Philadelphia City Paper, January 30th, 2014 by Philadelphia City Paper

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Publisher Nancy Stuski Editor in Chief Lillian Swanson Senior Editor Patrick Rapa Arts & Culture Editor Mikala Jamison Digital Media Editor/Movies Editor Paulina Reso Food Editor/Listings Editor Caroline Russock Senior Staff Writers Daniel Denvir, Emily Guendelsberger Staff Writer Ryan Briggs Copy Chief Carolyn Wyman Associate Web Producer Carly Szkaradnik Contributors Sam Adams, Dotun Akintoye, A.D. Amorosi, Rodney Anonymous, Mary Armstrong, Meg Augustin, Bryan Bierman, Shaun Brady, Peter Burwasser, Mark Cofta, Alison Dell, Adam Erace, David Anthony Fox, Caitlin Goodman, K. Ross Hoffman, Deni Kasrel, Alli Katz, Gary M. Kramer, Drew Lazor, Gair â&#x20AC;&#x153;Dev 79â&#x20AC;? Marking, Robert McCormick, Andrew Milner, Annette Monnier, John Morrison, Michael Pelusi, Sameer Rao, Elliott Sharp, Marc Snitzer, Tom Tomorrow, John Vettese, Nikki Volpicelli, Brian Wilensky Editorial Interns Melvin Hayes, Julie Zeglen, Larry Miller, Maggie Grabmeier, Edward Newton, Robert Skvarla, Thomas O'Malley Production Director Michael Polimeno Editorial Art Director Allie Rossignol Senior Designer Evan M. Lopez Editorial Designers Brenna Adams, Jenni Betz Staff Photographer Neal Santos Contributing Photographers Jessica Kourkounis, Mark Stehle Contributing Illustrators Ryan Casey, Don Haring Jr., Joel Kimmel, Cameron K. Lewis, Thomas Pitilli, Matthew Smith Human Resources Ron Scully (ext. 210) Circulation Director Mark Burkert (ext. 239) Sales & Marketing Manager Katherine Siravo (ext. 251) Account Managers Colette Alexandre (ext. 250), Nick Cavanaugh (ext. 260), Amanda Gambier (ext. 228), Sharon MacWilliams (ext. 262), Megan Musser (ext. 215), Stephan Sitzai (ext. 258) Office Coordinator/Adult Advertising Sales Alexis Pierce (ext. 234) Founder & Editor Emeritus Bruce Schimmel citypaper.net 30 South 15th Street, Fourteenth Floor, Phila., PA 19102. 215-735-8444, Tip Line 215-735-8444 ext. 241, Listings Fax 215-875-1800, Advertising Fax 215-735-8535, Subscriptions 215-735-8444 ext. 235

Philadelphia.backonmyfeet.org/event/philly5miler

Philadelphia City Paper is published and distributed every Thursday in Philadelphia, Montgomery, Chester, Bucks & Delaware Counties, in South Jersey and in Northern Delaware. Philadelphia City Paper is available free of charge, limited to one copy per reader. Additional copies may be purchased from our main office at $1 per copy. No person may, without prior written permission from Philadelphia City Paper, take more than one copy of each issue. Pennsylvania law prohibits any person from inserting printed material of any kind into any newspaper without the consent of the owner or publisher. Contents copyright ÂŠ 2013, Philadelphia City Paper. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher. Philadelphia City Paper assumes no obligation (other than cancellation of charges for actual space occupied) for accidental errors in advertising, but will be glad to furnish a signed letter to the buying public.

contents Cover story, p. 14

Naked City ...................................................................................6 A&E................................................................................................20 Movies.........................................................................................25 Agenda........................................................................................27 Food ..............................................................................................33 ON THE COVER: RAMĂ&#x201C;N COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY NEAL SANTOS DESIGN BY ALLIE ROSSIGNOL

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naked

the

city

thebellcurve CP’s Quality-o-Life-o-Meter

[ +2 ]

Spike Eskin, son of Howard Eskin, saves the life of WIP’s Angelo Cataldi by performing the Heimlich maneuver on the radio host, who was choking on a cheesesteak. “I was doing my impression of McNabb in ’05,” says Cataldi, catching his breath. “No seriously, did I look like Mitch Williams in ’93 or what? No, no, wait. I was Lindros in ’97. Oh, I’m so glad I’m still alive so I can keep talking about how I hate sports.”

[ 0]

The Bigfoot hunters on Animal Planet’s Finding Bigfoot say that South Jersey is “very Squatchy” and is surely home to Sasquatch. “Now that’s interesting,” says the Jersey Devil, wearing a hat and fake mustache. “And exactly how many Bigfoots have you caught?”

[ 0]

[ +1 ]

[ 0]

[ -1 ]

[ 0]

The Parking Authority campaigns against Philly residents’ well-known practice of saving parking spaces with chairs with the hashtag #NoSavesies. But it’s no match for #FrankieShoveledIt/FrankieOwnsIt.

PLAY THAT FUNKY MUSIC: Since last summer, Eric Pawlicki has been hired about 20 times to mix it up outside Liberty Place. He is shown here during a gig in November. PATRICK RAPA

[ street scene ]

Councilman Jim Kenney says marijuana possession should be decriminalized in Philly. “Preferably by the time Dr. Dog takes the stage on Friday.” Comcast’s profits were up 26 percent last quarter, according to the Wall Street Journal. Getting back to your question: No, that offer is no longer available in your area. According to the New York Times, Philly’s Chinatown has “faded” in recent years. Indeed, it has slowly dissipated, like a puddle on a spring day, like an ice sculpture left to sit, like a neighborhood cornered and swallowed up by a gigantic, all-consuming convention center. Developer Bart Blatstein signs a deal with several neighborhood groups listing the ways he’ll help the community if they promise not to stand in the way of him building a casino on North Broad Street. Which brings up an interesting question: If you gamble your soul and win … Do you have two souls?

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DUELING SPEAKERS A Q&A with the DJ who has been hired to counter the Black Israelites’ street preaching outside Liberty Place. By Emily Guendelsberger t 16th and Chestnut one Friday this month, the Black Israelites were losing a battle with Rihanna. And they were not happy about it. The Black Israelites are formally known as the Israelite School of Universal Practical Knowledge, and informally known as those dudes who use their PA system to yell slurs about white people, Asians, gays, interracial couples, women they perceive to be dressed provocatively and pretty much everyone walking by. They are rated as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center. After a legal battle last summer, Common Pleas Judge Ellen Ceisler ruled that because the Black Israelites were protesting peacefully, they were protected by the First Amendment and could not be kicked off public property — the sidewalk — by Liberty Place shop owners. “If a Neo-Nazi protested in front of my synagogue on Yom Kippur,” she said, “they would not be arrested.” The strange, ongoing audial battle on the corner is due to Liberty Place’s Plan B: hiring a DJ to set up about 20 feet away on the other side of the public-private property divide, directly facing the protesters, to play pop music as loud as he’s permitted. When the protesters have their permits in order, that means “not so loud you completely

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drown them out,” with levels enforced by civil-affairs officers. That particular Friday, though, the permits were not in order, and the volume escalation on both sides made conversation impossible. The DJ seemed surprisingly upbeat as he was personally called a white devil a couple dozen times in just the 10 minutes I was there. It was far too loud to talk at the time, but I got in touch with him later. Eric Pawlicki, of New Jersey company DJ’s Available, spoke with City Paper about having the city’s weirdest turntable gig. (He’d like to make it clear that he doesn’t speak for his employer or Liberty Place; this is just his personal experience.) Here’s a condensed version of the interview — you can find the whole thing, plus videos CP shot of the day described and that Pawlicki has shot, online at citypaper.net.

The city’s weirdest turntable gig.

City Paper : So, how did you get this gig? Eric Pawlicki: Liberty Place has the protesters there, which you saw, and basically they hired my company to turn a negative into a positive by playing some music and trying to drown them out a little bit. It got pretty intense Friday [Jan. 17]; some people got into an altercation with them, tipping over their signs, stuff like that. … People are walking by and they’re calling them names, saying the most crazy stuff.

