"The Class" exposes the heart of the new multi-cultural France

(The following article appeared in the Piedmont Post.)

Unless you’re a teacher, a student or a lazy fly, what happens inside a school’s walls is largely a mystery. The Class, a French film nominated for an Academy Award for best Foreign Feature and recently released in America, succeeds in tearing down the critical fourth wall of a Parisian middle school, allowing a fascinating look at the dynamics of class and culture in modern France.

The original French title of The Class is roughly translated as “between the walls,” which is in some ways a more appropriate title than the one it received on this side of the Atlantic. After French language teacher François Marin (played by François Begeaudeau, a former teacher who wrote the screenplay and the novel on which The Class is based) and his colleagues pass through the entrance of their school on the first day of class, the film never once strays outside the walls of the institution.

Indeed, all we need to know about France’s increasingly multicultural population is revealed in the microcosm of Marin’s classroom. His students’ heritages lie in the myriad of former French colonies, nearby European countries and other international students. There’s Nassim from Morocco, Carl from the Caribbean, Boubacar and Souleymane from Mali, Esmerelda from Tunisia, Wei from China, Damien from Portugal, etc. Then there are just regular and not so regular kids from Paris’s 20th quartier.

The Class focuses its attention on the students’ identity crises and their struggles to co-exist with each other, the institution and Mr. Marin. Marin obviously cares deeply about his students, but whether it’s for drama’s sake or just a character flaw, he spends much less time teaching than he does trying to understand his kids and what makes them tick. He uses the Socratic method to draw his students out and engage them in the French language. He is also mildly racist, culturally insensitive and divides his focus unequally among his students.

Souleymane, Marin’s most troublesome student, is the catalyst for much of the film’s drama. He’s a slacker and a fire starter, but he’s also capable of some quality work when he bothers to do it. Souleymane’s behavior becomes increasingly disruptive, and when Marin calls two of his female students “skanks,” Souleymane erupts in hot-headed fervor, partly to defend his classmates and partly because he simply can’t control himself. That leads to a tense standoff between Marin and his students at recess and a disciplinary hearing where Souleymane’s fate will be determined.

The Class is filmed in documentary style using either very tight close-ups or from a vantage point recalling CCTV when recess is out. Those cinematographic choices, combined with the fact that we never leave the walls of the school, create intense emotional proximity between the characters themselves as well as the audience. By the end of the film, we feel like we personally know every student in the class, even the saddest, most quiet among them.

Delightfully bizarre Coraline a must see

(The following article appeared in the Piedmont Post.)

“Handmade” is an adjective that’s increasingly inapplicable to American animated films. Coraline bucks the computer generated trend popularized by Pixar for a more palpable medium, stop-motion animation. You might even be tempted to reach out and touch the snapdragons, dancing mice or bat-winged Scottie dogs because everything is presented in eye-popping stereoscopic 3D, fusing high- and low-tech with stunning results.

Coraline, based on the novel of the same name by fabulist Neil Gaiman and directed by stop-motion maestro Henry Selick, doesn’t rely solely on visual spectacle. It’s an endlessly creative and inventive film populated by outlandish characters and powered by a post-modern fairy-tale plot. It’s also one of the most delightfully bizarre films to appear on the big screen since Selick’s seminal film The Nightmare Before Christmas and a must see for kids of all ages.

Coraline Jones (Dakota Fanning) is a hip and intelligent single child, but she gets fed up when her blasé, workaholic parents (Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman) relocate the family into the Pink Palace apartments in rainy, muddy, sunless Ashland, Oregon. She soon meets her new oddball neighbors. First there’s Wybie Lovat (Robert Bailey Jr.), a strange, talkative boy who lives nearby and collects banana slugs for fun. Sergi Alexander Bobinsky (Ian McShane), a svelt-legged, barrel-chested and towering Russian acrobat, trains a troupe of dancing mice in the upstairs apartment. Downstairs live Miss Forcible (Dawn French) and Miss Spink (Jennifer Saunders), aging bordello dancers who appreciate the finer things in life, like vintage saltwater taffy, their Scottie dogs and, strangely, taxidermy.

Coraline soon discovers that the Pink Palace’s strangest inhabitants exist in a parallel world on the other side of a small hidden door in the living room. In the this bizarro world are her “other” mother and “other” father, who outwardly resemble her real parents but never work, endlessly dote upon and entertain her and actually take the time to decorate the house and cook delicious meals. Oh, and one other thing: they have buttons for eyes. In fact, everybody in the “other” world has buttons for eyes, except Coraline.

