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"content": "\u003cp>Set in the 1950s, August Wilson’s play \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em> portrays a nation in transition. Jackie Robinson had crossed the color line in baseball, and integration began to take place in schools and workplaces. Set in Pittsburgh, \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em> — running through Feb. 4 at the Sixth Street Playhouse in Santa Rosa — tells a bit of every American city’s own history, too.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In 1951 in Santa Rosa, for example, the African American community finally found a center at the newly founded Community Baptist Church. At the end of the decade, children from the largely Black neighborhood of South Park were bussed to Montgomery High School, on the whiter, more affluent east side of the city.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This local history was on my mind as I watched a sold-out, mid-run performance of \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em> — a highlight of \u003ca href=\"https://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/august-wilson-the-ground-on-which-i-stand-scenes-and-synposes-of-august-wilsons-10-play-cycle/3701/\">Wilson’s Century Cycle\u003c/a> that was revived not just for a 2010 Broadway run but a 2016 film, both with Denzel Washington and Viola Davis in the lead roles. The story of a former Negro League baseball star now relegated to garbage pickup, and the subsequent resentment that he takes out on his family, is a Pulitzer-winning landmark of American theater.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950945\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1024px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1024\" height=\"1050\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950945\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2.jpg 1024w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2-800x820.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2-1020x1046.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2-160x164.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Fences.6th.2-768x788.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L–R) Mark Anthony as Cory, Val Sinckler as Rose and Keene Hudson as Troy Maxson in Sixth Street Playhouse’s production of August Wilson’s ‘Fences.’ \u003ccite>(Eric Chazankin)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In Sixth Street’s intimate black box Monroe Stage, the cast of this \u003cem>Fences\u003c/em> flies along as smooth as a low-and-inside slider. As motormouth Troy Maxson, Keene Hudson seems to have studied Denzel Washington’s performance, and captures both the bravado and bitterness so crucial to the script. As son Cory, Mark Anthony could hardly be better cast, first hopeful and then physically filled with rage when his father denies his dreams. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Two actors are especially effective. Jim Frankie Banks wholly inhabits the role of Gabriel, the simpleminded brother of Troy who lives with a mental disability from a WWII head wound. And Val Sinckler, as Rose, expertly plays the supportive wife and mother — the glue holding together her fractious family — and delivers just the right note of pathos toward the play’s end. When she cries to Troy that “I planted myself inside you and waited to bloom,” one feels every month and year of that long wait. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13933205']Jourdán Olivier-Verdé’s direction is taut, save for a pivotal scene in which Rose learns of Troy’s betrayal, which suffers from poor pacing. As Lyons, De’ Sean Moore is the nightclub-dwelling, money-borrowing musician son with a laconic cool, played perhaps a touch too laconically. But the rest kept me on the edge of my seat, buoyed by period-correct costume design by Aja Gianola-Norris; simple, effective set design from Aissa Simbulan; and interstitial blues songs curated by sound designer Ben Roots. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s a rarity to see an all-Black cast led by a Black director in Santa Rosa, a city where only 2% of the population is Black. And it’s refreshing to see Sixth Street deviate from their jukebox musicals, which typically pay the bills, with a searing production like this. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘\u003ca href=\"http://6thstreetplayhouse.com/shows/2023-24/fences/\">Fences\u003c/a>’ runs through Sunday, Feb. 4, at Sixth Street Playhouse in Santa Rosa.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Jourdán Olivier-Verdé’s direction is taut, save for a pivotal scene in which Rose learns of Troy’s betrayal, which suffers from poor pacing. As Lyons, De’ Sean Moore is the nightclub-dwelling, money-borrowing musician son with a laconic cool, played perhaps a touch too laconically. But the rest kept me on the edge of my seat, buoyed by period-correct costume design by Aja Gianola-Norris; simple, effective set design from Aissa Simbulan; and interstitial blues songs curated by sound designer Ben Roots. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It’s a rarity to see an all-Black cast led by a Black director in Santa Rosa, a city where only 2% of the population is Black. And it’s refreshing to see Sixth Street deviate from their jukebox musicals, which typically pay the bills, with a searing production like this. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘\u003ca href=\"http://6thstreetplayhouse.com/shows/2023-24/fences/\">Fences\u003c/a>’ runs through Sunday, Feb. 4, at Sixth Street Playhouse in Santa Rosa.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>Twenty years ago, the Grammy Award winning pop-punk trio \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/12234613/live-review-green-day-drinks-from-the-fountain-of-youth-at-berkeleys-uc-theatre\">Green Day\u003c/a> released \u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em> — their ambitious rock opera, a treatise on a world power in decline written by a band with cultural clout and consequently, political power. (It was angry and smart, and most importantly, hook-heavy — the catchiness no doubt a driving factor in its \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/25374/american_idiot\">Broadway adaptation\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em> ushered in a new generation of loyal listeners — in some situations, the children of the initial fans who account for one of the over 10 million sales of their 1994 album \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13844052/vince-staples-and-green-day-talking-with-dookie-cover-artist-richie-bucher\">\u003cem>Dookie\u003c/em>\u003c/a> — offering a familiar language of dissidence for a generation just old enough to remember 9/11.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13950805']In short: time moves on, but Green Day remains ferocious, allowing their listeners the opportunity to put language and music to their frustration. The targets of their ire are always the same: war, systemic injustices, political pundits. And on their 2024 album, \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, their weapons are once again drawn.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not that it was always this way. Prior to \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, their 14th studio album, Green Day took a detour. Their last album, 2020’s \u003cem>Father of All…\u003c/em> was garage-y rock with the band’s characteristic fervor, but perhaps not their pop-punk sensibilities. This album is a return to form, in some ways, but free of any sense of being derivative. If you invented the wheel, what’s so wrong about letting it roll again?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, alternatively, kicks off with the spirited rock ‘n’ roll of “The American Dream Is Killing Me,” taking aim at a litany of sociocultural issues in lyrics like “People on the street/ Unemployed and obsolete,” delivered in frontman Billie Joe Armstrong’s immediately recognizable nasal snarl. “Look Ma, No Brains!” is a return to their jubilant absurdity; “Grandma’s on the fentanyl now,” Armstrong sings on “Strange Days Are Here to Stay,” a song that suggests the apocalypse is now.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The fuzzed out, distorted guitars on “Living in the ’20s” ascend into a solo, as Armstrong chants about mass shootings. His voice unravels into a scream, with drummer Tré Cool, bassist Mike Dirnt and producer Rob Cavallo (who worked with the band on both \u003cem>Dookie\u003c/em>, and \u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em>) controlling the chaos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13937865']There are loving moments here, too, as there are throughout Green Day’s discography — like in the swinging ’90s college radio rock sing-along “Bobby Sox.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A few weeks before Green Day released \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, they performed the song “American Idiot” on \u003cem>Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve\u003c/em> swapping what was once a contentious line targeting the Bush administration into one with its eyes set on Trump. “I’m not a part of a redneck agenda,” became “I’m not part of a MAGA agenda,” and the internet was set aflame. If anything, the moment is evocative of \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>’ identity. It is an album built from the band’s earlier accomplishments, edited for the current moment — and likely a slightly older audience.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If parents consider punk a phase, perhaps this is evidence that frustrations — and speaking truth to power, however it aligns with your beliefs — is not.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Twenty years ago, the Grammy Award winning pop-punk trio \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/12234613/live-review-green-day-drinks-from-the-fountain-of-youth-at-berkeleys-uc-theatre\">Green Day\u003c/a> released \u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em> — their ambitious rock opera, a treatise on a world power in decline written by a band with cultural clout and consequently, political power. (It was angry and smart, and most importantly, hook-heavy — the catchiness no doubt a driving factor in its \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/25374/american_idiot\">Broadway adaptation\u003c/a>.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em> ushered in a new generation of loyal listeners — in some situations, the children of the initial fans who account for one of the over 10 million sales of their 1994 album \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13844052/vince-staples-and-green-day-talking-with-dookie-cover-artist-richie-bucher\">\u003cem>Dookie\u003c/em>\u003c/a> — offering a familiar language of dissidence for a generation just old enough to remember 9/11.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In short: time moves on, but Green Day remains ferocious, allowing their listeners the opportunity to put language and music to their frustration. The targets of their ire are always the same: war, systemic injustices, political pundits. And on their 2024 album, \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, their weapons are once again drawn.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Not that it was always this way. Prior to \u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, their 14th studio album, Green Day took a detour. Their last album, 2020’s \u003cem>Father of All…\u003c/em> was garage-y rock with the band’s characteristic fervor, but perhaps not their pop-punk sensibilities. This album is a return to form, in some ways, but free of any sense of being derivative. If you invented the wheel, what’s so wrong about letting it roll again?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Saviors\u003c/em>, alternatively, kicks off with the spirited rock ‘n’ roll of “The American Dream Is Killing Me,” taking aim at a litany of sociocultural issues in lyrics like “People on the street/ Unemployed and obsolete,” delivered in frontman Billie Joe Armstrong’s immediately recognizable nasal snarl. “Look Ma, No Brains!” is a return to their jubilant absurdity; “Grandma’s on the fentanyl now,” Armstrong sings on “Strange Days Are Here to Stay,” a song that suggests the apocalypse is now.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The fuzzed out, distorted guitars on “Living in the ’20s” ascend into a solo, as Armstrong chants about mass shootings. His voice unravels into a scream, with drummer Tré Cool, bassist Mike Dirnt and producer Rob Cavallo (who worked with the band on both \u003cem>Dookie\u003c/em>, and \u003cem>American Idiot\u003c/em>) controlling the chaos.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950685\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 916px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950685\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"916\" height=\"1222\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM.png 916w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-800x1067.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-160x213.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-768x1025.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 916px) 100vw, 916px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Nicole Hayden’s ‘The Body,’ as seen in new 111 Minna group show, ‘Guilty Pleasures.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna Gallery)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>There is something deliciously unexpected about it. An art show by seven women, specifically dedicated to guilty feminine pleasures, that includes an entire wall of nothing but … hyper-masculine WWF wrestlers?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.nicolehaydenart.com/index\">Nicole Hayden\u003c/a>’s splashy portraits of ’80s wrestling stars — including Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage and The Iron Sheik — are fantastically alive with shirt-ripping, muscle-flexing bravado and a steady stream of questionable wardrobe choices. It is Hayden’s work that’s unquestionably the star of \u003cem>Guilty Pleasures\u003c/em>, a new show at 111 Minna, curated by \u003ca href=\"http://www.alynnpaint.com/\">Amandalynn\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.emilyfromm.com/\">Emily Fromm\u003c/a>, and produced entirely by artists from the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950740\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Paintings of a woman in her underwear posed amongst a bouquet of soft pink and white flowers, and a painting of a pregnant woman kneeling down and holding her belly which contains an image of a lion cub.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1584\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950740\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-800x495.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1020x631.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-160x99.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-768x475.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1536x951.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-2048x1267.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1920x1188.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L) ‘Secret Garden’ and (R) ‘Leo’ by Amandalynn. \u003ccite>(Photos by Rae Alexandra)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amandalynn, best known for injecting sumptuous beauty into the grittiest of urban environs via her large scale murals, here leans far more into the pleasure than the guilt. Her contributions to the show are exactly what we’ve come to expect from her: sensuous depictions of powerful women combined with delicate images of the natural world. Lovely they are, but aside from \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/something-about-a-sundae/\">\u003cem>Something About a Sundae\u003c/em>\u003c/a> — a vivid meshing of girly and gummy delights — they are almost entirely guilt-free.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>No such problem exists for \u003ca href=\"http://www.messybeck.com/\">Messy Beck\u003c/a>’s cubist-inspired paintings — another highpoint in the show — that explore defiantly unfiltered incidents of sexual expression. The pleasure and the guilt scream from the canvas in equal measure, one part discomfiting, one part mesmerizing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950746\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1304px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950746\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM.png\" alt=\"A cubist-inspired painting of a woman on her knees, head tilted to one side grotesquely, pinching one of her breasts.\" width=\"1304\" height=\"1310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM.png 1304w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-800x804.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-1020x1025.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-160x161.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-768x772.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1304px) 100vw, 1304px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Plucked’ by Messy Beck. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amandalynn’s co-curator Fromm usually makes bold and colorful renditions of Bay Area landmarks. For \u003cem>Guilty Pleasures\u003c/em> she’s focused on the sleazy delights of a variety of cheap motels. The fine establishments she’s immortalized here include \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/geary-parkway-motel/\">San Francisco’s Geary Parkway Motel\u003c/a> and Sunnyvale’s Sundowner Inn.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere in the show, \u003ca href=\"https://michellemeng.com/\">Michelle Nguyen\u003c/a> explores \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/girls-girls-girls/\">smutty signage\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/yourfacecreations\">Mollie Johnson\u003c/a> knits her way through \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/baguette-and-butter/\">a buffet\u003c/a> of tasty (albeit woolen) delights, and \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/sadiegreyduck?img_index=1\">Sadie Greyduck\u003c/a> offers sharp and \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/burn-survivor-talisman-2/\">curious talismans\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But it’s Hayden’s wrestlers that somehow feel the most indulgent of all — a screaming, spandex-clad ode to one of the most ridiculous periods of one of the most ridiculous sports of all time. All 10 paintings can’t help but poke shamelessly at your pleasure receptors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950742\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1016px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950742\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM.png\" alt=\"A brightly colored painting of a spandex-clad wrestler from the 1980s in front of a bright red background.\" width=\"1016\" height=\"1310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM.png 1016w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-800x1031.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-160x206.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-768x990.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1016px) 100vw, 1016px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Hitman’ by Nicole Hayden. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘\u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/product-category/exhibit/guilty-pleasures/\">Guilty Pleasures\u003c/a>’ is on display at \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/\">111 Minna Gallery\u003c/a> through April 1, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950685\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 916px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950685\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"916\" height=\"1222\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM.png 916w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-800x1067.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-160x213.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-19-at-2.00.13-PM-768x1025.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 916px) 100vw, 916px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Nicole Hayden’s ‘The Body,’ as seen in new 111 Minna group show, ‘Guilty Pleasures.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna Gallery)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>There is something deliciously unexpected about it. An art show by seven women, specifically dedicated to guilty feminine pleasures, that includes an entire wall of nothing but … hyper-masculine WWF wrestlers?