A love song from the Holocaust

Imagine a love song written during the Holocaust. Makes you shiver. But so much Jewish music is a velvety blend of sadness and grace; the intermingling of the two gives resonance to the art.

“Unter Dayne Vayse Shtern” is that rare breed, a love song borne of the Shoah. (I’ve seen the Yiddish title translated both as “Under the White Stars” and “Under Your White Stars.”) As I wrote in this Friday's Weekly, Stanford composer Jonathan Berger was taken by the song, which Abraham Sutzkever wrote in the Vilna Ghetto in 1943. It’s the root of Berger's piece “Tears in Your Hand,” which has its U.S. premiere next month.

Jonathan was kind enough to send me a partial translation of the song:

I am chased by evil spirits
They goad me on stairways and in courtyards
I have only a broken violin string
with which to sing to you:
Under your white stars
extend your white hand to me
My words are tears
which want to rest in your hand

The song has captured the interest of many musicians, including Israeli singer Chava Alberstein and American actor and tenor Mandy Patinkin. (Click on their names to find audio clips of them singing the song.)

As for Sutzkever, he escaped from the ghetto in 1943 and became a resistance fighter, I learned from Wikipedia. He now lives in Tel Aviv.

I hadn’t known what his fate was, but was warmed to hear it was more sweet than bittersweet.

Pictured: Chava Alberstein. Photo from Aviv Productions.

You can go home again (at least for a latte)

Spotted at the uber-hangout Cafe Borrone last Saturday was TV and film actor James Franco, he of "Spider-Man," "Flyboys" and "Freaks and Geeks."

Ooh, I sound like a gossip columnist. If only I knew what he'd been wearing. But my secret source, who surely wasn't Weekly film critic Tyler Hanley, somehow didn't notice this crucial piece of information.

Not surprising that Monsieur Franco should be around these parts. He's a Palo Alto native and a Paly graduate. And, according to someone who could have been Tyler, he seems like a friendly guy who doesn't mind being recognized. See? We grow 'em nice.

Pictured: James Franco as Harry Osborn in "Spider-Man 2."

That's fantastic

Nice to see local artists hitting the big time (even if we don't know them, we can claim we do).

The folks at Peninsula Youth Theatre have pointed out that a PYT alumnus is making his off-Broadway debut. Nick Spangler joined the cast of "The Fantasticks" earlier this fall, playing The Mute and understudying the role of Matt. The show is playing at the Snapple Theater Center, which I hope is more beautiful than its creepy corporate name.

Before debuting off-Broadway, Nick did many shows around here, working with such South Bay groups as West Valley Light Opera and Sunnyvale Community Players. His resume also says he can walk on his hands and do lasso tricks. And you wonder why I love the theater.

Chorus angelorum

So you have the family holiday traditions, and the yawner December obligations (whee! circling for 45 minutes to find parking at Valley Fair!). Personally, I like the idea of an arts holiday tradition. Now that I have seen Chanticleer's Christmas show at Stanford two years in a row, I'm declaring it a time-honored family ritual. Passed down from me to me.

Plenty of folks go to the concert every year, and last night Memorial Church was full of cheerful red sweaters and families who packed the pews early. There was a warmth you wouldn't expect on a chilly night in a stone sanctuary.

Anyone who has heard the men of Chanticleer sing knows they have stunning, pure voices. But as a singer I was also impressed with their diction. Their words were so crisp that I found myself following along with German, medieval Italian and Latin. I do not speak these languages. But after last night I can pretend.

(Me, interviewing people for a story: "Dicite! Annunitiate nobis!")

Anyone else have local arts holiday traditions to share?

By the way, don't go to chanticleer.com if you're interested in learning more about the chorus (the singers' website is .org). You will end up on some guy's blog called "christophe thinks out loud."

Photo courtesy of Chanticleer's website.

Bluegrass Baroque with Brittany

One of my favorite young musicians will be back in the Bay Area soon, playing a gig in Mountain View. Brittany Haas, a Princeton student hailing from Menlo Park, is a pro in the world of old-time fiddling. When I interviewed her a couple years back, I also found her to be sweet, articulate and totally unpretentious.

Now this sounds like quite a show: Brittany will play on Dec. 16 with bluegrass guitarist Scott Nygaard, sisters Chris and Cassie Webster (Chris is a soul/country singer, and Cassie is a Baroque opera soprano), and jazz bassist Cindy Browne.

The folks at Redwood Bluegrass Associates, who are organizing the shindig, say Brittany and Scott will open the show with a set of fiddle-guitar duets.

Go here to hear "Dry and Dusty," my favorite of Brittany's recordings. It's rare that a song can be mournful and uplifting at the same time, but this one simply soars.

Pictured: Brittany Haas. Photo courtesy of her website.

Ode to the accordion

Last Friday I dropped by Whole Foods for some peanut butter and ended up in a real-life piece of Palo Alto street theater.

The evening’s soundtrack came from Naomi Zamir, who was playing Central European folk songs on her gleaming accordion on the sidewalk. She smiled at me as I stopped to listen. A woman on her way into the store exclaimed: “Squeezebox sister! I play, too.” Zamir would have been happy to play a duet, but she had to settle for a chat with me.

Zamir, who lives in Menlo Park, told me she grew up on a kibbutz in Israel. The Hungarian nurses that she and the other children had gave her a connection to Central European music. The nurses also had too-vivid memories of World War II.

Zamir kept playing her plaintive songs, and presently a young woman came out of the grocery store in tears. The music, she said, made her emotional because it reminded her of her home in New Orleans. She comes from a neighborhood that was destroyed by the hurricane, and she and her accordion-playing friends all ended up in different areas after the disaster.

She lingered for a long time to listen, wiping her face from time to time, and Zamir said encouragingly, “It’s good to cry.”

Photo by Davi Cheng, courtesy of morgueFile.com.

