REVIEW - Edge of Darkness

The best part of this movie was before it even started: After the trailer for yet another dreadful Gerard Butler movie (Bounty Hunter), Amo muttered "he just goes from strength to strength".

However, I digress.

Heaven knows what the film's title had to do with the wafer thin plot, and heaven also presumably knows how something so slow can be marketed as a thriller.

Aside from a couple of just-for-the-shock-value moments (cars appearing as if from nowhere to mow someone down, guns being pulled quick as you like to shoot some unsuspecting bad guy or 3), the film's pedestrian pace - as Mad-as-hell-Mel searches for his daughter's murderers without doing much real sleuthing - had me glad the seat wasn't any more comfortable.

Apparently not a patch on the original 1986 TV series, starring Bob Peck and Joanne Whalley, as that production won a slew of BAFTA Awards, and this 2010 version won't win diddleysquat.

Would have got a RANT, but Pavey said she really enjoyed it, so it gets an average REVIEW.

Look out for a new and separate Mrs. Page blog, seeing as I don't like being edited.

RANT - Tired Old Grammys

I'm posting this 15 minutes into The Grammys, just to show how predictable they are.

I was never a fan of The Grammys. Just like Rolling Stone magazine and the Billboard Top 40, they're stuck fast to the middle of the road with what really matters whizzing past them in both directions.

Green Day as a Broadway Musical. Puh-leeze. Rock Operas sucked in the 70s, let alone now. And host Steven Colbert bombed bigger than the US Air Force.

You know damned well awards are going to go to Beyonce, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Alicia Keys, Taylor Swift, Black Eyed Peas and some weak-ass R&B guy. Oh, and don't forget the "Rock" category - cue U2 / Coldplay / Radiohead. At least this year we'll be spared Kanye Bloody West.

This year's token not-very-Indie band? Lady Antebellum, for heaven's sake.

And when-oh-when will cougars realize that pumping their lips full of pig's bladder does NOT make them look sexier. That's you, Nicole Kidman!

RANT - Spartacus: Blood and Sand

I had to give this a couple of episodes to get into its stride and convince me that the terrible first installment was a temporary blip.

No such luck.

It's stating the obvious that Spartacus is a lame, attempted mashup of Gladiator, Rome and 300.

I say "lame" because it boasts none of the excitement of Gladiator, none of the intrigue and complexity of Rome, but an overdose of 300-like effects that are no longer the slightest bit original.

Every single lunge, thrust, swipe and strike is rendered in slow motion, and boy does it get boring. Every blow generates a fountain of projectile blood, often from places nowhere near the wound. The dialog is neanderthal; the acting from everyone but John Hannah (gladiator school owner Batiatis) is wooden.

At the beginning of each episode, this laughable warning is read:

"Spartacus depicts extreme sensuality, brutality and language that some viewers may find objectionable. The show is a historical portrayal of ancient Roman society and the intensity of the content is to suggest an authentic representation of the period".

Instead, the warning should state: "It's altogether too knuckle-headed for serious consideration." 

Pavey wants me to hold off giving this the thumbs down, reckoning that it could get better. I'm going ahead and posting this now, and will happily post a retraction if things look up.

REVIEW - Michael Mina

Is Michael Mina good enough to be classed as San Francisco's best restaurant? Considering the competition, the title is there to be taken: Masa's is too old school; Gary Danko is too touristy; Coi is lovely but not grand enough; Farallon is fine only for fish; Fleur de Lys is pretentious, and so on.

Situated as it is just off the lobby of the Westin St. Francis hotel, Michael Mina is perhaps a little noisy to be described as romantic, although it's grand enough to be reserved for special occasions - in this case Mrs. Page's birthday.

The service was excellent, enough to make us feel special. Plenty of staff fussing over us, almost a different person for each of the dishes in our 6-course + amuse bouche tasting menu with paired wine. "Excellent" but not flawless; one waiter confidently served a course and described the Spanish Mackerel with enthusiasm, until we pointed out that it was actually the Sea Bass.

Our main waiter was a treat. He knew his stuff, and like most of the main waiters was dressed like a Victorian apothecary.

Annoyingly, despite having the six course tasting menu for $135, there were supplements if we chose the Foi Gras Terrine ($15) and the Wagyu Ribeye ($30), so in a flash my meal was $180 + $90 for 6 half-glasses of wine.