\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.nicolehaydenart.com/index\">Nicole Hayden\u003c/a>’s splashy portraits of ’80s wrestling stars — including Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage and The Iron Sheik — are fantastically alive with shirt-ripping, muscle-flexing bravado and a steady stream of questionable wardrobe choices. It is Hayden’s work that’s unquestionably the star of \u003cem>Guilty Pleasures\u003c/em>, a new show at 111 Minna, curated by \u003ca href=\"http://www.alynnpaint.com/\">Amandalynn\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.emilyfromm.com/\">Emily Fromm\u003c/a>, and produced entirely by artists from the Bay Area.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950740\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"Paintings of a woman in her underwear posed amongst a bouquet of soft pink and white flowers, and a painting of a pregnant woman kneeling down and holding her belly which contains an image of a lion cub.\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1584\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950740\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-scaled.jpg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-800x495.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1020x631.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-160x99.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-768x475.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1536x951.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-2048x1267.jpg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/amandalynn-1-1920x1188.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L) ‘Secret Garden’ and (R) ‘Leo’ by Amandalynn. \u003ccite>(Photos by Rae Alexandra)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amandalynn, best known for injecting sumptuous beauty into the grittiest of urban environs via her large scale murals, here leans far more into the pleasure than the guilt. Her contributions to the show are exactly what we’ve come to expect from her: sensuous depictions of powerful women combined with delicate images of the natural world. Lovely they are, but aside from \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/something-about-a-sundae/\">\u003cem>Something About a Sundae\u003c/em>\u003c/a> — a vivid meshing of girly and gummy delights — they are almost entirely guilt-free.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>No such problem exists for \u003ca href=\"http://www.messybeck.com/\">Messy Beck\u003c/a>’s cubist-inspired paintings — another highpoint in the show — that explore defiantly unfiltered incidents of sexual expression. The pleasure and the guilt scream from the canvas in equal measure, one part discomfiting, one part mesmerizing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950746\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1304px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950746\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM.png\" alt=\"A cubist-inspired painting of a woman on her knees, head tilted to one side grotesquely, pinching one of her breasts.\" width=\"1304\" height=\"1310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM.png 1304w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-800x804.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-1020x1025.png 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-160x161.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-2.05.20-PM-768x772.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1304px) 100vw, 1304px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘Plucked’ by Messy Beck. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Amandalynn’s co-curator Fromm usually makes bold and colorful renditions of Bay Area landmarks. For \u003cem>Guilty Pleasures\u003c/em> she’s focused on the sleazy delights of a variety of cheap motels. The fine establishments she’s immortalized here include \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/geary-parkway-motel/\">San Francisco’s Geary Parkway Motel\u003c/a> and Sunnyvale’s Sundowner Inn.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere in the show, \u003ca href=\"https://michellemeng.com/\">Michelle Nguyen\u003c/a> explores \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/girls-girls-girls/\">smutty signage\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/yourfacecreations\">Mollie Johnson\u003c/a> knits her way through \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/baguette-and-butter/\">a buffet\u003c/a> of tasty (albeit woolen) delights, and \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/sadiegreyduck?img_index=1\">Sadie Greyduck\u003c/a> offers sharp and \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/shop/burn-survivor-talisman-2/\">curious talismans\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But it’s Hayden’s wrestlers that somehow feel the most indulgent of all — a screaming, spandex-clad ode to one of the most ridiculous periods of one of the most ridiculous sports of all time. All 10 paintings can’t help but poke shamelessly at your pleasure receptors.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950742\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1016px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950742\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM.png\" alt=\"A brightly colored painting of a spandex-clad wrestler from the 1980s in front of a bright red background.\" width=\"1016\" height=\"1310\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM.png 1016w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-800x1031.png 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-160x206.png 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Screen-Shot-2024-01-22-at-1.51.30-PM-768x990.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1016px) 100vw, 1016px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">‘The Hitman’ by Nicole Hayden. \u003ccite>(Courtesy of 111 Minna)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘\u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/product-category/exhibit/guilty-pleasures/\">Guilty Pleasures\u003c/a>’ is on display at \u003ca href=\"https://111minnagallery.com/\">111 Minna Gallery\u003c/a> through April 1, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Cultural Appropriation Is the Odd Finale of the de Young’s New Fashion Exhibit",
"headTitle": "Cultural Appropriation Is the Odd Finale of the de Young’s New Fashion Exhibit | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/fashioning-san-francisco\">\u003cem>Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, opening Jan. 20 at the de Young Museum, is an extensive collection of impressive craftsmanship. It’s also a peek into the closets of some of the wealthiest San Franciscans of the past century, broken up into a strange amalgam of themes. Rows of mannequins are draped in gowns that this-and-that socialite wore to this-and-that high society function, which makes for an awkward transition into the exhibit’s finale: cultural appropriation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the exhibition, faux balconies and elevated platforms set the stage for silk chiffon, taffeta and meticulous hand-sewing by haute couture legends like Jean Paul Gaultier, Coco Chanel and Rei Kawakubo. Wealthy San Franciscan women wore these masterpieces to local balls and Parisian soirées — and they’re breathtaking.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950633\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950633\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-scaled.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-800x1066.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1536x2048.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Blancquaert, Evening ensemble: bodice and skirt, ca. 1905. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The exhibit positions the philanthropy of people like those socialites as “vital to the lived experiences of San Franciscans since the city’s inception,” without much of a critical eye on the role of the powerful in the city’s ongoing social and racial inequality. It’s a lopsided framework that makes the exhibit’s final section abrupt, and its larger message incoherent. [aside postid='arts_13950359']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the farthest corner of the exhibit, mandarin collars and African-inspired beadwork by white designers invite museum guests to reflect on cultural appropriation in a section called “Global Aesthetic Influences” — a cautious title that whispers, “I’ve been focus-grouped.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The collection reflects the centuries-long practice of cultural appropriation and commodification in fashion and the arts broadly,” reads the text panel. The reflection feels sudden, given hardly any other mention of power dynamics or racism throughout the halls of haute couture leading up to this point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950634\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1977px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950634\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1977\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-scaled.jpg 1977w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-800x1036.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1020x1321.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-160x207.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-768x995.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1186x1536.jpg 1186w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1582x2048.jpg 1582w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1920x2486.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1977px) 100vw, 1977px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Callot Sœurs. Ensemble: bodice and skirt, ca. 1908. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The description for one lambs’ wool number by Karl Lagerfeld — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13928464/met-gala-2023-karl-lagerfeld-best-and-worst\">a notorious bigot\u003c/a> still worshiped by fashion elite — doesn’t specify which culture he’s appropriating, or offer further insight from museum curators as to why they included it here. It’s kind of like the de Young grabbed all the vaguely or explicitly ethnic clothes that might get them into trouble and put them in a room together. And their answer to that — a hard and fast insertion of nuance that isn’t woven through any other part of the collection — feels insufficient.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere, the collection breaks down into other themed sections, including the period right after the 1906 earthquake that sent San Francisco into a tailspin — but apparently sent the city’s elite into French-imported silks and lace. The exhibition describes how affluent San Franciscans used fashion to reclaim their identities after the disaster, which isn’t a hugely compelling narrative when we remember that the city’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13898345/the-1906-earthquake-survivor-who-fought-for-san-franciscos-homeless-population\">relief funds highly favored the rich and powerful\u003c/a>, whom activists accused of spending the money on lavish cars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s also a “Little Black Dress” collection that reflects on how wartime shortages necessitated a wardrobe staple that met the “needs and budgets of women across the social class spectrum.” But the only spectrum featured is from Chanel to Valentino.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950632\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1838px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950632\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1838\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-scaled.jpg 1838w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-800x1114.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1020x1421.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-160x223.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-768x1070.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1103x1536.jpg 1103w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1470x2048.jpg 1470w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1920x2674.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1838px) 100vw, 1838px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Gabrielle Chanel. House of Chanel. Evening ensemble: dress, belt, capelet, and slip; 1939. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Deeper into the exhibit is a larger hall of gowns called “After the Ball,” which looks like a snapshot of the Met Gala. Highlights there include a floor-length white polka-dot dress by San Francisco-born designer Richard Tam, whose evening wear was featured in \u003cem>Vogue\u003c/em> in the ’60s. [aside postid='arts_13950600']\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a lavish Oscar de la Renta dress sprawling with brown ruffles worn by San Francisco socialite \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/25/fashion/dede-wilsey-de-young-museum-san-francisco-socialite.html\">Dede Wilsey\u003c/a>, a longtime supporter of the de Young and former board president of the Fine Arts Museums, whose father was an ambassador to Luxembourg and Austria. (Wilsey also paid $1,000 for each of her dogs’ names to be included on a donor wall of the museum, if that gives you an idea of the kind of old money we’re talking about.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Amid the pomp and circumstance — which can get a bit boring and very frivolous — there are gems like dresses worn by Leola King, an icon of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13874853/the-queen-of-the-harlem-of-the-west-brought-glamour-and-stars-to-the-fillmore\">Fillmore’s storied jazz and blues scene\u003c/a>, and some daring looks by avant garde Asian designers like Junya Watanabe, Vivienne Tam and the Bay Area’s own Kaisik Wong. There’s also a pair of colorful patchwork boots from the ’70s by an unknown designer that are pretty fabulous.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950631\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2167px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950631\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2167\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-scaled.jpg 2167w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-800x945.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1020x1205.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-160x189.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-768x907.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1300x1536.jpg 1300w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1734x2048.jpg 1734w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1920x2268.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2167px) 100vw, 2167px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Pair of woman’s boots, 1972. Pieced Leather. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Before visitors ascend a flight of grand museum stairs to the main event, a trio of augmented reality mirrors courtesy of Snapchat invites museumgoers to try on Valentino and Kaisik Wong in real time — cool in theory, gimmicky in practice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you’re looking for a nuanced, comprehensive collection of San Francisco clothing that reflects the city’s history in all its classes and creeds, this isn’t that. But if you’re curious how the richest of the rich dressed for a ball at Versailles or a gala at the San Francisco Opera, then this is the exhibit for you.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style’ opens at the de Young Museum on Jan. 20 and continues through Aug. 11, 2024. \u003ca href=\"https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/fashioning-san-francisco\">Details and tickets here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "'Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style,' opening Jan. 20, presents couture worn by the city's elite. ",
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"title": "Cultural Appropriation Is the Odd Finale of the de Young’s New Fashion Exhibit | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/fashioning-san-francisco\">\u003cem>Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style\u003c/em>\u003c/a>, opening Jan. 20 at the de Young Museum, is an extensive collection of impressive craftsmanship. It’s also a peek into the closets of some of the wealthiest San Franciscans of the past century, broken up into a strange amalgam of themes. Rows of mannequins are draped in gowns that this-and-that socialite wore to this-and-that high society function, which makes for an awkward transition into the exhibit’s finale: cultural appropriation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Throughout the exhibition, faux balconies and elevated platforms set the stage for silk chiffon, taffeta and meticulous hand-sewing by haute couture legends like Jean Paul Gaultier, Coco Chanel and Rei Kawakubo. Wealthy San Franciscan women wore these masterpieces to local balls and Parisian soirées — and they’re breathtaking.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950633\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950633\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1920\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-scaled.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-800x1066.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1020x1360.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-160x213.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-768x1024.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1152x1536.jpg 1152w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-8b-Blancqaert-1905-detail-1536x2048.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Blancquaert, Evening ensemble: bodice and skirt, ca. 1905. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The exhibit positions the philanthropy of people like those socialites as “vital to the lived experiences of San Franciscans since the city’s inception,” without much of a critical eye on the role of the powerful in the city’s ongoing social and racial inequality. It’s a lopsided framework that makes the exhibit’s final section abrupt, and its larger message incoherent. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In the farthest corner of the exhibit, mandarin collars and African-inspired beadwork by white designers invite museum guests to reflect on cultural appropriation in a section called “Global Aesthetic Influences” — a cautious title that whispers, “I’ve been focus-grouped.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“The collection reflects the centuries-long practice of cultural appropriation and commodification in fashion and the arts broadly,” reads the text panel. The reflection feels sudden, given hardly any other mention of power dynamics or racism throughout the halls of haute couture leading up to this point.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950634\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1977px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950634\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1977\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-scaled.jpg 1977w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-800x1036.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1020x1321.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-160x207.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-768x995.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1186x1536.jpg 1186w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1582x2048.jpg 1582w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-31b-Callot-Soeurs-1908-Back-1920x2486.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1977px) 100vw, 1977px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Callot Sœurs. Ensemble: bodice and skirt, ca. 1908. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The description for one lambs’ wool number by Karl Lagerfeld — \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13928464/met-gala-2023-karl-lagerfeld-best-and-worst\">a notorious bigot\u003c/a> still worshiped by fashion elite — doesn’t specify which culture he’s appropriating, or offer further insight from museum curators as to why they included it here. It’s kind of like the de Young grabbed all the vaguely or explicitly ethnic clothes that might get them into trouble and put them in a room together. And their answer to that — a hard and fast insertion of nuance that isn’t woven through any other part of the collection — feels insufficient.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Elsewhere, the collection breaks down into other themed sections, including the period right after the 1906 earthquake that sent San Francisco into a tailspin — but apparently sent the city’s elite into French-imported silks and lace. The exhibition describes how affluent San Franciscans used fashion to reclaim their identities after the disaster, which isn’t a hugely compelling narrative when we remember that the city’s \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13898345/the-1906-earthquake-survivor-who-fought-for-san-franciscos-homeless-population\">relief funds highly favored the rich and powerful\u003c/a>, whom activists accused of spending the money on lavish cars.