Roamin' recorders

Is it me, or was it impossible to make any meaningful music on those plastic recorders we got as kids? All I could ever produce was a weak tootle-oot like some demented animal mating call. I'm lucky I wasn't attacked by tree frogs.

Recorders should be left to folks like the Mid-Peninsula Recorder Orchestra (look up). A press release about their concert this Saturday afternoon inspired me to skulk around the web listening to various musicians. Although I am still bruised from my childhood experiences, I will admit that the recorder can sound groovy.

Mexican musician Horacio Franco can make his recorder sound like a flitty little bird (listen to the top clip). A bird, we hope, that takes out tree frogs in a single bound.

Listening to Eva and Enrico Rosa, I'm not sure if I should be watching the waves from a fishing ship or doing the Half Lord of the Fishes Pose.

OK, this one wins the prize. Check out the Bremen Recorder Touring Company doing jazz's "Take Five." If anyone ever plays "Take Five" in outer space, it will sound like this. I love it.

Photo courtesy of Mid-Peninsula Recorder Orchestra's website.

At least it wasn't an Oldsmobile

So I saw the new Bond movie last night. Loved it, loved it. Ridiculous amounts of fun.

The best part about Daniel Craig as the illustrious spy is that he doesn't strut around like an illustrious spy. You don't get the feeling (as with some other Jameses) that he's always preening for the camera: "Notice how my eyebrows stay natty even when I'm strangling a bad guy? And, oh, my chiseled ear lobes."

Naw. This guy's a raw, real, character who still wears a tux with aplomb. And, icing on the gateau, the man can act. The script handed him a few sappy lines, but Mr. Craig delivered them flawlessly, without making anyone in the movie theater titter.

There were, however, noticeable snorts at the first dramatic shot of Bond driving his new wheels. The camera swooped in for the gratuitous product placement, and then -- wait for it -- we saw the stodgy blue Ford logo.

Oh, people. That was the sexiest car you could find?

She blinded me with science

I like an exhibit where you can sit on a beanbag. Someone should tell the Louvre.

Gail Wight's show at the Thomas Welton Stanford Art Gallery has two beanbags in front of a projection screen. Also, a huge microscope you can adjust, oversized butterflies under pins, and video of a live mouse nosing around a robotic one.

Wight is a professor of electronic media art at Stanford, and here she jabs an elbow in the ribs of scientific exploration. She says we should look beyond the narrow focus of the laboratory to connect science to our human world. Humor is a good tool for that: how can you not feel connected with a microscope the size of a Buick?

It's a curious exhibit. I'm not sure I got it all, and the butterflies sort of gave me the creeps, but I was inspired to sit, stare and play for a while.

Share it all, my friends, in a video I shot. In the beginning, a museum visitor explores an interactive screen with pictures of animals that look like antique prints. I think he's playing our song.


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Fall photos 2

And a few more fall images from Palo Alto.

Right: Those darn pumpkin boys are making fun of that nice girl again. Their mama should squash that sort of behavior...oh, Rebecca, that was awful.

Who wants to turn playwright and imagine the dialogue from this scene?


Below: Autumn tries valiantly to come to Palo Alto. I think it might be too sad to imagine this forlorn little tree's monologue.

Both pictures were taken on Ramona Street by Rebecca Wallace.

Fall photos

Autumn is my favorite season.
Really, isn't it yours?

The changing leaves, golden slants of sunlight, roast chestnuts sold on the corner, mulled wine, nip in the air... Um. Sorry. Was enmeshed in wishful non-California dreaming.

But I still found some fall-like images while strolling around downtown Palo Alto recently. (I post them here especially for the reader who has moved back East and likes to read this blog for news of dear old PA. An entirely different kind of California dreaming.)

Pictured: Above right: Fall leaves and late-afternoon light near the venerable St. Thomas Aquinas Church. Above left: Public art in a playground. Photos by Rebecca Wallace.

Good thing going

If I'd known they were going to change shows, I would have worn earrings.

I'm thrilled to hear that TheatreWorks is replacing its last show of the season, trading in Sondheim's "Follies" (for budget reasons, I hear) for his "Merrily We Roll Along," which will open next April.

"Merrily" is just about my favorite show, an intricate work with rich, emotional music and themes. It doesn't get done nearly enough.

The story of three friends rolls backwards in time, granting unique insight into the ways youthful aspirations -- and love -- harden over the years. So much can get lost along the way, and this is reflected in the music. "Good Thing Going," for instance, starts out as a poignant ballad. But in the search for a Broadway hit it gets vamped into a blaring blast of a song. Very sneaky how it happens.

Two years ago, I played Beth, the innocent young singer-turned wronged wife, in a production of "Merrily" in Sunnyvale, and she's still my favorite role. (I even enjoyed having the evil Gussie throw a drink on me every night -- it was worth it to get to sing "Not A Day Goes By.")

This "Merrily" is a revival for TheatreWorks, and frankly (oh, terrible pun), I'm eager to see what they do with it.

Pictured: The CD cover from the 1994 Off-Broadway revival cast of "Merrily"

A dramatic choice

Larger-than-life musicals are usually the norm at the Portola Valley Theatre Conservatory, based at Valley Presbyterian Church. Like "Fiddler on the Roof," or the recent production of "Nunsense" that had me giggling like a loon.

This time, though, the conservatory is taking a brave leap, doing "The Laramie Project," which deals with the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard in Laramie, Wyoming. According to testimony, Shepard was killed in large part because he was gay; he was beaten and left for dead on a buck fence.

Bravo to the group for choosing this play. That's true dramatic theater: not being afraid to throw yourself into the morass of human emotion and deed, however devastating it may be. And hoping you can learn and teach something.

The Rev. Cheryl Goodman-Morris, director of "Laramie" (and a lovely friend of mine), said the play is not just about Shepard; it's about the whole town of Laramie after the murder. Here, 20 actors play more than 60 parts (the script is based on real interviews), portraying a variety of residents in all their divergent views. In one scene an actor might portray a gay man, in the next, a redneck.

