RANT - Eddie Izzard at The Golden Gate Theater

Eddie Izzard is, I guess, my favorite comedian. We've seen him a couple times before, and each time he has been innovative, informative, and above all hysterical.

Last night his show was full of fresh material, covering everything from human sacrifice, to Charles I and the reformation - even including jokes in French and German.

But, he was in the end disappointing. So much so that when the intermission arrived, we decided to leave rather than stick around and listen to more silliness.

Sorry Eddie, but three times is enough.

REVIEW - Spoon at Fox Theatre

Spoon have been around for 20 years, but have managed to do so without me hearing anything by them. Anyhow, our friends Tom and Holly bought tickets for the four of us.

While the show was a sell out, the music was polished but without one hook, one memorable tune.

I might download something to listen at my leisure, but I didn't become a new fan after this show.

REVIEW - Entourage

Based loosely on the exploits of Mark Wahlberg and his entourage as he rose to stardom, this used to be one of our favorite TV shows.

This movie version, 7 years after the TV series, seemed full of the same crew who now appear over the hill, but still full of the same material. Not only did they seem beyond their sell by date, but the babes were all leathery from too much sun, fake-boobed and neurotic.

Then there were the cameos: everyone from Warren Buffet, Mark Cuban, Gary Busey, Bob Saget, Andrew Dice Clay, and a hundred other non-celebrities. Every one of them could have been, and should have been nixed.

And don't get me started on the dreadful product placement: from Avion Tequila, to Johnny Drama Black Label Whisky, through to the unforgivable replacement of the crew's TV Aston Martins with revolting, plasticky Cadillacs.

Don't get me wrong: the film is funny, but there's nothing new here that wasn't already covered in the TV series.

RAVE - San Andreas

This was half great, half pedestrian.

The pedestrian half, caused by the schmaltzy sub-plot that involved Dwayne Johnson and his wife rescuing their daughter from San Francisco, during a mega earthquake, and the pointless half wits that padded that sub-plot - including a dopey English guy there for an interview, and for some implausible reason his 10-year old brother who was there for company.

The great half was the earthquake - the devastation caused to the whole city, and the accompanying tsunami that flooded the city.

The effect was very scary, specially so for those of us who live in SF. After we left the theater, we even drove beyond our house on Potrero Hill, which research shows is only 200 feet above sea level, to the highest point on the Hill. I was given strict instructions to get the cats into a carrying bag and take them to the highest point on the hill, to await Mrs P who will presumably battle her way there from her office on the peninsula.

That's all of course, if it actually happens.

RANT - The Girl and The Fig, Sonoma

I didn't want to go to this place again. We went a year ago, after Mrs P saw a glowing review on Check Please, Bay Area, and I was thoroughly underwhelmed.

Her excuse was that we went for brunch, and therefore the menu was predictably dull. Anyhow, this time, armed with another positive review from Check Please, my lady had booked us dinner at The Girl and The Fig.

Not only did I have a negative predisposition to the restaurant, but thanks to my food poisoning - kindly donated by El Dorado Kitchen earlier in the day - I was keen to leave the moment we sat down.

The food was ordinary, but its the clientele attracted to the place that proves to be its biggest turn-off. It was full of noisy women cackling and screaming their way through buckets of Prosecco, producing much the same effect as can be suffered at Town Hall.

I'm sorry my darling, but I was bad company. But you booked it, and I won't let you do that again.

RANT - El Dorado Kitchen, Sonoma

This place didn't earn its RANT through its location - right on the square in Sonoma, on a sunny Memorial Day; nor its staff - who were plentiful and helpful; nor even its food (or at least not at first) - which was tasty.

Mrs P had the fish tacos while I chose the ham and greens omelet - this was lunch after all. Neither of us had wine.

However, my omelet came with a little surprise ingredient - food poisoning. The effects crept up on me through the evening and into the next couple of days. I was lethargic, grumpy, dizzy, and ached.

Therefore, all the other good stuff was negated.

RAVE - Aster

At last! A new, date-worthy spot, with a cool, relaxed vibe, and excellent food.

Plate sizes are small-ish, so it's fine to have 3 courses. 

My gorgeous date had the King Salmon, with peach, almond, chili oil, and basil. Then the Delta Asparagus, ham hock, spring onion, egg yolk, and sorrel, followed by the Black Cod, chard leaves & stems, and smoked bone broth. She wasn't as pleased as I was with my choices:

I had the Porchetta di Testa, pickled summer squash, and nasturtium. Then the Soft-cooked egg, crispy potato, nori, and caviar vinaigrette, followed by the Pork Shoulder, sweet potato, rhubarb, and grilled broccoli.

