle’s Music Hall 3, 9036 Wilshire Bl, (310) 274-6869. Live and Become Fri 5, 8:10; SatSun 1:40, 5, 8:10; Mon-Thur 5, 8:10. Love Comes Lately Fri 5, 7:30, 9:55; Sat-Sun 12:20, 2:40, 5, 7:30, 9:55; Mon-Thur 5, 7:30, 9:55. A Man Named Pearl Fri 5:10, 7:20, 9:45; Sat-Sun 12:40, 3, 5:10, 7:20, 9:45; Mon-Thur 5:10, 7:20, 9:45. Laemmle’s Sunset 5 Theatre, 8000 Sunset Bl, (323) 848-3500. Baghead 12:45, 3, 5:15, 7:30, 9:45. Eight Miles High! 1:20, 4:10, 7, 9:45. No Regret 1:30, 4:20, 7:10, 9:55. The Room Sat only, midnight. Tell No One 1, 4, 7, 9:55. Beverly Center 13 Cinemas, 8522 Beverly Blvd., Suite 835, (310) 652-7760. The Fall 12:40, 3, 5:30, 7:50, 10:20. Get Smart 12:20, 2:40, 5, 7:20, 9:40. The Incredible Hulk 2:30, 7. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10. Iron Man 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10. Kit Kittredge: An American Girl 12:50, 3, 5:10, 7:10, 9:20.

Kung Fu Panda 12:50, 2:50, 4:50, 6:50, 9. Lou Reed’s Berlin 1:10, 3:10, 5:20, 7:20, 9:10. The Love Guru 1:20, 3:20, 5:20, 7:10, 9:10. Meet Dave 12:20, 2:20, 4:20, 6:30, 8:50. Sex and the City noon, 1, 2:50, 4:10, 6, 7, 9, 10. The Strangers 12:30, 4:50, 9:20. You Don’t Mess With the Zohan 12:40, 3:10, 5:30, 7:50, 10:10.

WESTWOOD, WEST L.A. AMC Avco Center, 10840 Wilshire Bl, (310) 4750711. Call theater for titles and showtimes. Laemmle’s Royal Theatre, 11523 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 477-5581. The Grocer’s Son 1:45, 4:20, 7, 9:30. Landmark’s Nuart Theater, 11272 Santa Monica Bl, (310) 281-8223. Boy A Fri-Sun noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10; Mon-Thur 5, 7:30, 10. The Rocky Horror Picture Show Sat only, midnight. Rosemary’s Baby Fri only, midnight. Landmark’s Regent, 1045 Broxton Av, (310) 2818223. WALL-E 1:45, 4:30, 7:15, 10. The Landmark West Los Angeles, 10850 W Pico Bl, (310) 281-8223. Brideshead Revisited noon, 1, 3, 4:05, 6, 7:10, 9, 10:15. CSNY: Deja Vu 11 a.m., 1:15, 3:30, 6, 8:20, 10:40. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 10:10 a.m., 10:40 a.m., 12:20, 12:50, 1:30, 2, 3:40, 4:10, 4:50, 5:20, 7:05, 7:30, 8:10, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50, 11:30; Sun 10:10 a.m., 10:40 a.m., 12:20, 12:50, 1:30, 2, 3:40, 4:10, 4:50, 5:20, 7:05, 7:30, 8:10, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50; Mon 11:20 a.m., 12:50, 1:30, 2, 3, 4:10, 4:50, 5:20, 7:30, 8:10, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50; Tue-Thur 11:20 a.m., 12:50, 1:30, 2, 3:40, 4:10, 4:50, 5:20, 7:05, 7:30, 8:10, 8:40, 10:20, 10:50. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 11:10 a.m., noon, 1:45, 2:45, 4:30, 5:25, 7:15, 8, 9:50, 10:35; Mon 11:10 a.m., 1:45, 4:30, 7:15, 9:50; Tue 11:10 a.m., noon, 1:45, 2:45, 4:30, 7:15, 9:50, 10:35; Wed-Thur 11:10 a.m., noon, 1:45, 2:45, 4:30, 5:25, 7:15, 8, 9:50, 10:35. Tell No One 11 a.m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:35, 10:25. The Visitor Fri-Sun 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:30, 9:55; Mon 2:15, 7:30; Tue-Wed 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 4:45, 7:30, 9:55; Thur 11:45 a.m., 2:15, 10:15. The Wackness Fri-Sun 11:05 a.m., 1:20, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35, 10:55; Mon 11:05 a.m., 4:45, 9:55; Tue 11:05 a.m., 1:20, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35, 10:55; Wed 11:05 a.m., 1:20, 3:45, 10:55; Thur 11:05 a.m., 1:20, 3:45, 6:10, 8:35, 10:55. Majestic Crest Theater, 1262 Westwood Bl, (310) 474-7866. Kit Kittredge: An American Girl 1, 3, 5. Mongol 7:15, 9:45. Mann Bruin, 948 Broxton Av, (310) 208-8998. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 11:45. Hancock Fri-Wed noon, 2:20, 4:40, 7, 9:30. Private Screening Thur only, 7:30. Mann Festival 1, 10887 Lindbrook Av, (310) 208-4575. The Dark Knight Thur only, 9:15 a.m., 12:30, 3:45, 7:15, 10:45. Get Smart Fri-Wed 11:50 a.m., 4:50, 9:50. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Wed 2:30, 7:25. Mann Village, 961 Broxton Av, (310) 208-5576. The Dark Knight Fri-Wed 9:15 a.m., 12:30, 3:45, 7:15, 10:45. Private Screening Thur only, 7:30.

8:15, 9:40. Swing Vote Thur only, 12:01 a.m.. WALL-E Fri-Sun 9:45 a.m., 12:15, 2:45, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15; Mon-Thur 12:15, 2:45, 5:20, 7:50, 10:15. Wanted Fri-Sat 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 5:05, 7:45, 10:40; Sun 11:25 a.m., 2:10, 5:05, 7:45, 10:30; Mon-Thur 2:10, 5:05, 7:45, 10:30. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri 9:35 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20, 12:30 a.m.; Sat 11:45 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20, 12:30 a.m.; Sun 9:35 a.m., 11:45 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20, 12:30 a.m.; Mon-Thur 11:30 a.m., 2:20, 5, 7:40, 10:20. Laemmle’s Fallbrook 7 Cinemas, Fallbrook Mall, 6731 Fallbrook Av, West Hills, (818) 340-8710. The Dark Knight Fri-Sun noon, 3:30, 7, 10:20; MonThur 1, 4:30, 8. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 1:30, 4:30, 7:30, 10:10; MonThur noon, 2:30, 5:30, 8:30. A Man Named Pearl Fri-Sun 1, 3:10, 5:40, 7:50, 10; Mon-Thur noon, 2, 4:10, 6:40, 8:50. Take Fri-Sun noon, 2:30, 5, 7:30, 10; Mon-Thur 1, 3:30, 6, 8:30. Tell No One Fri-Sun 12:40, 3:40, 7:10, 10:10; MonThur 1:40, 4:40, 8:10. The Wackness Fri-Sun 12:10, 2:40, 5:10, 7:40, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:10, 3:40, 6:10, 8:40. The X-Files: I Want to Believe Fri-Sun 1:40, 4:20, 7:20, 10; Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:40, 5:20, 8:20.

SPECIAL SCREENINGS THURSDAY, JULY 24 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre, Santa Monica, (323) 466-3456. Aerotheatre.com. Once Upon a Time: Sergio Leone – The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, 7:30. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre, Hollywood, (323) 466-3456. Egyptiantheatre.com. Italian Grindhouse: Assault of the Deadly Celluloid – The Family (aka Violent City), 7:30; followed by Caliber 9. CineFamily at the Silent Movie The-

JULY 24-30, 2008 41 LACITYBEAT

FRIDAY, JULY 25 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Once Upon a Time: Sergio Leone –A Fistful of Dollars, 7:30; followed by For a Few Dollars More. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Enchanted Tiki Luau BlowOut – Fair Wind to Java, 7:30; followed by Aloma of the South Seas. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre The Female Gaze – Mikey and Nicky, 7:30. Summer “Camp” – Queen of Outer Space, 10. Hammer Museum, UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theatre, 10899 Wilshire Bl, L.A. Info: (310) 2063456 or Hammer.ucla.edu. Preservationist’s Choice: Selected Hits from the Archive’s Festival of Preservation – Four Presidents on Television, 7:30; free. L.A. County Museum of Art, Leo S. Bing Theatre, L.A., (323) 857-6010. Lacma.org. The Discreet Charm of Charles Boyer – Cluny Brown, 7:30; The Happy Time, 9:20. New Beverly Cinema The Life of Brian, 7:30; Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 9:25. Reservoir Dogs, midnight.