CP: What instructions did you get on your first day? EP: It’s as simple as it looks — you set up and you play music so

when people walk by, they’re not just hearing a bunch of people >>> continued on page 8

[ is hitting the road, Jack ] [ a million stories ]

✚ KULTURE CLASH SugarHouse Casino contracted with the anti-union firm Kulture, beginning in 2010, in an effort to dissuade workers from organizing, according to documents filed by the firm and casino owners with the U.S. Department of Labor. Kulture has “met with employees to discuss union card-signing activity,” helped run a “new-hire orientation,” and “presented informational meetings to company employees relative to the process of unionization,” the disclosures, relating to work performed through 2013, state. The casino has employed the firm to fight union-organizing activity by Unite Here Local 54, which represents workers in textiles, hotels, restaurants and casinos. But unlike other anti-union firms, Kulture is not run by buttoned-down lawyers, but is instead the brainchild of right-

environmental regulations, unending illegal immigration and taxthe-rich schemes will somehow lead them into the promised land of prosperity, give them California.” SugarHouse declined to discuss precisely what it has paid Kulture to do. “We occasionally use consultants on various matters,” says spokesperson Leigh Whitaker. “We have nothing further to add.” But High Penn Oversight, a company connected to SugarHouse ownership, has paid Kulture at least $429,964 since 2011. List likewise did not respond to requests for an interview. But in a 2004 Fortune profile, he warned a reporter against publicly revealing his whereabouts. “Don’t

A union is trying to organize the casino’s workers.

even write what state I’m in,” he said. “I don’t need the

“let the socialist hordes have the state. To those parasites

Teamsters picketing out front.” That may be bluster. Three years later, he signed a letter to Bloomberg Businessweek from New Jersey, where public documents show his business is based. List, in a rare media interview, told Fortune his life story, explaining that he is a disaffected product of the labor movement. He worked at an AT&T factory represented by the Communications Workers of America, becoming chief shop steward. But then, everything changed. His job got outsourced to Mexico, so he went to college. He then became extremely interested in Ayn Rand, the novelist revered as an iconic philosopher on the libertarian right. List has also been active in a right-wing strategy group called Groundswell that is planning a self-described “30 front war seeking to fundamentally transform the nation” toward conser-

who believe that entitlements, high taxes, strangling labor laws,

>>> continued on page 10

wing activist Peter List.

List publishes under the pseudonym Labor Union Report on his own website, and on the popular right-wing blog RedState. com, where he makes arguments that are far to the right of what one normally encounters in Philly politics: List contends that unions are part of a communist-aligned “organized war to destroy America,” that people in the White House seem to be “hoping that … someone somewhere will die” because of the sequestration, and that 47 percent of Americans “believe that they belong to the government.”

List’s avatar has also advised readers to “abandon California” and

photostream ➤ submit to photostream@citypaper.net

CRAWL ON IN: The snowstorm that blanketed the city on Jan. 21 gave kids in South Philly just what they needed to build this snow tunnel on the 1300 block of South Warnock Street. JEN J. WALKER

hostilewitness By Daniel Denvir

WHAT DO YOU WANT, PHILLY? ➤ IN HIS STATE OF THE UNION address on Tuesday, President Obama touched on a number of issues critical to Philadelphians, particularly the plight of the poor and downwardly-mobile middle class. But with Republicans likely to hold Congress this November, federal initiatives to help people in this city stand little chance. Watching the Capitol Hill pageantry, nothing feels more distant than national politics. Except sometimes, perversely, local politics. Fewer than 40 percent of Philadelphians voted for governor in 2010, when Republican Tom Corbett rode a Tea Party wave to power. Democratic turnout was pathetic: 246,000 fewer Philadelphians voted for Democratic gubernatorial nominee Dan Onorato than voted for Obama in 2008. This is the sort of voter disengagement that Corbett is counting on to win reelection in November. But over the last four years, thanks to catastrophic budget cuts to public education, state politics has finally attracted some local attention, and anger. In May, registered Democrats will have the opportunity to decide who they want to challenge Corbett. Get involved. Decide who you want to rule Pennsylvania in 2015. Philadelphians have proven similarly disengaged from city politics. Fewer than 25 percent bothered to vote in the 2011 mayoral election, despite the fact that most Philadelphians didn’t think Michael Nutter deserved re-election. Since then, his approval ratings have tanked amid his thumb-twiddling during the public schools crisis. Oh well. We will elect a new mayor in 2015. Can we demand more? Philly might respond to a grassroots campaign that spoke to critical issues: fighting for public education and continuing the reduction in violent crime, lifting up poor neighborhoods and stabilizing those in the middle class, investing in parks and rec centers and clamping down on police misconduct. But such a campaign would require a major citywide coalition, and it would also require a challenge to the city’s political establishment — though not one, like Nutter’s, which leaves a mayor isolated from City Council. For all that seems impossible in Washington, we leave so much undone in Philadelphia and Pennsylvania. (daniel.denvir@citypaper.net)

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â&#x153;&#x161; Dueling Speakers

screaming and yelling. These guys get really loud; they literally pick people out of the crowd and disrespect them. CP: Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re probably one of the few people whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

really listened to these guys for more than a couple minutes; whatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s your impression of their message? EP: Uh â&#x20AC;Ś well, the message that theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re trying to put out is â&#x20AC;Ś I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to even say hatred toward all white people â&#x20AC;&#x201D; but, literally, a white person will walk by and theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll look at him and call him a white devil, or theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll look at the crowd and say, â&#x20AC;&#x153;I hope every white person here gets cancer and dies on their way home.â&#x20AC;? Theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re cursing, theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re throwing stuff, they have their signs with Jesus on them and they throw them on the ground and stomp on them. I mean, you really have to go there and sit there all day while theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re doing this â&#x20AC;&#x201D; itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s really unbelievable. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s basically hate. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s racism, thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s what it is. And it offends all kinds of people â&#x20AC;&#x201D; very rarely does anyone stop to listen to what theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re saying. Just Friday, a black guy kicked over their signs; he was screaming at the protesters, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re giving our people a bad name!â&#x20AC;? â&#x20AC;Ś Because [the Black Israelites are] saying, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Black people, why are you letting white people do this to you? Your government is completely destroying you, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re like slaves.â&#x20AC;? Thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s what they preach, that they are slaves. And that all black people are slaves. CP: Would you call this a good gig? EP: I do enjoy it. But sometimes they do get under

my skin, I gotta tell you. Sometimes they look over at me and talk directly to me and try to get under my skin. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Look at that DJ â&#x20AC;&#x201D; tall, blond hair, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re the devil! Theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re paying him to come out here and stop us from preaching our word because they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want you to know the truth!â&#x20AC;? Some of that stuff can get really hard to deal with. But at the end of the day, you have to laugh. I canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t tell you how many people come up and thank me for what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m doing; people really do appreciate it, and that really makes me happy, makes me love what Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m doing while Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m there. So at the end of the day, I guess itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a good gig. CP: On Friday, it seemed like you were respond-

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[ the naked city ]

<<< continued from page 6

ing to what they were saying with specific songs. EP: Oh yeah, absolutely, 100 percent. But when I play songs that look like they have something to do with the situation, a lot of the time itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s because citizens have walked up and asked me to play it. The number one request I get is Michael Jacksonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;&#x153;Black or White.â&#x20AC;? Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s such a great song for [the situation] â&#x20AC;&#x201D; everybody knows it, itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll get people dancing. But itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s more for the people, not for the protesters. CP: You said Friday was crazier than usual â&#x20AC;&#x201D; I heard that was because they didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have a permit? EP: This was actually the first day that this hap-

pened â&#x20AC;&#x201D; neither one of us had the permit. They [the Black Israelites] just came there around 10:30 in the morning, and I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t start until 12. I was unaware of it, but one of their civil affairs officers came up to me and explained that how when they had a permit and we didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t, it was right that their speaker was able to be louder. But then he mentioned that this time nobody had a permit, so it didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t really matter. So the music went loud. [Laughs.] But thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s what people want! So many people walk by and give a thumbs-up, saying, â&#x20AC;&#x153;Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up!â&#x20AC;? So if we can get it louder, weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re going to go louder. It might sound immature, but at the end of the day, what theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re doing is completely wrong. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nonsense. CP: When I was there Friday, I stuck around for a few songs, and it seemed like you had a dialogue

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Black or Whiteâ&#x20AC;? is the top request. going on. You played â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hit the Road, Jackâ&#x20AC;? as they were packing up â&#x20AC;&#x201D; EP: [Laughs.] Oh, yeah, yeah. CP: â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and I believe in response to that they were calling you white boy, and you played â&#x20AC;&#x153;Play That Funky Music, White Boy.â&#x20AC;? EP: Oh yeah, absolutely. CP: â&#x20AC;&#x201D; and then they were calling you a devil, and you played â&#x20AC;&#x153;Running with the Devil.â&#x20AC;? Do you do that often? EP: No, I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do that every week. â&#x20AC;&#x153;Hit the Road, Jackâ&#x20AC;? â&#x20AC;&#x201D; multiple people came up to me and asked me to put that on. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t regret doing it or anything, but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s â&#x20AC;Ś I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to say immature. But you know what? If Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m going to say something to them, if what theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re doing is going to get under my skin, the only way that I would consider getting back at them is through a song. (emilyg@citypaper.net)

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✚ a million stories

[ the naked city ]