The bottle of Petit Chablis was top notch, and our server even better. 

Despite being busy, the noise was muted, which added to the overall mellow-ness of the place.

REVIEW - Mad Max Fury Road

This might have cost $150m to make, and Tom Hardy may have more acting skills in his little finger than does Mel Gibson, and Charlize Theron may look hot in a mechanic's outfit, but there's only so much car chase I can take in one film.

The film's - indeed the series of films' - underlying story: that oil is in such short supply that rival gangs need to barrel up and down the desert in souped up gas guzzlers is all a bit pointless.

Yes, the visuals are dramatic. And yes, the action is mostly non-stop. But for heaven's sake let's have a plot.

REVIEW - Causwells

Online restaurant reviews have always had a reputation for being filled with plaudits from the relatives, friends, or even staff at a new restaurant. Presumably, that was the reason Causwells got voted one of SF's best 11 restaurants of the year, and having one of the 15 best burgers in America by one review site.

On both accounts, the reviews were woefully wrong.

First, with all the competition in San Francisco, a restaurant - in my mind at least - must be more than a crowded space where one might shelter from the rain, or rest awhile from the tiresome shopping in the Marina, in order to be voted one of the best of anything.

Second, and more specifically, the Americana Burger falls way behind half a dozen other SF places' fare, let alone the country's. With its mangled sauce that's part Worcestershire, part Thousand Island, part "magic potion", cheese, and crispy onion rings it tasted more like something from Burger King than an award contender.

The pea crisp, with mint, yogurt tasted good, although a quick snort would've dispensed with the dish, while the Andouille fritters, with chili lime aioli lacked real taste - presumably from the virtual non-existence of any andouille sausage in the potato.

RANT - 50 Shades of Grey

Having peeked at a few pages to try and see what all the fuss was about, and quickly realizing it was badly-written tripe that was barely worth the effort of holding the book open, I avoided this masterpiece of marketing until the film hit pay-per-view.

Last night was slow enough, with no Walking Dead to entertain me, so I succumbed when Mrs P - who has read all 3 books - suggested we watch the film on TV.

What a load of unadulterated bulls**t this turned out to be. We already know the premise was suspect - a moderately good-looking billionaire with "singular" tastes wants a dominant / submissive relationship with a moderately good-looking woman - and we already know that 99% of the books' readers have been 1) female and 2) besotted. And we know that - as per usual - 99% of the men in those besotted females' lives can't make out whether they're supposed to sprint off to their local Good Vibrations store and pick up some appropriate gear or JUST KEEP THE HELL OUT OF IT!!!!

Consequently, I was blissfully unaware of just how bad this movie was. The script was limp. The dialog was banal. The pacing was glacial. And the whole effect was soporific. Surprise, surprise (an inappropriate segue considering the fact that there were absolutely NO surprises throughout this pile of hippo droppings) I was asleep well before the end, and woke up asking "what happened?".

Well, you'll just have to make a flask of coffee and watch this through to the bitter - and undoubtedly dull - end to find out for yourself.

RAVE - Jon Spencer Blues Explosion at The Independent

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is a band I've known for 20 years but never seen touring anywhere near where I was. They're a band who's music I've owned, but never heard on the radio - so I've no idea where I first heard of them. They're also a band that virtually no-one I know has heard of.

All of these things made it very difficult to a) find someone to go with and b) persuade Mrs P it was a good idea to go see them when a) failed.

Getting her there was one thing. Getting her to like them was a completely different proposition. Their music is sometimes awkwardly arrhythmic - a term that doctors normally use to describe mis-timing heart beats and therefore one that I'm probably using incorrectly to describe a tempo, or beat that keeps changing mid song.

This arrhythmia made it hard for Mrs P to get into the groove, and for me to tap my feet to the beat.

Nevertheless, I was very happy to break my 20 year drought of live Blues Explosion.

REVIEW - The Water Diviner

The Water Diviner is a good but not great film that tells the story of an Australian farmer - Russell Crowe - who travels to Turkey four years after the 1916 Gallipoli campaign, in which his 3 sons died.

As a farmer, he has a knack of finding water on his mostly dry farm by using Divining. Once in Turkey, he manages to use the same method to find the exact spot where his sons fell.

While covering a traumatic period in the life of the farmer, the 7,000 Australian and New Zealand forces that perished, and the nearly 70,000 Turkish fatalities, this isn't a war film. Neither is it a romance - despite Crowe sniffing around the widowed owner of his hotel in Istanbul.