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s also a “Little Black Dress” collection that reflects on how wartime shortages necessitated a wardrobe staple that met the “needs and budgets of women across the social class spectrum.” But the only spectrum featured is from Chanel to Valentino.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950632\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1838px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950632\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1838\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-scaled.jpg 1838w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-800x1114.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1020x1421.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-160x223.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-768x1070.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1103x1536.jpg 1103w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1470x2048.jpg 1470w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-17-Chanel-1939-1920x2674.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1838px) 100vw, 1838px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Gabrielle Chanel. House of Chanel. Evening ensemble: dress, belt, capelet, and slip; 1939. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Deeper into the exhibit is a larger hall of gowns called “After the Ball,” which looks like a snapshot of the Met Gala. Highlights there include a floor-length white polka-dot dress by San Francisco-born designer Richard Tam, whose evening wear was featured in \u003cem>Vogue\u003c/em> in the ’60s. \u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>There’s a lavish Oscar de la Renta dress sprawling with brown ruffles worn by San Francisco socialite \u003ca href=\"https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/25/fashion/dede-wilsey-de-young-museum-san-francisco-socialite.html\">Dede Wilsey\u003c/a>, a longtime supporter of the de Young and former board president of the Fine Arts Museums, whose father was an ambassador to Luxembourg and Austria. (Wilsey also paid $1,000 for each of her dogs’ names to be included on a donor wall of the museum, if that gives you an idea of the kind of old money we’re talking about.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Amid the pomp and circumstance — which can get a bit boring and very frivolous — there are gems like dresses worn by Leola King, an icon of the \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13874853/the-queen-of-the-harlem-of-the-west-brought-glamour-and-stars-to-the-fillmore\">Fillmore’s storied jazz and blues scene\u003c/a>, and some daring looks by avant garde Asian designers like Junya Watanabe, Vivienne Tam and the Bay Area’s own Kaisik Wong. There’s also a pair of colorful patchwork boots from the ’70s by an unknown designer that are pretty fabulous.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950631\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2167px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950631\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"2167\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-scaled.jpg 2167w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-800x945.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1020x1205.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-160x189.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-768x907.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1300x1536.jpg 1300w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1734x2048.jpg 1734w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Image-12-Pieced-leather-boots-1972-1920x2268.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2167px) 100vw, 2167px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Pair of woman’s boots, 1972. Pieced Leather. \u003ccite>(Photograph by Randy Dodson, courtesy of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Before visitors ascend a flight of grand museum stairs to the main event, a trio of augmented reality mirrors courtesy of Snapchat invites museumgoers to try on Valentino and Kaisik Wong in real time — cool in theory, gimmicky in practice.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If you’re looking for a nuanced, comprehensive collection of San Francisco clothing that reflects the city’s history in all its classes and creeds, this isn’t that. But if you’re curious how the richest of the rich dressed for a ball at Versailles or a gala at the San Francisco Opera, then this is the exhibit for you.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style’ opens at the de Young Museum on Jan. 20 and continues through Aug. 11, 2024. \u003ca href=\"https://www.famsf.org/exhibitions/fashioning-san-francisco\">Details and tickets here\u003c/a>. \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "bonnie-ora-sherk-fort-mason-review-life-frames-since-1970",
"title": "Bonnie Ora Sherk’s Eco-Art Experiments Inspire Wonder at Fort Mason",
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"content": "\u003cp>“I dreamt I lived in a triptych — human, plant, animal … the essence of global convergence.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These words, contained in a display case at Fort Mason Center’s Gallery 308, belong to conceptual artist Bonnie Ora Sherk. Sherk was a renegade who spent her life challenging the normal parameters of how humans use — and behave in — urban spaces. Much of Sherk’s most important work was audaciously conceived and performed in 1970s San Francisco. Now, a new exhibit at the Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture is honoring her legacy and demonstrating how Sherk’s ideas continue to impact the city to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13939967']Curated by SFMOMA’s Tanya Zimbardo, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://fortmason.org/event/bonnie-ora-sherk/\">Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970\u003c/a>\u003c/em> encompasses work Sherk did in both San Francisco and New York. Viewed in one place, the expansive exhibit thoroughly maps Sherk’s transformation from an artist interested in subverting cityscapes into a landscape architect literally building a more egalitarian environment. Sherk was also the founder of Crossroads Community (aka The Farm), a now-legendary community center, art space and, yes, city farm that once stood where \u003ca href=\"https://sfrecpark.org/895/Potrero-del-Sol-Park-La-Raza\">Potrero del Sol Park\u003c/a> stands now. (It was an empty concrete lot next to the freeway when Sherk found it.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chronology of \u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em> allows visitors to follow the through line of Sherk’s concepts in a way that feels perfectly rational — even when her individual pieces sometimes do not. The exhibit opens with four large-scale wall projections, the first of which is a 15-minute loop of photographs from her \u003cem>Sitting Still\u003c/em> series. These feature Sherk sitting in a chair in a variety of locations, including street corners in the Mission, North Beach and the Financial District. The artist sat for an hour at a time, inviting stares, confusion and questions from passersby. She also spent time on the Golden Gate Bridge and, most memorably, inside pens at the San Francisco Zoo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950464\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950464\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/zoo-tree-scaled-e1705455948325.jpg\" alt=\"A woman wearing a dress sits in a chair next to a huge tree inside an animal pen at a zoo.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1403\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A moment from ‘Excerpts From the Sitting Still Series,’ as seen in new exhibit, ‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970.’ \u003ccite>(Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It was the last location that started Sherk on her journey to explore animal behavior. She became interested in cohabiting with them — rats, chickens and pigs. She put on performances in which she and the animals observed each other in the same space. She designed self-contained chicken coops (the sketches for which are present in \u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em>). Before founding The Farm, Sherk also masterminded ways to green-ify urban spaces, moving trees to freeway overpasses, snow to San Francisco hotel exteriors and grass to concrete lots — a precursor to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guerrilla_gardening\">guerrilla gardening\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Tranquil footage of Sherk at The Farm makes sense of anxiety-inducing footage of the artist pacing up and down a 10-foot stretch of the Broadway Tunnel just a few years earlier. It’s not difficult to see why Sherk moved from one to the other and why ecology became her life’s work. The exhibit closes out with a reminder that it was also Sherk who founded the “Living Libraries” and “Think Parks” of \u003ca href=\"https://alivinglibrary.org/branches/bernal-heights\">Bernal Heights\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://alivinglibrary.org/branches/omiexcelsior\">the Excelsior\u003c/a>. Those projects continue to serve local children and communities in much the same way The Farm once did, even three years after Sherk’s death.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em> is so comprehensive and at times immersive, it’s sometimes easy to forget where you are. That’s not a bad thing. Like so much of what the artist created in life, this exhibit is a place you’ll want to come and sit a while. Give yourself ample time to do so — the world seen through Sherk’s eyes is a beautiful place to be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950429\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950429\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/20240114_154944-scaled-e1705436011408.jpg\" alt=\"A woman casually sits in an armchair smoking a cigarette in the middle of a flooded parking lot. Urban houses are seen behind her.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1243\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bonnie Ora Sherk in 1970, as captured in ‘Sitting Still I.’ \u003ccite>(‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970’)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970’ is on display at \u003ca href=\"https://fortmason.org/event/bonnie-ora-sherk/\">Gallery 308 at the Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture\u003c/a>, now through March 10, 2024. The exhibition will close out with a pop-up urban planning symposium.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>“I dreamt I lived in a triptych — human, plant, animal … the essence of global convergence.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>These words, contained in a display case at Fort Mason Center’s Gallery 308, belong to conceptual artist Bonnie Ora Sherk. Sherk was a renegade who spent her life challenging the normal parameters of how humans use — and behave in — urban spaces. Much of Sherk’s most important work was audaciously conceived and performed in 1970s San Francisco. Now, a new exhibit at the Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture is honoring her legacy and demonstrating how Sherk’s ideas continue to impact the city to this day.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Curated by SFMOMA’s Tanya Zimbardo, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://fortmason.org/event/bonnie-ora-sherk/\">Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970\u003c/a>\u003c/em> encompasses work Sherk did in both San Francisco and New York. Viewed in one place, the expansive exhibit thoroughly maps Sherk’s transformation from an artist interested in subverting cityscapes into a landscape architect literally building a more egalitarian environment. Sherk was also the founder of Crossroads Community (aka The Farm), a now-legendary community center, art space and, yes, city farm that once stood where \u003ca href=\"https://sfrecpark.org/895/Potrero-del-Sol-Park-La-Raza\">Potrero del Sol Park\u003c/a> stands now. (It was an empty concrete lot next to the freeway when Sherk found it.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chronology of \u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em> allows visitors to follow the through line of Sherk’s concepts in a way that feels perfectly rational — even when her individual pieces sometimes do not. The exhibit opens with four large-scale wall projections, the first of which is a 15-minute loop of photographs from her \u003cem>Sitting Still\u003c/em> series. These feature Sherk sitting in a chair in a variety of locations, including street corners in the Mission, North Beach and the Financial District. The artist sat for an hour at a time, inviting stares, confusion and questions from passersby. She also spent time on the Golden Gate Bridge and, most memorably, inside pens at the San Francisco Zoo.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950464\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950464\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/zoo-tree-scaled-e1705455948325.jpg\" alt=\"A woman wearing a dress sits in a chair next to a huge tree inside an animal pen at a zoo.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1403\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A moment from ‘Excerpts From the Sitting Still Series,’ as seen in new exhibit, ‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970.’ \u003ccite>(Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>It was the last location that started Sherk on her journey to explore animal behavior. She became interested in cohabiting with them — rats, chickens and pigs. She put on performances in which she and the animals observed each other in the same space. She designed self-contained chicken coops (the sketches for which are present in \u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em>). Before founding The Farm, Sherk also masterminded ways to green-ify urban spaces, moving trees to freeway overpasses, snow to San Francisco hotel exteriors and grass to concrete lots — a precursor to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guerrilla_gardening\">guerrilla gardening\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Tranquil footage of Sherk at The Farm makes sense of anxiety-inducing footage of the artist pacing up and down a 10-foot stretch of the Broadway Tunnel just a few years earlier. It’s not difficult to see why Sherk moved from one to the other and why ecology became her life’s work. The exhibit closes out with a reminder that it was also Sherk who founded the “Living Libraries” and “Think Parks” of \u003ca href=\"https://alivinglibrary.org/branches/bernal-heights\">Bernal Heights\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://alivinglibrary.org/branches/omiexcelsior\">the Excelsior\u003c/a>. Those projects continue to serve local children and communities in much the same way The Farm once did, even three years after Sherk’s death.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Life Frames\u003c/em> is so comprehensive and at times immersive, it’s sometimes easy to forget where you are. That’s not a bad thing. Like so much of what the artist created in life, this exhibit is a place you’ll want to come and sit a while. Give yourself ample time to do so — the world seen through Sherk’s eyes is a beautiful place to be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950429\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950429\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/20240114_154944-scaled-e1705436011408.jpg\" alt=\"A woman casually sits in an armchair smoking a cigarette in the middle of a flooded parking lot. Urban houses are seen behind her.\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1243\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bonnie Ora Sherk in 1970, as captured in ‘Sitting Still I.’ \u003ccite>(‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970’)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘Bonnie Ora Sherk: Life Frames Since 1970’ is on display at \u003ca href=\"https://fortmason.org/event/bonnie-ora-sherk/\">Gallery 308 at the Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture\u003c/a>, now through March 10, 2024. The exhibition will close out with a pop-up urban planning symposium.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Fight the Urge to Sit at Two Shows of Artful Chairs",
"headTitle": "Fight the Urge to Sit at Two Shows of Artful Chairs | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>All hail the humble chair! It supports us when we’re tired, it coaxes us into better alignment, or more often, assists us in slumping, splaying, lounging and hunching. At its best moments, it organizes us in space. The chair is both form and function — the ultimate artists’ muse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13939967']And so it makes sense, during this week of \u003ca href=\"https://www.fogfair.com/\">FOG Design+Art\u003c/a>, the Fort Mason fair of couches \u003ci>and\u003c/i> paintings, that not one, but two shows would open with a focus on alternative, artistic seating. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://www.1599fdt.com/chair\">Chair+\u003c/a>\u003c/i> at 1599fdT and \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://jessicasilvermangallery.com/online-shows/enthroned/\">Enthroned\u003c/a>\u003c/i> at Jessica Silverman are within blocks of each other in San Francisco’s Chinatown, perfectly situated to provide a survey of sleek and scrappy approaches to this furniture staple.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At 1599fdT, the former Union Cleaners on Kearny Street, \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> fills the long and narrow space with 13 chairs, all made by local artists, many evincing a lived-with quality that comes from reclaimed materials. Just inside the door is \u003ca href=\"https://isabellamanfredi.net/about-1\">Isabella Manfredi\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Rest\u003c/i>, shaped from redwood that was once part of a barn on her family’s Humboldt County property. In a nod, perhaps, to the Shaker practice of hanging chairs on wall-mounted peg rails, Manfredi’s \u003ci>Rest\u003c/i> is topped with a carved coat hanger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950493\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950493\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838.jpeg\" alt=\"Various chairs and large photograph of nude figure nexts to chair in dark-gray floor white wall gallery space\" width=\"2500\" height=\"2163\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838.jpeg 2500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-800x692.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1020x883.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-160x138.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-768x664.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1536x1329.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-2048x1772.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1920x1661.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2500px) 100vw, 2500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Chair +’ at 1599fdT. \u003ccite>(Courtesy 1599fdT)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Wood appears in multiple chairs — as a collage element in \u003ca href=\"https://www.jesseschlesinger.com/\">Jesse Schlesinger\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Ad hoc Chair 01\u003c/i>, as a painting substrate in \u003ca href=\"http://www.runcio.com/\">Jonathan Runcio\u003c/a>’s child-sized \u003ci>LR\u003c/i> and \u003ci>MR\u003c/i>, and under enamel in \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13839094/barbara-stauffacher-solomon-bampfa-art-wall\">Barbara Stauffacher Solomon\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Cube\u003c/i>. In \u003ca href=\"https://raegodin.com/\">Rae Godin\u003c/a>’s hands, the material becomes less warm and more antagonistic: plywood sprouts spikes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chairs of \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> are appropriately extra. Extra formal (\u003ca href=\"http://www.mattborruso.org/\">Matt Borruso\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Support\u003c/i>), extra plush (\u003ca href=\"https://kristiehansen.com/\">Kristie Hansen\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Rust\u003c/i>), extra flammable (\u003ca href=\"https://500cappstreet.org/david-ireland/\">David Ireland\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Peat Oven\u003c/i>). They push back against their presumed roles to become artworks in their own right. Because even “ordinary” chairs push back against the bodies that perch upon them, as captured in \u003ca href=\"http://www.paulkos.net/Paul_Kos/home.html\">Paul Kos\u003c/a>’ life-sized photograph \u003ci>Emboss\u003c/i>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chairs, this show argues, are vessels for memories, stand-ins for bodies, proxy selves. \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/crosslypka/\">Cross Lypka\u003c/a>’s ceramic bench, covered in scratched graffiti, came directly from the artists’ home. \u003ca href=\"https://www.sahar-khoury.com/\">Sahar Khoury\u003c/a>’s wee bronze stool just might have scampered into the gallery on its own. Seated on the one sanctioned chair (\u003ca href=\"https://www.jandcarts.com/about-1\">Chris Johanson and Johanna Jackson\u003c/a>’s contribution), taking it all in, \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> resembles a cast of characters corralled into a gallery space, temporarily still, but vibrating with life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950494\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950494\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Various chairs, stools and lamps in light-wood floor, white-walled gallery\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1335\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1920x1282.