I'd be OK with that price if the food was perfect, but it wasn't. It was curiously patchy, like Mina hadn't been in for a while and his deputies had let standards slip a little. 

Pavey thought the Elysian Field Lamb chop too gamey, but not as gamey as the Squab. There were high notes worthy of mention like the Wagyu beef, which was amazing. The foie gras terrine was a fabulous and creative dish with a dash of humor - our waiter's unknowingly calling the flageolet beans "flagellate".

All in all, an enjoyable, upscale night out, but we won't be rushing back there.

Good, but no Cyrus.

REVIEW - Monk's Kettle

If I could restrict myself to one sentence, it'd be "What's all the fuss about?"

San Francisco, in its desperation to be hip and happening, sometimes forgets the basics. 

The food at The Monk's Kettle is so-so, it's really hard to get sat down, at the bar or at a table, and either way you've got people pushing past you all night.

This location (and I've said it before) on 16th between Valencia and Guerrero, is throbbing with choice. This means that, within yards of Monk's Kettle you've got better bars, better restaurants and better places for people-watching.

Yes, the beer list is impressive. After a hit and miss experience with beers I'd never heard of before, I alighted on a $20 bottle of Fuller's Vintage Ale, and it was rich and complex like wine. 

However, in order to enjoy the choice, you have to get in there, get sat comfortably, and study the list.

Satisfy your curiosity, sample the beers, but don't hold your breath for a decent meal. The basic burgers are definitely not "Gourmet Pub Fare" like they claim.

RANT - Cortez (and eating out generally, on Feb 14th)

I know Cortez is now closed (deservedly so), but read to the end and you'll see why I retrieved this from my Yelp post a year ago, while you're wondering where to book for this coming Valentine meal.
___________________

Arguably, Valentine's night is the worst time to have a special meal: restaurants try to serve more meals in more sittings, at inflated-just-for-tonight prices, with "special" menus. And to cap all that, because it's their busiest night of the year, they draft in extra bodies who can't possibly be up to the standard of the regular staff.

Why do I bother? After previous Valentine's dinner debacles at Shanghai 1930, Geisha House (in LA) and other alleged "romantic" eateries, we ate Feb 14, 2009 at Cortez.

Now, wasn't Cortez (Hernan Cortes) the murdering invader who brought disease and oppression to 16th Century Mexico? And didn't his most famous victim, Aztec King Monteczuma spawn the euphemism "Monteczuma's Revenge" for an unpleasant stomach disorder?

I digress. The "special" dinner last night was a $350 melange of unprofessional service and poorly-executed food. It started badly, with us being kept waiting 20 minutes before we were shown to our reserved table, and went downhill from there.

The Chef's Canapes were untidy and unpleasant; Jerusalem Artichoke and Lavender Soup was reminiscent of an elderly Victorian lady's handkerchief, the Scallop and Uni caused Monteczuma to stir, the Beet salad tasted like a shovel-full of earth, the Kurobuta Pork Belly with pickled red onion marmalade clashed with everything we'd already tasted, and so on.

The wine "pairing" was a joke, seeing as not one of the 5 wines arrived with its advertised companion. When we were served our Muscat (which was supposed to be with the scallop) along with our Beet, we complained and got marginally better attention, but that just meant glasses were piling up around us. I know I'm comparing this tasting menu and wine pairing with the much-missed Elisabeth Daniel and the still-here-still-great Farallon and Coi, but the chef and staff at Cortez have to be prepared for such scrutiny.

We left before dessert, but after paying about 3 times what the meal was worth.  

My wife has told me to send her this review so that next year, just before Valentines night, she can play it back to me and convince me that we'd be better off dining at home that night rather than put up with sub-standard food, shabby service and a slapped-together, overpriced experience at one of San Francisco's most overrated restaurants.

REGRET - Chez Papa (temporarily below par?)

Chez Papa may be suffering from economic malaise like many other organizations. I recently heard they handed their Mint Plaza establishment back to the chef there. I don't know what kind of transaction was involved.

The group's flagship restaurant, Chez Papa Bistro on Potrero Hill, has - shock, horror! - moved out the chef who "wasn't working out for us", and will be re-installing a former chef.

The "wasn't working out for us" chef wasn't French either, had removed some of the classic French dishes (at least, some of the ones I loved, like Lamb Daube), and has reduced the Chez Papa experience to being not very French at all.