Instead, it's an inclusive look - considering the Turkish, Greek, British, and ANZAC roles in this part of the First World War - at the aftermath of conflict.

REVIEW - Trevor Noah at Cobbs Comedy Club

Unless you've been living under a shell, you'll already know that Jon Stewart is stepping down as host of The Daily Show, and Trevor Noah is taking his place.

That could be the end of the story, but for a few facts.

First, the attention paid to TV talk show hosts - Letterman, Leno, Jimmy Fallon - all of them - is epic.

Second, Trevor Noah is South African, of mixed race parents, and uses his ethnicity as a well from which to hoist material that's on the one hand familiar to fans of Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy, and Chris Rock, and on the other hand unfamiliar - his upbringing in Apartheid South Africa has given him a somewhat unique outlook on life.

Anyhow, that outlook has made him a very intelligent, observational comic who should do well on The Daily Show.

REVIEW - Sleater Kinney at The Masonic

Sorry to disappoint all the Riot Grrls there last night, but this was just plain too loud. I know I sound like an old feller clutching his hearing aid in anguish, but I assure you I like it as loud as the next (old) man.

This was simply a case of giving a handful of tender, young ladies the keys to a nuclear firing range.

I've seen Sleater Kinney twice before, both times at the Great American Music Hall - a venue with a sound system that only goes up to 10. The Masonic has a full on turbo nutter system, and --- I should stop going on about it now, because SK were exactly what it said on the box. Loud. Direct.

RAVE - Chez Maman

The fact that we've eaten many times at the old Chez Maman allowed us to give them the benefit of the doubt on the food at their new place. Confusingly, they've moved a couple doors up 18th Street to occupy the former Chez Papa.

Mr Chez has vacated their 18th and Missouri locale, making way for Mrs Chez to move in. The old Chez Maman will reopen soon as a rotisserie.

So, there's a bit more space for the new occupants and their customers, but the counter service has transferred successfully.

We ate a couple of salads - Mrs P the Endive Salad with pears, walnuts and roquefort cheese, and caramel balsamic vinaigrette ("probably the strongest sauce I've ever  had on a salad") while I had the Frisée Salad with poached egg, lardoons and a red wine vinaigrette ("probably the 100th time I've had this salad, and I never get tired of it").

Then her ladyship had the Salmon, grilled with roasted potatoes, fine herbs and crème fraîche. And she was un-impressed. Mainly with the potatoes, or at least that was her excuse for stealing most of the fries from my Chicken Burger. While it wasn't a luxury item by any means, the burger should have been more moist.

As I said, our previous experiences at their old place ensured we will go back despite the minor shortcomings.

REVIEW - Urchin Bistro

I don't know if recently-opened places experience a drop in standards - food and service, or whether there's a natural drop in enthusiasm from the public, or whether food critics are as prone to hyperbole about a new restaurant as the bulk of the City's laughing-gas-snorting restaurant goers.

Whatever it was, it's hard to explain what all the fuss was about Urchin Bistro when it opened a couple months ago.

Pavey ordered Kale Salad, with duck confit, quinoa, comte cheese, and citrus vinaigrette (why, oh why the lady continues to order Kale anything when it's consistently dull). I had the Gnocchi Parisienne, with fava beans, smoked bacon, and forest mushrooms. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 1.

Our entrees were blah. She had the Grilled Free Range Chicken, with Spaetzle, foie gras butter, and peas (I refuse to use the restaurant nomenclature of 'English' peas, as peas are peas, and these weren't flown in from England). I had the Steak Frites, with vin rouge butter. Neither dish was particularly French, and neither was particularly standout. Score, Pavey 0 : Philip 0.

Perhaps the fact that we were seated upstairs, when all the atmosphere seemed downstairs, made the whole a so-so affair, and one we're unlikely to go for again.

RAVE - Kaiser Chiefs at The Regency

It's quite some time since we've gone to see a band for one main song, and while I've got a couple Kaiser Chiefs albums - and therefore know a fair percentage of their material - it's true to say that if they had not performed Ruby last night, we would have been very disappointed.

Good news. They didn't disappoint us. Not only did they play - and everyone sing along to - Ruby, but the packed crowd were enthusiastic participants in The Angry Mob, I Predict A Riot, Na Na Na Na Naa, Never Miss A Beat, and many more.

And the less said about supporting act Priory, the better.

RAVE - Ex Machina

"Not my kind of film" said Mrs P as we exited the theater. So we'll ignore her feedback shall we?