In the beginning, Coraline is unsure whether the alternate world exists only in her dreams, but it soon becomes apparent that it’s no dream. In fact, it might even be a suitable alternative to her dull real life and boring real parents. But there’s a steep price to pay for moving into the “other” world: her “other” mother demands Coraline sew buttons into her eyes. Things gets even frightening when she learns the “other” mother is actually a witch who feeds on the souls and love of children and that she’s imprisoned Coraline’s real parents. With the help of a talking cat and a trinket from Misses Forible and Spink, brave Coraline sets everything right.

As entertaining as it is, Coraline does have a few snags. For one thing, the plot can be difficult to piece together in a single viewing. Some scenes late in the movie might frighten younger viewers, but there didn’t appear to be any terrified youngsters at the showing this reviewer attended. Apart from those concerns, Coraline is a fantastic, magical journey through the looking glass, and the slew of computer animated films that are churned out annually can’t compare with it for creativity.

Enter the Gonzo: meeting Hunter S. Thompson

(The following article appeared in the Piedmont Post.)

The new documentary, Gonzo: The Life and Times of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, is an entertaining and edifying entrée into the decadent and depraved life of the protean writer/journalist who proved that modern-day writers could still be celebrities and inspired a new generation to write vigorously.

Narrated with laconic pathos by Johnny Depp and directed by Alex Gibney, Gonzo chronicles Thompson’s rise from a lower-middle class, anti-authoritarian youth in Louisville, Kentucky, to one of the foremost journalists of the past 50 years. The movie principally focuses on the decade 1965 to 1975, when Thompson produced the bulk of his best work and rose to stardom as an influential and well-paid writer for Rolling Stone magazine.

His first big break came in 1965 with an assignment from the Nation to write an article about the Hell’s Angels, the rebel motorcycle club from Oakland. That article became the book that launched his career. In 1970, Thompson and crazed illustrator Ralph Steadman, heavily narcotized and boozed, covered the Kentucky Derby. The resulting article was the first piece of Gonzo journalism, a reckless offshoot of the “New Journalism,” of which Thompson himself was arguably the only practitioner.

The film details Thompson’s attempt to run for sheriff in Aspen, Colorado, the insane exploits of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (unfortunately depicted with footage from the eponymous 1998 film starring Depp as Thompson), and his bold, no-holds-barred, reporting of the riot-torn 1972 presidential election, pitting Richard Nixon against George McGovern, with the Vietnam War as a backdrop.

At times, Gonzo feels cobbled together like plywood – an amalgam of disparate parts that constitute a not entirely appealing whole, which may be a directorial decision to create a piece of art that effectively mirrors its subject.

The film is filled with interviews with Thompson’s friends, coworkers and subjects, including a long list of political figures. Their testimonies, combined with footage and previous documentaries of Thompson, create a vivid though not entirely endearing portrait of the wily writer.

He is even credited with nearly single-handedly convincing the American public to elect Jimmy Carter in 1977.

Gonzo admirably captures Thompson’s kaleidoscopic personality. He was a warm friend and a writer of well-researched, well-written, passionate journalism. He was also confrontational, irrational, and prone to destructive behavior. He developed a dependence not just on drugs and adrenaline, but also on the celebrity he created for himself as a journalist. In looking back at the depth of his talent, Thompson's inability to catch a second literary-breath should be edifying for anyone entering the field of journalism today.

Sadly, the world today is in great need of the vitriolic intelligence and rigorous investigation of Thompson. His untimely suicide, which Gibney handles cleanly to create the film’s most touching moments, leaves a major void in contemporary American journalism. Thompson was quoted as saying, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” Well, the going has gone entirely weird, and the best of the weird should consider professional careers in journalism. Maybe this film will convince them of their vocation.

Bagging Mt. Tam before it’s too late

(This article appeared in the 17 June issue of the Piedmont Post.)

The proposed closure of nearly 80-percent of California’s 279 State Parks after Labor Day this year is tantamount to a doomsday prophecy for the state’s legion of avid hikers, outdoor enthusiasts and even casual nature peepers. One park potentially on the chopping block is Mt. Tamalpais State Park, home to the most salient geographical feature in the immediate Bay Area. Mt. Tam rises to 2,574 feet and is accessible via a maze of trails.

The Matt Davis Trail from the Bootjack picnic runs along the mountain’s cool southern flank and passes through varied terrain resplendent with shady mountain streams, haunting stands of tightly packed young redwoods and not a few salamanders. You pick up the trail at the north-eastern end of the picnic area and tread along relatively flat terrain, emerging intermittently from the forests of redwood, Douglas fir, canyon oak and California bay onto chaparral ridgelines of manzanita, coyote brush and dense chamise. All four river crosses along the way are crossed by well-maintained wooden bridges, and you might consider lingering for a time in the sublime tranquility of those places.