In fact, aside from our French waiter and the excellent French maitre d'hote, you'd scarcely know you were in a French restaurant.

We heard while dining there the other night, that the new, old chef will be getting things back to normal very soon.

J'espere.

RAVE - The Anglo Files, by Sarah Lyall

Subtitled A Field Guide To The British, this is one of the funniest books I've read in a long time, and not just because it's about getting to know the eccentricities of the British.

When American journalist Sarah Lyall married an Englishman and moved to live in the UK, she became an ardent analyst of her husband's family, friends and country.

The book is littered with observations, insights and insults that, despite or maybe because of my English-ness, I laughed out loud at.

The way we behave when we're drunk, womanizing, working or politicking (and many of those being observed were doing all 4 at the same time), makes for great reading, if not experiencing in the flesh.

Some of the best examples of Englishmen behaving badly come from Parliament where, despite arcane rules on what language and behavior is acceptable, and what is not, Sarah Lyall calls out these examples (you have to picture a parliamentary assembly consisting of a few hundred elected representatives shouting at one another across the divide between Conservative and Labour groups):

• Conservative MP Nicholas Soames, to Labour MP John Prescott, who had once been a bartender: "Giovanni, a gin and tonic please".
• "Taxi!" the Labour politicians would call out when Patrick Nicholls, a Conservative whose driver's license was suspended after a DUI, stood up to speak.
• "Moo!" they would shout at Douglas Hogg, in recognition of his time as agriculture minister during the 1990s mad cow crisis.
• "Baa!" they cried at Quentin Davies, after a flock of sheep starved to death on his estate and he was convicted of cruelty to animals.
• When Desmond Swayne, a blustery Conservative known for his garish ties and old-fashioned views, forgot to brush his hair before standing to speak, he was greeted by a bunch of Labour MPs barking like were-wolves.

Ahh, magic!

RAVE - Salt House

Funnily enough, there's a Salt House back in Northwich, England. My family, most recently my lovely mum used to live in Northwich. I'm pretty sure it's not my family mentioned in the Domesday Book, when salt-making in the town was first mentioned in 1086.

That would all be interesting and relevant if that was where we were dining last night, but it isn't and it wasn't. The Salt House in San Francisco has nothing to do with salt, except maybe its spruced-up warehouse / loft building used to store salt? I don't know.

We've only eaten there a couple times before. Usually it's impossible to get, or stay comfortable anywhere near the bar and island thing, as there's waaaay too much noise and customers and staff are always trying to get past you.

Try and get a table near the back of the restaurant, where the noise is toned down a bit and you can concentrate on the excellent food.

We snacked on olives and nuts with our wine while waiting for the appetizers (Pork Confit for her, Pork Belly for me) and then our entrees (Salmon and New York Strip). Every mouthful zinged with flavor, and it was only the noise from everyone competing to get heard that stopped it from being a perfect meal.

RAVE - Legion

I'm really nervous about recommending this, because if I'm honest, it's too silly to be reviewed at all.

God has given up on humankind so sends Michael, his "go to" angel, to kill a specific child and a bunch of lesser angels to possess susceptible humans and kill everyone else,. It turns out that the child, due any day now, represents mankind's only hope. There's no explanation of why or how that child is so special - heaven knows the parents-to-be are useless.

Anyhow, Michael lands, decides not to follow God's instructions, cuts his wings off and and proceeds to protect the mother-to-be, at a diner in the Mojave desert.

At this point I thought I'd spotted the moral of the story: the new baby was Jesus, the mother's boyfriend, who was not the kid's father, was Joseph, the baby's purpose in life was to save mankind. I just couldn't work out who the angel Michael was supposed to be. However, one wacko in the theater had it all sussed. No sooner had Michael blown away the first of the angel-possessed earthlings than she stood up and announced to the rest of the theater goers: "heh heh, that was the Devil!"

Thankfully, she decided she had better things to do than watch the rest of the movie, and as she shuffled out, the movie lulled into 30 minutes of retrospection on behalf of each of those marooned at the diner in the desert.

After waves of weirdos attacking the diner, God's other messenger, Gabriel, shows up with booming noises reminiscent of the alien craft in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Cue Michael versus Gabriel, the former reduced to a collection of high-powered weapons, now that he's got no wings.

I won't give away the rest, but the schlocky action impressed the easily-impressed audience and made this an enjoyable trip.