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Enthroned’ at Jessica Silverman. \u003ccite>(Phillip Maisel, Courtesy of Jessica Silverman, San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Just up the hill at Jessica Silverman, \u003ci>Enthroned\u003c/i> contains more figurative forms, but also more finish, creating a push-pull of competing “aliveness.” These are high-end objects, often editioned, cast and carved by 10 women designers. Here, they are auditioning to enter new spaces — possibly your spaces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While some of the objects in this show are smooth and rootless, others seem to come from very specific lands. \u003ca href=\"https://barborazilinskaite.com/\">Barbora Žilinskaitė\u003c/a>’s cartoonish, colorful furniture would fit well within \u003ci>Pee-wee’s Playhouse\u003c/i>, while \u003ca href=\"https://www.grawunder.com/\">Johanna Grawunder\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Meteorite Chair\u003c/i> beams in straight from the set of a ’70s sci-fi.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the show’s most intriguing items isn’t actually a chair, but a lamp: \u003ca href=\"https://www.saejungoh.com/\">Jay Sae Jung Oh\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Savage Series Lamp\u003c/i>, which sensually wraps plastic objects with undulating black leather cord. Everyday shapes become otherworldly under this treatment, as waste is cleverly smuggled into a luxury lighting fixture. (Another favorite is \u003ca href=\"https://carmendapollonio.com/\">Carmen D’Apollonio\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>No way out\u003c/i>, a pair of speckled sea slug-like lamps noodling around on a pedestal.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950495\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950495\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Two slug-like lamps on pedestal, lit shades pointing up and down\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1500\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1920x1440.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Carmen D’Apollonio, ‘No way out,’ 2022. \u003ccite>(Phtoo by Martin Elder, courtesy of the artist and Friedman Benda)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to lamps, the show contains a mirror, a planter and a shelf. Unlike \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i>, \u003ci>Enthroned\u003c/i> is less stringent about its seating theme, and more interested in how designers can disrupt the rectilinear and staid conventions of domestic furnishings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Frustratingly, hilariously, these are two shows that exert an extreme vertical pull on the viewer. Walking around both is an exercise in restraint. And if the repeated internal monologue of “do not sit, do not sit” becomes too much to bear, both shows can provide plenty of inspiration for an “ad hoc chair” or homemade throne of your own.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.1599fdt.com/chair\">Chair +\u003c/a>’ is on view at 1599fdT (620 Kearny St., San Francisco) through Feb. 17. ‘\u003ca href=\"https://jessicasilvermangallery.com/online-shows/enthroned/\">Enthroned\u003c/a>’ is on view at Jessica Silverman (621 Grant Ave., San Francisco) through March 2.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "In SF’s Chinatown, ‘Chair +’ at 1599fdT and ‘Enthroned’ at Jessica Silverman honor not-so-humble chairs.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>All hail the humble chair! It supports us when we’re tired, it coaxes us into better alignment, or more often, assists us in slumping, splaying, lounging and hunching. At its best moments, it organizes us in space. The chair is both form and function — the ultimate artists’ muse.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>And so it makes sense, during this week of \u003ca href=\"https://www.fogfair.com/\">FOG Design+Art\u003c/a>, the Fort Mason fair of couches \u003ci>and\u003c/i> paintings, that not one, but two shows would open with a focus on alternative, artistic seating. \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://www.1599fdt.com/chair\">Chair+\u003c/a>\u003c/i> at 1599fdT and \u003ci>\u003ca href=\"https://jessicasilvermangallery.com/online-shows/enthroned/\">Enthroned\u003c/a>\u003c/i> at Jessica Silverman are within blocks of each other in San Francisco’s Chinatown, perfectly situated to provide a survey of sleek and scrappy approaches to this furniture staple.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At 1599fdT, the former Union Cleaners on Kearny Street, \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> fills the long and narrow space with 13 chairs, all made by local artists, many evincing a lived-with quality that comes from reclaimed materials. Just inside the door is \u003ca href=\"https://isabellamanfredi.net/about-1\">Isabella Manfredi\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Rest\u003c/i>, shaped from redwood that was once part of a barn on her family’s Humboldt County property. In a nod, perhaps, to the Shaker practice of hanging chairs on wall-mounted peg rails, Manfredi’s \u003ci>Rest\u003c/i> is topped with a carved coat hanger.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950493\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2500px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950493\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838.jpeg\" alt=\"Various chairs and large photograph of nude figure nexts to chair in dark-gray floor white wall gallery space\" width=\"2500\" height=\"2163\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838.jpeg 2500w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-800x692.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1020x883.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-160x138.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-768x664.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1536x1329.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-2048x1772.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/IMG_1838-1920x1661.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2500px) 100vw, 2500px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Chair +’ at 1599fdT. \u003ccite>(Courtesy 1599fdT)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Wood appears in multiple chairs — as a collage element in \u003ca href=\"https://www.jesseschlesinger.com/\">Jesse Schlesinger\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Ad hoc Chair 01\u003c/i>, as a painting substrate in \u003ca href=\"http://www.runcio.com/\">Jonathan Runcio\u003c/a>’s child-sized \u003ci>LR\u003c/i> and \u003ci>MR\u003c/i>, and under enamel in \u003ca href=\"https://www.kqed.org/arts/13839094/barbara-stauffacher-solomon-bampfa-art-wall\">Barbara Stauffacher Solomon\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Cube\u003c/i>. In \u003ca href=\"https://raegodin.com/\">Rae Godin\u003c/a>’s hands, the material becomes less warm and more antagonistic: plywood sprouts spikes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chairs of \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> are appropriately extra. Extra formal (\u003ca href=\"http://www.mattborruso.org/\">Matt Borruso\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Support\u003c/i>), extra plush (\u003ca href=\"https://kristiehansen.com/\">Kristie Hansen\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Rust\u003c/i>), extra flammable (\u003ca href=\"https://500cappstreet.org/david-ireland/\">David Ireland\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Peat Oven\u003c/i>). They push back against their presumed roles to become artworks in their own right. Because even “ordinary” chairs push back against the bodies that perch upon them, as captured in \u003ca href=\"http://www.paulkos.net/Paul_Kos/home.html\">Paul Kos\u003c/a>’ life-sized photograph \u003ci>Emboss\u003c/i>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Chairs, this show argues, are vessels for memories, stand-ins for bodies, proxy selves. \u003ca href=\"https://www.instagram.com/crosslypka/\">Cross Lypka\u003c/a>’s ceramic bench, covered in scratched graffiti, came directly from the artists’ home. \u003ca href=\"https://www.sahar-khoury.com/\">Sahar Khoury\u003c/a>’s wee bronze stool just might have scampered into the gallery on its own. Seated on the one sanctioned chair (\u003ca href=\"https://www.jandcarts.com/about-1\">Chris Johanson and Johanna Jackson\u003c/a>’s contribution), taking it all in, \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i> resembles a cast of characters corralled into a gallery space, temporarily still, but vibrating with life.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950494\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950494\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Various chairs, stools and lamps in light-wood floor, white-walled gallery\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1335\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-800x534.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1020x681.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-768x513.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1536x1025.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/2024_0111-JSG-ENTHRONED_Press_01_2000-1920x1282.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Installation view of ‘Enthroned’ at Jessica Silverman. \u003ccite>(Phillip Maisel, Courtesy of Jessica Silverman, San Francisco)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Just up the hill at Jessica Silverman, \u003ci>Enthroned\u003c/i> contains more figurative forms, but also more finish, creating a push-pull of competing “aliveness.” These are high-end objects, often editioned, cast and carved by 10 women designers. Here, they are auditioning to enter new spaces — possibly your spaces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>While some of the objects in this show are smooth and rootless, others seem to come from very specific lands. \u003ca href=\"https://barborazilinskaite.com/\">Barbora Žilinskaitė\u003c/a>’s cartoonish, colorful furniture would fit well within \u003ci>Pee-wee’s Playhouse\u003c/i>, while \u003ca href=\"https://www.grawunder.com/\">Johanna Grawunder\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Meteorite Chair\u003c/i> beams in straight from the set of a ’70s sci-fi.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the show’s most intriguing items isn’t actually a chair, but a lamp: \u003ca href=\"https://www.saejungoh.com/\">Jay Sae Jung Oh\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>Savage Series Lamp\u003c/i>, which sensually wraps plastic objects with undulating black leather cord. Everyday shapes become otherworldly under this treatment, as waste is cleverly smuggled into a luxury lighting fixture. (Another favorite is \u003ca href=\"https://carmendapollonio.com/\">Carmen D’Apollonio\u003c/a>’s \u003ci>No way out\u003c/i>, a pair of speckled sea slug-like lamps noodling around on a pedestal.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950495\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950495\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000.jpg\" alt=\"Two slug-like lamps on pedestal, lit shades pointing up and down\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1500\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-800x600.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1020x765.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-160x120.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-768x576.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/DApollonio_No-way-out-2022_CDA00003F_Marten-Elder_2000-1920x1440.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Carmen D’Apollonio, ‘No way out,’ 2022. \u003ccite>(Phtoo by Martin Elder, courtesy of the artist and Friedman Benda)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>In addition to lamps, the show contains a mirror, a planter and a shelf. Unlike \u003ci>Chair +\u003c/i>, \u003ci>Enthroned\u003c/i> is less stringent about its seating theme, and more interested in how designers can disrupt the rectilinear and staid conventions of domestic furnishings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Frustratingly, hilariously, these are two shows that exert an extreme vertical pull on the viewer. Walking around both is an exercise in restraint. And if the repeated internal monologue of “do not sit, do not sit” becomes too much to bear, both shows can provide plenty of inspiration for an “ad hoc chair” or homemade throne of your own.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘\u003ca href=\"https://www.1599fdt.com/chair\">Chair +\u003c/a>’ is on view at 1599fdT (620 Kearny St., San Francisco) through Feb. 17. ‘\u003ca href=\"https://jessicasilvermangallery.com/online-shows/enthroned/\">Enthroned\u003c/a>’ is on view at Jessica Silverman (621 Grant Ave., San Francisco) through March 2.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "dead-in-long-beach-california-review-venita-blackburn",
"title": "In ‘Dead in Long Beach, California,’ Grief Gives Way to Disastrous Decisions",
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"headTitle": "In ‘Dead in Long Beach, California,’ Grief Gives Way to Disastrous Decisions | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cp>Imagine going through the seven stages of grief in seven days. That monumentally disorienting premise is the framework for Venita Blackburn’s debut novel, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374602826/deadinlongbeachcalifornia\">Dead in Long Beach, California\u003c/a>\u003c/em>. The novel centers on Coral Brown, a Black lesbian sci-fi writer, who walks into her brother Jay’s apartment in Long Beach and discovers he has died by suicide. The whole story takes place within the week she finds his body, one Friday to the next. Amidst chapters titled after days of the week, memory, grief, denial and time bleed into each other.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950445\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 432px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes.jpg\" alt=\"Person in plaid blazer with rose-tinted glasses\" width=\"432\" height=\"648\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950445\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes.jpg 432w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes-160x240.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 432px) 100vw, 432px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Author Venita Blackburn. \u003ccite>(Virginia Barnes)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Blackburn is an associate professor of creative writing at California State University, Fresno, and the founder and president of Live, Write, a nonprofit that offers free creative writing workshops to communities of color. She has previously published two short story collections. The most recent, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.mcdbooks.com/books/how-to-wrestle-a-girl\">How to Wrestle a Girl\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, was a 2022 finalist for the Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction. Reviewers praised the collection for its playfully inventive structure; in it Blackburn alternates between first and third person, uses her background as a flash fiction writer to pack big feelings and stories into small words counts, and blunts tragedy with farce. Echoes of these writing flourishes can be found in her latest offering. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Californians walked like they were underwater,” Blackburn writes in \u003cem>Dead in Long Beach\u003c/em>, “slow, with all the time in the universe.” This warped temporal reality is compounded in Compton, where she notes “even time moved like water … a thing to drown in, a thing necessary for life.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like Blackburn, whose hometown is Compton, Coral is a South Los Angeles native. In suffusing the book with Coral’s memories — tender, bitter, formative — Blackburn effectively turns it into a love letter to the region. In the ’90s when Coral was young, the city was “a mecca, an Eden, a place to dream, honor; to buy liquor, doughnuts, fried chicken and greens; a place to loathe and protect.” Coral came of age in this place. She was familiar with its music and violence — a regularity she regarded as “white noise.” Still, death is not something you can prepare for. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Death IRL is an ice bath from the inside out,” the narrator reflects. Blackburn’s writing is similarly bracing. The book’s format is experimental and hard to pin down — the label “a novel” is in winking quotes on its cover. We meet the narrator in the opening sentence as a mysterious and nameless ‘we’ announces, “We are responsible for telling this story, mostly because Coral cannot.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This voice can alternately be interpreted as a representative of Coral’s split self (her grief has detached her from reality) or as the characters from her popular dystopian novel, \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em>, who speak in a similarly omniscient tone. In \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em>, the world has ended and the librarians (as they call themselves) have categorized all of humanity — including, but not limited to, helium, turkey bacon, motherhood and Velcro. “All of humanity is our firstborn, and each moment is a precious memory to be stored away,” they explain in the prologue of Coral’s book. “We are learning what precious is and what time is and how it attacks and soothes all at once and can leave without a trace.” The chapters of \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em> mingled with the main text of \u003cem>Dead in Long Beach\u003c/em> indicate the way grief is fracturing Coral’s mind. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>You expect to deal with sadness after a loss. What you don’t expect after someone you love dies is the paperwork. Soon after finding his body Coral is faced with Jay’s paperwork: hospital bills, insurance papers. But we don’t linger on these details for long. They are mentioned more so to paint a picture of Coral’s growing mental load. She has already lost both of her parents and now her only brother, who was in his 40s, lived alone and didn’t keep his phone locked. The latter fact, while primarily evidence of his carelessness, also serves as an inciting incident for the book.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the EMTs remove his body from the apartment, Jay’s phone pings and Coral sees a text from his young adult daughter asking to reschedule dinner plans. She has not yet been informed of her father’s passing. Rather than tell her, rather than acquiesce to truth and linear time, Coral decides to attempt the impossible — to hit pause on a traumatic moment while she is still in it. She makes a spur of the moment, erratic and ultimately doomed choice to respond to her niece and the admittedly few contacts in Jay’s phone as her late brother. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We worship the ghosts of history, marvel at desiccated tombs, and play in their dust,” the omniscient ‘we’ shares. The dust kicked up by Jay’s death is fine and voluminous, enough to form a fog that clouds Coral’s vision and judgment. She is not so much playing in it as she is desperately grasping at it. She spends her week tucking herself away in memories while attempting to maintain the order of her life: going on dates, fulfilling professional obligations, texting strangers in the voice of her deceased brother. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The narrator, who has studied all human interaction and relationships and has indexed them as a way of understanding, explains Coral’s behavior with the help of dedicated ‘clinics’ into which memories and behaviors are compartmentalized. One of these is the Clinic for Excavating Repressed Memories in Search of Solutions to Current Crises. Another is the Clinic for Outrageous Disguises that Cloak All Existence of Frailty. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“In the Clinic for Telling Lies to Avoid Pending Death,” we learn, “there is a unit on living in good memories to dissociate from reality, like when we recall being fourteen in the front seat of our father’s Cadillac de Ville on the way to the Hollywood racetrack with our brother in the front seat … We were happy. We were safe. The sky was blue and we would never be there again.” In memories like these, Coral can both avoid and make sense of the present. The reader knows, however, that the comfort found in avoidance has a time limit; the book crescendos as this building tension is loosed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Dead in Long Beach, California\u003c/em> is the work of a gifted writer who understands love bonds, family, death and inevitability, but also has a sense of humor about all of the above. Blackburn’s novel presents grief as memory puzzle, grief as creative license, grief as fuel for delusion and awakening.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Dead in Long Beach, California’ is out from \u003ca href=\"https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374602826/deadinlongbeachcalifornia\">MCD Books\u003c/a> on Jan. 23, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Imagine going through the seven stages of grief in seven days. That monumentally disorienting premise is the framework for Venita Blackburn’s debut novel, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374602826/deadinlongbeachcalifornia\">Dead in Long Beach, California\u003c/a>\u003c/em>. The novel centers on Coral Brown, a Black lesbian sci-fi writer, who walks into her brother Jay’s apartment in Long Beach and discovers he has died by suicide. The whole story takes place within the week she finds his body, one Friday to the next. Amidst chapters titled after days of the week, memory, grief, denial and time bleed into each other.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13950445\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"max-width: 432px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes.jpg\" alt=\"Person in plaid blazer with rose-tinted glasses\" width=\"432\" height=\"648\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13950445\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes.jpg 432w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/Author-Photo-Venita-Blackburn-credit-to-Virginia-Barnes-160x240.jpg 160w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 432px) 100vw, 432px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Author Venita Blackburn. \u003ccite>(Virginia Barnes)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Blackburn is an associate professor of creative writing at California State University, Fresno, and the founder and president of Live, Write, a nonprofit that offers free creative writing workshops to communities of color. She has previously published two short story collections. The most recent, \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.mcdbooks.com/books/how-to-wrestle-a-girl\">How to Wrestle a Girl\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, was a 2022 finalist for the Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Fiction. Reviewers praised the collection for its playfully inventive structure; in it Blackburn alternates between first and third person, uses her background as a flash fiction writer to pack big feelings and stories into small words counts, and blunts tragedy with farce. Echoes of these writing flourishes can be found in her latest offering. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Californians walked like they were underwater,” Blackburn writes in \u003cem>Dead in Long Beach\u003c/em>, “slow, with all the time in the universe.” This warped temporal reality is compounded in Compton, where she notes “even time moved like water … a thing to drown in, a thing necessary for life.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like Blackburn, whose hometown is Compton, Coral is a South Los Angeles native. In suffusing the book with Coral’s memories — tender, bitter, formative — Blackburn effectively turns it into a love letter to the region. In the ’90s when Coral was young, the city was “a mecca, an Eden, a place to dream, honor; to buy liquor, doughnuts, fried chicken and greens; a place to loathe and protect.” Coral came of age in this place. She was familiar with its music and violence — a regularity she regarded as “white noise.” Still, death is not something you can prepare for. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“Death IRL is an ice bath from the inside out,” the narrator reflects. Blackburn’s writing is similarly bracing. The book’s format is experimental and hard to pin down — the label “a novel” is in winking quotes on its cover. We meet the narrator in the opening sentence as a mysterious and nameless ‘we’ announces, “We are responsible for telling this story, mostly because Coral cannot.” \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This voice can alternately be interpreted as a representative of Coral’s split self (her grief has detached her from reality) or as the characters from her popular dystopian novel, \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em>, who speak in a similarly omniscient tone. In \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em>, the world has ended and the librarians (as they call themselves) have categorized all of humanity — including, but not limited to, helium, turkey bacon, motherhood and Velcro. “All of humanity is our firstborn, and each moment is a precious memory to be stored away,” they explain in the prologue of Coral’s book. “We are learning what precious is and what time is and how it attacks and soothes all at once and can leave without a trace.” The chapters of \u003cem>Wildfire\u003c/em> mingled with the main text of \u003cem>Dead in Long Beach\u003c/em> indicate the way grief is fracturing Coral’s mind. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>You expect to deal with sadness after a loss. What you don’t expect after someone you love dies is the paperwork. Soon after finding his body Coral is faced with Jay’s paperwork: hospital bills, insurance papers. But we don’t linger on these details for long. They are mentioned more so to paint a picture of Coral’s growing mental load. She has already lost both of her parents and now her only brother, who was in his 40s, lived alone and didn’t keep his phone locked. The latter fact, while primarily evidence of his carelessness, also serves as an inciting incident for the book.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the EMTs remove his body from the apartment, Jay’s phone pings and Coral sees a text from his young adult daughter asking to reschedule dinner plans. She has not yet been informed of her father’s passing. Rather than tell her, rather than acquiesce to truth and linear time, Coral decides to attempt the impossible — to hit pause on a traumatic moment while she is still in it. She makes a spur of the moment, erratic and ultimately doomed choice to respond to her niece and the admittedly few contacts in Jay’s phone as her late brother. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“We worship the ghosts of history, marvel at desiccated tombs, and play in their dust,” the omniscient ‘we’ shares. The dust kicked up by Jay’s death is fine and voluminous, enough to form a fog that clouds Coral’s vision and judgment. She is not so much playing in it as she is desperately grasping at it. She spends her week tucking herself away in memories while attempting to maintain the order of her life: going on dates, fulfilling professional obligations, texting strangers in the voice of her deceased brother. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The narrator, who has studied all human interaction and relationships and has indexed them as a way of understanding, explains Coral’s behavior with the help of dedicated ‘clinics’ into which memories and behaviors are compartmentalized. One of these is the Clinic for Excavating Repressed Memories in Search of Solutions to Current Crises. Another is the Clinic for Outrageous Disguises that Cloak All Existence of Frailty. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>“In the Clinic for Telling Lies to Avoid Pending Death,” we learn, “there is a unit on living in good memories to dissociate from reality, like when we recall being fourteen in the front seat of our father’s Cadillac de Ville on the way to the Hollywood racetrack with our brother in the front seat … We were happy. We were safe. The sky was blue and we would never be there again.” In memories like these, Coral can both avoid and make sense of the present. The reader knows, however, that the comfort found in avoidance has a time limit; the book crescendos as this building tension is loosed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Dead in Long Beach, California\u003c/em> is the work of a gifted writer who understands love bonds, family, death and inevitability, but also has a sense of humor about all of the above. Blackburn’s novel presents grief as memory puzzle, grief as creative license, grief as fuel for delusion and awakening.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"alignright size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘Dead in Long Beach, California’ is out from \u003ca href=\"https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374602826/deadinlongbeachcalifornia\">MCD Books\u003c/a> on Jan. 23, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Space Brawls, Flying Mice and a Zero-Gravity Cold War? Enjoy a Twisty Ride on ‘I.S.S.’",
"headTitle": "Space Brawls, Flying Mice and a Zero-Gravity Cold War? Enjoy a Twisty Ride on ‘I.S.S.’ | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>Movies that trap a small group of people together in confined quarters, then force them to turn on each other because of some god-awful life or death situation are quantifiably friggin’ great. They just are. Think about the very essence of 1982’s \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Esy-776wcIo\">The Thing\u003c/a>\u003c/em>. (“Nobody trusts anybody now and we’re all very tired.”) Consider 1979’s \u003cem>Alien\u003c/em>, with its invisible murder-parasites and backstabbing secret androids. Ponder all of the magnificent, close-proximity paranoia of \u003cem>10 Cloverfield Lane\u003c/em>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13939153']If, like me, you enjoy watching humans losing trust in those they’re cohabiting with and spiraling into violence, you’re going to get a kick out of the new thriller \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> The I.S.S. in the title, of course, refers to the International Space Station. The Earth-orbiting base stands, opening titles emphasize, as a “symbol of United States and Russian collaboration after the Cold War.” That is until World War III breaks out on Earth (with no warning whatsoever!) and a team of three American astronauts is tasked with taking the I.S.S. back “by any means necessary.” Escalating the situation is the fact that the three Russian cosmonauts on board have received the exact same instructions from Moscow. And they were all just singing “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4RjJKxsamQ\">Wind of Change\u003c/a>” by Scorpions together, like, five minutes ago! D’oh!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So who’s on board and frantically trying to stab each other in the back? On the American side, there’s Kira Foster (\u003cem>West Side Story\u003c/em>’s Ariana DeBose), a woman who’s married to her work, baby-talks to the mice she’s experimenting on, and happens to leave Earth the very same day the nuclear bombs start detonating. (How lucky!) Her colleagues are hardworking and affable Gordon Barrett (Chris Messina from \u003cem>The Mindy Project\u003c/em>) and Christian Campbell (John Gallagher Jr.), a man whose entire personality appears to be “I have two daughters.” (Gallagher Jr., you might recall, was in both \u003cem>10 Cloverfield Lane\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Underwater\u003c/em>, thereby making him somewhat of a specialist in crises-in-close-quarters scenarios. I would strongly advise against ever getting into an elevator with this dude.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i48f4AvS-Pk\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>On the Russian side is Nicholai Pulov (Costa Ronin from \u003cem>The Americans\u003c/em>), Alexey Pulov (Pilou Asbæk from \u003cem>Game of Thrones\u003c/em>) and Nika Vetrov (Masha Mashkova from … Russian things). Nika is having a sweet space romance with Gordon, which I assume in real life would be terribly annoying for everyone else living in this tin can, but in movie-land makes the onboard alliances a little more complicated, so yay!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The joy of \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is never quite being sure who’s telling the truth and who’s up to no good, so I’m not going to discuss the course of events here in any more detail. What I will say is that \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> does everything you want a space thriller to do. Does someone leave the station to fix something and end up in a precarious situation out in space? Of course! Are there a couple of zero-gravity brawls that are a little bit unintentionally funny? Yes! Is there a secret science project on board that might save humanity? Maybe, maybe not. You’ll have to wait and see. There are even floating mice. (And no one has ever even \u003cem>asked\u003c/em> for floating mice in a movie, so that’s pretty cool.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13939927']If there is a sensible lesson or moral to be gleaned from \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em>, it’s that war can turn literally anywhere into a battleground and anyone into a killer — even nerdy cosmos boffins. But \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is best enjoyed for what it is: A claustrophobic creeper of a movie designed to be its own wacky little roller coaster — a bunch of jarring twists and turns peppered with some nice views, basically.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In order to fully enjoy \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> on that basis, it is absolutely necessary to never, not once, even for a moment, think about how preposterous a setup it is that America and Russia would suddenly start flinging nuclear devices at one another without any tensions escalating beforehand. The concept is a stretch, at best. Don’t let that spoil the fun. \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is 95 minutes of pure, escapist amusement and floaty hijinks. And, let’s be honest, when things are as bleak on Earth as they are right now, a little trip to space — even one in the middle of World War III — is kind of a nice respite.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘I.S.S.’ is in theaters on Jan. 19, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>If, like me, you enjoy watching humans losing trust in those they’re cohabiting with and spiraling into violence, you’re going to get a kick out of the new thriller \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> The I.S.S. in the title, of course, refers to the International Space Station. The Earth-orbiting base stands, opening titles emphasize, as a “symbol of United States and Russian collaboration after the Cold War.” That is until World War III breaks out on Earth (with no warning whatsoever!) and a team of three American astronauts is tasked with taking the I.S.S. back “by any means necessary.” Escalating the situation is the fact that the three Russian cosmonauts on board have received the exact same instructions from Moscow. And they were all just singing “\u003ca href=\"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4RjJKxsamQ\">Wind of Change\u003c/a>” by Scorpions together, like, five minutes ago! D’oh!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So who’s on board and frantically trying to stab each other in the back? On the American side, there’s Kira Foster (\u003cem>West Side Story\u003c/em>’s Ariana DeBose), a woman who’s married to her work, baby-talks to the mice she’s experimenting on, and happens to leave Earth the very same day the nuclear bombs start detonating. (How lucky!) Her colleagues are hardworking and affable Gordon Barrett (Chris Messina from \u003cem>The Mindy Project\u003c/em>) and Christian Campbell (John Gallagher Jr.), a man whose entire personality appears to be “I have two daughters.” (Gallagher Jr., you might recall, was in both \u003cem>10 Cloverfield Lane\u003c/em> and \u003cem>Underwater\u003c/em>, thereby making him somewhat of a specialist in crises-in-close-quarters scenarios. I would strongly advise against ever getting into an elevator with this dude.)\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/i48f4AvS-Pk'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/i48f4AvS-Pk'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>On the Russian side is Nicholai Pulov (Costa Ronin from \u003cem>The Americans\u003c/em>), Alexey Pulov (Pilou Asbæk from \u003cem>Game of Thrones\u003c/em>) and Nika Vetrov (Masha Mashkova from … Russian things). Nika is having a sweet space romance with Gordon, which I assume in real life would be terribly annoying for everyone else living in this tin can, but in movie-land makes the onboard alliances a little more complicated, so yay!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The joy of \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is never quite being sure who’s telling the truth and who’s up to no good, so I’m not going to discuss the course of events here in any more detail. What I will say is that \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> does everything you want a space thriller to do. Does someone leave the station to fix something and end up in a precarious situation out in space? Of course! Are there a couple of zero-gravity brawls that are a little bit unintentionally funny? Yes! Is there a secret science project on board that might save humanity? Maybe, maybe not. You’ll have to wait and see. There are even floating mice. (And no one has ever even \u003cem>asked\u003c/em> for floating mice in a movie, so that’s pretty cool.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>If there is a sensible lesson or moral to be gleaned from \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em>, it’s that war can turn literally anywhere into a battleground and anyone into a killer — even nerdy cosmos boffins. But \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is best enjoyed for what it is: A claustrophobic creeper of a movie designed to be its own wacky little roller coaster — a bunch of jarring twists and turns peppered with some nice views, basically.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In order to fully enjoy \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> on that basis, it is absolutely necessary to never, not once, even for a moment, think about how preposterous a setup it is that America and Russia would suddenly start flinging nuclear devices at one another without any tensions escalating beforehand. The concept is a stretch, at best. Don’t let that spoil the fun. \u003cem>I.S.S.\u003c/em> is 95 minutes of pure, escapist amusement and floaty hijinks. And, let’s be honest, when things are as bleak on Earth as they are right now, a little trip to space — even one in the middle of World War III — is kind of a nice respite.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘I.S.S.’ is in theaters on Jan. 19, 2024.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, selectively and brilliantly adapted by the British director Jonathan Glazer (\u003cem>Under the Skin\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Sexy Beast\u003c/em>) from the late Martin Amis’ 2014 novel, centers on a zealous factory manager and his family comfortably living next door to the 24-hour plant.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If this sounds like an oddly prosaic subject to garner plaudits at Cannes and awards from the Los Angeles, San Francisco and Boston film critics’ groups, with Oscar nominations very likely to come, consider that the “factory” is Auschwitz and the “manager” is commandant Rudolf Höss.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now your expectations have shifted 180 degrees, informed by any number of World War II-related films and television dramas. Cast those aside, as well. \u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, opening Friday, Jan. 12 in the Bay Area, is a riveting, risky and relevant contemplation of the moral and social responsibility that comes with an executive job. Höss is an enthusiastic executioner, to be sure, but he is also — like the person ordering coffee in line in front of you, or sitting next to you on the plane, or yourself, perhaps — a functionary and a technocrat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940437\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044.jpg\" alt=\"Man in uniform looks out from ornate balcony in gilded, heavily decorative space\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940437\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Christian Friedel as Rudolph Höss in ‘The Zone of Interest.