<<< continued from page 7

List is a former chief shop steward at an AT&T factory. vative ends, according to Mother Jones magazine. Candace Chewning, 31, who has worked as a server at SugarHouse’s Refinery restaurant for about a year, says she was shown a strongly antiunion video during her new-employee orientation. The video, entitled “Little Card, Big Trouble,” reenacts scenes from a fictional organizing drive featuring a scarere-mongering, money-hun-

gry union organizer who manipulates hapless and confused workers. “Signing a union-authorization card can be like signing a blank check,” says the narrator. “You won’t know what the real cost will be until it’s too late.” After the screening, management opened the floor for comments, Chewning said. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable in that situation saying, ‘Well I’m for a union, actually.’ I’m sitting in a room with three managers standing there. They just showed me this video that was very biased against unions,” she said. List told Fortune that he was not a union buster but an “educator” and “communication specialist,” and that his job was to instruct management

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in how to stop a union without violating federal law. SugarHouse’s majority owner is Chicago billionaire and major Democratic fundraiser Neil Bluhm, who owns casinos in Pittsburgh and Des Plaines, Ill., where Unite Here is also organizing workers. “We’re dismayed [that] such a prominent Democrat as Neil Bluhm would slap Philadelphia in the face by bringing in an outfit headed by an Obama-basher like this,” says Unite Here spokesperson Jon Scolnik. Nothing, it seems, unites people like class conflict. SugarHouse Casino promised to create a lot of jobs when it defeated spirited local opposition and opened in 2010. Now, workers, management and a mysterious right-wing blogger are having a fight over what kind of jobs those will be. —Daniel Denvir

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[ the naked city ]

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DRIVING HOME: Sam Santiago at the wheel of Project H.O.M.E.’s outreach van. At right, Santiago leaving a homeless camp near Center City.

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WORDS BY RYAN BRIGGS • PHOTOS BY NEAL SANTOS

JAMES HAD RIDDEN A BUS for 30 hours, traveling to Philadelphia to find his longlost brother. He’d come to ask for money and a place to stay, but after four days, James had gotten no further than the waiting room of the Greyhound station in Chinatown. Venturing out into the streets during one of this winter’s brutally cold nights, the 62-year-old had slipped and fallen, breaking his shoulder. After treatment in a hospital, he floated back to the bus station, with only a few dollars and his brother’s outdated address in hand, to try to recuperate. I met James on a recent morning while I was shadowing Sam Santiago, an outreach coordinator for the homeless support agency Project H.O.M.E. James was slumped against a wall leading to the station’s men’s room, his wounded arm swollen. A bus depot manager, no stranger to people using his facility as a temporary home, had called Project H.O.M.E.’s outreach hot line after watching James’ last dollars slip from his pockets as he struggled to reach the restroom. It didn’t take much prying for James to open up. “I’ve come a long way from Reno to find my brother,” he blurts out at Santiago’s first question, before admitting, sadly, that he isn’t sure if his brother knows he’s in town. They haven’t seen each other in 40 years. Santiago has spent 14 years building relationships with people like James — chronically homeless individuals who often have had negative experiences with shelters and bureaucratic support systems. His expertise is in tracking and building trust with men and women who live on the city’s streets — a difficult process that can take years. Philadelphia is unusual for having a relatively small number of unsheltered people compared to many big cities, especially those in the West. Only one in 3,095 Philadelphians sleeps on the streets, compared to one in 254 in San Francisco. Some attribute this to a more effective shelter system and, perhaps equally, to

ners like Project H.O.M.E. to “end homelessness,” largely through the construction of affordable-housing units. But the campaign is still about 1,000 units short of its goal. Traditional shelters and recovery programs are usually all that Santiago and other outreach workers have to offer. “If all that’s available is a shelter and you have [had] a bad experience, you’re probably going to be less likely to do what Sam says the next time,” said Laura Weinbaum, Project H.O.M.E.’s vice president of strategic initiatives. “I have no question that we could get more people to come in if there were more good [affordable-housing] units with appropriate services available.” There is strong evidence that even chronically homeless individuals undergo transformative experiences when placed in permanent housing. One organization, Pathways to Housing, takes men and women off the street and puts them into subsidized-housing units, keeping tabs through regular visits. Known as a “housingfirst” strategy, the group has recorded a 90 percent retention rate, versus about 50 percent in more traditional models. “We’ve been really successful in working with this one really difficult population of people who are chronically homeless and have multiple disabilities and can’t live with other people,” said Christine Simiriglia, executive director of Pathways to Housing. “And, yes, there is a waiting list.” Some homeless advocates wonder if it’s practical or even desirable to try to “end” street homelessness by fitting everyone indoors. They note that some people are only comfortable outside, and any housing-only plan would implicitly exclude this group from the “solution” to homelessness. But everyone I spoke to agreed on one point — without constant outreach, any strategy to address homelessness is futile.

the harsher climate here. But it can also mean that those who do wind up on Philadelphia’s streets are among the most challenging to support. Enduring cruel winters and the very real threat of violence is not a decision anyone would make lightly, and many who do also suffer from severe mental illness or substance abuse issues. It makes it that much harder to try to convince someone to come in out of the cold. But for James, tired and battered, Santiago’s offer of a warm place to lie down is an easy sell. “Do you want to maybe go to the office and have one of my co-workers try to call your brother?” asks Santiago. “I’ve got my van right outside.” I watch Santiago help James into a grey Project H.O.M.E. minivan. It’s only 9 a.m., and Santiago, who has been making his rounds since 6 a.m., has at least a dozen more people he wants to check on this day.

Many people have a mental image of what homelessness looks like based on their everyday interactions:

a man sleeping on a steam vent, or panhandling for spare change on a street corner. But homelessness, like its causes, varies wildly from person to person and city to city, and touches many people who don’t fit traditional stereotypes. Families make up almost as much of the population as single adults, and children are nearly as common as adult men. The vast majority of people who struggle with homelessness in Philadelphia, estimated at around 12,000 in 2012, move in and out of about 5,500 beds stretched across shelters and transitional-housing units across the city. Most are eventually helped back into permanent housing, with only about 4 percent, or about 500 people at any time, consistently living on the streets. Though the group of people Santiago is trying to reach has shrunk in recent years, it tends to be a very fragile demographic — they are older, with an average age of 51, and often have had bad experiences in traditional shelters. The city is more than halfway through a 10-year campaign with part-

A little after 10 a.m., James is registering with staffers at Project H.O.M.E.’s headquarters in North Philly. Santiago is already back on the streets. He points the van toward a rail line along the Schuylkill where he has made contact with a group of younger homeless men. On the way, we stop at a bridge abutment that he knows has been an informal shelter in the past. It only takes Santiago, a 52-year-old man originally from Puerto Rico, a minute or two to inspect the abutment. He sees someone he knows, a man who is clutching a kitten and is asleep under a mountain of blankets. The man is not happy to be awakened by Santiago’s blaring voice, and I hear shouted curses as Santiago gets back into the driver’s seat. “You tell me you’re a child of God and then you curse out your outreach worker. What is up with that?” Santiago says, chuckling to himself. Santiago is an ex-cop, which sometimes shows in his sense of humor. What can seem like callousness is also a coping mechanism for the rejection he experiences from those who don’t accept his offers of help. He never planned to be in this line of work. Badly injured when he accidentally flipped his police van during a high-speed chase, Santiago later worked for years as a private investigator. But the gigs were inconsistent, and during one dry spell his wife submitted his resume to Project H.O.M.E. without his knowledge, thinking his investigative experience would be a good fit for an outreach coordinator. She turned out to be right — Santiago says he’s served longer than anyone else on the outreach team. Like any good detective, he pulls out his smartphone and jots down the date and a quick note about his last encounter. He keeps detailed notes on everyone he meets and I ask him how many entries he thinks he’s made over his years on the job. “I engage about 10 or 15 people a day, so … ” he trails off as he thinks, then laughs. “Five days a week, times 14 years. Shit, that’s a lot!” The van he’s driving jumps a curb, trundling over gravel next to the railroad. As a freight train passes a few feet away, he spies a group of three young men who have been camping out under a cave-like concrete overhang for almost a year. The area is ankle deep in trash and a tent that has collapsed is soaked with water dripping from melting ice overhead. The three are sleeping on exposed mattresses laid atop the refuse, not far from a popular jogging path. continued on page 16

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POINT OF PRIDE: Robert is homeless, but he says he’s proud to live outside the city’s shelter system.

“

HELTERS AREN’T REALLY NICE PLACES IN PHILADELPHIA,” HE SAYS, WITHOUT A HINT OF IRONY.