RANT - Someone please send Gerard Butler a box of Talent

This could easily have been a postscript to the earlier review of The Golden Globes Awards, but the relationship between actors with little talent outside of their specific comfort zone, and the degree to which that narrow talent is trotted out for our "entertainment" warrants its own, special rant.

Romantic Comedy is admittedly one of my least favorite genres - right down there in between Snuff movies and Christian fundamentalist propaganda. This means that anyone who specializes in phoned-in performances in RomCom movies (Matthew McConaughey, Jennifer Aniston, Ben Stiller, Stanley Tucci et al) deserves a fat wedge of criticism.

Gerard Butler, aside from his laughable ham act in 300, and help from a wickedly funny writing and directing job by Guy Ritchie in RocknRolla, seems to have delivered a relentless tide of drivel.

Believe it or not, he has 4 films in pre- or post-production already for 2010, with at least a further 3 in development.

I've often wondered what it would be like to be a fly on the wall of a producer's office, listening to a pitch for the next RomCom.

"So, try to think of a divorced, washed-out advertising exec bumping into a hot, young administrative assistant at the supermarket. Their shopping carts collide, groceries spill all over the place, they hastily repack their carts, only to find as they're loading their cars in the parking lot that she has his shaving cream and he has her tampons! What a hoot, it's like

PS I Love you meets The Ugly Truth meets Failure to Launch. Fantastic!"

The photograph? Oh, just like a certain body piercing is forever known as a Prince Albert, so this device should be known as a Gerard Butler.

REVIEW - Golden Globe Awards

I'm not sure if an Awards show deserves a RAVE or a RANT, because it's good if your favored movies scored well, and sucks if they didn't.

I'm biased in favor of Ricky Gervais as host. I had one business call today where one of my colleagues said "I saw your lookalike last night on The Golden Globes". It's true, when Gervais was on the original Office series (see image above) with his goatee, he aspired to look like me. Now of course he's evolved into a Hollywood player, wearing all black and sporting slicked-back hair.

However he looks, last night's high spots were his introductions of people deserving a good insult:

1. Gervais: "I hate the way the Irish are stereotyped as drunken, sweary hell-raisers. Ladies and Gentlemen, Colin Farrell".

2. Gervais: "I like a drink as much as the next man ..... unless the next man is Mel Gibson". At that, Mad Mel walked out to present an award!

3.Talking (ironically) about how movie stars don't like to rest on their laurels, he introduced Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler as "Rachel, from Friends, and that bloke from 300."

But Ricky Gervais was not the only comedian on stage. That old fart Paul McCartney tickled the Beverly Hilton when he remarked that “Animation is not just for children. It's also for adults who take drugs.”

Finally, I have to include this image, which some media blogger described, in a manner worthy of many of my observations shouted across a bar full of friends, as Mariah Carey's very own Golden Globes.

RAVE - It Might Get Loud

Every chord struck by Jimmy Page still gives me goosebumps, so this movie was a real treat for me.

Jimmy Page (The Yardbirds, John Mayall's Blues Breakers, Led Zeppelin), Jack White (White Stripes, Raconteurs, Dead Weather) and The Edge (U2) get together for a chat. Or as I might title it: The Master, The Angry Artist, and The Nerd get together so that two of them show why The Edge doesn't belong in this trio.

My observations while watching this and wishing I'd learned to play properly:

It's great to watch Jack White concentrate on the way Jimmy Page and The Edge play, genuinely looking to learn. At the same time, it's sad to watch The Edge twiddle his knobs, stare at his computer screen, and arrange his special effects devices.

It's ironic that The Edge has less of an edge than most guitarists I've heard.

It's amazing how, when playing a Zeppelin song, Edge still sounds like he's playing U2, and White still sounds like he's playing The White Stripes.

Something I never knew: Jack White was working as an upholsterer when he formed his first band, with his boss, inventively named The Upholsterers.

One of the big failures in my career as a fan was never to have seen Led Zeppelin live. I tell myself it was mostly because when they were playing at accessible venues (e.g. not at some huge arena in the USA), I was stuck in England and too young to see them.

Pavey asked, "If there was to be a fourth guitarist in this movie, who would it be?" Great question Mrs. P. The suggested gap could be filled by a 50s icon, someone like BB King, or a 90s icon, perhaps. Trouble is, I can't think of any standout guitarists from the 90s.