Mr P thought this was an excellent, and very different take on the perennial geek-meets-female-robot-and-everyone-wonders-if-they'll-ever-make-out story.

Our geek - a 26 year old programmer at BlueBook (a huge web search company) wins a competition to spend time at the mountain home of the company CEO. His time is to be spent conducting a Turing Test on a robot boasting the most developed artificial intelligence. The Turing Test is way of evaluating whether machines can think. The CEO is a mostly crazed genius, and the robot is a mostly hot babe.

"Ex Machina" comes from "Deus ex machina" (Latin: God from the machine) and refers to the mythological gods who were prone to visiting earth to meddle with earthly things. In this context, it  refers to the robot-creating CEO, who believes himself to be god-like.

Anyhow, our geek-meets-robot story develops with ominous overtones and - without giving too much away - it all goes artificial t*ts up at the end.

Definitely my kind of film.

RAVE - Izakaya Kou

While not the warmest or heartiest of atmospheres - it was cold and windy Sunday evening, on a cold and windy corner of Filmore - once we were all cocooned behind sliding screens at our pit (what DO you call those places where your feet are all in a hole in the floor?), things soon warmed up.

With 6 of us celebrating cousin Amo's birthday - 2 of the 6 were his kids - it was no surprise we practically ate our way through the menu.

Hence, you won't get an accurate listing of the sushi rolls, sashimi, chicken, beef, sausage, shrimp, and rice dishes we sampled, but there was plenty of choice and every plate was cleared.

While it may not have dislodged Blowfish from #1 on our "favorite Japanese restaurant", it's certainly up there near the top.

RAVE - Les Clos

In my continuing quest to sample every new restaurant in San Francisco, even if they're only new to me rather than the City itself, and in my other, related quest to keep Mrs P happy with where she's dining, we ate at Les Clos.

On the downside it's near the baseball stadium - usually a negative where restaurants are concerned - and perhaps consequentially it lacks a "date" vibe. This latter downside is especially important when escorting the elegant female half of the household around SF on a chilly evening.

On the upside, the food was sensational!

My escortee chose the cheese appetizer, with the Petrale Sole, turnips, and snap peas for her main meal.

I had the Morels, Foie Gras, and Peas. This dish alone is worth a visit to Les Clos.
I followed it with the Poulet Basquez, with Padron peppers, and Cous Cous. While not necessarily to the standard set by the Morels, it rounded out the dinner almost as well as a Cassoulet from Bistro Jeanty might have done.

Les Clos heralds its wine selection, which is pretty large. But if you know your wine, or at least know what you like, it's a good but hardly outstanding collection.

Nevertheless, the food was a success even if the surroundings were unremarkable.

REVIEW - Child 44

Having read the book just a couple of weeks ago, I was interested to see how the movie compared the printed version.

It wasn't better than the book. Both were impenetrably bleak. The movie simply amplified the dismal portrayal of life in Stalinist Russia that was portrayed in Tom Rob Smith's book.

Mrs Page begged to differ, firmly believing that Tom Hardy can do no wrong. And looks damned good not doing it.

Anyhow, the plot's covered in my review a few days ago. So, for me, this wasn't a classic.

RAVE - Belle & Sebastian at The Greek Theater

Preceded by quite possibly the dullest pair of support acts known to man, Belle and Sebastian performed a hectic set - for them - full of beloved tunes.

It was a hot Sunday early evening at the Greek. Not the ideal setting - if ever there was one - for a skinny dude in a black mini-dress and stockings. And costume wasn't the worst part of Perfumed Genius' act. His voice - a mournful moan; his backing band - about as lively as a dead battery; and his songs - not a whistle-worthy one in there, amounted to one hour completely wasted.

Like a touring limbo circus, Real Estate did all they could to perform a duller set than PG's. Usually, when I see 4 guitarists getting ready to perform, my anticipation rises. We were in for a disappointing next hour.

Which made the headliners an even more welcome sight. With an entourage of around 50 fans who'd responded via Facebook and were sat behind them on stage, a sextet of strings and horns, and the seven mostly full-time members of the band, the stage was pretty busy with a set choc full of singalong favorites.

However, when all was said and done, Tom and I would probably have wished for a few more decibels and bit more menace. After all, Belle and Sebastian are probably the softest thing out of Glasgow, a city more often associated with blood 'n guts than the fey tones of our lads.

REVIEW - Cockscomb

Ever since we tried dinner at Chris Cosentino's previous restaurant Incanto, we've been looking forward to seeing what he can do at his new place, Cockscomb.

The answer is: something and nothing.