He approaches this and every encounter with the poise of a police officer — slowly but confidently, keeping just enough distance until he’s assessed the situation and each person. The most violence he’s seen in his outreach career, however, was when someone threw a container of Chinese food onto his new sneakers. “You guys hold up all right in that damn weather last week?” asks Santiago as he sizes up the camp. He’s referring to Tuesday, Jan. 7, when temperatures dipped to 4 degrees. “Man, I woke up literally covered in ice. There were icicles in my sleeping bag,” says a young man named Rob, bundled in his sleeping bag, under a pile of blankets. “I felt like I died.” I ask him why he’d rather risk the 16 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

night outside than go into one of the city’s emergency shelters. “Shelters aren’t really nice places in Philadelphia,” he says, without a hint of irony. “I mean, what — I should go to get my shit stolen or get in a fight?” Rob’s companions are silent; one is deliberately avoiding eye contact and refuses to give his name. Santiago tries a quick, hard sell on the city’s recovery houses, but Rob insists he and the others only drink and smoke cannabis and don’t need that kind of help. After an awkward moment of silence, a dubious Santiago leaves a few gift cards for a local convenience store and promises to bring them extra blankets later in the day. It’s not much of an interaction, but it’s progress. The last time he approached, the men left to avoid speaking to him.

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The afternoon sun is starting its descent as we head crosstown to one of I-95’s many overpasses along the Delaware River, where Santiago has two clients he wants to visit. As we drive, he’s thinking back on the people he’s known over the years, but the stories are getting darker. He remembers one homeless man in his own neighborhood, Olney, named Donald. Santiago began to stop by after work to help, and one particularly nasty winter day, he found Donald with frostbitten toes. Santiago had tried taking him to different housing programs, but none stuck. He says he still thinks about the day his supervisor told him that Donald had been killed while crossing a street, back in their neighborhood. “I’ve been doing this so long, I hear somebody died and I usually know who it is,” he says, as we cut down a side street that runs under the highway. “Some years are worse than others. Last year, I knew at least eight people who passed away.” The van heads off to another overpass a little farther south along Delaware Avenue. Santiago leads me through a hole in a chain-link fence, and we are soon at the base of a massive highway-support column, traffic roaring overhead. Below are two shanties made out of scrap wood and bungee cords. A tiny image of the Virgin Mary is pasted on the column. “Que pasó?” shouted Santiago, in the direction of the shacks. A man named Alex, an immigrant from Guatemala, emerges bleary-eyed and smiling. He’s been drinking and is ecstatic to see Santiago, who had recently bought him a pair of winter boots. Santiago sheepishly accepts an embrace from the florid man. Ramón, who is originally from Mexico, emerges from the other shanty, wearing a woolly jumpsuit. Santiago asks the duo how they’re feeling and they say they’re fine. Ramón says he’s trying to work and send money to his daughter in Mexico. Eventually we leave, as they cheerily wish us a nice day. But Santiago furrows his brow and mutters to himself. “Alex needs to be in fucking detox. He’s a bad alcoholic. If he would have been out here on Tuesday …” he says, again referencing the day of single-digit temperature, continued on page 18

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DOWN TIME: James nurses a wounded shoulder while he waits for Project H.O.M.E. to find him a warm bed.

ETTING THROUGH THE DOOR IS A BIG STEP FOR SOME — BUT IT’S STILL JUST THE BEGINNING.

shaking his head. Later in the afternoon, we drive to yet another overpass, this time deep in South Philly, where a man in his late 50s is sitting nearby, soliciting donations from people in passing cars. Robert has been panhandling here and living on vacant land nearby for six or seven years. He says he has no family left and stopped collecting disability some time ago, but appears to be otherwise healthy and happy. He proudly tells Santiago that he’s only spent one day indoors all winter, that fateful Tuesday that so many have mentioned, and has stayed warm under a pile of 30 blankets. He says someone, possibly the city, demolished a shanty he’d constructed nearby. He 18 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

rebuilt it. “Shelters aren’t for everybody. I’m not into all that alcohol shit,” he explains to me, referring to the common stipulation that shelter residents refrain from using drugs or alcohol. “But look at me. I have some bad days, but I’m all right,” he says. “Anyway, Sam looks out for us, and he’s good people.” Santiago is silently embarrassed again. Robert notices and smiles. “He paid me to say that,” he says, erupting in laughter. The afternoon ends back at Project H.O.M.E. headquarters. James is still there, not far from where we left him. He is asleep, still waiting to be placed.

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Staffers have, amazingly, located his brother, who still lives in Philadelphia. But the man wants nothing to do with James, who he says has been a drug addict since he was a teenager. He offers to buy him a bus ticket to anywhere else. Santiago is nonplussed. “I’ve seen how manipulative people can be, especially when they’re using,” he says, and cautions that it’s pointless to judge unknown relatives who may have spent years fruitlessly struggling to help someone. Santiago is more focused on how to treat James right now. He’s gotten him through the door, which is a big step for some, but still just the beginning. Word comes through that there is probably a temporary bed open at a group facility geared to elderly homeless men, but, of course, there’s no telling if he’ll be happy there. As for Santiago, his work day is nearly over and the pattern of suspicion and rejection he faces has revealed itself clearly. I ask him what keeps him going. “I just saw a guy who’s been drinking since I’ve known him, 10 or 15 years, and now he’s staying at the [VA hospital],” he says. “I’m not going to say he’s stopped completely, but … ” He trails off again, almost sounding unconvinced himself, but then he starts to recall other people who have made the transition. He remembers a man named Luther, whom he worked with for 11 years on the streets, and who’s in an apartment now. And he mentions the letters he’s gotten from other people who have turned their lives around and realized that the process started with him. He thinks about a son, who is schizophrenic and whom Santiago says he sometimes sees reflected in the young people he encounters on the streets. He thinks about the people he’s met who were once just like him — grown, with a career, with a family — who lost everything. Who would be there to help him or his family if they were in the streets? “The problem is that city officials think sometimes you’re going to engage and it’s going to happen right away,” he says. “Well, shit don’t work that way.” (ryan.briggs@citypaper.net)

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a&e

artsmusicmoviesmayhem

icepack By A.D. Amorosi

➤ LAST SATURDAY’S 157th Academy Ball

was a gorgeous thing — as it is every year — with 1,200-plus of Philly’s 1 percent (and me) in their sartorial finest, cold snap and slush be damned, at the Academy of Music. In particular, the private President’s Reception Pre-Ball in one of the Academy’s opulent ballrooms was the kind of sight-to-behold event that old money Philly does best. Like an updated scene from Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence (which filmed at the Academy in 1992), the Pre-Ball was filled with shaped-bearded men in white ties and tails and gals in beaded plunging necklines. One weird rumor came from this night: that the Ball’s longtime production folks would be doing switcheroos with their job descriptions, and bringing in additional producers to welcome newer musical talent — specifically an ’80s new wave band, a top-tier jam band boss, a hip-hop mogul and a platinum-plated pop-soul star — at several Balls to come. Stay tuned. ➤ Here’s a little third-generation entertainment news: Congratulations to Philadelphia nightlife entrepreneur David Carroll, whose grandson London Jackson Glorfield — better known as London Jax — has scored a YouTube/iTunes hit with the sunshiny “Ruby Lips” and landed the type of management (Los Angeles’ Gail Gellman, reps Sugarland) that guarantees mainstream success. Next up: a bright shiny cover of Led Zep’s “Going to California.” ➤ Philly’s Lee Daniels may not be getting any love from the Oscar community for The Butler, but he just got a deal with Fox Television for Empire, a Dynasty-like hip-hop drama written by Danny Strong. The pair will write and direct the first episode with additional scribes and directors to jump in after that. No word on what is happening with Daniels’ cinematic takes on Broadway’s Miss Saigon and Janis Joplin: Get It While You Can, that were supposed to be among his next film projects. ➤ Michelle Pauls’ Walking Fish Theatre and her B. Someday Productions is hooking up with Light Thief Productions for their first co-venture starting Feb. 6. Written by Avergazzi’s Cubby Altobelli, Romeo & Juliet in Space: A Space Opera Burlesque stars Sarah Braun, Gina Martino and more. ➤ With the long-discussed closing of Kmart at Ninth and Market (to say nothing of the Orthodox Street Kmart in Juniata Park), the fight for the space — Bloomies vs. Nordstrom vs. one of several H&M knockoffs — begins in earnest. The fate of the high-value spot will surely be a game changer for the future of Market Street. ➤ More ice? See citypaper.net/nakedcity. (a_amorosi@citypaper.net) 20 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