SATURDAY, JULY 26 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Blake Edwards Retrospective – The Great Race, 3. Once Upon a Time: Sergio Leone – Once Upon a Time in the West (full, newly restored print), 7:30

BEN JOSH FAMKE OLIVIA MARY-KATE METHOD KINGSLEY PECK JANSSEN THIRLBY OLSEN MAN

“HILARIOUS AND HEARTFELT! JOSH PECK AND OLIVIA THIRLBY ARE TERRIFIC!” -Peter Travers, ROLLING STONE

“FUNNY AND LIFE-AFFIRMING!” -Claudia Puig, USA TODAY

You’re a VIRGIN? Nah, I just never officially had SEX before.

“AN UNDENIABLE PLEASURE!”

-Roger Ebert, CHICAGO SUN-TIMES

WOODLAND HILLS, WEST HILLS, TARZANA AMC Promenade 16, 21801 Oxnard St, Woodland Hills, (818) 883-2262. The Dark Knight Fri-Sat 9:30 a.m., 10:15 a.m., noon, 12:50, 1:45, 3:25, 4:20, 5:15, 6:55, 7:55, 8:45, 10:30, 11:25, 12:10 a.m.; Sun 9:30 a.m., 10:15 a.m., noon, 12:50, 1:45, 3:25, 4:20, 5:15, 6:55, 7:55, 8:45, 10:30; MonThur 11:50 a.m., 12:50, 1:45, 3:25, 4:20, 5:15, 6:55, 7:55, 8:45, 10:30. Get Smart Fri-Sun 10:50 a.m., 1:35, 4:15, 7, 10:10; Mon-Thur 1:35, 4:15, 7, 10:10. Hancock Fri-Sun 10:05 a.m., 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 10; Mon-Thur 12:30, 2:50, 5:10, 7:35, 10. Hellboy II: The Golden Army Fri-Sun 10:40 a.m., 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50; Mon 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50; Tue 7:10, 9:50; Wed-Thur 1:50, 4:30, 7:10, 9:50. Journey to the Center of the Earth Fri-Sat 9:50 a.m., 12:20, 3:05, 5:30, 8, 10:35; Sun 9:50 a.m., 12:20, 3:05, 5:30, 8, 10:25; Mon-Thur 12:20, 3:05, 5:30, 8, 10:25. Kung Fu Panda Fri-Sun 10:35 a.m., 1:05, 3:30; Mon 1:05, 3:30, 5:45, 8:10; Tue 1:05, 3:30; Wed 1:05, 3:30, 5:45, 8:10; Thur 1:05, 3:30. Long Way Down Thur only, 7:30. Mamma Mia! Fri-Sun 10:55 a.m., 12:35, 1:40, 3:15, 4:25, 5:50, 7:15, 8:30, 10:05, 11:15; Mon-Thur 12:35, 1:40, 3:15, 4:25, 5:50, 7:15, 8:30, 10:05. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor Thur only, 12:01 a.m. Space Chimps Fri-Sun 10 a.m., 12:10, 2:30, 4:50, 7:05, 9:30; Mon-Thur 12:10, 2:30, 4:50, 7:05, 9:30. Step Brothers Fri-Sat 9:55 a.m., 11 a.m., 12:25, 1:30, 3, 4:10, 5:35, 6:50, 8:15, 9:40, 10:55, 12:15 a.m.; Sun 9:55 a.m., 11 a.m., 12:25, 1:30, 3, 4:10, 5:35, 6:50, 8:15, 9:40; Mon-Thur 11:15 a.m., 12:25, 1:45, 3, 4:10, 5:35, 6:50,

atre, Hollywood, (323) 655-2520. Silentmovietheatre.com. Don’t Knock the Rock ’08 – Beijing Bubbles, 8; followed by Rock ‘N Tokyo and Wasted Orient. New Beverly Cinema, L.A., (323) 9384038. Newbevcinema.com. Desperately Seeking Susan, 7:30; Pretty in Pink, 9:35.

WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JONATHAN LEVINE SOUNDTRACK AVAILABLE ON JIVE/ZOMBA

# HOLLYWOOD ArcLight Cinemas At Sunset & Vine (323) 464-4226 Daily: 10:35 • 1:15 • 4:15 7:25 Thurs.: 7:40 • 10:20 ! ANAHEIM HILLS Edwards Anaheim Hills 14 (800) FANDANGO #117 ! BREA Edwards Brea Stadium 22 (800) FANDANGO #120 ! BURBANK AMC Burbank 16 (818) 953-9800 " CAMARILLO Regency Paseo Camarillo Cinemas (805) 383-2267 # CHATSWORTH Pacific’s Winnetka Stadium 21 (818) 501-5121 (#095) # CLAREMONT Laemmle’s Claremont 5 (909) 621-5500 Tickets available @ laemmle.com !Presented in

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American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Enchanted Tiki Luau Blow-Out – Tiki on TV, 7:30; followed by Her Jungle Love. Preceded by Luau dinner at 5. CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre John Huston’s Beautiful Losers – Under the Volcano, 7:30. Gore Comedies – RikiOh: The Story of Ricky, 10. Hammer Museum, UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theatre The Next Wave: British Films of the 1970s and ‘80s –Distant Voices, Still Lives, 7:30. L.A. County Museum of Art, Leo S. Bing Theatre The Discreet Charm of Charles Boyer – The Earrings of Madame de…, 7:30; Conquest, 9:25. New Beverly Cinema The Life of Brian, 3:45, 7:30; Monty Python and the Holy Grail, 5:40, 9:25. Chopping Mall, midnight. Skirball Center, L.A., (323) 655-8587. Skirball.org. Cinema Z – Breaking the Silence, 2:30; free.

American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Family Matinee Festival – Charlotte’s Web, 4. Once Upon a Time: Sergio Leone – Once Upon a Time in America, 7:30. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Art Directors Society Tribut to Albert Brenner – Bullitt, 5:30; followed by Point Blank. Hammer Museum, UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theatre The Next Wave: British Films of the 1970s and ‘80s –The Terence Davies Trilogy 1976-1984, 7. New Beverly Cinema Fingers, 3:20, 7:30; Exposed, 5:30, 9:20.

MONDAY, JULY 28 New Beverly Cinema Fingers, 7:30; Exposed, 9:20.

TUESDAY, JULY 29 CineFamily at the Silent Movie Theatre TV Tuesday, 8.

SUNDAY, JULY 27

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L.A. County Museum of Art, Leo S. Bing Theatre Tuesday Matinee – The Happy Years, 1. Hammer Museum, UCLA Film & Television Archive at the Billy Wilder Theatre The Next Wave: British Films of the 1970s and ‘80s –Kes, 7:30; followed by Pressure. New Beverly Cinema Grindhouse Film Fest (titles to be announced), 7:30. Skirball Center Heymann Brothers Film Retrospective: Celebrating Israel's 60th – Dancing Alfonso,7:30; followed by Out of Focus. Followed by a Q&A with the filmmakers.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 30 American Cinematheque at the Aero Theatre Once Upon a Time: Sergio Leone – Duck You Sucker (aka A Fistful of Dynamite), 7:30. American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre Special Event – Forbidden Zone (digitally restored), 8; followed by discussion with director Richard Elfman and other guests.

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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. See Latest Reviews. Asian Stories. See Also Opening This Week. Baghead. See Latest Reviews. Boy A. See Latest Reviews. Brideshead Revisited. See Film feature. Bustin’ Down the Door. See Latest Reviews. CSNY: Deja Vu. See Also Opening This Week. 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 performance), while trying to position D.A. Harvey 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 Har vey – 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) Eight Miles High. See Also Opening This Week. Get Smart. Maxwell Smart (Steve Carell) and Agent 99 (Anne Hathaway) have to stop KAOS, headed by a snide Terence Stamp, from detonating their nukes across America. We don't buy the romance, but they love trying to top the other. What this comedy does right is that it lets them. The chuckles in Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember's script are drowned out by action sequences that – surprisingly – are the flick's best bits. Director Peter Segal distracts us with enough explosions from realizing that there's not a single huge belly laugh. Pauline Kael once wrote of Steve Martin that, when other comedians would announce they could tap dance, the joke was that they'd fall flat on their keister; Martin, however, would glide like Fred Astaire. Here, Carell does much the same in a bit where he invites the largest girl at the party out on the floor. At the climax, she readies herself to leap into his arms. Mike Myers across the multiplex would have her flatten him like a pancake, but Carell triumphantly holds her aloft, permitting himself only one small furrow of concern as he cradles her to the ground in a deep dip. (AN) The Grocer's Son. A classic "prodigal son" tale bejeweled with wonderful pastoral flourishes, this sophomore effort from French director Eric Guirado centers on Antoine (Nicolas Cazale), who long ago abandoned his Provençal home for big city life. Years later he returns, when his father (Daniel Duval), an itinerant grocer, has a heart attack. As he dutifully assumes the task of fulfilling his father's rounds – journeying from village to village in what's basically a refrigerated lunch-wagon – he develops a newfound appreciation for his dad's inveterate diligence and dedication to a clientele who would literally be lost without him. If this all sounds unbearably simple, even trite, it's not. French cinema has a long and proud tradition of finding poetry in life's minutiae – and the more ordinary the life, the more resonant the poetry. That's particularly true in Guirado's film, which, though hardly groundbreaking, unfolds in such an endearingly gentle fashion it's all but impossible not to feel charmed and, ultimately, smitten. (WM)