His approach is bold - that much was obvious from his food at Incanto; plenty of pig's head, offal, and bone marrow. Some of that carries through to Cockscomb.

For appetizers, we had the Grilled Cheese, with duck egg and honey (too sweet), and the Country Pate, with pistachios, and cornichons (not enough flavor, not enough salt). For entrees, we had the Meat Pie, with beef, oysters, and vegetables (again, not enough seasoning, and the oysters were overpowering and had to be set aside on the plate), and the Pasta, which wasn't really pasta but noodles made from pig's skin. This was the standout dish of the evening, if only there was more of it. The relatively small dish of pig skin pasta was dwarfed by the Meat Pie. Shame.

Plenty o'atmosphere, with a bustling crowd and Mr TV Chef himself in attendance.

Strange that the experience was somewhat hampered by the mis-application of honey (too much), oysters (too many), and salt (not enough).

REVIEW - Hawker Fare

The colorful decor at Hawker Fare, the great service, and the basic premise of serving Thai street food at a bustling, indoor location should all add up to a lot more than it actually does.

First, the decor largely gets lost once you're inside. All the plastic table covers, and plastic chairs or stools, are interesting until you're sat in them. Then they just become part of the noise.

The food is a major disappointment.

Despite the preponderance of chili, nothing was too spicy. But nothing was particularly tasty either - aside from the Gai Thot. There were six of us, with choices all over the place. Here's what I had:

Beer Nuts - red peanuts roaster with makrut lime laves, chilis, and salt.
Gai Thot - fried chicken, cilantro root, white pepper, soy sauce, and nam prik pao.
Jaew Bong - Laotian chili relish of caramelized galangla, shallots, and dried shrimp, pork rinds and vegatables.
Kra-Toog Moo - Vegetables stewed in pork rib broth with dill, cabbage, thai eggplant, long beans, and chili.
Khao Mun - chicken fat rice,

I wanted to love the place, but I couldn't.

REVIEW - Woman in Gold

This one gets a lucky middling review. My choice was a snoozy rant, but that was up-voted to a review by Mrs P who liked it a lot more than I did.

Helen "getting on a bit now" Mirren plays Maria Altman, part of an Austrian Jewish family living in Vienna during the build up to WWII. Her Aunt Adele is painted by the artist Gustav Klimt, and so was born the Woman in Gold.

Altman escapes Nazi oppression by fleeing to the USA, while her family's possessions are all appropriated / stolen by the Nazis. 40 years later the Woman in Gold is "owned" by the Austrian National Gallery and Maria employs the nerdily bespectacled Ryan Reynolds as her lawyer to retrieve what is rightfully hers.

Somewhere mid-story I stopped caring and fell blissfully asleep, only to be jerked awake by the tender elbow of my wife.

My excuse? I don't care for the painting, even though it was spoken of as Austria's Mona Lisa; I didn't care that much about the characters, who were too pale - especially Reynolds - to get me rooting for them; and there was little to no drama - the result was all too obvious.

RAVE - Funny Girl by Nick Hornby

At the other end of the entertainment scale - I'd just read Child 44, a Stalinist serial killer story - was Nick Hornby's latest novel about 1960's UK, where a young beauty queen eschews the glum North of England and strikes out for London. She wants to be a comedienne, taking her cue from Lucille Ball.

Sophie Straw pretty soon meets with two comedy scriptwriters who are completely taken with her, and decide to write a TV show around her as the main character.

This, for a reader with the right background and old enough to have seen many of the programs and characters who appear in the book - and perhaps for someone without the background or the years - this was a giggle, if not a hoot.

Hornby loses his way - maybe intentionally - as the book dwells as much on the writers as the Funny Girl herself, but it didn't detract from the easy readability of the whole.

A perfect way to while away a few hours in the pool bar.

REVIEW - Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith

A short notice trip to Puerto Vallarta to see my brother and his wife on vacation led me to pluck a couple books from my home library (i.e a few bookshelves) rather than spend time with the Kindle app.

I started with Child 44, a novel set in Stalinist Russia from the 1930's through the 50's, a period that monumentally failed to produce much in the way of humor.

The story is about a security police officer who pursues a series of murders of young children. The authorities refuse to accept that crime exists at all in Russia, saying that crime is a Capitalist disease, but Leo doggedly pieces together clues while contending with the State, his commanding officers, and his dastardly second-in-command.

The trouble is - and I found this years ago reading Solzhenitsyn - Russia was generally, and Stalinist Russia was particularly a gruesome, depressing place to be. Hence, any fact-based story was and is necessarily gruesome and depressing. Even the language and place names sound miserable.