TREADING WATER: Armando Batista as Elliot Ortiz and Maia DeSanti as Yazmin Ortiz in Arden Theatre Company’s production of Water by the Spoonful. MARK GARVIN

curtaincall CP Theater Reviews

➤ WATER BY THE SPOONFUL It makes perfect sense that the Arden Theatre Company would stage Water by the Spoonful. Playwright Quiara Alegría Hudes is a native Philadelphian, and her play (the 2012 Pulitzer winner) is Philadelphia through-and-through. You’ll see frequent references to Swarthmore and Wharton; also a Spring Garden diner, and the neighborhoods of North Philly. For the locals, Water is a travelogue, but there’s a deeper point — Hudes wants to show us the wide range of life experiences and struggles in our melting-pot city. The Arden has certainly honored Water with an accomplished, visually dazzling production. I can’t imagine an audience that wouldn’t be impressed with the work of director Lucie Tiberghien, set and lighting designers Alexis Distler and Eric Southern, and a strong acting ensemble. Many will also be moved by the play itself — but I wasn’t. In Water, Hudes alternates between two plots. The first finds Iraq veteran Elliot Ortiz returning to Philadelphia and a rocky readjustment to civilian life — he’s an aspiring actor forced by circumstances to work in a sandwich shop, while at home, the woman who raised him is losing her battle with cancer. Elliot’s confidante is his cousin Yazmin, who has her own issues, though her

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life and career (she’s a composer and college teacher) seem more rooted and successful than Elliot’s. The second plot involves an online chat room for recovering addicts — four people participate (we know them only by their online handles, e.g. “Fountainhead” and “Chutes & Ladders”), and again, the focus is on how they get through, day by day. There’s some impressive craft in Hudes’ writing, notably the way in which the two storylines eventually merge, which is the chief pleasure of Water. The chat-room model opens lots of possibilities, allowing the action to follow a flexible time line, and to bring together people from across the world (California to Japan) and the social spectrum (the members include, among others, a Wharton M.B.A. earning six figures, and an out-ofwork Asian-American girl wandering through Japan in search of her roots). But the split focus feels jerky, with neither plot fully realized. The novelty of the chat-room scenes wears out quickly — the direct address to the audience is artificial and wearying, and the dialogue sounds neither like real speech nor social-media chatting, but rather an awkward conflation of the two. Frankly, the actual conversational writing (mostly for Elliot and Yazmin) also sounds stilted. (That the actors do as well with Water as they do — espe-

The split focus feels jerky, with neither plot fully realized.

>>> continued on page 22

[ still we are going ] soundadvice

[ album reviews ]

➤ dum dum girls | C+

➤ mark mcguire | A

They settle for shimmer when they should reach for tunes, play at mid-tempo like they’re hypnotized by a metronome and stay in their lane after End of Daze could’ve launched them into dreamy Goth-pop stardom. And worst of all, Too True (Sub Pop) gives the game away on “Lost Boys and Girls Club:” “There’s no particular place we are going/ Still, we are going.” Makes you wonder if Dee Dee’s California cafard was just a pose all along.

Along the Way (Dead Oceans) follows

a relative lull for the habitually hyperprolific guitarist/experimentalist (and exEmerald) Mark McGuire. Clearly, he took some time with this one. Fans will revel in the meandering, mesmerizing swathes of flittery six-string filigree, but surprises abound, too, including vocals, copious drum machines and overdriven metallic leads approaching Miami Vice levels of synth-cheese. —K. Ross Hoffman

By A.D. Amorosi

SIDE WAYS

—Dotun Akintoye

➤ ceo | B+ Wonderland (Modular) upholds the

➤ mogwai | C Mogwai’s particular brand of space-station stadium rock doesn’t find much in the way of legroom on Rave Tapes (Sub Pop). Often condensed and compartmentalized, the Scottish band’s dips into analog electronics (“Remurdered”), Gregorian chamber rock (“Blues Hour”) and slow-burning ruminations (pretty much every other track) can really only fly for so long. An almost two-decadelong career of this kind of thing makes Rave Tapes a bedtime record for any time of day. —Marc Snitzer

flickpick

Sincerely Yours crew’s knack for vibrant unpredictability and luxuriously plastic soundscapes. It’s a kaleidoscopic candybox assortment of outrageously bubbly schaffel-pop (the title cut and the delightfully baroque “Whorehouse”), plush pseudo-orchestral chill-out (“Harakiri”), manic techno (“Ultrakaos”) and, in the gloriously melodic “OMG,” a slow-mo stutter-snap declaration of synth-pop solidarity: “We’re in this together like Bow Wow Wow.” —K. Ross Hoffman

[ movie review ]

GLORIA [ B+ ] LONG DIVORCED AND NEARING her 60s, Gloria (Paulina García) knows who she is, but not necessarily how she fits into the world. Meeting Rodolfo (Sergio Hernández) at a nightclub doesn’t change that, exactly, but it upsets her carefully ordered — if not exactly satisfying — life enough to make her question whether her habits are the product of self-knowledge or a fear of changing. Chilean director Sebastián Lelio unrolls his film at a leisurely pace, almost fetishizing the lack of incident. But it’s a pleasure to soak in the details of Gloria’s life, and especially of García’s multilayered performance, which never lets her character become the object of pity or warm feelings for too long. As Gloria does with Rodolfo, she draws us close, perhaps for a quick afternoon rendezvous, then turns us away. Though she’s attached to her own children, she bristles every time Rodolfo takes a cell-phone call from one of his own kids, often heedless of where he is or what he’s doing. After she mocks him at a dinner party, he abruptly vanishes, leaving her to decide whether hers or his is the greater offense. In a sense, there’s not much to Gloria besides García’s performance, but that’s like saying there’s not much to a hurricane beyond the wind and the rain. Like the film itself, García’s bearing isn’t showy, but it conveys both the weight of the years she’s lived and the life still left in her. (She even has sex, which is notable less for its presence here than its absence from virtually every other film about like characters.) It’s a deeply satisfying movie, even if it’s never particularly exciting. —Sam Adams

She never lets herself become the object of pity for too long.

YOUNG AT HEART: Paulina García delivers a tour-de-force performance as Gloria, a vivacious single woman in her 50s.

➤ IT’S NO SURPRISE that Ron Gallo (pictured),

of the soulful roots/Americana band Toy Soldiers, sees himself in fellow Philly frontman Jay Purdy, of the theatrical, dream-poppy chamber rockers the Extraordinaires.“In a way, I feel like we’re in the same boat in regards to our musical pursuits, both solo and with our bands,” says Gallo of his pal and peer. You’ll hear the common elements at the Boot & Saddle tonight, when each singer will perform new music apart from the bands we know them from. “Jay mentioned to me this new solo stuff he’s been working on,” says Gallo. “It’s very honest, straightforward folk songs that he’s written for just him and a guitar that’s sort of a step away from the incredible theatrics and fairy-tale kind of world of the Extraordinaires.” After Toy Soldiers released The Maybe Boys in September and toured heavily, Gallo decided that he wanted to focus an unfettered and unfiltered approach to songwriting. Dark humor plays a big role in his lyrics. “My heroes are guys such as Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman, Ray Charles and Gram Parsons, so what I’m doing on Thursday is taking solo songs I’ve been working on in that vein and adapting those tunes for me, Satellite Hearts and [Levee Drivers’ lap steel guitarist] Kyle Perella to play. It’s going to be pretty wild.” While he goes back-and-forth about what to call his 2014 solo album — Fine Diners and Finer Whiners is a strong contender — he is certain that the Boot & Saddle show will sound different from vintage Gallo. We’re talking heavy psych rock jams, early Elvis ballads and everything in between. “I’ve been working on these songs in secret for awhile, so I’m really pumped to play them.” (a_amorosi@citypaper.net) ✚ Thu., Jan. 30, 9 p.m., $8-$10, Boot & Saddle, 1131 S. Broad St., 267-639-4528, bootandsaddlephilly.com.

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[ arts & entertainment ]

✚ Curtain Call

cially Maia DeSanti, Kevin Bergen and Brian Anthony Wilson — is a testament to the strength of the Arden production.) Water is an issue-driven play. In her program note, Hudes writes eloquently about “individuals with stories just begging to be told,” and there’s never any doubt about her earnest commitment to those stories. But more often than not, the characters here (a tooobviously multi-ethnic mix) seem like mouthpieces — they’re more archetypes than people. And noble as it is to want to give voices to the disenfranchised, I have to wonder: Has Hudes watched TV or gone to the movies recently? These issues are in no sense unheard — they’re quite frequently a central topic. I’m sure in Hudes’ imagination, her characters and their experiences are unique and specific, but only occasionally does that come through in Water. (The incident referred to in the title is one of those rare moments.) More often, the play’s tone reminds me of a well-intentioned middle school report. I’m sure mine is a minority view, so I urge you to judge Water by the Spoonful for yourselves. Perhaps you’ll enjoy it and learn from it. For me, it’s a worthy idea that in the execution rarely breaks free of its own artifice. Through March 16, Arden Theatre, 40 N. Second St., 215-922-1122, ardentheatre.org.