LACITYBEAT 42 JULY 24-30, 2008

Hancock. Hancock (Will Smith) is a down-and-out 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 starts 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) Hellboy II: The Golden Army. More than any studio filmmaker working today, Guillermo del Toro (Pan's Labyrinth) knows how to blend practical effects and CGI, maximizing what most captures the eye and imagination about each. That collagist skill and sense of detail made 2004's Hellboy a kick in the pants, and it similarly informs the new sequel, which finds gruff, reluctant crimefighter Hellboy (Ron Perlman) trying to stop an elven prince, Nuada (Luke Goss), hellbent on reanimating a long dormant collection of unstoppable, robotic killers. If the domestic woes of Hellboy and Liz Sherman (Selma Blair) doesn't quite bristle with the same angsty, hormonal energy of the first movie, Hellboy II doesn't abandon its sense of humor about itself or its characters. The action sequences seem very much dictated by studio structure notes, and are sometimes choppily edited or abruptly concluded. Still, one easily forgives these slips, given all the eye-popping creature designs and a troll market sequence that, like the cantina scene from the original Star Wars, will set adolescent imaginations on fire. (BS) Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. America’s favorite whip-wielding archaeologist is back in action after a nineteen-year hiatus. This time around, the considerably aged Professor Jones (Harrison Ford) must team up with a kid (Shia LaBeouf) to save an old buddy (John Hurt) and find the titular artifact before the Nazis – oops, make that the Commies – get their hands on it. Director Steven Spielberg, producer George Lucas, and screenwriter David Koepp come up with some clever shtick, but there’s still a sense of been-there-done-that to the whole affair. Cate Blanchett shows up as the Soviet villain, and Ray Winstone plays Jones’s buddy/enemy/buddy/enemy, depending on which scene you’re watching. More touchingly, Karen Allen reprises her role from the first episode, rekindling her romance with the hero, in between various chases and fights. The plot depends much too heavily on verbal riddles, as though this were Da Vinci Code 2: Peruvian Posers. The details here are simply pointless plot hinges; and the actors don't really seem any more interested than we are. (AK) 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. Every three minutes, Brevig and the quartet of credited writers ratchets the stakes against the trio ever surfacing 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 yo-yo. (AN) Kabluey. An unemployed, socially inept 32-yearold (Scott Prendergast, also writer-director) is dispatched to Texas by his mother to help his sister-in-law (Lisa Kudrow) tend to her two hell-raising youngsters while their dad is off fighting in Iraq. Forced to pitch in, he takes a humiliating job as the costumed corporate mascot of a gone-bust Internet company, passing out fliers on a lonely highway outpost. So, is Kabluey, with its emotionally stunted, man-child protagonist, a complex, seriocomic metaphor about life in wartime? Not really. There are a few obvious if unstated connections made as to why Leslie's boys are acting out so, but this is primarily a tale of minor-league transcendence that's willing to exploit the time-honored comic value of padding about in a giant foam suit. The film's nagging problem is how thinly Salman is sketched; as an actor, Prendergast plays his lead as too much of a collection of self-negating tics. (BS) Kenny. A por tly Australian lug named Kenny (Shane Jacobson, who produced and cowrote with his director brother Clayton) sees no shame in his profession: He sets up and cleans portable toilets for rock concerts, carnivals, and other shortterm events. "We're number one with your number twos!" he proudly proclaims. But still he can't get no respect – not from his demanding ex-wife, his crusty neat-freak dad, his well-to-do brother, or even some of his pathetic coworkers. But things pick up when he's forced to fly to Nashville – his first time ever on a plane! – for the International Pumper and Cleaner Expo ("Poo HQ," according to Kenny). He discovers talents he never knew he had, as well as attracting the interest of a friendly stewardess. This is a quintessential low-budget "home" production: The Jacobson brothers not only wrote, directed, and pro-

duced, but also play brothers; the rest of Kenny's family also seem to be playing themselves. It's like an Aussie equivalent of The Foot Fist Way, shot quick and dirty, but coasting efficiently on the affable personalities of the performers and their characters. Sweet and amusing. (AK) 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 Last Mistress. In French writer/director Catherine Breillat’s adaptation of a novel by 19th century writer Jules-Amédée Barbey d'Aurevilly, Ryno de Marigny (Fu'ad Aït Aattou), who is in the process of breaking up with his longtime mistress, Vellini (Asia Argento), must explain about that relationship to the grandmother (Claude Sarraute) of his bride-to-be, the notably younger Hermangarde (Roxane Mesquida). In a flashback that occupies more than half the movie, he tells of his destructive passion for Vellini, which he claims is now behind him. He sounds sincere – a sign that he doesn't know Vellini (or himself) as well as he thinks. Compared to Choderlos de Laclos's frequently filmed Dangerous Liaisons, Breillat’s film is more realistic and matter-of-fact. By the same token, this robs the story of conventional resolution. There is none of the cosmic justice that triumphs at the end of Dangerous Liaisons. We are left up in the air, with a suggestion of more of the same. On the other hand, when Ryno and Vellini have sex on screen, it's genuinely sexy. Breillat (Fat Girl, Anatomy of Hell) shocks us here by, well, not shocking us for once; that is, she has left her usual violence and carnal disgust out of the equation. This may be the Breillat film for people who can't stand Breillat films. (AK) Live and Become. In 1985, an Ethiopian Jew and her son are scheduled to be taken to Israel, but, hours before, the boy dies. A non-Jewish friend arranges for her son to take his place. On the trip, his surrogate mother teaches him to say he's named Schlomo, son of Jakov. Unfortunately she dies not long after their arrival, and Schlomo (Moshe Agazai) – now doubly abandoned – is adopted by a middle-class, left-wing couple, Yaël (Yaël Abecassis) and Yoram (Roschdy Zem). While improvising being Jewish, this nine-year-old is constantly torn between homesickness for Africa and his desire to somehow become "a real Jew." Halfway through, we leap forward to Schlomo (now played by Moshe Abebe) as a young teenager; forty minutes later, we leap ahead to the Schlomo (now Sirak M. Sabahat) as a young adult, dealing with romance and career issues. At nearly two and a half hours, Radu Mihaileanu's film is unnecessarily long; a few incidents could have easily been cut. But it's still worth the time. It manages to be, at times, heartwarming, tragic, and funny. And it casts a light on an ethnic identity issue that, while very specific, is certainly not without relevance to other groups around the world. (AK) Lou Reed’s Berlin. Julian Schnabel (The Diving Bell and the Butterfly) brings the 2006 stage production of Lou Reed's famously depressing 1973 album to the big screen. Reed stars, along with Emmanuelle Seigner, Fernando Saunders, Antony, Steve Hunter, Rob Wassermann, Rupert Christie, and Sharon Jones. (AK) Love Comes Lately. See Latest Reviews. Mamma Mia! See Film feature. A Man Named Pearl. See Latest Reviews. Meet Dave. Eddie Murphy plays a humanoid spaceship who falls in love with an earthwoman (Elizabeth Banks). Murphy reteams with director Brian Robbins, who was responsible for – gulp! – Norbit; the screenplay is by Rob Greenberg and former MST3K guy Bill Corbett. Gabrielle Union, Scott Caan, Ed Helms, Judah Friedlander, and Marc Blucas costar. (AK) Mongol. By most accounts, Genghis Khan began his life humbly, a cursed outcast whose tragic childhood and youthful tribulations helped forge the man who would become histor y's most legendary conqueror. It is this seminal period that forms the crux of Russian director Sergei Bodrov's staggering new epic – one of the five nominees for Best Foreign Language Film at the most recent Oscars. Starring Japan's Asano Tadanobu as the young Temudgin – the future Genghis Khan – and Khulan Chuluun as his faithful wife, Borte, the most surprising thing about the film is that it is first and foremost a love story, about a romance that neither time nor war could disrupt. But it is also the story of a man's tireless love for his people and country and his impassioned devotion to a definition of family as revolutionary as his methods were bloody. Comparisons to the likes of Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator, and Braveheart are inevitable; Bodrov's film touches unapologetically on themes common to them all. But the heroic reinvention