Take a right at the junction with the Nora Trail to continue on the Matt Davis, and coming upon a fork in the trail after crossing Fern Creek, bear left onto the Hoo-Koo-E-koo Trail. The Hoo-Koo soon crosses the Hogback Fire Road and then continues along the 1,200 foot ridgeline until it meets the Old Railroad Grade Fire Road. Roughly .2 miles up that road, you’ll encounter a trail junction connecting the Old Railroad and the Hoo-Koo-E-koo fire roads and, less obviously, the Vic Haun Trail, which leads off from the trail post between the two fire roads. Thus begins the tough part of the hike: a gravel-lined trail switchbacking the 1,120 feet ascent to the peak with sun-weathered southern exposure and little shade provided by the surrounding chaparral. On the upside, you’ll be treated to increasingly stunning views of almost the entire Bay Area from a unique perspective on your way up. The Vic Haun terminates at its intersection with the Temelpa Trail, and the Temelpa covers the steepest part of the climb, but the payoff at the top is well worth the effort.

After a rest at the top, be sure to keep your eyes peeled for the Vic Haun on your way down the Temelpa. Layering is probably a good idea for this hike, as the Matt Davis wends through a moist, windy and chilly environment, while the south-eastern side of the mountain can be quite warm, and you’ll certainly work up a sweat on the ascent.

Bootjack to Mt. Tam

Distance: less than 10-miles round trip

Elevation gain: approximately 1,200 feet

Difficulty: 3 out of 5

Time commitment: Four hours and thirty minutes at a good pace with one break at the pinnacle, plus two hours total driving time.

Kid friendly?: Yes

Dog friendly?: No

Bridge to Bridge gone awry (and ending with a rye)

(The following article will appear in the 27 June issue of the Piedmont Post.)

You’d have a hard time finding a dusty trail in San Francisco anywhere outside of Golden Gate Park, but the city across the Bay is a fertile and diverse concrete jungle. It even has the title of “most walkable city” in the United States according to Walkscore.com.

This week, the Dusty Trail crew took the BART into San Francisco with good intentions to walk from the Bay Bridge to and across the Golden Gate Bridge along the San Francisco Bay Trail. The urban hike began with a slow saunter down Spear Street from the Embarcadero BART station to Pier 26 at Harrison and Embarcadero. One can’t truly appreciate the monolithic qualities and even the brutalistic beauty of the Bay Bridge by driving on it. A view from below, looking up at the belly of the bridge, is not to be missed, and the lines of the bridge form an intriguing and photogenic linear perspective converging on Yerba Buena Island.

Walking along the Embarcadero, past “Cupid’s Span” (symbolizing where Tony Bennett “left his heart), past the imposing Embarcadero Center buildings and the idiosyncratic Hyatt Regency, with clanging, cacophonous and tourist-crowded street cars jangling by, and past the standard SF-tourist attractions, it takes a great deal of perseverance - more than we could muster - to continue on the Bay Trail much farther than Pier 35. Bay Street offers a utilitarian alternative to the tourist crowds along Jefferson Street, but consider turning right on Van Ness to stroll along the periphery of Port Mason and through the languid park beside it.

With the Golden Gate Bridge now visible, we had to admit defeat at the unwitting hands of the tourist throngs and began walking inland along Laguna Street and then one block east onto Octavia, which soon begins a calf-straining climb up to Lafayette Park. Back on Laguna, we tramped through Japantown and Central North, and then up Haight Street into Hayes Valley. Ali Baba’s Cave (531 Haight) serves possibly the best, biggest (long as your arm), and most reasonably priced falafel wrap you’re likely to find this side of Beirut. Refreshing adult beverages can be had three doors farther down Haight at Toronado, which has a great selection of local brews.

Turning left at the junction of Steiner and Haight, you can traipse through Duboce Park and probably find a cute pup to pet before turning onto Noe Street (across from the Muni stop). Cross Market Street in front of Café Flore to head down 16th Street and into the heart of the Mission district. You could just board BART the 16th Street and Mission station, but the perfect ending to this 8.5 mile urban peripatetic peregrination is a cocktail at Elixir, one of the oldest continually running saloons in San Fran and one of Food and Wine magazine’s Top 100 bars. Elixir’s talented and knowledgeable bartenders are true cocktail artisans, and the Sazerac rye cocktail comes with an especially high recommendation.

Bay Bridge to Golden Gate Phenomenal Cocktails

Distance: 8.5 miles

Elevation gain: approximately 300 feet

Difficulty: 2 out of 5

Time commitment: Five to six hours, including stops for food and drinks along the way.

Kid friendly?: No

Dog friendly?: No