KATHRYN RAINES

<<< continued from page 20

Gidion’s Knot

➤ GIDION’S KNOT

—David Anthony Fox

Johnna Adams’ Gidion’s Knot has all the makings of an ideal InterAct Theatre Company play: meaty discussion, complex issues

➤ OTHER DESERT CITIES The theme of family ghosts that refuse to stay buried is gold dust to American playwrights, and it’s central to Jon Robin Baitz’s Other Desert Cities. In 2011, this play, with a star-studded cast, was well received on Broadway (it was also a finalist for the Pulitzer). Seeing it at the Walnut Street Theatre, in a more modest but quite fine production, we can judge for ourselves. Baitz’s subject is the formidable Wyeth family — parents Polly and Lyman, adult children Brooke and Trip — who seem to have everything going for them, including intelligence, charm, prestige and financial success (just look at the Wyeths’ palatial Palm Springs home, a model of mid-century fabulousness). Sure, there are minor tensions — the older Wyeths’ Republican leanings annoy the younger ones. But when Brooke, a writer, confronts her parents about her dead brother Henry, things go seriously off the rails. You see, years ago, Henry took part in a catastrophic anti-war protest that forever dimmed his family’s future. Other Desert Cities is part generational comedy and part family reckoning, and neither is completely successful. There are some funny lines, but the wit could be sharper. The darker issues are cleverly plotted, but the writing never cuts as deeply as it could. Much of the script is a too-tidily constructed series of polarized debates: parents versus children, liberal versus conservative, keeping family secrets versus living out loud. Still, it’s entertaining and occasionally thought-provoking, and the last two scenes pack a wallop. Under the fluid and assured hand of director Kate Galvin, the Walnut’s Other Desert Cities is visually handsome and well acted across the board. In one sense, at least, it’s an improvement over the Broadway version — on Broadway, it was hard to forget we were watching a series of bravura star turns. This ensemble actually feels convincingly like a family. Through March 2, $14.25$81.75, Walnut Street Theatre, 825 Walnut St., 215-574-3550, walnutstreettheatre.org. —David Anthony Fox

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and no easy resolutions. Karen Peakes is emotionally raw as fifth-grade teacher Ms. Clark, who suspended student Gidion the Friday before. Colin McIlvaine’s classroom set suggests warmth, comfort and safety, but on this Monday, Ms. Clark is shattered. She’s surprised by Gidion’s mother, Corryn (Alice Gatling, balancing grief and outrage), who kept an appointment to discuss Gidion’s offense despite the boy’s death that Friday night. A wall clock ticks off the seconds as the action unfolds in real time. Adams and director Seth Rozin build suspense skillfully. Two-person plays rely on tension built by withholding revelations. Here, a few backfire: The issue of the principal’s arrival, for instance, is rendered moot by the two-person cast, and a pattern of not answering a question until it’s asked 10 times becomes tedious in this 75minute play. “What the hell happened?” is our question as much as Corryn’s. The fascinating details, finally explained, are stunning, vivid and eerily beautiful. When does creative expression cross the line in a classroom? Who draws that line? How much can, and should, teachers oversee relationships between students? Can teachers serve all students equally? Adams loads the play with a few too many surprises, like a twist concerning the 10-year-old boy’s sexuality, while InterAct’s casting adds a juicy subtextual race issue. The performers’ sincerity overcomes the script’s traps, creating believably flawed characters. Peakes and Gatling break — and mend — in surprising and genuine ways, just when it seems impossible for either to understand the other. No one’s afraid of the awkward silences the script demands, and that tension has a visceral effect. When the play ends, we’re suddenly able to breathe again, but Gidion’s Knot haunts for days after. Through Feb. 9, $32-$38, Adrienne Theater, 2030 Sansom St., 215-568-8079, interacttheatre.org.

The fascinating details, fully explained, are stunning.

—Mark Cofta

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CENTER CITY EXCLUSIVE ENGAGEMENT Landmark’s Ritz at The Bourse (215) 440-1181 STARTS FRIDAY, JANUARY 31

to choose comedy shorts; Do I Have to Take Care of Everything?, the hilarious screwball about a family encountering setbacks on their way to a wedding, will likely take the prize. —Gary M. Kramer (Ritz at the Bourse)

✚ CONTINUING AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY | C The first two films adapted from the work of playwright Tracy Letts, Bug and Killer Joe, were both nastily barbed plunges into contagious amorality, tautly directed by William Friedkin. As with those earlier films, Letts penned the screenplay for

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August: Osage County, but whether the blame falls on his adaptation, the original Pulitzer-winning play or John Wells’ slack direction, the third time loses the charm. The cast is packed with A-listers, but they’re engaged in a round-robin series of overwrought displays, paired off in endless variations — a virtual tournament of acting at one another. For sheer ferocity, Meryl Streep walks away with the trophy. She’s let off the leash as the pillpopping matriarch whose husband drowns himself at the outset, stitching together a Southern Gothic grotesque out of wild gesticulations and clawsbared put-downs. Julia Roberts fares better, at least when she’s not being drawn into shout-offs with Streep, while Chris Cooper and an underused Benedict Cumberbatch add heft to the subtler side of this emoting tug-of-war. But most of the performances become as stifling as the un-air-conditioned Oklahoma setting, and Letts scripts the recriminations and confessions as a relentless succession of explosions — as monotonous as a two-hour fireworks display. —Shaun Brady (Ritz Five)

HER | B+ Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix) works for a company called BeautifulHandwrittenLetters.com, where he dictates mock-personal correspondence to a computer that then prints it out in a facsimile of human script. But IRL contact is tougher for him — at least until Samantha, an artificially intelligent operating system (voiced by Scarlett Johansson), comes along. Her presents itself as a movie about technology, but writer-director Spike Jonze isn’t overly concerned with the sci- in his sci-fi romance. What interests Jonze is love, and how — or whether — it survives the way that relationships allow people to change, sometimes in incompatible directions. Johansson’s voice-only performance places Samantha as a girlnext-door type, developing unfamiliar emotional needs and then disguising them with jokes; you don’t need to see her eyes to picture her waiting for the right response. It’s a magnificently designed film, shot in smoggy pastels with the (human) characters in collarless retro-chic shirts. But it’s also more intellectualized than it could have been, as if Jonze is waiting for the audience to meet him halfway as well. —Sam Adams (Ritz East)

THE INVISIBLE WOMAN |ASurprises are the last thing you expect

from a period piece directed by Ralph Fiennes. But, as he did in transplanting Shakespeare’s Coriolanus to presentday Bosnia, Fiennes upends convention in relaying the story of Charles Dickens (Fiennes) and his longtime mistress, Nelly Ternan (Felicity Jones). Rather than Coriolanus’ shot across the bow, Fiennes’ second directorial outing begins in a relatively familiar, though well-executed, style, with a married, middle-aged Nelly reflecting on her relationship with the late author. Dickens is a full-fledged celebrity, one whose fame allows him to write and act in plays. Nelly hails from a theatrical family, and though she’s less eager to act than her siblings, Dickens declares that “she has something” — although that something, as it turns out, is not a talent for the stage. Once Dickens’ affair with Nelly begins in earnest, The Invisible Woman shifts dramatically. As Dickens and Nelly retreat from public view, the other characters drop away, and the camera frames them in tight, gleaming close-ups that evoke J.M.W. Turner paintings. The Invisible Woman has other surprises in store, less in terms of plot than structure and style, and it firmly establishes that Fiennes is as great a director as he is an actor. —Sam Adams (Ritz at the Bourse)

THE PAST | AAt the center of Iranian filmmaker Asghar Farhadi’s terse, quietly harrowing melodrama is a fragmented family coming to terms with its own inescapable history. Ahmad (Ali Mosaffa) returns to France from Iran to finalize his divorce from Marie (Bérénice Bejo), but it’s clear they still care about each other, despite Marie’s engagement to Samir (Tahar Rahim of A Prophet). It’s not only their history together that threatens everyone’s fragile happiness, however. Samir is married to a woman in a coma, which binds his new relationship to his wife’s trapped consciousness. The cause of her vegetative state is just one of the film’s secrets, some shared, some grasped tightly by a single person, which slowly emerge. While The Past lacks the deep moral complexities of its predecessor, A Separation, it is, in some ways, a more unyielding piece, its characters harder to read even as their motives are made known. The film’s stubborn richness seems to argue that, if it can take a lifetime to truly get to know another person, why should a story fully reveal itself in the span of two hours? As the film continues to bloom in the mind weeks later, it’s a question hard to ignore. —Shaun Brady (Ritz at the Bourse)