of a man typically reviled in Western annals as a villain and tyrant makes this effort – scripted by Bodrov and Arif Aliyev – a much more difficult task. It is to the immense credit of all involved that the effort succeeds so completely. (WM) No Regret. See Also Opening This Week. 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 writer-director 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) 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) Step Brothers. See Latest Reviews. Take. See Latest Reviews. 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 perfectly. (AK) Trumbo. Director Peter Askin rescues the Hollywood blacklist from the mists of history, reestablishing its rightful place as a disgusting and shameful government intrusion on liberty and free expression. As the title suggests, the launching point is cantankerous screenwriter Dalton Trumbo (Spartacus, Papillon), whose career was ruined by refusing to cooperate with the paranoid Commie-hunters of the post-WW II House Un-American Activities Committee. Despite an eleven-month jail stint and later exile in Mexico, Trumbo wielded a wicked pen; when he could no longer write movies, he wrote letters, some of which are read aloud by performers including Michael Douglas, Liam Neeson, and David Strathairn. Askin makes liberal use of footage from the HUAC hearings and interviews with Trumbo, who died in 1976. They reveal a spirited fighter, who achieved bittersweet revenge by winning Oscars for writing Roman Holiday and The Brave One, using a front and a pseudonym, respectively. With simplicity and puckishness, Askin and writer Christopher Trumbo – both repeating their assignments from the off-Broadway production – pay worthy tribute to Trumbo and to others persecuted by our virtuous leaders. (MK) The Wackness. New York City, summer, 1994: Luke Shapiro (Josh Peck) has just graduated from high school. While his classmates bounce the city for Amsterdam, Luke deals weed from an ice cream cart, crushes on Stephanie (Olivia Thirlby, the thinking boy's dream girl), and barters drugs for therapy from her stepfather, Dr. Squires (Sir Ben Kingsley). By July, the trip loses focus, and one wonders less about what's going to happen next than where all this is going. But Peck's turn as a white kid who's into hip-hop is endearing rather than annoying, and Sir Ben tears into his role as a very poor role model. Although there is the stock yearbook-photo masturbatory fantasy, there are also delightful whimsical moments, as when the city sidewalk lights up like a dance floor. And writerdirector Jonathan Levine (All the Boys Love Mandy Lane) unsentimentally infuses a keen sense of nostalgia for a city whose grit has since been gentrified and a musical genre whose authenticity has been overproduced into slick pop. (AE) 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 cautionary fable, an old-fashioned romance, a paean to the power of the movies, a poem to the magic of dreams, and an edge-of-yourseat 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) Wanted. A nondescript desk jockey (James McAvoy) learns that he has inherited near supernatural aptitude at assassination from his dad. Another super-assassin (Angelina Jolie)

whisks him away to the lair of the Fraternity, an ancient society of similar folk, who are also – I'm not making this up – weavers. As their leader (Morgan Freeman) explains, Fate sends them messages encoded in the form of flaws in the cloth produced on the Loom of Fate. After some brutal training, our hero learns that he must rub out the traitor (Thomas Kretschmann), who murdered his father. Timur Bekmambetov (Night Watch, Russia's Foreign Language Oscar entry a few years back) makes an almost too slick transition to the Hollywood films he emulated in Russia. Plot and plausibility are not the central attractions in this genre, which rarely holds either in high regard. The action scenes are exciting, in a kind of assaultive way. As is the current trend, the action is close to nonstop and cranked up to eleven, with the full arsenal of post-Matrix effects and concepts. Whether you find the whole thing thrilling or exhausting will depend in large part on the health of your adrenal glands. (AK) The X-Files: I Want to Believe. See Also Opening This Week. You Don't Mess With the Zohan. When he's not socking it to Palestinian terrorists, top Israeli commando Zohan (Adam Sandler) can be found shakin' his tuchis at a Haifa beach party. He's a disco animal, a lover of women, a defender of the Hebrew homeland...and what he really wants to do is cut and style hair. To begin his new life, Zohan cleverly fakes his death and smuggles himself to New York where he fast becomes hot stylist Scrappy Coco, working at a salon owned and run by, of all people, a hot Palestinian mama named Dalia (Emmanuelle Chriqui). Will age-old Semitic rivalries come between Zohan and Dalia? Or will they pioneer peace in the Middle East by uniting against a common American enemy...the evil urban redeveloper? Despite a handful of funny bits, this throwback to the

very uneven Adam Sandler comedies of the '90s is mostly a frenetic bore, thanks to the predictably inept direction of a man who oversaw several of those uneven '90s comedies, Dennis Dugan. The less predictable and more troubling problem is the script. Written jointly by the elite comedy talents of Sandler, Robert Smigel, and Judd Apatow, it's a classic case of too many cooks in a very small kitchen, and none of them on the same page of the cookbook. (WM)

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SAY IT LOUD BY CHRIS MORRIS

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ur editrix noted to me last week that James Brown, like any superhero worth his salt, wore a cape. The superheroic qualities of the Godfather of Soul are on awe-inspiring display in a threeDVD set, I Got the Feelin’: James Brown in the ’60s, which Shout Factory! is releasing Aug. 5. There’s some decent stuff on one of the three discs: JB’s sensational “I Got You� from 1964’s The T.A.M.I. Show, and an hour-long March 1968 Apollo Theatre performance marred by the director’s love of psychedelic video effects and tight close-ups. But the meat of the box is Brown’s April 5, 1968, gig at the Boston Garden – possibly the most famous show of his career, and the subject of an accompanying full-length documentary directed by David Leaf. It’s history, on the One. The Garden show took place the night after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination in Memphis. In response to the civil rights leader’s murder, disorder flared in the nation’s major cities on April 4; a smaller disturbance rocked Boston’s inner city district, Roxbury. Boston’s new mayor Kevin White – in office just 95 days, after winning a racially charged election over his bigoted opponent Louise Day Hicks by only 12,000 votes – was wholly ignorant of Brown’s rep in the black community, and he initially wanted to cancel the singer’s show, fearing a riot in the heart of the city. Black councilman Tony Atkins not only talked White into letting the concert go on, but a deal was brokered with the local public TV station WGBH to televise the show live, in the hope that a free airing would keep people off the streets. Leaf ’s somewhat overlong documentary – which echoes details reported in Common Ground, J. Anthony Lukas’s Pulitzer Prizewinning 1985 book about race relations in Boston – makes it clear that negotiations between the city and Brown were fraught with tension and distrust. However, at around 9 p.m. on April 5, WGBH announced that the Garden concert by “Negro singer Jimmy Brown and his group� would preempt its regularly scheduled programming, Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya starring Sir Laurence Olivier. Personally introduced by White – who was lauded onstage by the singer as “a swingin’ cat� – Brown whipped it on his audience hard, backed by a surging 18-piece band featuring such formidable players as saxophonist Maceo Parker, guitarist Jimmy “Chank� Nolen, and drummers John “Jabo� Starks and Clyde Stubblefield. WGBH’s blackand-white footage, competently shot on the fly by a camera crew more accustomed to televising symphony orchestras than soul revues, captured a high-intensity gig with nary an instant’s let-up. Brown was at that point at the height of his commercial eminence (he had released five Top Five R&B singles, including two No. 1’s, in the preceding 12 months) and his performing powers. He let it all out at the Garden, screaming, spinning, knee-dropping, hitchhiking, camelwalking, boogalooing, and shing-a-linging through an hour-long funk juggernaut. The show climaxed with a breathless half-hour blast through “Get It Together,� “There Was a Time,� “I Got the Feelin’,� “Try Me,� “Cold Sweat,� “Maybe the Last Time,� and “I Got You (I Feel Good).� By the end of the night, Brown’s clothes were soaked through with sweat, and his carefully arranged process looked like the roof of a thatched hut. Then the big moment occurred. At the end of his capedraping routine during “Please, Please, Please,� a nervous cop pushed one youth off the stage; several other young brothers climbed up and surrounded Brown. The house lights went up. It looked like things were about to blow. But, waving off the police, Brown chilled the house with an admonishing, “We’re black – don’t make us look bad.� The kids climbed down, and the show ended without incident. And on that night, Boston was quiet. Could Hancock have pulled that off? Fuck, no. Soul Brother Number One earned his cape that night in Boston. Chris Morris hosts Watusi Rodeo on Indie 103.1 every Sunday at 9 a.m.