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of A24)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Did you just nod to yourself and mutter “the banality of evil,” the insightful term Hannah Arendt coined at Adolf Eichmann’s trial to describe the logistical minutiae by which the Nazis deported, transported and gassed millions of human beings? Sadly, the concept has been so thoroughly digested and assimilated in the ensuing 60-plus years of faraway genocides, cable news hand-wringing and drone bombings that it’s lost its power. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With understatement yet extraordinary eloquence, abetted by Mica Levi’s eerie score and Johnnie Burn’s disquieting sound design, Glazer offers a fresh perspective on how we ignore or rationalize the sacrifices made by other, less fortunate people to sustain our standard of living. That is, until we no longer can, whether we make that decision or a Nuremberg jury makes it for us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> reclaims everyday barbarity from the realms of both cliché and abstraction without depicting a single act within the camp itself. This is a first-rate example of precision filmmaking, more cerebral than emotional, with ample room for the viewer to infer and interpret both the situation and its consequences. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The film opens with a black screen and an ominous cascade of indistinguishable instruments and voices. This mysterious invocation ends abruptly with a screen-burst of light: a sun-drenched family outing by a river. Back home, we fall into the rhythms and routine of the household, rapidly amassing clues — anguished off-screen yelling, a guard tower in the background, a distant gunshot — that convey exactly where this family lives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940434\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041.jpg\" alt=\"Woman poses wearing a long fur coat in bedroom\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940434\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sandra Hüller as Hedwig Höss in ‘The Zone of Interest.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The point of view is deftly executed: We are given access to the family going about its everyday activities, but the film doesn’t invite us to identify or empathize with anyone. We are present and watching, but at a remove. (\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> is the exact opposite of David Fincher’s recent \u003cem>The Killer\u003c/em>, which gives us entrée to the thoughts and regimen of a hitman.) Glazer doesn’t explain or justify the actions or attitudes of Höss (impeccably played by Christian Friedel) or his wife Hedwig (a pitch-perfect Sandra Hüller), and it neither romanticizes nor villainizes them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They have achieved — overachieved, really — an elevated lifestyle and status thanks to Höss’ ambition and efficiency and the special opportunities offered by the Third Reich. Heddy is in clover, with servants and swag (like a fur that belonged to a deportee), but acknowledges the pressure of her husband’s job by idly proposing they return to a life of quiet farming after the war. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Höss loves nature, in almost comical contrast to his indifference to people outside his family. He relishes fishing in the river (until he encounters a bit of residue from the “factory”) and riding his horse around the Polish countryside, and is furious with SS guards who damage the lilac bushes he’s planted. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glazer doesn’t show the workings of the camp or any of the images and acts we associate with the Holocaust. So how does he include the victims other than by their disembodied possessions, and give them dignity without trivializing their suffering? That opening sequence of sound without image instructed us to listen actively to this movie, and the soundtrack is where Glazer has given voice to the Jews (explicitly via \u003ca href=\"https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn671467\">a Yiddish song\u003c/a> that Joseph Wulf, who survived the war, composed at Auschwitz).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940438\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023.jpg\" alt=\"Three women look out through curtains in a kitchen\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940438\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A still from ‘The Zone of Interest.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of A24)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, for its part, rarely leaves the grounds of the Höss residence. The arrival of an outsider, however, subtly pierces the bubble that encases the clan. Heddy’s mother comes to visit, taking in the house, garden and modest swimming pool with the requisite pride. Her daughter has done so well! \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Late one night, though, staring at the orange glow in the sky on the other side of the camp wall, Mama seems to realize what’s been making her cough. And, perhaps, the price of her daughter’s good fortune. It’s emblematic of \u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> that Glazer doesn’t spell out why Mama is gone when the household awakes, or reveal the contents of the letter she leaves for Heddy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glazer elegantly solves the problem of how to bring the Holocaust into the present with a documentary sequence of workers cleaning the museum cases at Auschwitz-Birkenau. The banality of routine impresses us, even in the most horrific location, culminating in the crematorium, thankfully still and silent. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was reminded of another masterpiece, Alain Resnais and Jean Cayrol’s poetic documentary \u003cem>Night and Fog\u003c/em> (streaming on \u003ca href=\"https://www.max.com/movies/night-and-fog/808501a5-3ae2-4ce7-9a83-2e9758cf83cf\">Max\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.criterionchannel.com/night-and-fog-1\">The Criterion Channel\u003c/a>, and on Blu-Ray at the \u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.bibliocommons.com/v2/record/S93C5333378\">San Francisco Public Library\u003c/a>). Filmed at Auschwitz in 1955, the Nazis’ murdered millions are unseen and unheard, but the filmmakers utilize that specific killing ground to illuminate the threat of similar future horrors — and the resistance required to prevent them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘The Zone of Interest’ opens in Bay Area theaters on Jan. 12, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, selectively and brilliantly adapted by the British director Jonathan Glazer (\u003cem>Under the Skin\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Sexy Beast\u003c/em>) from the late Martin Amis’ 2014 novel, centers on a zealous factory manager and his family comfortably living next door to the 24-hour plant.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If this sounds like an oddly prosaic subject to garner plaudits at Cannes and awards from the Los Angeles, San Francisco and Boston film critics’ groups, with Oscar nominations very likely to come, consider that the “factory” is Auschwitz and the “manager” is commandant Rudolf Höss.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now your expectations have shifted 180 degrees, informed by any number of World War II-related films and television dramas. Cast those aside, as well. \u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, opening Friday, Jan. 12 in the Bay Area, is a riveting, risky and relevant contemplation of the moral and social responsibility that comes with an executive job. Höss is an enthusiastic executioner, to be sure, but he is also — like the person ordering coffee in line in front of you, or sitting next to you on the plane, or yourself, perhaps — a functionary and a technocrat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940437\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044.jpg\" alt=\"Man in uniform looks out from ornate balcony in gilded, heavily decorative space\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940437\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.01_30_55_01.Still044-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Christian Friedel as Rudolph Höss in ‘The Zone of Interest.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of A24)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Did you just nod to yourself and mutter “the banality of evil,” the insightful term Hannah Arendt coined at Adolf Eichmann’s trial to describe the logistical minutiae by which the Nazis deported, transported and gassed millions of human beings? Sadly, the concept has been so thoroughly digested and assimilated in the ensuing 60-plus years of faraway genocides, cable news hand-wringing and drone bombings that it’s lost its power. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With understatement yet extraordinary eloquence, abetted by Mica Levi’s eerie score and Johnnie Burn’s disquieting sound design, Glazer offers a fresh perspective on how we ignore or rationalize the sacrifices made by other, less fortunate people to sustain our standard of living. That is, until we no longer can, whether we make that decision or a Nuremberg jury makes it for us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> reclaims everyday barbarity from the realms of both cliché and abstraction without depicting a single act within the camp itself. This is a first-rate example of precision filmmaking, more cerebral than emotional, with ample room for the viewer to infer and interpret both the situation and its consequences. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The film opens with a black screen and an ominous cascade of indistinguishable instruments and voices. This mysterious invocation ends abruptly with a screen-burst of light: a sun-drenched family outing by a river. Back home, we fall into the rhythms and routine of the household, rapidly amassing clues — anguished off-screen yelling, a guard tower in the background, a distant gunshot — that convey exactly where this family lives.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940434\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041.jpg\" alt=\"Woman poses wearing a long fur coat in bedroom\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940434\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_14_17_22.Still041-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sandra Hüller as Hedwig Höss in ‘The Zone of Interest.’\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The point of view is deftly executed: We are given access to the family going about its everyday activities, but the film doesn’t invite us to identify or empathize with anyone. We are present and watching, but at a remove. (\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> is the exact opposite of David Fincher’s recent \u003cem>The Killer\u003c/em>, which gives us entrée to the thoughts and regimen of a hitman.) Glazer doesn’t explain or justify the actions or attitudes of Höss (impeccably played by Christian Friedel) or his wife Hedwig (a pitch-perfect Sandra Hüller), and it neither romanticizes nor villainizes them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>They have achieved — overachieved, really — an elevated lifestyle and status thanks to Höss’ ambition and efficiency and the special opportunities offered by the Third Reich. Heddy is in clover, with servants and swag (like a fur that belonged to a deportee), but acknowledges the pressure of her husband’s job by idly proposing they return to a life of quiet farming after the war. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Höss loves nature, in almost comical contrast to his indifference to people outside his family. He relishes fishing in the river (until he encounters a bit of residue from the “factory”) and riding his horse around the Polish countryside, and is furious with SS guards who damage the lilac bushes he’s planted. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glazer doesn’t show the workings of the camp or any of the images and acts we associate with the Holocaust. So how does he include the victims other than by their disembodied possessions, and give them dignity without trivializing their suffering? That opening sequence of sound without image instructed us to listen actively to this movie, and the soundtrack is where Glazer has given voice to the Jews (explicitly via \u003ca href=\"https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn671467\">a Yiddish song\u003c/a> that Joseph Wulf, who survived the war, composed at Auschwitz).\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13940438\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 1920px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023.jpg\" alt=\"Three women look out through curtains in a kitchen\" width=\"1920\" height=\"1080\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13940438\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023.jpg 1920w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-800x450.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-1020x574.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-160x90.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-768x432.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2024/01/TheZoneOfInterest_textless_ProRes422HQ_24p_1920x1080_178_Rec709_51-20_20230929.00_20_19_14.Still023-1536x864.jpg 1536w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1920px) 100vw, 1920px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">A still from ‘The Zone of Interest.’ \u003ccite>(Courtesy of A24)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em>, for its part, rarely leaves the grounds of the Höss residence. The arrival of an outsider, however, subtly pierces the bubble that encases the clan. Heddy’s mother comes to visit, taking in the house, garden and modest swimming pool with the requisite pride. Her daughter has done so well! \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Late one night, though, staring at the orange glow in the sky on the other side of the camp wall, Mama seems to realize what’s been making her cough. And, perhaps, the price of her daughter’s good fortune. It’s emblematic of \u003cem>The Zone of Interest\u003c/em> that Glazer doesn’t spell out why Mama is gone when the household awakes, or reveal the contents of the letter she leaves for Heddy.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Glazer elegantly solves the problem of how to bring the Holocaust into the present with a documentary sequence of workers cleaning the museum cases at Auschwitz-Birkenau. The banality of routine impresses us, even in the most horrific location, culminating in the crematorium, thankfully still and silent. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was reminded of another masterpiece, Alain Resnais and Jean Cayrol’s poetic documentary \u003cem>Night and Fog\u003c/em> (streaming on \u003ca href=\"https://www.max.com/movies/night-and-fog/808501a5-3ae2-4ce7-9a83-2e9758cf83cf\">Max\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"https://www.criterionchannel.com/night-and-fog-1\">The Criterion Channel\u003c/a>, and on Blu-Ray at the \u003ca href=\"https://sfpl.bibliocommons.com/v2/record/S93C5333378\">San Francisco Public Library\u003c/a>). Filmed at Auschwitz in 1955, the Nazis’ murdered millions are unseen and unheard, but the filmmakers utilize that specific killing ground to illuminate the threat of similar future horrors — and the resistance required to prevent them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘The Zone of Interest’ opens in Bay Area theaters on Jan. 12, 2024.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"slug": "the-color-purple-successfully-squeezes-popular-entertainment-out-of-art",
"title": "‘The Color Purple’ Successfully Squeezes Popular Entertainment Out of Art",
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"headTitle": "‘The Color Purple’ Successfully Squeezes Popular Entertainment Out of Art | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cp>Forty years on, Alice Walker’s 1982 Pulitzer Prize-winner \u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em> stands as a landmark of American fiction. The novel has been reconceived, with varying success, as a movie (by Steven Spielberg in 1985) and a Broadway musical (2005). The stage production was revived in 2015 and has now spawned a film version.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='news_11697268']\u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em> (opening Christmas Day) is engaging musical entertainment, grounded in a slowly bending story arc of female empowerment. That’s a combination that will find favor with many moviegoers — though they will have to be forgiving of condensed and occasionally confusing storytelling, oddly abrupt transitions and a surfeit of song-and-dance sequences that land with little impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The new movie will reach a larger audience than the stage musicals did (including touring companies), an unassailable fact that doubles as economic justification. More important, dear reader, is your relationship to Walker’s painful, joyous saga of resolute Southern Black women in the first half of the 20th century, and your opinion of the stage musical. How gritty, or glossy, do you like it?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939800\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13939800 size-full\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"two young Black girls laugh and smile in front of a tree while wearing white dresses\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-800x450.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1020x574.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-160x90.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1536x864.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1152.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1080.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L toR) Phylicia Pearl Mpasi as Young Celie and Halle Bailey as Young Nettie in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As the movie opens in 1909, Celie and her sharp, protective sister Nettie are cheerful and pragmatic teenagers in rural Georgia. Their abusive father has impregnated Celie twice, given away the babies and now sells her to Mister (Colman Domingo), a brutal, charming older farmer who caps his villainy by assaulting Nettie and chasing her away at gunpoint.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the years roll by without any news of her sister, Celie (Fantasia Barrino, displaying terrific range) doesn’t rebel against her miserable situation. Fortunately, two strong women come into her circumscribed world and rattle her perspective. The liberated blues belter Shug Avery (Taraji P. Henson), Mister’s onetime lover, settles under their roof for a few days, long enough to kindle a spark with Celie. The fearless Sofia (Danielle Brooks), who marries Mister’s son Harpo, announces her independence the moment she hits the screen and carves it in stone with the foot-stomping anthem “Hell No!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939801\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13939801 size-full\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"a Black man sits on a porch in boots and a hat playing the banjo\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-800x450.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1020x574.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-160x90.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1536x864.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1152.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1080.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Colman Domingo as Mister in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The first challenge of adapting \u003cem>The Color Purple — \u003c/em>as with any story that involves subjugation and domestic violence — is portraying the characters’ suffering without either glorifying (i.e., wallowing in it) or cheapening it. That’s an especially tough tone to nail in a musical, but director Blitz Bazawule (co-director of Beyoncé’s \u003cem>Black Is King\u003c/em>) succeeds in making us feel the sting of Mister’s slaps and blows without robbing Celie of our respect.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The bigger problem, it turns out, is conveying Celie’s gradual and deliberate evolution into the author of her own destiny. Even at two hours and 20 minutes (including credits), \u003cem>The Color Purple \u003c/em>feels abridged and rushed. Take the electric extended-family dinner scene in which every female character asserts herself over the menfolk (especially Mister and his aged father, played by Louis Gossett, Jr.). It remains the satisfying centerpiece of the movie, but it comes as something of a surprise; the groundwork hasn’t been fully laid for Celie’s spontaneous assertion of freedom.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another area in which the movie can’t approach the depth and layers of Alice Walker’s novel, the strong cast notwithstanding, is the intimate relationship that develops between Shug and Celie. We can debate whether time constraints or an abundance of studio caution limited Bazawule’s portrayal of their love to a couple brief snippets.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939802\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939802\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"two Black women in lavender and orange dresses walk in green grass\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1536x1024.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1365.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Fantasia Barrino as Celie and Taraji P. Henson as Shug Avery in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>For moviegoers all the way onboard for Celie’s journey, these are quibbles that won’t detract from their enjoyment of \u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em>. They will revel in the few seconds the filmmaker allows for audience applause after Barrino finishes her solid rendition of the show-stopper “I’m Here.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, if you have any interest whatsoever in \u003cem>The Color Purple,\u003c/em> you should see it with a crowd in a theater. The experience will be immeasurably richer than streaming it alone or with a couple friends — even though you can sing along at home.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘The Color Purple’ opens Dec. 25, 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "A strong cast carries the musical version of Alice Walker's 1982 novel.",