JACK RYAN: SHADOW RECRUIT | D The Cold War is long over and Tom Clancy is dead, but Jack Ryan has nonetheless been resurrected to battle glowering, vodka-swilling Russians intent on bringing America to its knees. In the character’s fourth incarnation, Chris Pine steps lightly in the footsteps of Alec Baldwin, Harrison Ford and Ben Affleck. He’s believable enough as an out-of-his-element CIA agent in the now-requisite origin story, though he never makes much of an impression to argue for why Ryan is any more iconic than the next dozen breezy, blue-eyed action heroes. Kenneth Branagh both directs and plays the lead villain; as an actor he effects a Russian accent and as a director effects a Paul Greengrass one, aping the agitated camera moves and blunt-force editing style of the Bourne series. The story ends up relying less on its heroes’ quick reflexes than their ability to speed-type and execute blazingly fast Internet searches. When the plot does come unglued from all those screens, it’s merely to engage in another uninvolving car chase or to allow Branagh to announce his evil intentions in speeches that would have a Bond villain checking his watch. —Shaun Brady (Wide release)

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THE WOLF OF WALL STREET | AThree hours long without an ounce of fat, The Wolf of Wall Street is an utterly controlled monument to self-indulgence. As Jordan Belfort, a small-time broker who makes several fortunes selling penny stocks to increasingly well-monied chumps, Leonardo DiCaprio finally pays off the unrealized potential of his long collaboration with Martin Scorsese. Working from the real Belfort’s autobiography, screenwriter Terence Winter structures Wolf as a series of swindles and bacchanals which grow redundant and draining by design; Jordan’s the life of the party, but he’s also the one waking up in a puddle of fluid the morning after. He’s surrounded by men, including Jonah Hill as a composite second-incommand, who’ll do anything for him as long as the money keeps coming — and it does. Wolf runs the risk of making financial corruption seem attractive, but that’s because it is — at least to those of sufficient amorality, willing to pay the fines and do their brief terms. It won’t turn people off financial crime any more than any cautionary tale can stop people from trying drugs, but it’s a frightening and clear-eyed look at why so many

[ movie shorts ]

indulge, and why they get to keep on indulging. —Sam Adams (Roxy Theater, UA Riverview)

✚ REPERTORY FILM FREE TO LOVE: CINEMA OF THE SEXUAL REVOLUTION International House, 3701 Chestnut St., 215-387-5125, ihousephilly.org. Radical Sex Education Films from San Francisco’s Multi-Media Resource Center: Sex-ed films like

you’ve never seen before. Thu., Jan. 30, 7 p.m., $9. Pat Rocco Program: Nearly two hours of short films by the queer auteur. Fri., Jan. 31, 7 p.m., $9. Barbarella (1968, U.S./France/ Italy, 98 min.): Jane Fonda stars as a space-age vixen in Roger Vadim’s cult classic. Sat., Feb. 1, 5 p.m., $9. No More Excuses (1968, U.S., 46 min.), The Continuing Story of Carel & Ferd (1970-75, U.S., 59 min.): Robert

Downey Sr.’s jumbled, time-traveling experiment, and Arthur Ginsburg’s foray into a real couple’s relationship. Sat., Feb. 1, 7 p.m., $9. Boys in the Sand (1971, U.S., 90 min.): A low-budget porno that helped the genre gain mainstream attention. Sat., Feb. 1, 10 p.m., $9.

INTERNATIONAL HOUSE 3701 Chestnut St., 215-387-5125, ihousephilly.org. Operation Atropos (2006, U.S., 59 min.): The Women Film the War on Terror series kicks off with a doc on advanced interrogation techniques. Wed., Feb. 5, 7 p.m., free.

PHILAMOCA 531 N. 12th St., 267-519-9651, philamoca.org. Seisaku’s Wife (1965, Japan, 93 min.): As an outcast who falls in love with a returning soldier, Ayako Wakao won Japan’s equivalent of an Oscar for acting. Wed., Feb. 5, 7:30 p.m., free.

More on:

citypaper.net ✚ FOR COMPREHENSIVE EVENT LISTINGS, VISIT C I T Y PA P E R . N E T / L I S T I N G S .

f&d

foodanddrink

amusebouche By Adam Erace

BREAKFAST CLUB TELA’S MARKET & KITCHEN | 1833 Fairmount Ave., 215-235-0170, telasmarket.com. Mon.-Fri., 6:30 a.m.-8 p.m.; Sat.-Sun., 8 a.m.-8 p.m. Breakfast/ brunch, $2-$9; lunch, $6.95-$9.95. ➤ AT 10:30 A.M. ON a Sunday, there was nowhere to sit. Inside the gleaming construction of concrete, Carrara marble, barn wood and subway tile that is the new Tela’s Market & Kitchen on the edge of Fairmount (technically Francisville), the butcherblock tables, communal and otherwise, were occupied by dovey-eyed couples and a dude pecking away at his Mac and nursing a coffee. Up at the counter, a cheerful clerk poured me a mug of mellow Four Barrel coffee while I swiveled back to the dining room to inspect. A table opened. I sent my wife after it: “Go. GO!” But she was too late, headed off by an eagle-eyed mom. With a crazy affordable menu by a former Garces guy, 33-year-old Chad Williams, and homey touches like wildflowers in milk bottle vases, it’s not hard to see why the neighborhood has taken so quickly to Tela’s. The place is named for the building owner's pet beagle — and pronounced Tela like tea, not Tela like novella. In the time it took me to fix my coffee at a pipeand-plank, cream-and-sugar station, two seats had opened up at the communal table. If you’re looking for luxe eggs Benedict and French toast impregnated with red velvet frosting, Williams’ straightforward brunch menu is not for you. He traffics in simpler, more honest morning fare, like butter-soaked slices of eggy brioche toast and creamy grits with bacon and black kale. A fruit salad was fresh and bright, an omelet marbled with roasted red peppers, tomatoes, onions and chèvre. But there was definitely room for improvement, too. The welcome thicket of frisée alongside the omelet was not dressed, and while the brioche was made in-house, the accompanying strawberry jam was not.A stack of buttermilk pancakes was spongy, soft and crowned with staid cinnamon apples; calling them a ‘chutney’ is pretty misleading. The sandwiches at lunch (meatball Parm, baconjammed short rib) sound tempting, and Williams just launched his weekly Dinner Table series, so I’ll have to go back. Here’s hoping I can find a seat. (adam.erace@citypaper.net)

BRICK AND MORTAR: Jonathan and Justin Petruce along with beverage manager Tim Kweeder breaking in their new wood-fired oven. SCHUYLER ALIG

[ preview ]

WHEN A FIRE STARTS TO BURN Jonathan and Justin Petruce will be lighting up the wood-fired ovens at Petruce et al. in February. By Caroline Russock t all began with a phone call late at night from a drunken future server. Tim Kweeder picked up the phone: “Tim! You and Justin and Jonathan should open a restaurant!” mimics Justin Petruce, in his best yelling/slurred, wasted-dude impression. “Me and my brother had a plan to open a pizza place that never came to light,” Justin explains. “So we basically just said, ‘Hey, let’s all do this.’” More on: With restaurant openings, things do have a tendency to come together at the last minute. Venturing into the future home of Petruce et al. on a chilly January afternoon, I found things in full constructionsite mode, with workers drilling, hammering and sawing away, working hard to get the ventilation system in place. In just two short weeks, 1121 Walnut St., an airy, stained-glass-fronted former home to a women’s-clothing boutique, is going to be transformed into Petruce et al., one of the year’s most anticipated openings.

citypaper.net

Originally from northeastern Pennsylvania, brothers Justin and Jonathan Petruce began their Philadelphia cooking careers at David Katz’s dearly departed Mémé in Fitler Square. After a year there, chef Chadd Jenkins of Fish told Justin that Little Fish chef Mike Stollenwerk was looking for someone. Justin wasn’t at Fish for long before Stollenwerk handed him the reins. “I wasn’t gonna say no,” Justin recalls. “That was exactly what I was looking for.” And it was a desire for a kitchen of their own that lead to Petruce. Although there are no plans for pizza at Petruce, Justin and Jonathan’s inspiration come from a similar method of cooking. In the kitchen, they installed a custom, wood-fired oven, made by local craftsman Brian Klipfel of Fire Works Masonry, and an Argentinian grill, both of which are going to be used in all aspects of the menu. On the sizable sample menu, the page is broken down into small plates and vegetables, pastas, and larger cuts of meat and fish meant for sharing. Decidedly rustic, MORE FOOD AND the menu has influences ranging from DRINK COVERAGE Southern Italy to the American South. AT C I T Y P A P E R . N E T / Beef tartare with pumpkin seeds and M E A LT I C K E T. pickles is served on pane carasau, a twicebaked Sardinian flatbread. A lamb breast is accompanied by onion rings, red wine and capricho de cabra, the Spanish equivalent of a soft, French chèvre. Octopus gets the Southern treatment with rice grits, field peas and house-made hot sauce. Petruce is sourcing from a selection of very-close-to-home farms, >>> continued on page 34