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Exile in Guyville (ATO) As far as musicians of the past 20 years go, none has had a career as full of letdowns as Liz Phair has. Ever since she made her splash with her debut album Exile in Guyville in 1993 and became the alphagirl of the boys’ club of indie rock, each successive release has been one bigger disappointment compared to the one before it. Fifteen years later, Phair has returned to her roots, reissuing her classic album and embarking on a brief tour in support, all while constantly defending herself against the question, “So why did you sell out?� A word-of-mouth, music-sharing success story before Napster and bloggers, Phair garnered the attention of zine writers and indie labels with her much-mythologized Girly Sound tapes and eventually landed a deal with Matador. With the help of producer Brad Wood, those rough recordings would be developed into a double-LP of brutal honesty and insecurity; far from the feminist manifesto many perceive it to be. Though it’s a bit of a stretch to say that Wood “produced� the sparse record, the initial stab from the guitar riff album opener of “6’1�� still remains one of the most pleasurable sound bites in the history of music. Unfortunately, ATO Records’ reissue of this classic falls short of what it could’ve been. While dozens of Girly Sound tapes are probably still sitting in a desk drawer at Matador Records, we’re merely given three throwaway songs from the Guyville sessions along with a hopelessly dull DVD of interviews with figures from the early’90s Chicago scene. Suffice to say, if you haven’t heard Guyville before, then obviously this is your chance to pick up this previously out-of-print (though easy to find in the used bin) gem. But for the few die-hard Phair phanatics left in this world, this reissue is about as disappointing as her career itself. –Carman Tse

Various Artists

Hard + Heavy (Time Life) Billed as “The Ultimate Rock Collection,â€? Time Life’s new infomercialwhich-walks-like-a-boxed-set does indeed look expansive, once one opens the little metal (dude!) box that houses all the CDs. Scattered a mite too randomly across nine discs are 152 hard-rockin’ anthems that could be yours, all for that usual low, low price! Seriously, don’t we all know how plain difficult it would be for one of us to try to gather all these hairmetal/arena-rock tracks onto one iPod? Thankfully, Time Life has done the legwork for us ‌ and hype aside, the schlock-to-substance ratio isn’t that bad. Sure, for every “(Don’t Fear) the Reaperâ€? there are five like Winger’s “Headed for a Heartbreakâ€? or Giuffria’s “Call to the Heart,â€? or, hell, anything from disc two of the decked-in-dreck Power Ballads disc. Additionally, a bonus DVD of four unplugged performances from Poison’s Bret Michaels might appeal to someone, but it’s not something I’m rushing to play. As expected, the stuff from the ’60s and ’70s (Boston, BTO, Rush, Priest, Mott, and Purple all show up, but no Sabbath or Zeppelin, I see) still holds up better than the echoing-drum productions of the ’80s, but sometimes a 99-cent cheeseburger like Honeymoon Suite’s “New Girl Nowâ€? satiates a hunger that one can’t really explain. This set won’t get spun much unless you own a jukebox ‌ but everything on Hard + Heavy sounds better with a bunch of drunken pals, anyway. –Joshua Sindell

Adam Marsland

Daylight Kissing Night: Adam Marsland’s Greatest Hits (Karma Frog) Formerly of Cockeyed Ghost (minor 1990s alt-pop heroes whose ’99 masterpiece, The Scapegoat Factory, tanked when their label disintegrated its week of release) and onetime keyboard player for the Negro Problem, Marsland has had career disruptions better plotted elsewhere, but his definite talent as pop-rock sardonicist is the main attraction here. Tracks like “My Kickass Life,� “Ginna Ling,� despite their slightness, have value as permanent as any other indie-noise made during the waning hours of the 20th century. Since there are no hits, every track promises the kind of giddy first discovery as takes the place of FM radio revelation these latter days. –Ron Garmon

Zeigeist

The Jade Motel (Spegel) Hailing from pop-culture vortex Sweden, Zeigeist unleashed The Jade Motel on a European audience, accompanied by a starkly innovative stage show aesthetically inspired by Mathew Barney, Andy Warhol, and David Lynch. Their sound is marinated in ’80s angularity and bathed in cold LED illumination. With melody lines like laser-beams and a brittle skeletal structure of synthetic percussion, it is dance music for ice castle discothèques. The knee-jerk reaction is to compare them to their fellow countrymen the Knife, and, truthfully, the similarities are undeniable and occasionally annoying. The track “Tar Heart,â€? in particular, is a shameless invocation of the Knife’s dark majestic ballad, “Pass This On.â€? However, Zeigeist’s ability to craft an accessible sound with such an avant-garde sonic palette is admirable, and on tracks like “Black Milkâ€? and “Fight with Shattered Mirrors,â€? they show potential for crafting independently eccentric music. –Ramie Becker

Gus Black

Today Is Not the Day to Fuck With Gus Black (Cheap Lullaby) Gus Black’s latest release is a lo-fi folksy affair with thorns. Although Black’s trembling, soft vocals could easily be lullabies, the lyrics are surprisingly caustic, dealing with introspective and misanthropic issues, among other stinging, weighty subjects. Taking an approach similar to that of Jose Gonzalez, the locus of Today Is Not the Day ‌ is a minimalistic mix of unobstructed vocals and raw guitar picking. But unlike Gonzalez, who sticks strictly to this formula in his seminal Veneer, Black allows this motif to vector out as the album progresses. Equally cottony female backup vocals, subdued strings and muted percussion all seep in, making for a richer musical texture while maintaining the force and value of aural scarcity. –Daniel Stainkamp

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Old Home at the Whisky: Few women clean up as beautifully as Meghan Quinn, CityBeat’s fussbudget production manager. A sullen, deadly efficient beauty, she’s lately taken to materializing in my office at odd intervals to bid me attend her on evenings out, like last Saturday’s tonal schwagbag at The Whisky. This time-crusted hall hosts bands of widely variable quality, but retains permanent interest as part of the ongoing rock ’n’ roll kabuki of the Strip, as gaping tourists mix with punky kids and geezer rockers parade the latest in miniskirted blondes. None of the latter amounted to much next to Meghan, a twentysomething gothbaby tigress in Betty Page-bob and a ripped tee reading “Amore.� Turns out, her latest girlish crush is The Dreaming, raven-haired cutie-boys who did look rather pretty setting up their own equipment and plugging in after we’d endured two sets of plangent indie-pop horror from bands I’ll mercifully not name. Meghan’s sweeties went at it with brio and a will, their sound an amalgam of every clutch of metalhead droogs as ever played The Dragonfly or The Garage back in the glory days earlier this decade. The band galvanized the room in exactly the same way, drawing customers to the lip of the stage and bobbing heads like the squalling seed of Ozzy they (and we) are. Glum at GLOW: Meghan (sensibly) decided Bar Sinister was the place to go after that, but I (dutifully) tottered off to the Santa Monica Pier for the last hours of the all-night GLOW festival. I missed connecting with Dance Commander, but her many hours there led to the same conclusions my 60-minute tour did – whatever awesome effects organizers planned were overwhelmed by great stumbling hordes of drunk-ass tourists looking for the party. Not for the first time am I thankful Burning Man is held in a hot and dusty Nevada waste, far from sausage vendors, panhandlers and the Santa Monica Police Department.

No Laughing, Pissants: The crowd of rockers got a bit bigger and friendlier with every ding of the City Hall elevator, as a fresh load of freaks piled into the corridor in front of the 10th-floor hearing room. The Knitting Factory was due to answer this mid-morning to bureaucratically precise yet materially vague charges of being 1) a “nuisance� and 2) not an upscale restaurant. Presiding over this hallucination was City Zoning Administrator Lourdes Green, who allowed she’d let some of the unanimously pro-Knit crowd speak after testimony was taken, provided they didn’t repeat themselves. Inspector James Hickman recapitulated the report notes I’d seen last week, itemizing a slew of rumors and drawing a big laugh from spectators with the bit about punk rockers and wearers of black clothes frequenting the place. I’d brayed loudly, so Ms. Green stared directly at me as she went rigid with anger and announced she’d clear the room if anyone laughed again. This did little for her dignity while reminding us that all local government aspires to the condition of a crabby third-grade substitute teacher. This view was reinforced by Paul Woolsey of the Hollywood Hills West Neighborhood Council, whose tart comments about municipal employees writing their cultural delusions into law were almost as welcome as news the club wouldn’t be shutting down after all. “I think what happened is that the city, after having approved a lot of nightclubs, now has to tighten up for political purposes,� he elaborated when I phoned him later. “They do have to get a handle on this since Councilman Garcetti’s motion to really tighten up on compliance by restaurants, bars, and clubs in Los Angeles. He’s got a motion making its way through City Council offices right now; basically what they call a ‘padlock law’ in other cities. If you violate your conditions in any way, you’re shut down, that’s it.� The uneasy idea Ms. Green might be positioning herself as Scourge of Clubland was further advanced by the Downtown News last week, reporting an otherwise non-story that the zoning czarina was pondering the fate of Crash Mansion, a downtown rock/hip-hop citadel whose parking lot hosted an after-hours homicide back in January. The paper dutifully quotes the usual dull noise from J.Q. Law about crime and community issues, as if cops and the city would impartially react the same way if such incidents had occurred at Staples Center or some other big-money stockyard. Cops expect Ms. Green to rule against the Mansion sometime this summer and I doubt the Knit’s woes will be the last we hear this summer of the criminality inherent in live music.