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"title": "‘The Color Purple’ Successfully Squeezes Popular Entertainment Out of Art | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Forty years on, Alice Walker’s 1982 Pulitzer Prize-winner \u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em> stands as a landmark of American fiction. The novel has been reconceived, with varying success, as a movie (by Steven Spielberg in 1985) and a Broadway musical (2005). The stage production was revived in 2015 and has now spawned a film version.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em> (opening Christmas Day) is engaging musical entertainment, grounded in a slowly bending story arc of female empowerment. That’s a combination that will find favor with many moviegoers — though they will have to be forgiving of condensed and occasionally confusing storytelling, oddly abrupt transitions and a surfeit of song-and-dance sequences that land with little impact.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The new movie will reach a larger audience than the stage musicals did (including touring companies), an unassailable fact that doubles as economic justification. More important, dear reader, is your relationship to Walker’s painful, joyous saga of resolute Southern Black women in the first half of the 20th century, and your opinion of the stage musical. How gritty, or glossy, do you like it?\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939800\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13939800 size-full\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"two young Black girls laugh and smile in front of a tree while wearing white dresses\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-800x450.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1020x574.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-160x90.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1536x864.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1152.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0014_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1080.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">(L toR) Phylicia Pearl Mpasi as Young Celie and Halle Bailey as Young Nettie in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>As the movie opens in 1909, Celie and her sharp, protective sister Nettie are cheerful and pragmatic teenagers in rural Georgia. Their abusive father has impregnated Celie twice, given away the babies and now sells her to Mister (Colman Domingo), a brutal, charming older farmer who caps his villainy by assaulting Nettie and chasing her away at gunpoint.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As the years roll by without any news of her sister, Celie (Fantasia Barrino, displaying terrific range) doesn’t rebel against her miserable situation. Fortunately, two strong women come into her circumscribed world and rattle her perspective. The liberated blues belter Shug Avery (Taraji P. Henson), Mister’s onetime lover, settles under their roof for a few days, long enough to kindle a spark with Celie. The fearless Sofia (Danielle Brooks), who marries Mister’s son Harpo, announces her independence the moment she hits the screen and carves it in stone with the foot-stomping anthem “Hell No!”\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939801\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-13939801 size-full\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"a Black man sits on a porch in boots and a hat playing the banjo\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1440\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-800x450.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1020x574.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-160x90.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-768x432.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1536x864.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1152.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-T2-0013r_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1080.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Colman Domingo as Mister in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>The first challenge of adapting \u003cem>The Color Purple — \u003c/em>as with any story that involves subjugation and domestic violence — is portraying the characters’ suffering without either glorifying (i.e., wallowing in it) or cheapening it. That’s an especially tough tone to nail in a musical, but director Blitz Bazawule (co-director of Beyoncé’s \u003cem>Black Is King\u003c/em>) succeeds in making us feel the sting of Mister’s slaps and blows without robbing Celie of our respect.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The bigger problem, it turns out, is conveying Celie’s gradual and deliberate evolution into the author of her own destiny. Even at two hours and 20 minutes (including credits), \u003cem>The Color Purple \u003c/em>feels abridged and rushed. Take the electric extended-family dinner scene in which every female character asserts herself over the menfolk (especially Mister and his aged father, played by Louis Gossett, Jr.). It remains the satisfying centerpiece of the movie, but it comes as something of a surprise; the groundwork hasn’t been fully laid for Celie’s spontaneous assertion of freedom.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another area in which the movie can’t approach the depth and layers of Alice Walker’s novel, the strong cast notwithstanding, is the intimate relationship that develops between Shug and Celie. We can debate whether time constraints or an abundance of studio caution limited Bazawule’s portrayal of their love to a couple brief snippets.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939802\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2560px\">\u003ca href=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939802\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg\" alt=\"two Black women in lavender and orange dresses walk in green grass\" width=\"2560\" height=\"1707\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-scaled.jpeg 2560w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-800x533.jpeg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1020x680.jpeg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-160x107.jpeg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-768x512.jpeg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1536x1024.jpeg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-2048x1365.jpeg 2048w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/rev-1-TCP-25310_High_Res_JPEG-1920x1280.jpeg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2560px) 100vw, 2560px\">\u003c/a>\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Fantasia Barrino as Celie and Taraji P. Henson as Shug Avery in ‘The Color Purple.’ \u003ccite>(Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>For moviegoers all the way onboard for Celie’s journey, these are quibbles that won’t detract from their enjoyment of \u003cem>The Color Purple\u003c/em>. They will revel in the few seconds the filmmaker allows for audience applause after Barrino finishes her solid rendition of the show-stopper “I’m Here.”\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In fact, if you have any interest whatsoever in \u003cem>The Color Purple,\u003c/em> you should see it with a crowd in a theater. The experience will be immeasurably richer than streaming it alone or with a couple friends — even though you can sing along at home.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/app/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>‘The Color Purple’ opens Dec. 25, 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "Haunting ‘All of Us Strangers’ Is a Perfect Holiday Movie",
"headTitle": "Haunting ‘All of Us Strangers’ Is a Perfect Holiday Movie | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>A low-key high-wire act of emotional delicacy and devastating power, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> is a perfect holiday movie. For adults in a certain mood, that is, for whom Christmas (or the winter solstice) opens a bittersweet portal for remembering and revisiting deceased relatives, friends and lovers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> (opening Dec. 25 in the Bay Area) also speaks eloquently to anyone feeling alone or alienated at this particular juncture and who hankers, even tentatively, for the company of a kindred spirit. It’s one of my favorite films of the year, so let me be even more inviting: This is a splendid movie for people who love concise storytelling and precise filmmaking steeped start to finish in mystery and ambiguity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Adapted from the 1987 novel \u003cem>Strangers\u003c/em> written by the Japanese television dramatist and author Taichi Yamada (who died in late November at 89) and transposed by writer-director Andrew Haigh to a familiar yet slightly \u003cem>off\u003c/em> England, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> centers on a single gay man in his 40s who has chosen — or gradually, infinitesimally defaulted to — a life of isolation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939712\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939712\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow.jpg\" alt=\"Bare-chested man lit orange looks out high rise window at reflected city\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Andrew Scott in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>We could call it a life of the mind (without the hothouse Hollywood hysteria of \u003cem>Barton Fink\u003c/em>), for Adam (Andrew Scott) is a screenwriter, an erstwhile inventor of worlds. \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> begins in his apartment in a new, weirdly uninhabited high-rise on the outskirts of a strangely twilit London. Did the apocalypse happen this week? That would explain why there’s nothing in his fridge except leftover takeout.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13938160']You may recall that Brendan Gleeson’s character in 2022’s terrific year-end U.K. import, \u003cem>The Banshees of Inisherin\u003c/em>, lived in a house on the island’s shore facing the mainland of Ireland — which he never visited. Adam gazes out his London window with the same combination of unspoken attraction and trepidation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In short order, however, Adam’s doorbell rings and the only other resident presents himself. Harry (Paul Mescal, the breakout star of last year’s \u003cem>Aftersun\u003c/em>) is tipsy, dodgy and needy, and we are relieved when Adam declines to invite the younger man in for a drink. But they run into each other a couple days later in the elevator lobby — a less fraught location — and eventually one thing leads to another.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Meanwhile, triggered by a packet of family snapshots he stumbled across, Adam makes a pilgrimage by train to his suburban childhood home. Once there, Haigh plausibly guides Adam, in a beautifully constructed piece of visual filmmaking, to a totally implausible destination: a reunion with his parents, fixed forever in their early 30s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939709\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939709\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas.jpg\" alt=\"Man and woman decorate a Christmas tree with a third figure seated in front of them\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jamie Bell and Claire Foy in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> allows viewers resistant to supernatural forces or themes to entertain various logical explanations for this and subsequent meetings between Adam and his late father and mother (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy, both extraordinary). Adam is having a fever dream, or a ketamine nightmare. Or everything that’s happening, including his intoxicating romance with Harry, is the product of his imagination — that is, a screenplay he is writing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am one of those literal moviegoers who craves real-world reasons for otherworldly occurrences, yet I dove headlong into the parents-child relationship. I am always rooting for reconciliation in movies, I confess, and nothing makes me more emotional than characters hearing (or saying) what they need to hear or say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I could add the qualification that the characters must earn it, and the filmmaker has to handle it with a modicum of sentimentality. You may not be surprised that the key conversations in \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> involve Adam’s homosexuality and his parents’ late-to-the-party acceptance. The pitch and tenor of these scenes, steeped in the ordinariness of domestic life, sharpens the stakes to a degree where you may not be aware you are holding your breath.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939714\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939714\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator.jpg\" alt=\"Two men stand in elevator, one reflected in mirror\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Instead of a high-wattage star turn, Andrew Scott (Professor Moriarty on PBS’s \u003cem>Sherlock\u003c/em>, The Priest on \u003ci>Fleabag\u003c/i>) gives us an Everyman whose veneer of self-protective cautiousness dissolves under the influence of tolerance and acceptance. There’s some pent-up grief in there, to be sure, which Scott conveys as personal and individual and which Haigh expands, in my view, to encompass every gay man who has died of AIDS.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postID='arts_13939435']Haigh (\u003cem>Lean on Pete\u003c/em>, \u003cem>45 Years\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Weekend\u003c/em>) spotlights songs by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and The Pet Shop Boys that take us back to the peak of the plague. We can infer that Adam is not only grieving the death of his parents at a young age but the subsequent losses of friends and lovers. The London that Adam sees in the distance from his upper-floor window is, in fact, a post-apocalypse landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>From this vantage point, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> is simultaneously a eulogy and an act of healing. But even if you don’t embrace my big-picture musings, you will not be unmoved by the four characters’ conversations. Heart-to-hearts are an important part of the holidays, in my fantasy world, so I’ll double down: \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em>, buttressed by a poignant tree-trimming scene, is a holiday movie.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘All of Us Strangers’ opens Dec. 25, 2023.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Andrew Haigh’s exquisite film is an intimate parable of gay loss and familial acceptance.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>A low-key high-wire act of emotional delicacy and devastating power, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> is a perfect holiday movie. For adults in a certain mood, that is, for whom Christmas (or the winter solstice) opens a bittersweet portal for remembering and revisiting deceased relatives, friends and lovers.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> (opening Dec. 25 in the Bay Area) also speaks eloquently to anyone feeling alone or alienated at this particular juncture and who hankers, even tentatively, for the company of a kindred spirit. It’s one of my favorite films of the year, so let me be even more inviting: This is a splendid movie for people who love concise storytelling and precise filmmaking steeped start to finish in mystery and ambiguity.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Adapted from the 1987 novel \u003cem>Strangers\u003c/em> written by the Japanese television dramatist and author Taichi Yamada (who died in late November at 89) and transposed by writer-director Andrew Haigh to a familiar yet slightly \u003cem>off\u003c/em> England, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> centers on a single gay man in his 40s who has chosen — or gradually, infinitesimally defaulted to — a life of isolation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939712\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939712\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow.jpg\" alt=\"Bare-chested man lit orange looks out high rise window at reflected city\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_ScottWindow-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Andrew Scott in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>We could call it a life of the mind (without the hothouse Hollywood hysteria of \u003cem>Barton Fink\u003c/em>), for Adam (Andrew Scott) is a screenwriter, an erstwhile inventor of worlds. \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> begins in his apartment in a new, weirdly uninhabited high-rise on the outskirts of a strangely twilit London. Did the apocalypse happen this week? That would explain why there’s nothing in his fridge except leftover takeout.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>You may recall that Brendan Gleeson’s character in 2022’s terrific year-end U.K. import, \u003cem>The Banshees of Inisherin\u003c/em>, lived in a house on the island’s shore facing the mainland of Ireland — which he never visited. Adam gazes out his London window with the same combination of unspoken attraction and trepidation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In short order, however, Adam’s doorbell rings and the only other resident presents himself. Harry (Paul Mescal, the breakout star of last year’s \u003cem>Aftersun\u003c/em>) is tipsy, dodgy and needy, and we are relieved when Adam declines to invite the younger man in for a drink. But they run into each other a couple days later in the elevator lobby — a less fraught location — and eventually one thing leads to another.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Meanwhile, triggered by a packet of family snapshots he stumbled across, Adam makes a pilgrimage by train to his suburban childhood home. Once there, Haigh plausibly guides Adam, in a beautifully constructed piece of visual filmmaking, to a totally implausible destination: a reunion with his parents, fixed forever in their early 30s.