RAVE - Cheese School of San Francisco

Ignoring a certain wag (that's you Gareth) who suggested I was already cheesy enough, we spent Saturday afternoon with friends Jen and Sue learning how to appreciate cheese and wine by sampling tons of both.

There are very definitely worse ways to spend a cold Saturday afternoon.

When I first heard it was a Sheep Showdown: Italy, Spain and Portugal, I wondered where I could get a wolf at such short notice.

You'd think that having spent (so many) years avoiding and then eating cheese, I'd know perhaps not everything about cheese, but at least all I'd need to know about the subject. This class quickly disavowed me of that idea.

Here are some interesting tidbits we learned:

• Wrap hard cheeses in foil before wrapping that in plastic, and it'll stay fresher longer.
• Don't go into a cheese store in Italy and ask for some pecorino or manchego, as both terms are generic, and what you're actually asking for is a small, round cheese, rather than a specific brand or type of cheese.
• If your refrigerated cheese never gets mouldy, that's the time to worry, because it can only mean it's over-loaded with nasty preservatives.

The over-riding impression I got from the afternoon was that cheese-making is even more complex than wine-making, but rarely gets credit for that.

And, having tasted 9 cheeses including MitiCrema, MitiCana de Oveja, Rustico Limone, Malvarosa, Azeitao D.O.P, and MitiBleu, my top 3 were:

• Romao Queso al Romero, 8/10 - the outer layer of Rosemary encrusted in Pork Lard infused this cheese with a gorgeous aroma and taste.
• Sfizio Pecorino Crotonese, 9/10 - aged in wicker, and wonderfully dry and salty.
• Fulvi Pecorino Romano, 10/10 - saltier than sweat off a seal, but much better for you.

Our informal comparison reminded me that more than wine, cheese reveals the extremes in what our taste buds are attracted to, or repelled by.  For example, blue cheese may as well have been concocted in Hell as far as I'm concerned, while my top 3 reveal my predilection for salt.

[insert lip-smacking emoticon here]

REVIEW - The Book of Eli

It's hard to talk much about this film without giving away the 2 spoilers - what the book is, and what happens to it at the end - so I'm going to tread a very careful path, say that it was a bit too carefully paced for its own good, and, um ........

It was well shot - I hesitate to say "beautifully shot" because it's hard to call a post-apocalytic world alternating between baking sun and falling ash "beautiful". Maybe "starkly shot" is more accurate. The trouble is, describing the quality of the cinematography in any movie is like saying "nice legs, shame about the face". And on that topic, I've often wondered whether the director and cast of a movie that gets a "best screenplay" award, but nothing else, curse themselves for having screwed up the directing and acting.

The trailers that show an outnumbered Denzel deftly hacking his way through the baddies are representative of just a few minutes of the film. Most of the time he's schlepping along desert dry roads carrying an assortment of weapons, iPod, power pack, gloves, scarves and, of course, THE book.

It was (and I usually hate these potted positioning statements), Mad Max meets The Road meets Unforgiven.

The Mad Max analogy makes me wonder why all teetering-near-the-end-of-the-world films portray the characters as having raided a WWII army surplus store. Why wouldn't a world ravaged by nuclear war, solar flares or volcanic disaster adopt a hippie ethos?

One wouldn't use words like exciting, gripping or suspenseful to describe The Book of Eli, more steady, earnest and well-intended.

The good news for us British is that apparently, more Brits will survive the Apocalypse than will Americans. Eli stars the UK's Gary Oldman, Ray Stevenson, Malcolm McDowell, Frances de la Tour and Michael Gambon (the last two in what must be the strangest cameos either of them have enjoyed).

RANT - The Hurt Locker

We saw this a few months ago. I don't know why I didn't post a review at the time (maybe because it was un-memorable, or I was otherwise engaged), but now that it's been re-upped for Oscar season I thought I'd express my disappointment while it's still on at your local multiplex.

First of all, and I do remember this bit, Mrs. Page decided she wanted to eat before we went in to see the film. As it was on at The Embarcadero, one of the smallest theaters in town, I was double-fretting about being late.