"The play doesn't try to sway people one way or another. Its point is that everyone deserves to be treated with tolerance," Cheryl told me. "There are so many voices -- you'll hear your view portrayed."

Because the play will be at a Presbyterian church, its opening is particularly timely, Cheryl said: the denomination -- including Valley Presbyterian -- is dealing nationally with the issue of whether gays should be ordained.

"We have numerous stances in our church, as in all churches," she said. "I thought it would be a good play to open up dialogue."

The actors, who include Palo Alto mother-son team Sally and Ryan Pfleiderer, are a mix of seasoned actors and first-timers. Proceeds benefit several organizations, including Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays.

Shows at the conservatory often sell out; call 650-851-8282, extension 411, for details. I know I'll be there.

Pictured: Marge Murray (played by Ginger Holt) and Alison Mears (Anne Hubble) in a rehearsal for "The Laramie Project."

The disappearing reviewer

Those of you who enjoy reading the wisdom and witticisms of Weekly theater reviewer Kevin Kirby, fear not. Even though he hasn't written for the paper for a spell, he should be back shortly.

Our busy writer's time has been consumed by his own theater projects. He was recently in "Angels in America" at the City Lights Theater Company of San Jose. Now he's directing "Forever Plaid" for the Sunnyvale Community Players. This show, which opens this weekend, centers on four young male singers from the 1950s who perform with harmony and plenty of patter.

Sunnyvale is a wee bit outside the Palo Alto area, so the Weekly won't be reviewing the show. But you're welcome to be a theater reviewer yourself by leaving a comment on my blog...
Pictured: Kevin Kirby during a rehearsal for "Forever Plaid." Photo by Ron Evans.

Quote of the week

Says Weekly photographer Norbert von der Groeben, bursting jubilantly into the newsroom:

"I found a brain! Do you know how much brains are?"

(He had been searching for a plastic brain to photograph for a story on brain cancer. And you thought life in community newspapers was dull.)


Photo by Heinrich Jakob (from morgueFile.com)

The disappearing editor

Apologies to my devoted blog fans (hi, Mom) for not having posted in about 57 days.

But I have a note. Or at least an excuse. I'm in a show in San Jose: "Tomfoolery," a revue of Tom Lehrer songs. The man is a genius. Decades later, his songs are still relevant and hilarious. "Send the Marines," anyone?

And physical comedy is a new experience for me. I usually play an ingenue. Now I get to fall down on the stage, hit people with a yardstick, and throw up into a sombrero. Now that's great theater.

Fellow Tom Lehrer fans, unite! What are your favorite songs?

The revolution on video

Here's a supplement to my previous post about the 1956 Hungarian revolution. It's a clip from the Radio Free Europe video that plays at the Hoover Library and Archives exhibit.

From the uprising to the United States

Anyone who spends .57 of a second on my blog knows I’m interested in everything Hungarian. I used to live in Budapest (and went through a phase of signing my name "Majdnem Magyar").

So I fell all over myself to cover the Hoover exhibit on the 1956 Hungarian revolution for the Weekly. In the process, I met a few 56ers through watching the documentary "Starting Over in America," which was made by Sally Gati and is shown in the exhibit.

For a historic event that seems so far away in space and time, it’s fascinating to find so many California connections. Laszlo and Paulette Fono, who own the Bravo Fono and Babbo’s restaurants in Stanford Shopping Center, are 56ers. Laszlo was also the U.S. National Ski Champion in 1958.

Tibor Landsmann, who helped Red Cross workers during the uprising, now owns a jewelry store in San Francisco. And Vilmos Zsigmond was a student who documented the revolution on 35mm film. Here in the States, he became a cinematographer, nabbing an Oscar for “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and working on a bazillion other movies.

Gati spends a lot of time -- justifiably so -- on the story of her husband, Frank. He was at university in eastern Hungary when the uprising began, but came to Budapest to fight alongside the other students and workers. At first, the feeling of breaking away from Soviet domination was exhilarating, he recounts in the film.

"It was like a longtime dream coming true ... as opposed to running scared," he says. "More like becoming an adult, as far as a nation was concerned."

After the Soviet tanks rolled in to crush the revolution, Gati walked through Western Hungary with his best friend George for five days. They escaped over the Austrian border and ended up on a ship for the United States. Gati became a computer analyst for Bank of America.

For the most part, America treated these 56ers well. They're shown in the film saying: "I was so lucky to get out of there" and "I was born American. I was born in the wrong place."

But a period of transition can be inescapable. I was very moved by these comments of Tibor Landsmann: "In Hungary...I didn't have to worry about dentists or doctors; everything was taken care of by the government. I realized it was not my decision -- it was the government's -- and here you have to think as an independent human being. ... It took me about four, five years to assimilate myself to the American lifestyle."

Reading on the road

For my commute
I cannot root.
The bumpy roads
in disrepute.
And everyone
on the same route.
The carpool lane:
forbidden fruit.

See how literary I've become, now that I listen to books on CD in the car? This is the best way I've found to pass time on the clogged freeways. I'm currently going through every disc offered by the Palo Alto and Menlo Park libraries -- they can be a little scratchy, but you can't beat the price. Is anyone else as addicted as I am?

Sometimes I choose a book just because I like the person reading it. Is that like seeing a play because of its innovative use of spike tape? Well, I may be an off-the-market broad, but I think George Guidall has a dreamy voice.

A few recent reads and humble opinions:

• "The Night Watch" by Sarah Waters. An intricate tale of young people in 1940s London. Sometimes improbable how all their lives intersected, but the characters were so real that I could forgive that. Plus, ever since I was in "Merrily We Roll Along" I've loved stories told in reverse chronological order.
• "The Jane Austen Book Club" by Karen Joy Fowler. I was a total sucker for this. Light and sometimes silly, but a sweet camaraderie among the book-club members. Kudos for adding a male member of the club, too.
• "Seizure" by Robin Cook. This was so ridiculously bad: overwrought, dialogue as cliched as a bad penny, laughable ending. Oh, George, even you couldn't save it.