Tom Rob Smith managed to lift me just a bit out of the freezing mire, or maybe that was the constant service of the fabulous waiters in PVA.

Either way, this has now been made into a film due out later this April, so no doubt I'll march along to my local multiplex and relive the horrors.

RAVE - '71

Set in in Belfast, Northern Ireland in er, 1971, this gritty film tells the story of a British Army detachment sent into the impossible badlands of a nasty, religious and political war between Catholics and Protestants.

I know the ugly effects this fighting had on the otherwise safe streets of London. During the late '70s when car bombs were set off by the IRA in London, I found myself walking the streets of West London imagining that a bomb could go off at any minute. The film reminded me how horrible it must have been in Belfast where, as the Lieutenant welcomed the soldiers by saying "the Catholics and Protestants live right next to each other, at one anothers' throats all the time".

The fractious mix of old school IRA, and Provisional - generally younger and more militant - IRA, Protestant rabble-rousers, and under cover British soldiers made for a hotbed of hatred? Into this melee, the detachment were sent to protect the Royal Ulster Constabulary, the local police as they conducted house to house searches looking for weapons.

One ugly scene led to another, and our reluctant soldier was accidentally left behind as the main band beat a hasty retreat from a riot.

The taught story of his night spent trying to avoid the gunmen is unglamorous, realistic, and scary as hell.

RAVE - Sous Beurre

Having just opened a few weeks ago, this place seems to have got off to a great start, with none of the 'new restaurant' bugs that so often plague startups.

Because they were already sold out of the Foie Gras salad, I had the Steak Tartare, whole grain mustard, quail egg, parsley, capers, meyer lemon, and crostini, and for my entree the Bavette Steak au poivre, sarladaise fingerling potatoes, spinach, and fresh peppercorns,

Mrs. P chose the Wild mushrooms en croute, puff pastry, thyme, pearl onions, and rutabaga puree, and the Roasted Cornish Game Hen, herbs de provence, wild rice, black walnuts, and vin blanc jus.

All courses were great, the service was outstanding, our fellow eaters were all young-ish and not too painfully hip, and the overall ambiance was a real treat.

RAVE - Focus

Will Smith plays an experienced con man who meets a beautiful woman who tries to con him. They have a brief fling, then go their separate ways until, a couple years later they meet up in New Orleans, where Smith is planning a mega con at the Super Bowl.

It's a clever mix of comedy and thriller, where the cons are slick and the action is partly thrilling. All in all a not too taxing 90 minutes spent in the company of my own beautiful woman who has only conned me out of 18 years so far.

RAVE - A Most Violent Year

Set in New York, 1981 - a year that by all accounts was one of the most violent years in history - Oscar Isaac plays a Latino immigrant who has developed his heating oil company to the point where he's being targeted by his competitors and the law alike.

While the means of targeting do involve highjacking his oil trucks, and wielding the odd pistol or two, this isn't a particularly violent film, and its title is somewhat irrelevant to the movie and the excellent story that's told.

I'm also unsure why so many movies set in the 70s and 80s have to be shot through a grey lens. It's true that graphics were only 8-bit during the 80s, but I distinctly remember the sun shining, even in England.

Be that as it may, this was a very solid film more than making up for an audience in the tiny Opera Plaza Theater who must've brought along a couple of horses to eat from paper bags - YOU BLOODY NOISY LOT!!!!

RANT - Osteria Cucina Toscana

I thought about this review overnight. I was tempted to just give it a REVIEW - definitely not a RAVE. However, I dwelt on the full ordinariness of this place and now have decided it's worth a RANT.

Saying this was Old School would be a disservice to the many excellent O.S Italian places in and around North Beach. No, Osteria Cucina Toscana was just like my old school - dreary. Unlike my old school however, this place was over-populated by the ancient, a few of whom were sat there reading books as they nibbled on whatever they had chosen from the dreary menu.

My darling date chose much better than me. Her Caprese salad looked good, and she finished it. Her Carbonara pasta looked and tasted equally good, and she finished that too. I'm intentionally covering the amount Mrs. P consumed, because I couldn't bring myself to eat more than half of my tasteless Bruschetta, or a third of my equally tasteless Tortelloni Panna al Prosciutto e Piselli.

To cap it all, the wine list was tiny and all but bereft of anything Italian.

In summary: dull and dreary, and very definitely not going to see my miserable face again.

RAVE - Mason Pacific

Another Nob Hill outing that required the services of Uber - there are more parking spots on the main route during Carnival - but once there we really enjoyed the food.