I'm not completely anal about this (no doubt my lovely wife would disagree), but I do like to be in my seat early enough to get the right spot (not near the back where all the popcorn-crunching, slurpee-slurping, cell-phone browsing, chattering jerks usually sit; not too near the front where a stiff neck and boggled eyes are all you get for your $12), but not so early that we have to sit through ad after bleeding ad (with Pepsi or Coke ads in the double figures), with people who haven't been to the movies for a year chuckling over those damned Fandango puppets and every other no-longer-chuckle-worthy vignette, and a gazillion* other annoying elements.

Back to the food. Pavey had decided that a hot dog woudn't cut it, so we had to go into a nearby pasta restaurant and waste a half-hour on something that was wholly inaccurately described on the menu as "freshly-made pasta with succulent Italian sausage and sun-dried tomatoes".

The result? Indigestion and a seat on the end of the very first row! Boy was I grumpy.

For the next 131 minutes I stared up almost vertically to see an out-of-focus movie that was allegedly about bomb disposal but managed to feature very little "proper" bomb disposal.

For me, the only exciting part was the bit that had already been shown in all the trailers (and is even on the freaking poster), namely when the tiresomely-maverick bomb disposal expert was rooting through the sand to trace a wire back from a fistful of dynamite to its trigger mechanism, only to find the trigger led to several charges spread out in a wheel pattern.

After the film, and whenever the subject has come up since, I just could not see how Hurt Locker is worthy of the buzz its director has received. I can't even remember why the title has anything to do with the subject matter.

Maybe if one of the devices was "nucular" *, or one had actually detonated, blowing the uniforms off a couple of hot female bomb-disposal experts (but now I'm sounding like Star Trek's Patrick Stewart on Ricky Gervais' fabulous Extras - you have to see it to get the analogy) .....

In my thoroughly reliable opinion, the critical acclaim featured on the poster "A Near-Perfect Movie", "A Full-Tilt Action Picture", and "Ferociously Suspenseful" is right up there with "Jonas Brothers Release Best Album of the Year" and other obvious misprints.

Anyhow (dreadful pun warning) the whole thing bombed for me.


* Both items remind me of the no-longer-relevant but still completely accurate joke about George W. Bush asking an aide "Say, I know what a billion is, and I know what a trillion is, but how much is a brazilian?"

RANT - Daybreakers

Remind me never to go to a vampire movie again expecting to see anything other than drivel.

What started as an interesting angle on this Groundhog Day-like genre - namely that Ethan Hawke's character is a vampire, like almost everyone else on earth, desperately looking to perfect a blood substitute before his kind runs out of human blood - quickly deteriorated into the same old same old.

I accept that there's got to be a certain amount of blood sloshing around to satisfy the typically brain-dead fan-base for this kind of movie, but it was like the director and writers ran out of ideas after about 30 minutes and said "ah, screw it, let's have everyone attack everyone else, spray a load of blood around and cut to the end".

I labeled the audience as brain dead, but there were at least 4 exceptions in this particular presentation: My group, of course (Amo, Gareth and me), and a certain Mr O'Neal. Yes, Shaq was in the house. No doubt bored with the idea of hanging out with the rest of the team, who were earlier standing around outside Rochester Big and Tall while one of the crew was inside buying a pair of size 24 slippers, the big man was inside watching Daybreakers with us.

I hope he liked it, because we sure didn't.

RAVE - Paris-Dakar Rally in South America

Every year I see the photos from this fantastic rally, I promise myself that one year soon I'll go and see it in person.

For the second year in succession the Paris-Dakar rally has been held nowhere near Paris or Dakar. For (lack of) security reasons, it's being held again right now in South America, starting and ending in Buenos Aires.

So far more than 350 teams running a mix of motorbikes, quad bikes, cars and trucks, have completed 8 of the 14 stages.

This gorgeous collection of photos shows how wild and exciting the event can be.

RAVE - The Baader Meinhof Complex

I grew up watching on TV the "action" (i.e. crimes committed) by various pseudo-terrorist organizations around the world - IRA, ETA, PLO and many others.

It's hard to get a clear view when events are developing around you, which is why documentaries made several years after the fact can be so enlightening.

Some of my favorite films in this regard are All The Presidents Men, JFK, Nixon (the stuff that has kept Oliver Stone busy for most of his career).

The lines between Freedom Fighter, Revolutionary and Terrorist are blurred.

Anyhow, to Germany in the 1970s: Left wing activists Andreas Baader and Ulrike Meinhof graduated from political sloganeering to bombings, bank robbery, airline hijackings and assassination of establishment figures they likened to the fascists that had ruined Germany in WWII.