Photo by Kenn Kiser (from morgueFile.com)

Los Altos life

Inspired by the First Friday Art Walks in Palo Alto, I took an art walk of my own earlier this week (more precisely, an art meander). Downtown Los Altos rolls up the sidewalks at 6 p.m., so it was a welcome change to see Main Street pop to life on a Tuesday morning. Restaurants yawned and stretched, and the bells on shop doors were getting their first jingles of the day.

Strollers stood sentry outside the Art-n-Fun center at 167 Main, where fliers touted classes in sand painting, printmaking, the art of the Asian paper fan, and other arts. I contemplated taking time off work to perfect the pinch pot.

Two doors down, a sign promised the arrival of Vino 100. Ooh, if your pinch pot bombs, you can drown your sorrows here.

There were gracious photos of Ireland's castles and churches in Gallery 9, taken by Roy Harrington. There was an equally gracious Scottish terrier sitting outside Peet's.

Over at Viewpoints Gallery on State Street, I was very taken with the watercolors of Cupertino artist Floy Zittin. She had painted proud birds in front of backgrounds that managed to be murky and inviting at the same time. Like the dreams of a child who wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up. Rarely have I seen such alluring texture in watercolors.

I visited for a spell with this cheerful little guy: a rooster painted on the wall on First Street at Main. He looks like a bird with a purpose. Perhaps he was headed to Viewpoints Gallery to make some new friends.

Pictured at top: "Quail in Brambles," a watercolor painting by Floy Zittin

Local boy makes premiere

If you're going to come back to your hometown, why not bring a New York film crew along?

Last year, Paly graduate Jonathan Yi did just that. He hauled his crew and his NYU expertise to Palo Alto to direct "Shift," a movie about a middle-class kid who gets stuck in a mailroom job -- and learns there's more to life than the college track. Weekly writer Terry Tang hung out on the set and wrote a cover story on the making of the film.

Now it's red-carpet time for "Shift", which is having its Bay Area premiere at the Oakland International Film Festival. The 36-minute movie will have three screenings: on Sept. 21, 22 and 23.

Congratulations to the "Shift" team. (I also like the creepy film poster, where the hero has postmarks for eyes.)

Roaming the reception

The Pacific Art League was hopping last Friday during a reception for a number of exhibits. There were some nice slices of life among the chatting and glass-clinking:

• Why does that man across the room look so familiar? He's in the painting "Feierabend (End of Day)" on the wall. The artist, his wife Masha Lobastov, beams at him. On the canvas, he's distinguished with a charcoal sweater, a volume of Chekhov. Masha jokes, "Because it takes so long for all the details, the models have to suffer."
• Young doctor Mike Wang, whose painting "Care Free" hangs nearby, talks with venerable photographer Fan Ho. Ho's pics of Hong Kong in the 1950s and '60s will soon have another exhibit. The two have hit it off like a house on fire, and it seems like decades of wisdom are being passed down.
• Leah Lubin, a new art teacher at the League, tells me about her class on photo collage. I can barely draw a straight line. I think I might like this art.
• Aldo Lira is another new teacher, from New York. He hands me a postcard, and I'm intrigued by his painting style. Sort of Old Masters meets fantasy, classically winsome women juxtaposed with odd glowing lights in the sky.

Pictured: Aldo Lira's 2004 oil on linen "Interstices II With Citation From Raphael"

All together now

Just returned from a wonderful getaway to Ashland, a peaceful world of parks, artists and an Elizabethan theater to take your breath away.

Near as I can tell, Ashland has only one Starbucks -- banished to the edge of town, three stories underground, just across the California border -- and nineteen independent bookstores on every block. Heaven. The best place was a combination bookstore and antique shop, where we couldn't decide which to covet more, the rare tomes or the vintage musical instruments. We bought a harmonica.

I like this combination idea. I think it would play in Palo Alto. A few ideas:

• An Izzy's Bagels-slash-pedicure salon. Be pampered while you nosh. (Most popular nail polish colors: purple onion and lox trim.)
• A Palo Alto library branch in Watercourse Way. Because we all like to read in the tub.
• A Creamery counter in the Palo Alto Art Center. You could distract yourself from your milkshake brain freeze by looking at the art. And the IDEO exhibit would inspire you to redesign everything. French fries should be shaped like gladiolas.
• A restaurant hybrid: Madison and Fifth-slash-Antonio's Nut House. Because it would be funny to watch the pretty people trip on peanut shells.

The small world of theater

A blast from my theatrical past has arrived in a yellow envelope: a program from a 1985 production of "Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp" at the Palo Alto Children's Theatre.

Thanks to Michael Litfin, assistant director at the theater, for reminding me of my star turn as Zada, one of a crowd of 15 citizens/vendors. (I believe I had nine lines.)

Beautiful theater, delightful people, and a way to build self-confidence and poise, as theater is for so many kids. The harem pants were fun, too.

I wore glasses at the time -- not exactly period -- so I had to go on stage in my nearsighted glory. This turned out to be a boon; if you can't see the audience, it's harder to get stage fright.

Looking at the program, I realized that one of the names in the cast was familiar. It turned out to be a woman who now works with my significant other. We had no idea we'd been in a show together.

Anyone else have good memories to share from children's theater?

Under the sea

Lest I forget the second part of my title, "arts and entertainment editor," here is a website that makes me titter ridiculously loudly at my desk. Watch the videos.

In fact, the site makes me laugh so hard that I shall soon disrupt the entire newsroom, be canned, and no longer be editor of anything.

The bronze age

Lately, whenever art snares my attention, I want to make my own. This explains the blobs of acrylic paint in my living room and the teetery new easel on the balcony. (It's great to be a singer, but you can't hang it on the wall.)