Mason Pacific has a less than glamorous main room, being full of a bar and wooden tables and - on the night we visited - a group of sailing fans sporting their despicable Oracle shirts. But once ushered through to the other dining room it showed that, at least for that room, they'd had a decorator.

We were divided on the appetizers: Mrs P had the Kale Salad, with Meyer lemon, anchovy, crouton, and parmesan; I had my predictable Foie Gras Torchon, with Perigord truffle, Moscatel, and toast - or as the menu pretentiously proclaims "Toasted Bread".

Then we were in communion over the entrees, both choosing the Papardelle, lamb meatball, sugo, and Castelvetrano olive. This dish was t.a.s.t.y.

Washed down with a few glasses of unremarkable but refreshing Sauvignon Blanc the meal was pronounced a success by the Page party. We'll probably return.

RAVE - Nick Hornby at The Nourse Theater

A departure for us, seeing a writer on stage, reading from one of his essays and in conversation with his editor.

Not that his writings are that foreign to me: I've read Fever Pitch, High Fidelity, A Long Way Down, and The Polysyllabic Spree; just bought his latest book Funny Girl, and at least seen a few of his books that were turned into films: Fever Pitch - both the UK original starring Colin Firth, and the inferior US version starring Jimmy Fallon; About a Boy, An Education, and Wild (for which he wrote the screenplay).

He turns out to be a well-educated and intelligent man, albeit with few of the snooty trimmings that often go with those characteristics. He's surprisingly humble, down-to-earth, and unsurprisingly very funny.

The essay he read from was one of his earliest submissions to The Believer magazine, described his early work as a "Can't do" teacher and odd-but-sometimes-difficult-jobber at a Korean trading company in London.

The only negative I could spot is his love of Arsenal Football Club. Still, you can't have everything.

REVIEW - Cocotte

In our quest to eat our way across San Francisco, we tried for the first time a restaurant that had some positive reviews for its French cooking.

The ambiance, while seeming at first positive as we waited for our table, swung 180 degrees as we were sat at a tiny table in what transpired to be a rather shoddily-decorated restaurant. Not that I normally rate a place based on its toilet facilities, but the ramshackle smallest room at Cocotte almost beggars belief. It was perversely funny to find a French restaurant that chose 1960s France as its toilette inspiration.

The food was so-so - my Fois Gras (yes, it's currently back on the list of legally available foods, for the time being) was as rich and tasty as it ought to be, while my Coq Au Vin was also rich - probably a little too rich if I'm pressed - and tiny-ish. My belle Pavey chose the Goat Cheese and Pistachio Fritter followed by the Duck Confit. She pronounced her choices as good, then dry.

With 3 glasses of decent but not flashy wine, and the required Uber both ways - it's downright impossible to park anywhere on Nob Hill - the outing reminded us there are plenty of more accessible French restaurants in town, serving more reasonably priced food in much more agreeable surroundings.

RAVE - Black Sea

Jude Law plays another rough, tough type. Perhaps not as rough, or tough as his previous incarnation as Dom the recent ex-prisoner, but certainly rougher and tougher than most of his earlier roles.

In Dead Sea, he's laid off from his job as a submarine engineer employed to salvage wrecks. He hears of a sunken WW2 German submarine that was carrying tens of millions of pounds-worth of Russian gold bound for Hitler's coffers. He therefore recruits a group of old and shifty British and Russian submarine experts, gets the financial backing of an equally shifty millionaire and heads for the Black Sea where he buys a war-time Russian sub and heads down into the deep.

This is a taught, atmospheric buried (sunken) treasure hunting thriller that boasts a plot with plenty of tension and just enough twists to keep us captivated for the duration.

RAVE - State Bird Provisions

I guess there's little point in singing the praises of this white hot restaurant in one of San Francisco's less desirable neighborhood's - steps from the Boom Boom Room - when so many people have already done so, but our visit there last evening at least showed why this place has such a following.

First, getting a reservation requires dedication, perseverance, and - in our case - someone else to get that reservation and then be unable to make it due to lack of a babysitter. And then it was 6pm on a Monday evening, a time when we'd normally be traveling home from work and looking forward to a completely blank agenda.

On this Monday however, the agenda was decidedly un-blanked at the last minute and 8 lucky souls swept into a frenetic State Bird dining room.