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SKETCHES They Might Be Giants … At the opening of the John Lautner retrospective at the Hammer mid-July, the permeating mood was of architectural rehabilitation and the bourgeois smugness of people who collect houses rather than just art, with nary a word toward crumbling credit markets or the sinking economy. Architectural shows can be as fun and titillating as doing your taxes, but the exhibition design, though text and blueprint heavy, and bracingly uncritical, uses the plinths at different heights and angles, so that entering the gallery one slips like a giant into a skyline. Lautner’s curving buildings and spacious interiors are placed into a new conversation as L.A. realizes its own worth, especially in regards to an architect who hated L.A. so much he purposely created retreats away from it. Quiet Riot … In Los Angeles, like every other city metastatic with galleries, haphazard group shows tend to litter the landscape in the sluggish summer days, enough to make the phrase “summer group show” synonymous with “unprofitable downtime laziness.” But there are a couple of fresh fruits amidst the rotting vegetables. Michael Benevento seems to do some of the best shows in L.A. – though quietly, as if he were still in New York rather than on Sunset Boulevard. The

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show features recent Hammer Projects artist Jamie Isenstein, Paola Pivi, Bonnie Camplin, Babette Mangold, and the feminist godmother Martha Rosler; it promises to be one of the strongest straightforward group shows of the summer.

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Hot Hot Heat … When I write “straightforward group show,” it’s because Benevento’s show is rivaled by the regularly unfolding events at Redling Fine Art. The lack of an air conditioner has made the gallery uninhabitable, so they’ve locked the front doors and made it so that every week a new artist, both from the gallery’s represented artists and not (so far including Walead Beshty, Morgan Fisher, Jason Kraus & Martin Kersels), unveils a new exhibition, seen only through the glass front doors. Men at Work … Maybe it’s just the air thick with sweat and smog, the break in the sweltering heat wave, and the usual round of summer groups shows mixing with the tanned glow of out-of-work hustlers that makes Los Angeles feel like a somnambulant crawl from July to September. But in the galleries and museums, I almost wish to shake my head and mumble “business as usual.” Though things are chugging along for some, they’re also shifting in a new direction as a shaky market makes for a nervous gang of gallerists and the artists they represent. Those at the top hardly seem concerned just yet, as they continue to fill their Lautner retreats with the latest purchases from Gagosian. –Andrew Berardini

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN Kori Newkirk at LAXART BY ANDREW BERARDINI

I

was just having that argument last night, saying I just live in L.A. I’m not of there. –Kori Newkirk in an interview with Thelma Golden.

Though it’s not immediately apparent, there’s some kind of sadness in Kori Newkirk’s work. Newkirk has two exhibitions up in Los Angeles right now, a retrospective at the Pasadena Museum of Art that originated at the Studio Museum in Harlem and the other which opened July 19 at LAXART in Culver City. The lines and traditions from which Newkirk himself draws are as clear as the Plexiglas he sometimes uses, black and “post-black” artists, those like himself who’ve taken lessons from conceptualism, especially in Los Angeles: the importance of the idea over the form, lighter than air art with an occasional jokiness, but take those lessons and inject a political element that concept art godfathers Sol Lewitt and John Baldessari never really bothered with. Newkirk never jokes so ribaldly as L.A. artists tend to; he’s more interested in the chimera of conceptualism tripping over asphalt than in its wisecracking. Newkirk’s 10-year survey at the PMCA, which opened in early June, outlines all the tropes that have made him famous, from potent-smelling pomade to bead curtains strung with synthetic hair and gleaming gaudy beads picturing scenes from wildfires and boring suburban landscapes. Across town in Culver City, ambitious Los Angeles kunsthalle LAXART has built another in its series of monumental projects that began with Chicano artist Daniel Joseph Martinez (a favorite of Newkirk’s) and “post-Chicano” artist Ruben Ochoa; all three of them (Martinez, Ochoa, and Newkirk) have been involved with the graduate art program at the suburban UC Irvine. At LAXART, a 12-foot-high lectern made of mirrored plastic commands the room, crowned with a mass of shiny steel microphones. The stairway up and the platform behind are also mirrored, with a cascade of silver streamers behind it all like those from bad proms and probably worse political rallies, guarding a doorway that isn’t there. His last show in Culver City, up the street at the MC, featured a similarly seemingly useful object, a fire escape crafted out of clear Plexiglas. Neither the Plexiglas fire escape nor the mirrored podium is structurally sound (though my immediate impulse was to climb both, perhaps a hint to my own political megalomania in the latter case). Their uselessness (if Oscar Wilde is to be trusted) is what makes them art, but the uselessness of these works also evoke the hint of sadness I started with.

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No matter how long anyone waits in the gallery, no speaker, politician, or evangelist is ever going to march up those stairs. The installation stands in a static state of perpetual expectancy. At once the platform is a pretty, glittery object, flattering our own vanity as we get to check our hair from any handful of angles, but also a savvy bit of political theater. One can trace its aesthetic back to the trim minimalist masterpieces of the hard-headed ’60s, but the execution fully embodies what Newkirk himself calls “ghetto fabulous conceptualism.” Though the bling politician with the verve to use such a mirrored platform will never march up those stairs, I can’t help but wish that one would. Though famously a member of a group of artists coming out of the “Freestyle” exhibition at the Studio Museum dubbed by Golden and artist Glenn Ligon as post-black, Newkirk’s work is most successful, as in this case, when the identity politics from which his generation sprang fully disintegrates into melancholy and anticipation, free from the tired debates of blackness that still mark any artist who happens to be black. The same kind of debates that famously surround the skin color of an artist also inform the politics that, like the man says, are always local. Bas Jan Ader (also once involved, though nearly 30 years ago, with the UCI art program) is another transplant to L.A. that never gets credited as being an L.A. artist, even though he spent the last 10 years of his life here. Newkirk’s work in its put-on bombast at LAXART lacks the subtlety and mystery which makes the Dutch artist’s work so popular, though Newkirk’s work can still have the same melancholy, which is easy to see on the cover of the PMCA catalog – Newkirk, lying in a green field speckled with daises, his arm covering his face, as he too was too sad to tell us anything. Newkirk’s not “of ” Los Angeles, though he lives here, as he’s not a black artist, though he’s an artist that’s black. Perhaps one day, Los Angeles will finally claim Bas Jan Ader as its own as perhaps Newkirk will one day claim Los Angeles, but it’s probable that both will persist in this in-between place, “in” but not “of.” It’s as likely that Ader will return from his final voyage on the sea searching for the miraculous as that Newkirk will take on the mixed epithet of being a Los Angeles as that a politician will emerge from behind the silver streams and take the lectern waiting even now at LAXART for the next president to ascend it. ✶

Kori Newkirk’s “Rank” at LAXART, 2640 S. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 5590166. Through Sept. 6. laxart.org.