I wonder if there's room in the living room for bronze. I am so taken with the bronze sculptures of Pola Harrel. Her stone, glass and clay work is nifty, too, but there's something lush and inviting about metal. You want to pick it up, see how heavy it is, whether it's warm or cool.

I met Pola once at Gallery House in Palo Alto and found her delightful. I'll definitely swing by the California Avenue joint again after her new exhibit opens on Tuesday.

At left is her "Open To Dream." I love the contrast between the "open" of the title and the secretive, perhaps teasing body language. The woman's cat-like eyes are dreaming, but it's up to the viewer to imagine what she's dreaming about.

The other sculpture that pulls me in is "Julia" (right). Perhaps it's the unexpected use of color. It adds a softness to the bronze, like seafoam. And again there's a bewitching face.

Harrel's work is being shown with the oil painting and encaustic work of David M. Baltzer, whose art is influenced by his many years working in film and video. Check out the exhibit -- it runs through Sept. 16 at Gallery House, 320 California Ave.

A taste for turo

Gratulalok to the Peninsula Women's Chorus -- the singers took third prize in their category in July's choral competition in Hungary.

(The first word means "congratulations" in Hungarian, courtesy of a writer showing off her Magyar skills. That writer would be me.)

Competing in the women's choirs category of the Bela Bartok 22nd International Choir Competition in Debrecen, the PWC singers took on some very complex music (see my Weekly story).

They came in just behind the two choirs from the Czech Republic and Hungary that tied for second place. The competition was judged on point requirements; no one scored enough for first place.

As part of the trip, the PWC singers also performed in Budapest, Prague and Bratislava. Many also developed a taste for turo, a Hungarian sweet cheese, which is sort of like cheesecake to us Yanks.

And I'm happy to see they brought along some quality reading material (click on the picture for a closer look).

Pictured: The chorus at the Fisherman's Bastion in Budapest. Photo courtesy of Kyoko Oishi.

From the editor's desk

You would not believe the mountains of mail I get in this job. Half the time I can't see across the room.

Now I love getting mail, so I can't complain. But you can tell that most of the PR folk inundating me with paper have never even seen the Weekly. I wonder where they think Palo Alto is. You try finding a local angle in a press release about a drum circle in Colorado.

Somehow I am on the list to receive "Las Vegas Food & Beverage Magazine." This one I might not kvetch about. Today, I spent a decadent, undisclosed period of time with the special dessert issue. My favorite description came from writer Amy Wittle, who was salivating over an offering at the Tao Asian Bistro at the Venetian:

"The Giant Fortune Cookie is about the size of a cantaloupe and is filled with white and dark chocolate mousse. The plate is beautifully finished with brightly colored mandarin oranges, lychee, blackberries, strawberries and mango."

Take that, PF Chang's.

A taste of carnatic music

So you can use a passel of flowery verbs and scribble adjectives all over the page, but you can only do so much in words to describe a song.

Fortunately, Surya Nagarajan, the young carnatic music singer I profiled in Friday's Weekly, was kind enough to give me a sample of her art. Here you can listen to a short .mp3 file of Surya performing.

Carnatic music is classical music from Southern India, sung in such languages as Telugu and Hindi. This is just a taste of it; Surya will also hold a solo concert this Sunday at the Mountain View Center for the Performing Arts.

'Squirrel choreography'

Quite an adventurous opening night last week for "Annie Get Your Gun" at Foothill Music Theatre...

Here's sharpshooter Annie on stage, talking about all the game she has shot. Suddenly a real-life squirrel takes a swan dive out of the theater lights and into the audience. A few minutes later, the squirrel vaults onto the stage and goes jumping across it.

Oh, can you imagine the beauty, the critter flying into the air, silhouetted against the set's orange sky? (Director Jay Manley reportedly called it "squirrel choreography.")

No one shot the squirrel, fortunately. In fact, several in attendance began calling him Irving, after "Annie" composer Irving Berlin. After the show, Manley and friends were able to shoo the dear thing back out into the wilds of Foothill College.

Pictured: Jessica Raaum as Annie. Photo by Nancy Fitzgerald.

Death by celluloid

This is so, so bad. I cannot stop snickering at the press release for a new movie called "The Descent." It's about "an all-female caving expedition that goes horribly wrong."

Quoth the press release: "On a daredevil caving holiday, six woman friends are unexpectedly trapped underground when a rock fall blocks their exit. Searching the maze of tunnels for a way out, they find themselves hunted by a race of fearless, hungry predators, once humanoid but now monstrously adapted to live in the dark."

I imagine this will make "Howard the Duck" look like "Citizen Kane."

My friends and I got even more snickers out of making up alternate titles for "The Descent." My favorites:

"Dude, Where's My Luna Bar?"
"Must Love Caves"
"Spelunkadipity"

Mine was by far the worst. The musical theater version: "Sunday in the Dark with Gorge."

Praise (or blame) goes to Ron Evans for the first alternate title, and to Mark Addleman for the other two.

It flew the coop

I feel a strange sort of melancholy now that the Chicken Ranch restaurant has left us.

It brought a frivolous color scheme and rare affordable meals to swanky University Ave. Then there was the rotisserie chicken everything (jerk chicken wrap, anyone?). But, as a Weekly reviewer once almost wrote, you could often throw a pot pie through the joint and not hit a single customer.

I never actually ate at Chicken Ranch, but just this week my companion and I had considered the rotisserie. Then we saw the butcher paper over the windows.

Darn.

Interviewing a survivor

After watching "Forgiving Dr. Mengele," a film about Holocaust survivor Eva Mozes Kor that will be shown as part of the SF Jewish Film Festival, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I interviewed Kor for a story in the July 21 Weekly. Would we have a gloomy talk about her ordeal as a Mengele twin, or would she be preachy about her decision to forgive the Nazis?

Neither. During our phone interview, she was friendly, intriguing, and candid. She praised the film, but noted, "I’d like to be shown as 20 pounds lighter and 20 years younger."