They formed the Red Army Faction (RAF), and spread terror through Germany until a computer-based approach to weeding out un-registered residents led to their arrests and trials in the late 70s.

It started out as a somewhat RAF-biased film, suggesting that police-state brutality in Germany provoked the left into action. But as time progressed - in the movie and in real life - the real story of honorable protest turned cold-blooded murder was told.

A serious and enlightening film.

RAVE - Gomorrah

Based on the bestselling novel Gomorrah, by Roberto Saviano, this film tells the story of the mafia in Napoli, and its influence across all age groups and business sectors.

Since writing the book, Saviano has been threatened by several members of the Camorra, the Neapolitan equivalent of Sicily's Cosa Nostra, and now "enjoys" a permanent police escort.

This movie is gritty and engrossing. It's as good as The Godfather, although less penetrable as it's in Italian.

If you remember 2008's news stories about mountains of trash piling up in south-western Italy, it was trouble with this crew that caused it.

REVIEW - Tommy Toy's

Provided you overlook the clunky name of this otherwise elegant restaurant, you can focus on the Haute Chinoise cuisine. And, unfortunately, it's not as haute as they claim.

The place certainly looks the part, with a grand entrance, sumptuous decor, very attentive staff and attractive menu.

It's the execution that disappoints.

We both had the Prix Fixe menu:

Pavey had Spring Rolls ("greasy"), Tomato and Lobster Bisque (3 out of 5, +1 for the wonton she stole from my soup), 1/2 Lobster ("good, but definitely not the best I've had"), and Mongolian Lamb ("tasty") - all in all 3 out of 5, so slightly above average.

I had the Minced Squab (didn't taste of much at all), the Hot and Sour Wonton Soup (spicy without being pleasant), the Peking Duck (stone cold - intentionally, fatty and dreadful) and the Filet Mignon Medallions (very good, but not enough to save the meal).

Finally, while I said the staff was attentive, our waiter was obsequious. And any restaurant that claims haute anything should not have its staff sing "Happy Birthday" to any of its customers.

RAVE - A Kiss of Shadows, by Laurell K. Hamilton

I have no idea why I picked this book for my Kindle.

I do know that just before going away for our Christmas vacation I bought a dozen Kindle edition books, some of them in somewhat of a hurry. Basically, I picked out a few I'd had my eye on, and then clicked on a few bestsellers.

I didn't realize this was a modern story of goblins, faeries, royal households of fantastic (in the elven sense of the word) characters, an underground world that was forced into the light after thousands of years of going about its own business.

Kicked out of Europe while fighting against the Nazis, the multi-ethnic creatures end up with a portal to our world in St.Louis.

I won't go into too much detail, as I'll end up sounding like a Trekkie, or whatever they call those weirdos who hang out at Comic-Con dressed as Orcs.

Having said all of this, and definitely sounding like I should be deriding the whole thing, I actually really enjoyed this trip.

I daresay it's not for everyone, but if you've ever wondered what it's like for a monster with a nest of tentacles growing from his stomach to come on to a princess with the power to turn the earth's natural forces against anyone or anything, then this book is for you.

Live long and prosper :)

RAVE - Sherlock Holmes

So Guy Ritchie can only do style, not substance? Many directors can't even do style.

It's not exactly Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Victorians, but Ritchie trademarks litter the cobbled streets. There's the stop-go action, the slo-mo, the cheeky humor - all filling in where there should be a better plot.

It's fun, funny and slick. The problem is, the story never really develops. There's no build-up of tension, just wham bam, thank you ma'am.

What stands out is the superlative scenery. Ritchie doesn't do 19th Century London the way Upstairs, Downstairs did it, or the way the original TV Sherlock Holmes Mysteries did it, with limited sets showing foggy back streets, and Baker Street shop fronts. No, this was expansive. Panoramic shots of London, main thoroughfares like Regent St, Piccadilly Circus, The Thames and everything around it. The sets were - and I hesitate to use this word - breathtaking. I looked closely for telltale signs of little wooden model buildings, but if that's how they did it, it didn't show.

So, definitely a fun movie, if not a masterpiece.

Don't be surprised if there's another Holmes adventure up Ritchie's sleeve, as there were plenty of pointers to this becoming a multiple movie franchise. I guess it all depends on how much coin this first one generates.

RANT - Who'd want to be a Restauranter?