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[ food & drink ]

✚ When a fire starts to burn <<< continued from page 33

The trio was in on the project from the first drunken phone call. including Hood Rich, a self-proclaimed “a hand-to-mouth vegetable operation” out of Fishtown, and Overbrook Herb Farm in Lansdale. The vegetable-heavy menu is filled with outliers like cardoons, amaranth and salsify. And then there’s the bread. Jonathan and Justin have been perfecting their woodfired-bread game with a series of classes at COOK, where they teased the menu and educated students in the finer points of dough-making. But don’t expect crusty slices to land on your table without asking. Instead of plonking down a de rigueur bread basket, they’re planning to roll out bread courses, not unlike what Eli Kulp and company have been doing at High Street on Market. Giving bread its own place at the table transforms what could be an afterthought into something to relish. Speaking to the Petruce brothers about their anticipated opening (“around Valentine’s Day”), I realized that nothing is an afterthought. They brought in sommelier Kweeder, a longtime friend, to head up the wine program. The trio worked together at Fish and was in on the project from that first drunken phone call. Kweeder, along with a handful of other wine-minding folks in town, has been making it his mission to bring natural wines to the forefront in Philadelphia. At his last post, at a.bar/a.kitchen, he curated a list of small-production bottles that remains the most exciting in the city. And he’s going to be preaching the gospel of natural wines at Petruce as well, with a custom-built, marble-topped wine station set up near the restaurant’s entrance. “Minimally manipulated wines that fly stealth under the [Robert Parker] ‘point-score’ radar,” Kweeder says of the list. On the cocktails end is George Costa, a face that frequenters of Southwark and Pub & Kitchen will be more than a little happy to see. Echoing what’s happening in the kitchen, the plan for the bar is to house-make as much as possible via syrups, infusions, and fresh-squeezed juices to create a mix of classic and modern cocktails. And then, of course, there is dessert. Justin himself will head up the pastry program. “I never really worked with a pastry chef before,” he said. “I always had to do it myself and learn along the way.” Along with an intriguing dessert lineup that includes combos like shortbread, maple and mozzarella; and roasted pineapple, coconut, chocolate and mochi, Petruce has invested in a soft-serve ice cream machine. In Justin’s estimation, there isn’t a better dessert in the world. First up? Soft-serve made with gjetost, sweet-savory Scandinavian goat’s milk cheese. “The first time I tasted it I thought, ‘This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever had in my life,’” he said. “‘This would make an incredible ice cream.’” (caroline@citypaper.net) 34 | P H I L A D E L P H I A C I T Y PA P E R |

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[ i love you, i hate you ] To place your FREE ad (100 word limit) ➤ email lovehate@citypaper.net ALL OF YOU! Some people hang out like you are the best friends of the century and I think that it is pathetic, why did I want to somewhat want to be in you click and I am thinking now, what the fuck is that.. I am grown and I don’t need anyone to validate who I am! I am strong and successful and I don’t come to the place of work for such foolishness. I can’t believe that things do happen the so-called work family job! I have to remember to stay my distance..I gotta remember that..and I wasn’t the type of person to get close anyway so why the fuck am I complaining now?

and there is nothing really appealing about your attitude. I can’t understand your way of thinking and I wonder who the fuck else you plan on fucking over! I hate the fact that you don’t want to say anything else about what is important, but I want you to know to kiss my ass, and this has really changed me and my life from here on!

to their face. what is so hard about this concept? what is so hard about loyalty? 1 lie, or 1 event can change a relationship that may have taken years to build. i just don’t understand people who value human relationships so little, little enough to betray. so many are like this. it makes my heart sad.

MY DARLING JUST NOT THAT DEDICATED You are a stupid dude....do you think someone really needs you?...nobody needs you...you aint shit...

Cranky, blunt, abrasive Philadelphians: I have moved half way across the county and, after the push and pull of an undersized, overcrowded city,

DO YOU LIKE I wanna know what you are doing...I want to know what you are thinking...do you think about me and you? I love the feel of your skin with mine. I love the fact that you are just who I want you to be! I love the face that when you touch my hair I feel like magic. You make me feel like magic! I love the magic that I feel. I want you in my bed, everywhere I am I want you to be! Could you or will you lay in bed with me and read me a poem. Love me, feel me! I wanna be the mother of your kids.

DON’T UNDERSTAND What was the real logic of what the fuck you did? Can you tell me that? Why are there so many miserable people in this world? Why do people try to think that they can sleep with your boyfriend and get away with it! Who the fuck do you think that you are, you know if I catch you over my house I am going to punch you in the face. To my wanna-be boyfriend you think that you real slick don’t you, I know exactly what you are doing, how about this you sleep with that bitch and leave me the fuck alone because I am tired of it! I am just tired of being the fuck tired. Oh girly. by the way when he kisses you you are eating me out....don’t you know!

HIGH & DRY! I don’t understand what the fuck the situation is and who you calm to be is a false lie from the beginning. You claim to have been so cool from the beginning but when I look at your face I could see that you were a liar from the start! I notice that you are a snake and I say to myself, why the fuck are you still running your mouth over and over

SICK TO MY STOMACH The thought of you is nauseating, your name leaves a volatile taste in my mouth. I thought one day I’d have a second chance but I realized you’ve never even given me a first. All you were ever concerned about was getting laid, despite both of our significant others and my resistance. Every time I tried to talk about how I feel you just kept trying to seduce me. I wish I could tie you to a chair, duct tape your mouth shut, and tell you how I feel now. You’re a pompous, self projecting, selfish little prick. Did all of those hurtful things you said to me make you feel better about yourself? I can’t believe I wasted even a heartbeat on you. The only thing I have to thank you for is helping me realize how much of a great guy I have and how ashamed I am of what we did, I’m haunted by it daily. Tell me, did you care about your girlfriend that you complained about constantly when you were fucking me? Because you sure did care when she dumped you. Real men settle down, little boys play around. Stop bragging about how you can make a lesbian cum and grow up little boy.

STOP FUCKING TEXTING I just wanted to say to the two people...and they know who they are..you guys are my friends but I don’t appreciate the fact that everything that you have to say to me you do it through a damn text.. look stop being fucking lazy and pick up the damn phone...who wants to hear that someone died or whatever on the fucking text..you guys I don’t want to say that you are assholes but you are..but I still love yall!

GOD WILL LET YOU WATCH Someone put something on facebook awhile back and forwarded it to me so I printed it out and kept looking at it looking at it thinking to myself. What exactly does this mean, it said when people do you wrong don’t worry about seeking revenge, if you are lucky God will take care of everything and if you are lucky God will let you watch! I never read something more true in my life. I am not worry about you chick, you are a played out ass bitch with you 1970’s hair style. Get a fucking makeover. Because in the long run I will still be smiling and like the sign said, God will take care of you!

before! It felt so real that I could do that! I didn’t understand what and why I never got this before from anyone! We would make a lovely couple if you had time for me! I can’t make you have time for me but I do what you to know that I really like you! You and I could be a good couple if you would try! I wanted to jump in your lap and straddle you and love you! Give us a chance!

WHAT I HATE MOST

you just pretend that you are the only person that can do certain things and that makes you extendable...nobody is extendable. You are an asshole! I think you suck with your mood swings...that is why you don’t have any fucking body...between the family and no kids no nothing. Who would want to be bothered with you...you’re fucking pathetic!

can run the shit out of any midwest town that calls itself a city. However, I do miss skyscrapers, busy streets and even the self-absorbed brutally honest friends from home. Just rest assured Philly, you are way more eclectic and eccentric than any where else by far. Miss you rittenhouse, miss you favorite bum on walnut street, miss you polluted skyline.

What the hell do I hate most...I hate when people at work think that you are supposed to do their jobs as well as your job...what the fuck...are you going to give me your damn check also...I hate when fat people are on the bus or train and they stand there in the fucking aisle and take up alot of space and you are trying to get by and then mistakenly you rub up again them and they try to turn around and give you a look like it is your fault that they are fat! WoW!! What the fuck....I hate the fake-ass concern people have just to know all of your business. I just wanted to share some of my frustrations...tone in next time for “WTF is wrong Now!!”

LIES, LIES, LIES what has happened to loyalty? if you don’t want a boyfriend/girlfriend then don’t have one. don’t keep it to yourself and cheat to pass the time. if you consider yourself a friend to someone don’t lie

SEXY JUST SO FUCKING SEXY! I can’t get enough of you and when I listen to this song I automatically think about you! You and I sat on the couch and kissed that never happened

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