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Benjamin Creme’s latest books describe momentous events occurring worldwide The World Teacher for All Humanity Maitreya, the World Teacher, stands poised, ready to emerge into full public work. The book presents an ove r v i e w o f t h i s momentous event: the return to the everyday world of Maitreya in July 1977 and the gradual emergence of his group, the Masters of Wisdom; the enormous changes that Maitreya’s presence has brought about; and his plans, priorities and recommendations for the immediate future. Furthermore, it provides a detailed description of Maitreya as a colossal cosmic Avatar with limitless love, immeasurable wisdom and power, and at the same

A Talk by Benjamin Creme Saturday, August 2, 7:30 pm Courtyard Marriott Hotel (Main Ballroom) 13480 Maxella Ave, Marina del Rey Free Admission / Free Parking No reservations needed Benjamin Creme is an author, artist and chief editor of Share International magazine Info: 818-785-6300 www.Share-International.org

time a friend and brother of humanity. “Very soon now, humanity will know that there lives among them a man of most unusual attributes: a capacity for service conditioned only by the Karmic Law… [Maitreya] seeks to invest each individual life with sanctity and worth. To bring each person to the experience that they count; that everyone, whatever their condition now, should have, and will have, an equal right to education, food, shelter, healthcare, and the fulfillment of their full potential as living souls…” The Awakening of Humanity Benjamin Creme’s M a s te r m ov i n g l y describes the experience of humanity on the Day of Declaration when Maitreya, the World Teacher, will directly communicate with all humanity. “Humanity will awaken to a new situation, one altogether unfamiliar and strange. Never,

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The Last Seder. A reunion of squabbling siblings and their mates at the home of their aging/dying parents is one of American drama’s most overused premises. Jennifer Maisel’s play is distinguishable from a dozen others primarily by the use of seder rituals to make dramatic points. Joseph Ruskin plays the dementia-stricken patriarch and Jenny O’Hara his indomitable wife. A few of the sederrelated moments register strongly in Joseph Megel’s staging for Ensemble Studio Theatre-LA and Greenway Arts Alliance, but the play is afflicted by too many characters and too many short scenes in which two or three characters converse while everyone else freezes in place – a telltale sign of a would-be screenplay. Greenway Court Theatre, Fairfax district. (323) 655-7679. Greenwayarts.org. Closes July 27. (DS) Of Equal Measure. Tanya Barfield (Blue Door) tries hard – too hard – to overlay a critique of the Bush Administration on her demonstration of the tenuous position of a black woman (Michole Briana White) who’s working as an assistant to a top-level segregationist lech (Michael T. Weiss) in the Wilson (Lawrence Pressman) White House. It’s such a full plate that there are frequent spills, making quite a dramaturgical mess in Leigh Silverman’s staging. The play’s realistic texture, coupled with the lack of documentation about specific characters in the program, leads me to wonder how much of it is vaguely factual and how much is overheated fantasy. Center Theatre Group’s Kirk Douglas Theatre. Culver City. (213) 628-2772. CenterTheatreGroup.org. Closes July 27. (DS) Rubicon International Theatre Festival. The idea of a festival of theater events from other countries in the mild summers of seaside Ventura sounds promising. Officially set to open next year, the Linda Purl-run festival is offering a two-weekend “preview” this year. None of the events are playing both weekends, so I can’t vouch for the current productions. But the one show I saw last weekend was worth a trip: the U.S. and English-language premiere of Eye of the Cyclone, a play from Ivory Coast written by the Spanish-raised Luis Marques, about what happens to a former child soldier who’s now a prisoner in a West African country. The “preview” is at several venues in Ventura. (800) 667-2900. Ritf.org. Closes July 27. (DS)

Shipwrecked! The Victorian fabulist Louis de Rougemont made England believe that he had been shipwrecked and had lived for years among aborigines. Donald Margulies’s cheerful but hardly gullible take on this colorful character returns to the area after its premiere last year at South Coast Repertory, with an improved ending. Bart DeLorenzo again directs, with the original cast. Gregory Itzin is slyly ingratiating as Louis, and Melody Butiu and Michael Daniel Cassady are amazingly chameleonic in the other roles. Geffen Playhouse, Westwood. (310) 208-5454. GeffenPlayhouse.com. Closes July 27. (DS) Spring’s Awakening. Los Angeles Theatre Ensemble presents its own adaptation of Frank Wedekind’s 1891 play about sexual truth and consequences among teenagers in repressed Germany. Unfortunately, no teenagers appear to be in Evan Drane’s cast, which is drawn from the ranks of the ensemble. The text sounds more natural than did the recent Production Company version, but both of these are mere preludes to the main event – the prize-winning musical version due at the Ahmanson in the fall. Powerhouse Theatre, Ocean Park. (310) 396-3680 x3. Latensemble.org. Closes July 26. (DS)

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The Taming of the Shrew. Director Ben Donenberg sets Shakespeare Festival/LA’s annual production in a contemporary L.A. dominated by wheels – but not the expected cars. Instead, the characters zip around on bikes, scooters, skates, even a golf cart. This doesn’t have much to do with Shakespeare’s play, but it adds extra zing to a winningly zesty production, also featuring an exuberant Petruchio (Geoffrey Lower), a charismatic Kate (Sabra Williams), terrific tomfoolery from the clowns and cool projections by Andrew Wilder. Of course Kate’s concession speech sounds especially unlikely and unconvincing in 21stcentury L.A. South Coast Botanic Garden, Palos Verdes. (213) 975-9891. ShakespeareFestivalLA.org. Closes July 27. (DS) The Voice of the Prairie. John Olive’s 1986 play glowingly evokes the early days of radio and the power of oral storytelling. In 1923, a Nebraska farmer (Tom Dugan) is recruited by a pioneer broadcaster (Michael Matthys) to bring his tales of his youthful adventures roaming the country with a blind runaway (Ashley Bell) to the airwaves. As we see in flashbacks to 1895, in which Matthys plays the future farmer, the pair of wayfarers lost touch, but the radio programs eventually reunite the two. The narrative verges on tall tale-telling, but David Rose’s staging encourages the willing suspension of disbelief. Colony Theatre, 555 N. 3rd St., Burbank, (818) 558-7000. Colonytheatre.org. Closes July 27. (DS)

G–D BLESS THE U.S.A.

PASSING L.A. BY Our critic turns heckler BY DON SHIRLEY

S

ometimes it’s necessary to heckle L.A. producers about the good shows that got away. Take Passing Strange. This indie musical, a wonderfully imaginative hybrid of theater and rock concert, should have played L.A. first. Its narrator and co-creator Stew is known for running an L.A.-based band, the Negro Problem. The first third of Passing Strange is about Stew’s youth in South Central. True, most of the rest of the show is about how he rebelled by fleeing to the more bohemian Amsterdam and Berlin. But the script ends with his unexpectedly poignant return to L.A. Although Passing Strange was conceived in New York, when Stew and company were performing at a pub near the New York Public Theater, its premiere was at Berkeley Repertory Theatre in 2006, after development workshops at the Sundance Institute in Utah and at Stanford. It didn’t open on the East Coast until an off-Broadway run in 2007. I saw it on Broadway a few days before it closed there last Sunday. Apparently Stew’s Tony Award, for his droll and often lyrical script, wasn’t enough to keep the show going at the box office – although on the Tuesday I saw it, the house was packed with deliriously happy theatergoers. It would be swell to report that a savvy L.A. producer spotted the potential for the show early in its development and made a deal to bring it here, straight from New York. But I haven’t heard of any such plan. And with Spike Lee filming the Broadway production last weekend, the show’s onstage future might be limited. It’s difficult to imagine anyone other than Stew narrating his own story. If it’s strange that the L.A. theatrical world passed right by Stew without ever noticing him, it’s even stranger that Parade passed by L.A. for a decade. Finally, this 1998 musical is in its first professional Los Angeles County production – but in Palos Verdes, far from the heart of L.A. theater. Not that I’m complaining about the Neighborhood Playhouse, where Parade

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Parade, Neighborhood Playhouse, Palos Verdes Estates. (800) 595-4849, neighborhoodplayhouse.net.

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SUMMER JOBS TO ELECT OBAMA

Commit to Quality Join MWD’s Award-Winning Team

Intake Pumping Plant on the Colorado

Maintaining its waste distributing system

The Metropolitan Water District of Southern California (MWD) is the nation’s Largest provider of treated drinking water. Each day the district moves more than 1.5 billion gallons of water through its distribution system delivering supplies to 26 member agencies, which sell that water to more than 300 sub-agencies or directly to consumers. In all 18 million Southern Californians rely on MWD for some or all of the water they use in their homes and businesses.

F.E. Weymouth Water Treatment Plant

Since 1928, MWD has proudly served the people of Ventura, Los Angeles, Orange, Riverside, San Bernardino and San Diego counties. Its award-winning success relies on state-of-the-art technology, and efficient operation and maintenance by MWD’s professionals, who have built an intricate supply system through innovation, teamwork, diversity and hard work. Now you too can contribute to our success.

We are increasing our agency-wide workforce and have a number of positions available at our various facilities throughout Southern California.

Work for Grassroots Campaigns Inc. on behalf of the National Democratic Party, to elect Senator Barack Obama and Democrats everywhere. $350-$550 per week over the summer.

Call Larry at (310) 441-1712 Los Angeles Office or Call Andy at (323) 257-1225 Pasadena Office

Immediate Need for Principal Aduitor Also Hiring For: • Accounting & Finance • Electronics • Information Technology • Maintenance

• Administrative • Engineering • Operations

Comprehensive Benefits Package: MWD offers an outstanding benefits package that includes family health, dental, and vision care, a 401k financial plan with generous employer matching as well as a 457 plan, tuition reimbursement, extensive in-house training, flexible work schedules, and 14 paid holidays.

