FOOD ARTS FILM REVIEW deciding that I wasn’t feeling it anymore,” she says. “Not everyone has that luxury.” Murray likens coding to bartending because everyone has the same tools at their disposal and the artistry comes from what you build with the skills you’ve honed. She’s pleased that, with her new venture, there’s one more woman coder in the world. But she’ll miss the relationships she built with coworkers as they cranked through busy nights of service in unison. Like Lloyd, Murray hopes bar owners invest more in their employees. “They’re always looking at numbers, not at their staff and people,” she says. “There are exceptions to that rule, usually when bars are owned by former bartenders. Hopefully they don’t fall into the same traps.” Better training is needed, according to Halimah Saalakhan. At 16, she started working in restaurants as a host and worked her way up through a variety of positions including server, barback, bartender, and bar manager. “There’s not enough training and support,” she says. “Workers get overwhelmed quickly if they have no training.” Depending on tips was stressful, as was not receiving basic benefits like health care and life insurance. “Sometimes you go to work and don’t even make gas money, and you’re so discouraged and beaten to hell,” she continues. “You still gotta keep your smile on and hope and pray a table will tip 20 percent.” She’s convinced many diners think tips are bonuses, and not how servers and bartenders earn the lion’s share of their money. “It makes people even more discouraged when they don’t get the money for the hard work they’re putting in. It makes them switch places or get out altogether.” COVID-19 somewhat spurred Saalakhan’s exit from the industry. She was bartending at Satellite Room when it closed at the end of 2019. Then she took a job managing at Buttercream Bakeshop. When the Shaw bakery temporarily closed because of the pandemic in March, she saw it as a sign to focus on her own event planning business, Design Innovation Yourself. It had been a side project for four years. During the pandemic, Saalakhan has been helping couples set up themed date nights in their homes or hotels, and she’s put on the occasional intimate wedding. She also has satellite businesses selling crystal jewelry and organic dog treats. Soon she’ll partner with Pet Winery to be a wholesaler of non-alcoholic “wine” and “beer” for cats and dogs. “The hospitality industry taught me how to manage a bunch of different things at one time,” Saalakhan says. “Talking to people has been my
most valuable skill set that I got working in hospitality. We have to learn how to talk to different types of people, feel them out, and make sure they leave happy. It became rooted in me. Customer service is a big part of my business venture.” Unlike others, Jo McDaniel still has one foot firmly planted in the hospitality industry. She manages Adams Morgan queer bar A League of Her Own, but passed her real estate licensing exam earlier this month, should it prove useful down the line. Other exhospitality industry professionals have blazed similar trails and are giving McDaniel advice. “If you are good with talking to others, working with urgency, and managing personalities, sales is a good pivot from the restaurant industry,” says Mark Rutstein, who previously worked at JR’s and the now-closed Cobalt in Dupont Circle. Now he’s a realtor with Compass. “My kid is going to be a senior in high school,” McDaniel says. “I’m figuring out what life looks like when everything isn’t about being a single mom. How I could use the skill set I have outside of bartending? I love running A League of Her Own, but I’m pushing 40. The physical toll of it got me thinking about where I can go from here.” She knows she eventually wants to buy and sell residential homes. “Queer women need representation everywhere,” she says. “To be able to potentially sell a queer family their house, I’d be representing our community on another level. Right now, behind the bar, I’m helping people through their first dates and planning their weddings. When you have regulars, you get to watch people go through that.” The secret to staying in the hospitality industry a long time, according to McDaniel, is finding a way to make shift work fit into a healthy lifestyle. That can be tough to do if you regularly sleep in until 11 a.m. after late nights. It also helps to have a partner who works similar hours. “For people who stay longer, being childless makes it easier,” she admits. There are also financial considerations that need fixing. “COVID notwithstanding, being able to make a living in a city that’s as expensive as D.C. would be helpful,” McDaniel says. “As a manager, you have to work somewhere that can afford to pay a salary. That means not working at fun places that have an impact in the community. My bar will be two years old next month. It’s not enough time for us to have established ourselves. I can stay longer if I have another source of income feeding me.” Still, she says it will be hard for her to walk away. “There’s nothing on earth like a really good shift, and you’re always sort of chasing that.”
“I’m not saying that I’ll never get back into bartending again, but right now, it’s not there... it’s a lot of physically demanding work. It feels good not to go home and want to fall through the door. Eventually, the party’s gotta be over.”
Violent Crimes The Shadow of Violence Directed by Nick Rowland Barry Keoghan has quickly risen to that top tier of actors that I’ll watch in absolutely anything. You might not know his name, but his face, somehow cherubic and demonic at once, is impossible to forget. He was the earnest helper on a boat journey in Dunkirk and the mysterious teenager who torments Colin Farrell and his family in The Killing of a Sacred Deer. He’s terrific in a supporting role in The Shadow of Violence, playing the short-fused son in a closeknit crime family. It’s an archetype that goes back to The Godfather, but Keoghan infuses it with fresh details. With his platinum hair, deepset eyes, and violent temper, he’s a boy trying to hide that he’s nowhere near ready for the real world. The film is a new twist on an old, essential move. On paper, The Shadow of Violence is nothing special. It’s filled with plot elements that, if you’re familiar with stories about organized crime, you’ve seen a hundred times before. Even the title sounds like a fake film within a film about Hollywood. But its pedestrian screenplay, based on the novella Calm with Horses by Colin Barrett, is enlivened by the strength of its filmmaking and a collection of truly stellar performances. Keoghan gets the most colorful role, but, guided by first-time feature director Nick Rowland, each actor in The Shadow of Violence creates their own riveting interpretation of our flawed, beautiful humanity. Our protagonist is Arm (Cosmo Jarvis), an ex-boxer in a Irish coastal town who, after killing an opponent in the ring, has taken work as an enforcer for a local crime family. Dympna
(Keoghan), the hot-headed son of the clan, manipulates Arm into doing their dirtiest work—beating people who have crossed them to a bloody pulp—by making him feel like he’s part of the family. We don’t know the details of Arm’s upbringing, but it’s easy to see that his acceptance into this unorthodox family fills a childhood void. He offers them protection. They do the same for him. He is a mountain of a man, muscled beyond description, but Jarvis’ beautifully recessive performance forces us to look deeper. His eyes, tiny slivers set against his enormous physique, reveal a volatile tenderness reminiscent of a young Marlon Brando. As Arm struggles to balance his violent work with his wish to be a presence in the life of his ex-girlfriend Ursula (Niamh Algar) and their son (Kiljan Moroney), a portrait emerges of a conflicted man who has reason to fear both his rage and his compassion. He lives in two worlds, and each is a liability. It’s only a matter of time before they dangerously collide, and Arm is forced to choose. It’s a promising feature debut from Rowland, who displays an instinct for storytelling that is well beyond his years. It’s there in his exemplary use of color, like the way Ursula, with her pale skin and blonde hair, seems to blend into the yellow walls of her kitchen, making Arm look even more out of place amidst her domesticity. It’s in the way he conveys the impact of violence, showing the blood on Arm’s knuckles, without ever reveling in the bloodshed. It’s in the way the story of this boxer-turned-bruiser becomes a universal tale of quarter-life crisis, of trying to get your shit together before your chance at happiness passes you by for good. It’s the rare occasion in which trite material is elevated into high art through the sheer competence of all involved. —Noah Gittell The Shadow of Violence is available Friday on VOD.
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