I've seen several "Landmark restaurant closes"-type articles on Yelp, Zagat, SFGate and other sites. They've been appearing each month during the past few years' recession.

But today's attempts to get a Chinese takeout (to compensate for yesterday's Shen Yun disappointment), revealed that several of our usual sources have dried up in the past few weeks.

The following local restaurants have recently expired, all allegedly due to the same greedy landlord:

Lingba - corner of 18th St and Connecticut, on Potrero Hill

Eliza's - a couple doors up from Lingba, on 18th St

Baraka - opposite Lingba

Jay's Deli - one block up the hill from Lingba

While the following restaurants are not particularly local to us, they have something other than their closure in common. I hated all three.

Cortez- Geary St

Zinnia - Jackson Square

Shanghai 1930 - Steuart Street

These final three, despite frequently enjoying my custom, have nevertheless collapsed:

TWO - Hawthorne St

South - Townsend St

Jack Falstaff - Second St

Many of these places are being "re-imagined", "re-born", "re-invented", or "re-concepted" (thanks Mrs. Mayor Newsom, shareholder at Plumpjack Group, owner of Jack Falstaff and many others for that last gem) presumably in a manner more likely to attract customers.

REVIEW - Shen Yun

Part opera, part ballet, part musical, Shen Yun thinks more of itself than most equivalent productions.

I must say that before they started advertising for the week of performances in San Francisco, I hadn't heard if it, despite the fact that according to that advertising, "over 1 million people have already marveled at it". Sounds like one of those old Joan Collins' jokes, but that's for a different audience.

I wasn't sure whether to expect a Yangtze Riverdance, Dancing with the Stars of Cirque du Soleil, or Nutcracker's Dance of the Sugar Plum Sauce Fairy. In my view - and Pavey and I disagreed on this - Shen Yun wasn't up to any of these.

The high points were the operatic and solo musical performances, while the dances were - again in my view - repetitive and nowhere near as acrobatic as the scenes carefully placed on YouTube.

I wondered which performances had been seen by those people whose gushing praise is so heavily featured in all the advertising. Then, as we left their marketing strategy was revealed: several people were stood at the exits thrusting digital recorders under everyone's noses, asking "did you enjoy the show?" I said "no" and carried on walking.

RAVE - 2009 Favorites

Retrieved from the "Who Else Gives a Rat's Ass?" box:

My favorite albums of 2009

1. Muse - The Resistance

2. The Maccabees - Colour It In

3. The Gossip - Music For Men

4. Placebo - Battle For The Sun

5. Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

6. Doves - The Kingdom of Rust

7. The Cribs - Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever

8. Cansei De Ser Sexy - Donkey

9. Kasabian - Kasabian

10. Editors - An End Has A Start

My favorite movies of 2009

1. District 9

2. Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

3. Paranormal Activity

4. The Road

5. A Serious Man

6. Inglourious Basterds

7. Knowing

8. Taken

9. 2012

10. Surrogates

RAVE - New Years Eve at Bix

Thanks to San Francisco Socialite Felicia, we (Cheri, Gareth, David, Pavey, Felicia and I) saw the new year in at Bix.

I love this place, not necessarily for the food (although that was excellent last night) but the atmosphere is perfect for a celebratory dinner and several crates of ale. And yes, I know, anywhere is perfect where several ales  and this kind of company are involved, but Bix is extra special.

Service was top class, and a wonderful time was had by all (I think).

Bix's 1930s speakeasy style nicely contrasts with last New Year's Eve at Le Colonial, with its 1930s oriental palm court / knocking shop vibe.

REVOLTING - Arachnophobia

All of my anti-arachnid feelings exploded to the surface when I read this story tonight:

In February 2009, a guy visited a hospital in Leeds, England, after enduring three weeks of a red, watery and light-sensitive eye. Doctors prescribed antibiotics for what they thought was a case of conjunctivitis, but they didn't work.

When doctors examined the eye under high-magnification they spotted hair-like projections sticking into the cornea of the guy's right eye.

It turns out he had spider hairs stuck in his eye, shot there by his pet tarantula. Doctors are now advising wearing eye protection when handling your pet spider.

I've got a better idea. DON'T KEEP NASTY, POISONOUS PET SPIDERS. Same thing if you get bitten by your pet alligator. Don't. Keep. Dangerous. Animals. At. Home.