For More Information and to Apply

Visit: www.mwdh2o.com Submit an on-line career interest card for e-mail notification of new opportunities.

THE METROPOLITAN WATER DISTRICT IS AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY EMPLOYER

JULY 24-30, 2008 55 LACITYBEAT

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LACITYBEAT 56 JULY 24-30, 2008

6220 WEST 3RD STREET LOS ANGELES, CA 90036

ApartmentRentals

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To Advertise Call 323-938-1001

tile, Gated Entry. & Parking. 5751 Camellia Ave. 818761-6620. 2 WEEKS FREE WITH ONE YEAR LEASE

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KOREATOWN: 213-3847047. $925+up Large single, ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove, refrigerator, ceramic tiles. Gated Entry, Gated Parking Available. Elevator, Laundry room. 509 S Manhattan Pl. 213-3847047 KOREATOWN: 213-3896631. Bachelors $775 & up. ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED. Remodeled, refrigerator, Pool, Gated Entry. Laundry Room, Gated Parking Available. 245 S Reno St. MISSION HILLS: 818-9203753 . Single $830+up. 1BD $1125. Newer building, totally remodeled, gated entry & parking, A/C, Dishwasher, Stove, Fridge, Laundry room, Balconies 9929 Sepulveda Blvd. N HOLLYWOOD: 818-9801277. 1 BD $1150. Newer Bldg. Totally Remodeled. Gated entry & parking, AC, fridge, stove, dw, Pool, Laundry Room, BBQ Area 6253 Lankershim NO HO ARTS DISTRICT LOVE WHERE YOU LIVE: Jr 1 BD $985+up. ALL UTILITIES PAID, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove. Laundry, Balcony, Ceramic

THE PLACE TO STAY IS PALMS/ WEST LA ! Single $1080+up. 1BD $1370+up. Newer Building, Gated Entry & Subterranean Parking, 2 Elevators, Air Cond. Fridge, Stove, D/W, Laundry Room, 3848 Overland 310-8393647 WEST LA: Single $1225, 1BD $1550+up. Parking, Gated Entry, Balconies, Laundry Room, Fridge and Stove, Some totally remodeled. No pets. ASK ABOUT MOVE IN SPECIALS. 1755 Purdue Ave. 310-479-1079 THE PLACE TO STAY IS PALMS/ WEST LA! Single $1080+up. 1BD $1370+up. Newer Building, Gated Entry & Subterranean Parking, 2 Elevators, Air Cond. Fridge, Stove, D/W, Laundry Room, 3848 Overland 310-8393647 MISSION HILLS: 818-9203753. Single $830+up. 1BD $1125. Newer building, totally remodeled, gated entry & parking, A/C, Dishwasher, Stove, Fridge, Laundry room, Balconies 9929 Sepulveda Blvd. N HOLLYWOOD: 818-9801277. 1 BD $1150. Newer Bldg. Totally Remodeled. Gated entry & parking, AC, fridge, stove, dw, Pool, Laundry Room, BBQ Area 6253 Lankershim NO HO ARTS DISTRICT LOVE WHERE YOU LIVE: Jr

1 BD $985+up. ALL UTILITIES PAID, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove. Laundry, Balcony, Ceramic tile, Gated Entry. & Parking. 5751 Camellia Ave 818761-6620. 2 WEEKS FREE WITH ONE YEAR LEASE KOREATOWN: 213-3847047. $925+up Large single, ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove, refrigerator, ceramic tiles. Gated Entry, Gated Parking Available. Elevator, Laundry room. 509 S Manhattan Pl. 213-3847047 WEST LA: Single $1225, 1BD $1550+up. Parking, Gated Entry, Balconies, Laundry Room, Fridge and Stove, Some totally remodeled. No pets. ASK ABOUT MOVE IN SPECIALS. 1755 Purdue Ave 310-479-1079 KOREATOWN: 213-3896631. Bachelors $775 & up. ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED. Remodeled, refrigerator, Pool, Gated Entry. Laundry Room, Gated Parking Available. 245 S Reno St. REASONABLE PRICE, COME ON IN AND SEE FOR YOURSELF. FURNITURE 4 LESS: Why pay for more, when you can pay for less. The finest furnitures in town. We also Deliver. OPEN 7 days a week. 11142 Whittier Blvd. Whittier, CA 90606. We deliver. 562.695.4977 HOMES FOR $30,000. Buy foreclosures! Must sell now! 1-4 bedrooms. For listings, CALL 1-800-903-7136.

TIMELESS BEAUTY MEETS MODERN HEARTHROB! Main Mercantile lofts built in 1907 in the historic core of Downtown, Los Angeles offer a phenomenal and creative living space to the discerning renter. Thirty five remarkable units make up the community ranging in size from 1,162 to 1,789 square feet. A pet friendly community with secure underground parking, Main Merc is one of Downtown L.A.’s hottest new Lifestyle properties. Close to Fashion District, Nightlife, Art & Theatres, Grocery Markets & the Metro. www.mainmerc. com. Call Josh for a Tour: (323) 605-3225. Email: mainmerc@gmail. com.

MISSION HILLS: 818-9203753 . Single $830+up. 1BD $1125. Newer building, totally remodeled, gated entry & parking, A/C, Dishwasher, Stove, Fridge, Laundry room, Balconies 9929 Sepulveda Blvd. N HOLLYWOOD: 818-9801277. 1 BD $1150. Newer Bldg. Totally Remodeled. Gated entry & parking, AC, fridge, stove, dw, Pool, Laundry Room, BBQ Area 6253 Lankershim NO HO ARTS DISTRICT LOVE WHERE YOU LIVE: Jr 1 BD $985+up. ALL UTILITIES PAID, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove. Laundry, Balcony, Ceramic tile, Gated Entry. & Parking. 5751 Camellia Ave. 818-

ALL AREAS - ROOMMATES.COM. Browse hundreds of online listings with photos and maps. Find your roommate with a click of the mouse! Visit: www.Roommates.com. (AAN CAN) KOREATOWN: 213-3847047. $925+up Large single, ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED, Totally remodeled. A/C, Fridge, stove, refrigerator, ceramic tiles. Gated Entry, Gated Parking Available. Elevator, Laundry room. 509 S Manhattan Pl. 213-3847047 KOREATOWN: 213-3896631. Bachelors $775 & up. ALL UTILITIES INCLUDED. Remodeled, refrigerator, Pool, Gated Entry. Laundry Room, Gated Parking Available. 245 S Reno St.

LA

CITY BEAT

DOT

COM

!

WE’RE ALWAYS ON JULY 24-30, 2008 57 LACITYBEAT

761-6620. 2 WEEKS FREE WITH ONE YEAR LEASE THE PLACE TO STAY IS PALMS/ WEST LA ! Single $1080+up. 1BD $1370+up. Newer Building, Gated Entry & Subterranean Parking, 2 Elevators, Air Cond. Fridge, Stove, D/W, Laundry Room, 3848 Overland 310-8393647

ANSWERS TO LAST WEEK’S

PSYCHO SUDOKU

WEST LA: Single $1225, 1BD $1550+up. Parking, Gated Entry, Balconies, Laundry Room, Fridge and Stove, Some totally remodeled. No pets. ASK ABOUT MOVE IN SPECIALS. 1755 Purdue Ave. 310-479-1079 HOMES FOR $30,000. Buy foreclosures! Must sell now! 1-4 bedrooms. For listings, CALL 1-800-903-7136.

ANSWERS TO LAST WEEK’S

JONESIN’ CROSSWORD PUZZLE

MedicalResearch

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For those who are over the age of 60 and who are feeling stressed or depressed, hopeless, sad, loss of interest or pleasure in activities, anxiety, or insomnia. UCLA is conducting a 4-month research study using a study drug and placebo in conjunction with Tai Chi Chih (a set of slow-paced movements) or health education. If you are not currently receiving any psychiatric treatment with effective medications, you may ualify. Medical and psychiatric evaluations and limited physical exams are provided as part of the study. Evaluations and study drug are provided at no charge.

For more information, call UCLA at

(310) 794-4619

This Research Project is sponsored by the National Institute on Drug Abuse (NIDA) Approved by UCLA and Biomed IRB UCLA/Matrix Site Preparation date: 9-21-07 UCLA IRB#: 07-05-072-01 Biomed IRB#:NIDA-CSP-1026

LACITYBEAT 58 JULY 24-30, 2008

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Be on the BACKBEAT 323.938.1001

F R E E

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JULY 24-30, 2008 59 LACITYBEAT

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