In the film, Eva is remarkably sweet when giving speeches about her life around the country. In one scene, she hugs a girl student who’s in tears over an unknown woe, when she could have easily dismissed her with the thought "Her childhood could never be as bad as mine."

Eva told me: "I was young and I was vulnerable. It would have been helpful to me if someone had come up and told me it would be all right. Even in the U.S., they (young people) have a hard time fitting into the world."

She also spoke to me about her notions of justice. "It’s a funny concept," she said. "If you hang every Nazi criminal or child molester, their crimes are not gone. Those who perpetuate crimes should be removed from society to protect society, but it’s not enough."

The next step for a victim, as Eva has repeatedly proclaimed, is learning to forgive and let go, or the sad tale will never be over. "The best revenge is forgiveness. Then those who have hurt you are no longer hurting you."

Eva grew troubled talking about the one part of the film she wished had not been included, a scene of her meeting with Palestinian teachers. She had hoped for a dialogue about a forgiveness curriculum in their schools, but the teachers would talk only about their grievances with the Israelis, telling story after story of how they had suffered. Eva said she felt attacked.

Forgiveness, she told me, can be impossible for both sides when a conflict is still raging.

"You cannot go up to somebody who’s holding a gun to your head and say, 'I forgive you.'" She laughed ruefully. "Survival and self-preservation always come first."

Then she added, "What do you do when the guns are silent?"

Pictured: Eva Mozes Kor in Auschwitz

Cooling off with lush choral music

After another sweltering day, what a relief last night to escape into the coolness of Stanford University's Memorial Church, listening to lush choral music.

The Peninsula Women's Chorus was holding a free "bon voyage" concert, gearing up for the singers' trip to Central Europe. Gigs in Prague and Budapest and at the Bela Bartok 22nd International Choir Competition in Debrecen, Hungary -- now that's a proper summer vacation.

Kudos to the singers for handling such difficult, intricate music, and to artistic director Martin Benvenuto for ensuring the sounds blended so purely, with such power and control.

My favorite part of the concert was the contrast between "Venite Exultemus Domino" by Magyar composer Levente Gyongyosi and the piece that followed, "Ave Maris Stella" by Chan Ka Nin.

First came the "Venite," sparkling and lively, ending on a high burst that made some in the large audience titter with pleasure. Then the Chan Ka Nin composition flowed in hauntingly, accompanied by a rippling piano. I thought of a river at midnight, perhaps dangerous, perhaps inviting a tempting, dark swim.

It's never too late to write

Do I dare admit I'm writing a novel? Geez. Isn't everyone?

I do not, however, have lofty dreams of fame and fortune. With my arts editor-slash-community theater actor schedule, I merely have aspirations of finishing the darn book.

Which is why I like the theme of next Tuesday's authors' panel at Kepler's Books. It's called "Women Empowered: Picking Up the Pen Later in Life." See, it's never too late to finish your great Hungarian-American novel.

Three authors are scheduled to speak starting at 7:30 p.m. Betty Auchard will talk about her book "Dancing in My Nightgown: The Rhythms of Widowhood," which she wrote after the loss of Denny, her husband of 49 years. Sounds like she's managed to find inspiration and even humor in her stories (and her website has some pretty cute greeting cards she designed).

Gilberta Guth (pictured) also turned to memoir in her "The Fighter Pilot's Wife." I can only imagine the anxiety of being on the ground waiting for your husband to land safely -- melded with the excitement of living in far-flung lands.

And in "The End of Romance: A Memoir of Love, Sex, and the Mystery of the Violin," Norma Barzman harks back to 1973, when she was a blacklisted screenwriter living in Southern France. All this in the midst of the resurgence of fascism in Italy.

Pictured: Gilberta Guth

A doodle a day

Sometimes you do strike gold down the dark mine shaft of the Internet.

The other day, I found this terrific blog called Alex Noriega Sketchblog. Alex says he's an illustrator from Barcelona "whose goal in life is to draw a doodle a day."

More than a doodle. I'm charmed by the lively drawings and the way they jump out of the bright acrylic paint in the background.

Especially nice is Alex's posting of May 21, in which he demonstrates step-by-step how he creates his paintings. He writes with a nice humorous, easygoing style as well. Check it out.

My favorite fountain

I've always liked this little water fountain, but I worry about it, the way you fuss over a skinny kitten, or wonder whether your tomato plant is getting enough water.

It has a brave, geometric flair under the overgrown ferns, but you have to stop walking along Gilman Street in downtown Palo Alto long enough to get a good look. The water fountain doesn't work any more, and its silver basin is filled with leaves and rocks. I bet the bowl on the bottom left was once for dogs (and perhaps skinny kittens), but it's also full.

Today I wiped the dirt off the small plaque on top and read "Altoan Press Fountain, April 1973." The plaque also says that the sculptor was Adrienne Duncan, the designer was Marlene Lawrence, and the artisan was Tony Ramirez.

Does anyone know the story behind my favorite fountain?

You can't go home again

Palo Alto as a stand-in for Wisconsin? Now that's movie magic.

Today, a movie crew is in our neck of the woods, shooting an independent feature film at a home in downtown Palo Alto. "Presque Isle" is set in the Rhinelander, Wisconsin childhood home of director Rob Nilsson.

Here's the cool collaborative piece of the story: Nilsson, who nabbed the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 1987 for "Heat and Sunlight," is working together with students from the San Francisco School of Digital Filmmaking, which is just over a year old. It's all to give the students hands-on experience in making a high-def digital movie -- this is the school's first feature-film project.

And what more do we know about "Presque Isle"? Well, Nilsson says the story covers "themes of memory, human suffering, family reconciliation, and also a portrait of a land much neglected by American cinema." Much of it is also being shot in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Pictured: Nilsson hard at work. Photo courtesy of the San Francisco School of Digital Filmmaking.