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939709\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939709\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas.jpg\" alt=\"Man and woman decorate a Christmas tree with a third figure seated in front of them\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Christmas-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Jamie Bell and Claire Foy in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> allows viewers resistant to supernatural forces or themes to entertain various logical explanations for this and subsequent meetings between Adam and his late father and mother (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy, both extraordinary). Adam is having a fever dream, or a ketamine nightmare. Or everything that’s happening, including his intoxicating romance with Harry, is the product of his imagination — that is, a screenplay he is writing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I am one of those literal moviegoers who craves real-world reasons for otherworldly occurrences, yet I dove headlong into the parents-child relationship. I am always rooting for reconciliation in movies, I confess, and nothing makes me more emotional than characters hearing (or saying) what they need to hear or say.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I could add the qualification that the characters must earn it, and the filmmaker has to handle it with a modicum of sentimentality. You may not be surprised that the key conversations in \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> involve Adam’s homosexuality and his parents’ late-to-the-party acceptance. The pitch and tenor of these scenes, steeped in the ordinariness of domestic life, sharpens the stakes to a degree where you may not be aware you are holding your breath.\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_13939714\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 2000px\">\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-13939714\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator.jpg\" alt=\"Two men stand in elevator, one reflected in mirror\" width=\"2000\" height=\"1333\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator.jpg 2000w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-800x533.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1020x680.jpg 1020w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-160x107.jpg 160w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-768x512.jpg 768w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1536x1024.jpg 1536w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/12/AOUS_Elevator-1920x1280.jpg 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 2000px) 100vw, 2000px\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott in ‘All of Us Strangers.’ \u003ccite>(Chris Harris/Searchlight Pictures)\u003c/cite>\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>Instead of a high-wattage star turn, Andrew Scott (Professor Moriarty on PBS’s \u003cem>Sherlock\u003c/em>, The Priest on \u003ci>Fleabag\u003c/i>) gives us an Everyman whose veneer of self-protective cautiousness dissolves under the influence of tolerance and acceptance. There’s some pent-up grief in there, to be sure, which Scott conveys as personal and individual and which Haigh expands, in my view, to encompass every gay man who has died of AIDS.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>Haigh (\u003cem>Lean on Pete\u003c/em>, \u003cem>45 Years\u003c/em>, \u003cem>Weekend\u003c/em>) spotlights songs by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and The Pet Shop Boys that take us back to the peak of the plague. We can infer that Adam is not only grieving the death of his parents at a young age but the subsequent losses of friends and lovers. The London that Adam sees in the distance from his upper-floor window is, in fact, a post-apocalypse landscape.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>From this vantage point, \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em> is simultaneously a eulogy and an act of healing. But even if you don’t embrace my big-picture musings, you will not be unmoved by the four characters’ conversations. Heart-to-hearts are an important part of the holidays, in my fantasy world, so I’ll double down: \u003cem>All of Us Strangers\u003c/em>, buttressed by a poignant tree-trimming scene, is a holiday movie.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ci>‘All of Us Strangers’ opens Dec. 25, 2023.\u003c/i>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"title": "‘American Fiction’ Makes a Magnificent Mockery of Our Cultural Status Quo",
"headTitle": "‘American Fiction’ Makes a Magnificent Mockery of Our Cultural Status Quo | KQED",
"content": "\u003cp>There are two distinctly different stories scuffing up against one another in \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>. One concerns a professionally successful but personally messy family navigating a series of hardships. The other is about what happens when an intellectual writer allows his frustration with the world to compromise his artistic vision.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Based on Percival Everett’s 2011 novel \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.graywolfpress.org/books/erasure\">Erasure\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>, written and directed by Cord Jefferson, revolves around author Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (played engagingly by Jeffrey Wright). When we first find him, Monk is tired of seeing his novels sidelined into the African American Studies section of the bookstore, while works that reinforce racist stereotypes are welcomed into central displays. His frustration is compounded when he is forced to take a leave of absence from his university job for being too unfiltered and ornery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13938158']In the midst of dealing with those professional problems, Monk is called home to Boston where he faces additional issues hitting his mother and siblings. (Wright’s chemistry with Sterling K. Brown and Tracee Ellis Ross, who play Monk’s brother and sister, is a consistent delight). The combination of all these stresses one night prompts Monk to sit down and angrily pen a manuscript steeped in Black stereotypes and awash with pandering storylines. The book, titled \u003cem>My Pafology\u003c/em>, is intended as a middle finger to the publishers who think Monk’s other most recent novel isn’t “Black enough” to warrant release.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To Monk’s surprise and consternation, those same publishers fall over themselves to pick up \u003cem>Pafology\u003c/em>. Before long, the writer is doing interviews as his alter-ego, Stagg. R. Leigh (a fun nod to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Shelton\">infamous 19th century pimp Stagger Lee\u003c/a>, who has inspired \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stagger_Lee\">countless songs\u003c/a> over the years). A series of increasingly ludicrous events follow as Monk’s personal ethical conundrums spiral out into the wider literary world.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i0MbLCpYJPA\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Within \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>, the delicate family drama at play does not always gel cohesively with its often comedic rendering of the publishing world. But perhaps dissonance is the point. \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is, at its core, a story about the many ways that mainstream popular culture fails to reflect the true breadth of the Black American experience. By juxtaposing Monk’s home life — his academic career, his doctor siblings and quaint beach house — with the cartoonish criminal persona he is forced to adopt to promote \u003cem>Pafology\u003c/em>, the absurdity of America’s cultural status quo is quite thoroughly reflected.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[aside postid='arts_13938942']\u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is at its most fun when it’s mocking white thirst for violent and reductive Black stories. Adam Brody is deliciously smarmy as a misguided movie producer who profits from peddling racial stereotypes. Miriam Shor is hilarious as an urbane publisher pretending to understand street life. A scene in which two white literary judges shut down two Black judges because “it’s essential to listen to Black voices right now,” is brilliantly executed. All of these moments are aimed squarely at white people who feel they can absolve themselves of racism if they look directly at depictions of Black suffering for long enough. That these white folks think they’re brave for doing so is the punchline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is, all at once, an effective family drama, a hilarious critique of institutional racism and a complicated look at the consequences (and potential benefits) of complicity. The fact that no easy answers or solutions are provided to the many questions the movie prompts will keep you pondering long after the credits have rolled. And you’ll never view \u003cem>Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire\u003c/em> the same way again.\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\"> \u003cem>‘American Fiction’ opens nationwide on Dec. 22, 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>There are two distinctly different stories scuffing up against one another in \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>. One concerns a professionally successful but personally messy family navigating a series of hardships. The other is about what happens when an intellectual writer allows his frustration with the world to compromise his artistic vision.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Based on Percival Everett’s 2011 novel \u003cem>\u003ca href=\"https://www.graywolfpress.org/books/erasure\">Erasure\u003c/a>\u003c/em>, \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>, written and directed by Cord Jefferson, revolves around author Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (played engagingly by Jeffrey Wright). When we first find him, Monk is tired of seeing his novels sidelined into the African American Studies section of the bookstore, while works that reinforce racist stereotypes are welcomed into central displays. His frustration is compounded when he is forced to take a leave of absence from his university job for being too unfiltered and ornery.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>In the midst of dealing with those professional problems, Monk is called home to Boston where he faces additional issues hitting his mother and siblings. (Wright’s chemistry with Sterling K. Brown and Tracee Ellis Ross, who play Monk’s brother and sister, is a consistent delight). The combination of all these stresses one night prompts Monk to sit down and angrily pen a manuscript steeped in Black stereotypes and awash with pandering storylines. The book, titled \u003cem>My Pafology\u003c/em>, is intended as a middle finger to the publishers who think Monk’s other most recent novel isn’t “Black enough” to warrant release.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>To Monk’s surprise and consternation, those same publishers fall over themselves to pick up \u003cem>Pafology\u003c/em>. Before long, the writer is doing interviews as his alter-ego, Stagg. R. Leigh (a fun nod to \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Shelton\">infamous 19th century pimp Stagger Lee\u003c/a>, who has inspired \u003ca href=\"https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stagger_Lee\">countless songs\u003c/a> over the years). A series of increasingly ludicrous events follow as Monk’s personal ethical conundrums spiral out into the wider literary world.\u003c/p>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutube'>\n \u003cspan class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__embedYoutubeInside'>\n \u003ciframe\n loading='lazy'\n class='utils-parseShortcode-shortcodes-__youtubeShortcode__youtubePlayer'\n type='text/html'\n src='//www.youtube.com/embed/i0MbLCpYJPA'\n title='//www.youtube.com/embed/i0MbLCpYJPA'\n allowfullscreen='true'\n style='border:0;'>\u003c/iframe>\n \u003c/span>\n \u003c/span>\u003c/p>\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Within \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em>, the delicate family drama at play does not always gel cohesively with its often comedic rendering of the publishing world. But perhaps dissonance is the point. \u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is, at its core, a story about the many ways that mainstream popular culture fails to reflect the true breadth of the Black American experience. By juxtaposing Monk’s home life — his academic career, his doctor siblings and quaint beach house — with the cartoonish criminal persona he is forced to adopt to promote \u003cem>Pafology\u003c/em>, the absurdity of America’s cultural status quo is quite thoroughly reflected.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is at its most fun when it’s mocking white thirst for violent and reductive Black stories. Adam Brody is deliciously smarmy as a misguided movie producer who profits from peddling racial stereotypes. Miriam Shor is hilarious as an urbane publisher pretending to understand street life. A scene in which two white literary judges shut down two Black judges because “it’s essential to listen to Black voices right now,” is brilliantly executed. All of these moments are aimed squarely at white people who feel they can absolve themselves of racism if they look directly at depictions of Black suffering for long enough. That these white folks think they’re brave for doing so is the punchline.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>American Fiction\u003c/em> is, all at once, an effective family drama, a hilarious critique of institutional racism and a complicated look at the consequences (and potential benefits) of complicity. The fact that no easy answers or solutions are provided to the many questions the movie prompts will keep you pondering long after the credits have rolled. And you’ll never view \u003cem>Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire\u003c/em> the same way again.\u003cbr>\n\u003cimg loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-medium wp-image-12127869\" src=\"https://ww2.kqed.org/arts/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-800x78.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"800\" height=\"78\" srcset=\"https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_.jpg 800w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-400x39.jpg 400w, https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2016/09/Q.Logo_.Break_-768x75.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 800px) 100vw, 800px\"> \u003cem>‘American Fiction’ opens nationwide on Dec. 22, 2023.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"info": "What kind of no sabo word is Hyphenación? For us, it’s about living within a hyphenation. Like being a third-gen Mexican-American from the Texas border now living that Bay Area Chicano life. Like Xorje! Each week we bring together a couple of hyphenated Latinos to talk all about personal life choices: family, careers, relationships, belonging … everything is on the table. ",
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"info": "Our flagship program, helmed by Kai Ryssdal, examines what the day in money delivered, through stories, conversations, newsworthy numbers and more. Updated Monday through Friday at about 3:30 p.m. PT.",
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"info": "The MindShift podcast explores the innovations in education that are shaping how kids learn. Hosts Ki Sung and Katrina Schwartz introduce listeners to educators, researchers, parents and students who are developing effective ways to improve how kids learn. We cover topics like how fed-up administrators are developing surprising tactics to deal with classroom disruptions; how listening to podcasts are helping kids develop reading skills; the consequences of overparenting; and why interdisciplinary learning can engage students on all ends of the traditional achievement spectrum. This podcast is part of the MindShift education site, a division of KQED News. KQED is an NPR/PBS member station based in San Francisco. You can also visit the MindShift website for episodes and supplemental blog posts or tweet us \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/MindShiftKQED\">@MindShiftKQED\u003c/a> or visit us at \u003ca href=\"/mindshift\">MindShift.KQED.org\u003c/a>",
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"info": "For decades, the process for how police police themselves has been inconsistent – if not opaque. In some states, like California, these proceedings were completely hidden. After a new police transparency law unsealed scores of internal affairs files, our reporters set out to examine these cases and the shadow world of police discipline. On Our Watch brings listeners into the rooms where officers are questioned and witnesses are interrogated to find out who this system is really protecting. Is it the officers, or the public they've sworn to serve?",
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"tagline": "Politics from a personal perspective",
"info": "Political Breakdown is a new series that explores the political intersection of California and the nation. Each week hosts Scott Shafer and Marisa Lagos are joined with a new special guest to unpack politics -- with personality — and offer an insider’s glimpse at how politics happens.",
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"possible": {
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"info": "Possible is hosted by entrepreneur Reid Hoffman and writer Aria Finger. Together in Possible, Hoffman and Finger lead enlightening discussions about building a brighter collective future. The show features interviews with visionary guests like Trevor Noah, Sam Altman and Janette Sadik-Khan. Possible paints an optimistic portrait of the world we can create through science, policy, business, art and our shared humanity. It asks: What if everything goes right for once? How can we get there? Each episode also includes a short fiction story generated by advanced AI GPT-4, serving as a thought-provoking springboard to speculate how humanity could leverage technology for good.",
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"info": "Each weekday, host Marco Werman and his team of producers bring you the world's most interesting stories in an hour of radio that reminds us just how small our planet really is.",
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},
"radiolab": {
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"info": "A two-time Peabody Award-winner, Radiolab is an investigation told through sounds and stories, and centered around one big idea. In the Radiolab world, information sounds like music and science and culture collide. Hosted by Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich, the show is designed for listeners who demand skepticism, but appreciate wonder. WNYC Studios is the producer of other leading podcasts including Freakonomics Radio, Death, Sex & Money, On the Media and many more.",
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},
"reveal": {
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"info": "Created by The Center for Investigative Reporting and PRX, Reveal is public radios first one-hour weekly radio show and podcast dedicated to investigative reporting. Credible, fact based and without a partisan agenda, Reveal combines the power and artistry of driveway moment storytelling with data-rich reporting on critically important issues. The result is stories that inform and inspire, arming our listeners with information to right injustices, hold the powerful accountable and improve lives.Reveal is hosted by Al Letson and showcases the award-winning work of CIR and newsrooms large and small across the nation. In a radio and podcast market crowded with choices, Reveal focuses on important and often surprising stories that illuminate the world for our listeners.",
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"officialWebsiteLink": "https://www.revealnews.org/episodes/",
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},
"rightnowish": {
"id": "rightnowish",
"title": "Rightnowish",
"tagline": "Art is where you find it",
"info": "Rightnowish digs into life in the Bay Area right now… ish. Journalist Pendarvis Harshaw takes us to galleries painted on the sides of liquor stores in West Oakland. We'll dance in warehouses in the Bayview, make smoothies with kids in South Berkeley, and listen to classical music in a 1984 Cutlass Supreme in Richmond. Every week, Pen talks to movers and shakers about how the Bay Area shapes what they create, and how they shape the place we call home.",
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},
"science-friday": {
"id": "science-friday",
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"info": "Science Friday is a weekly science talk show, broadcast live over public radio stations nationwide. Each week, the show focuses on science topics that are in the news and tries to bring an educated, balanced discussion to bear on the scientific issues at hand. Panels of expert guests join host Ira Flatow, a veteran science journalist, to discuss science and to take questions from listeners during the call-in portion of the program.",
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