Tiffany tale ends happily

As I so humbly predicted on June 14, the special promotional brochure that TheatreWorks mailed out to a random patron -- it was good for one Tiffany necklace -- never surfaced. Oh, the misty murk of our postal system.

But the tale ends happily. The TheatreWorks folks instead drew a name at random from theatergoers at the June 24 opening night of "Vanities." Debbie Appel of La Honda went home with a 12-strand pearl necklace.

Good for her. See? It pays to go to the theater.

The quilt is mightier than the sword

Can you catch more flies with quilting than shouting? OK, so I mixed my metaphors just a tad, but my question is apt when looking at the work of Los Altos artist Linda Gass. She's an avid outdoorswoman who makes beautiful, lush statements about the environment through her art quilts and other works.

I'm especially taken with her quilt "South Bay" (above). It depicts the southern part of San Francisco Bay in remarkable detail, including the salt ponds that stand out so jarringly against the landscape.

With the quilt, Gass's hope is to educate people about the need for restoring wetlands. It's a compelling yet gentle way to do so.

Gass, a Stanford graduate who was in software development before making the move to a fiber artist's life 11 years ago, has a personal record this summer. Her work is being shown in four exhibits miles apart: in France, Washington, North Carolina and Santa Monica.

Apropos for an artist who shows such curiosity about the world.

Pictured: "South Bay," a quilt by Linda Gass. Photo by James Dewrance.

Dream a little dream

A hot, drowsy Friday afternoon: how can I work when I want to snooze under my desk with the AP stylebook as a pillow?

I blame my relaxation on the Stanford Jazz Festival. Whilst typing, I'm tooling around the Internet listening to clips of some of the musicians playing there this summer. Smoooooth.

Check out their sites:
* Cyrus Chestnut (performing at Stanford Jazz on June 24)
* Anton Schwartz (July 17)
* Taylor Eigsti (July 23)

But I thought it was a Fry's ad

I know one little Tiffany's necklace who's feeling mighty lonely.

See, the folks at TheatreWorks decided to try a glittery promotion. A few weeks ago they mailed out 20,000 season brochures -- one had a gold sticker on it. If you get that brochure, you win a necklace designed by Paloma Picasso, with 12 strands of pearls and sterling silver clasps. The bauble is scheduled to be presented on stage June 24 during a production of "Vanities."

But, um, no one has claimed the prize. And the special brochure was randomly placed in a pile of mailers before the address labels got popped on, so there aren't any clues about who the winner is.

I throw out piles of junk mail every week. Doesn't everyone? Do you now kinda wish you hadn't?

Unfortunately, with the amount of dreck clogging our mailboxes, I would be very surprised if the golden ticket ever saw the light of day. (In case I'm wrong, I'll be out back shuffling through the recycle bin.)

Photo by Clara Natoli

The show must...aw, you know the rest

Sometimes the best way to achieve immortality on the stage is to fall off the stage. Honestly, who are you going to remember: the fiery performance, or the actor who accidentally set his leading lady on fire?

Nothing makes me laugh like a good theater catastrophe, assuming no one was wounded in the line of duty. When writing my Weekly cover story on the 75-year history of the Palo Alto Players, I heard a few doozies, like the one about a pizza mistakenly being delivered on stage (see the aforementioned cover story).

I particularly loved the quaint ones I found in “1001 First Nights,” a little book the Players published in 1956 for their 25th anniversary. There was the actress who created a putty nose so convincing that she had to go to the hospital to get it removed.

Then there was the 1946 production of “Chicken Every Sunday,” in which the script called for the actors to talk so many times about an offstage bathroom that one leg-crossing lady came up out of the audience and onstage in search of the toilet.

And, a few more:

“There was that (1939) occurrence in ‘Pursuit of Happiness,’ when an elderly actress, in a complete lapse of memory, got out of costume at the end of Act II, and went home. Which left Garrett Starmer doing a soliloquy in the closing scene of Act III.”

Lastly, actor Tony Morse became a real-life hero during a love scene with Florence Brill in 1934’s “Mary Rose.” According to the book: “Ardor and passion glowed with the intensity of the stage set’s real wall candles -- flames from which slowly started to lick the canvas flat. Without a break in the dialogue, Morse quietly walked over and put out the fire with his hands, after which he returned to his fair lady, placed her back on his knee, and continued his love scene.”

Sunday jazz in the air

I recently got a tour of the Community School of Music and Arts, the remarkable school-slash-concert hall-slash-museum on San Antonio Circle in Mountain View. It was the kind of afternoon that makes you want to drop everything and learn how to play the bugle.

The fruits of piano lessons trickled out of practice rooms, children happily swirled glops of paint in art classes, and the classy 200-seat Tateuchi Hall was just waiting for a concert or a lecture. I managed to restrain myself from jumping on stage and belting out "Not A Day Goes By."

(No, not the Lonestar version. Geez. Go to your room, Junior.)

For a brief time, I wasn’t caught up in the mechanics of covering the arts: deciding which story to put on the cover, which call to return first, how to shorten one writer’s story and rewrite my own…

It just felt good to be in a building dedicated to arts of all kinds. Creative energy everywhere. Music in the air.

There should be plenty of good music at CSMA this Sunday, when the Alan Broadbent Trio brings jazz to that very stage at Tateuchi Hall at 3 p.m. Besides touring and recording, Broadbent is the musical director for Diana Krall and won a Grammy in 1997 for his arrangement of “When I Fall in Love” for Natalie Cole.

Pictured: Putter Smith, who plays bass for the Alan Broadbent Trio (I liked his picture better than Broadbent’s).

May-December, or perhaps July

Elaine Robinson need not apply.

Next Tuesday, Fanny & Alexander in Palo Alto is hosting a Younger Man/Older Woman Party. This appears to be a pet cause of organizer Rich Gosse, who announces boldly in a press release: "The truth is that there are millions of American men who find older women attractive, and we will prove it at tonight's party!"

Several questions arise. How will people be carded at the door? How do you know if you're old or young enough?

And how will they fit all those men in F&A?

A lively lineup

I had a nice chat with the folks from Stanford Lively Arts last week, getting the scoop on their 2006-07 season. (OK, so it doesn't start until October, but I like to plan ahead.) Now there's a job: scouting out performers like a klezmer band from Buenos Aires, a German cabaret chanteuse, and a Japanese taiko ensemble. Lively Arts folks must never have a dull weekend.

Dear readers, I could have given you a sneak peek in the print Weekly. But isn't it more fun to click here and hear? Thus, some audio snippets:

Natalie MacMaster (.mp3 file, 30 sec.)
This Celtic fiddler from Cape Breton plays and step-dances at the same time. Groovy. I hear you can expect a bluegrass-pop-world music fusion when she comes to town on Oct. 20.

Klezmer En Buenos Aires (.mp3 file, 30 sec.)
Do they know from klezmer in Argentina? Musicians Cesar Lerner and Marcelo Moguilevsky certainly think so. When they come to Lively Arts on March 7, 2007, they promise to bring a melange of vibrant Eastern European music and Argentinean folk. And maybe even a little tango.

Irvin Mayfield and the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra (.mp3 file, 30 sec.)
Let's face it: we all feel warmer about New Orleans than ever. Y'all can sample it on April 25, 2007, with help from trumpeter Mayfield wailing on the jazz, swing, blues and spirituals.

If I were to list all the other offerings at Lively Arts, I would be here all night. But here are a few other shows I just may have to catch:

Oct. 11 and Feb. 25: Conductor, radio personality, and the nicest man I've ever interviewed: Rob Kapilow returns to demystify classical music with his "What Makes It Great?" programs.

Oct. 28-29: The Diavolo Dance Company apparently does amazing things with massive wooden structures. Leaping, I hear. A lot of leaping.

Dec. 12-13: "A Chanticleer Christmas" returns for its annual show. Like singers everywhere, I can only sit with my mouth hanging open when these boys roll out the a cappella early music.

For complete info, head over to the Lively Arts site or give 'em a jingle at 650-725-ARTS.

Pictured: Natalie MacMaster. Photo by Margaret Malandruccolo.

Just don't put me in Chapter 11

So, get this: if you spend more money than any other customer in Kepler's bookstore between 9 a.m. May 26 and 9:30 p.m. June 1, you get a character named after you in author Barry Eisler's next thriller.

I'm scratching my head. Love Kepler's, support the independent booksellers...but am I the only one who's getting a strange kind of product-placement headache?

Well, I suppose if there's not a scene in which Laura Linney serves up a delicious, steaming mug of Mococoa, we should all be safe.

Following the muse

I often wonder whether it's possible as an artist to be truly original. As a writer, I sometimes find phrases flowing out so smoothly that I question whether I've heard them before and am repeating them without meaning to. We can't help but be influenced by the words, images and harmonies we absorb every day.

It's a disheartening thought for someone who tries to create something new. But maybe this unconscious influence makes our work richer, gives it context.

Young composer Beeri Moalem seems comfortable with this concept. Much of his work grows from his Jewish heritage; his first concerto, "Barchu," has its main theme derived from a prayer chant.

"Other themes," he said in a written statement, "are derived from Sabbath blessings over wine, and a melody which I cannot quite trace. I don't yet know whether it is a chant I've heard or sung at prayer, or a melody from my own imagination. The muses often play such tricks on composers."

Moalem used these melodies simply as raw material: he "presented, developed, recapitulated" them, weaving them into a full 15-minute composition.

I like this idea of a muse: a gentle starting point, not a gilt-edged finished product dropped on you from the clouds.

"Barchu" will be performed tomorrow at 7:30 p.m. at the Spangenberg Theatre at 780 Arastradero Road in Palo Alto as part of a Gunn High School Orchestra concert. Moalem will play as guest viola soloist. He also happens to be an '02 Gunn graduate who also earned a degree in violin and viola performance from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.

The program also includes Telemann's "Concerto in G Major" (with Moalem on the viola) and the first movement of "St. Paul's Suite" by Holst. Tickets are $5 for adults and $3 for seniors and students; call (650) 354-8264 for more information.

In the name of science

En plein air it's not. In fact, artist Klari Reis' studio sounds more like the labs I grew up in, where my biochemist parents let me play with Erlenmeyer flasks and mold snowmen out of Parafilm.

Hey, did you know there's a film production company in Romania named Parafilm?

But we were talking about Klari. The intrepid artist has to suit up in protective gear to paint with the synthetic (and toxic when wet) plastic she uses to paint molecular structures. Her striking images have such names as "Caffeine," "Xanax," "Ascorbic Acid," "Benazepril."

To maintain the plastic at the right thickness to paint, she keeps her studio at 70 degrees Fahrenheit. This wasn't much fun when she lived in England -- she had lots of space heaters -- but it works well in California.

Klari adds dyes and gels to create the vibrant colors she favors and "make aspects of the image pop out." In England, for whatever reason, she used a lot of red. After moving back to the Bay Area, where she grew up, she found herself using a cheery light yellow-green for the first time.

She has to wait 24 hours for each layer of plastic to dry, which means she usually works on a few paintings at once. Once the plastic is dry, there's just no cleaning her paintbrushes. So she uses disposable brushes and "a lot of plastic spoons."

Here and there, she throws in bright dots with colored glue sticks from a glue gun. That makes it more interesting when you touch the finished product, running your fingers over the smooth surfaces of the plastic and poking the bumpy dots.

And you're allowed -- actually encouraged -- to touch her paintings now hanging in the Chelsea Art Gallery in Palo Alto. Kids, she says, love it. And maybe just a few adults, too. Check it out.

(And take a look at my Weekly story on Klari while you're at it.)

Pictured: Klari Reis in her San Francisco studio. Photograph by Norbert von der Groeben.