Small parties can choose from the restaurant's roving carts of Dim Sum-style selections. Groups of our size are required to have the tasting menu, which last night was seventeen courses, comprising:

• Hog Island oyster, spicy kohlrabi kraut and sesame
• Fuyu persimmon with kinako
• Tuna conserve 'chip and dip'
• Hedgehog mushroom toast
• Sourdough, sauerkraut, pecorino and ricotta pancake
• Duck liver mousse with almond biscuit

• Garlic bread with burrata
• Fresh Hawaiian heart of palm salad with tahini-chili oil
• Pork belly citrus salad
• Cast iron quail eggs, farro, green olive salsa verde and apple
• Huckleberry beet and goat cheese

• California State bird (quail) with provisons
• Maitake and duck fried rice a la plancha
• Dungeness crab kimchi yuba with smoked egg bottarga
• Grilled beef with king trumpets, brussels sprouts and umeboshi-rosemary vinaigrette

• Cheesecake japonaise, guava cream, kiwi, pomelo
• Szechuan pepper ice cream sandwich, chocolate beer coulis, cashews

There was nothing overly fancy, fussy, or frou-frou about the food. It was all brilliantly-prepared, with everything tasting just right. There wasn't a moment when we weren't getting served the next course, getting our wine glasses topped up, or asked if everything was to our liking.

And it most definitely was.

REVIEW - Blackhat

Every actor goes through a time in their career - not necessarily towards the end of it - when they appear in a foreign-funded movie. Anyone remember Russell Crowe in that terrible kung-fu movie The Man With The Iron Fists? Anyhow, I digress.

This was Chris Hemsworth's presumably Chinese-funded movie, judging by the number of Chinese actors and the Hong Kong and Jakarta locations.

It was a topical subject - cyber crime - with a couple of twists, but the acting is a dud. From everyone. We all know Thor Hemsworth couldn't act his way out of a wet paper bag. His love interest - the supposedly computer network-savvy Wei Tong - spent all of her time fussing with her hair and keeping her face completely expressionless. Viola Davis looks more and more like an Oprah Winfrey type who applies her make-up in the dark every time she turns out. And so it went.

While most of the computer hacking action was accurate, I can't say in my 30 years of working in IT that I've ever seen a program that makes a noise as it downloads data. And yet this, and pretty much every film featuring a data download, insists on having some bogus "downloading" noise.

Aside from that, the movie was mildly interesting. That's all.

REVIEW - Crystal Jade Jiang Nan

Does this newly-opened place live up to the hype?

It serves Cantonese and Teochew cuisine which, to this amateur diner felt like regular but fancy Chinese food.

The luxury goods company LVMH - Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy - has spent $14m creating a large restaurant in the Embarcadero 4 building, with views of the Ferry Building and Bay Bridge.

Quite where all that money went is mostly beyond me, as there was no wow factor when we entered, and once we were eating we realized there was no atmosphere, no warmth, nothing that rocked our Teochew socks.

It was big, I'll give 'em that. But it wasn't buzzing. It seemed full of families and kids sat around large tables, making the usual noises that families and kids do. The much-reported clunky service from poorly-trained staff wasn't that apparent. Our main waiter was still reading from his list of specialties, although the rest of the staff that served each of our courses did their job as one would expect.

Our food - Peking Duck pancakes, peppered beef cubes, French bean and chicken, spring pea shoots, and rice - came out in an odd sequence, but all tasted very good.

All in all, it did not live up to LVMH's hype, and rival Hakkasan still delivers the best and most luxurious Chinese night out in San Francisco.

RAVE - American Sniper

A typical Clint Eastwood directed action movie, this was a true story about Navy Seal Chris Kyle, who did four tours of duty in Iraq as a sniper.

The exposure these soldiers have to operate under, with the ever-present threat from enemy fire amid the skeletons of Fallujah's buildings, was excellently portrayed, as was the way that during each of Kyle's trips back home to Texas he couldn't leave the tensions of Iraq behind.

Kyle was the most successful US sniper in history, with around 200 kills. His effectiveness as a sniper earned him several medals, and a $160,000 bounty put on his head by the Iraqi insurgents.

While it felt ultra-realistic, I wouldn't say the film was a thriller - probably because of Eastwood's refusal to glamorize or tart up the action in any way. Great nonetheless.

REVIEW - Nico

Another one of Michael Bauer's (SF food critic) shabby recommendations. Funnily enough, I was in a bar Saturday night when MB's name came up, and the word from the barkeeper was that "everyone knows who he is ... he's a failed sportswriter".

Anyhow, the former sportswriter may visit a lot of the Bay Area's restaurants, but in my humble view he's wrong more often than he's right about those places.

Despite his fulsome praise for Nico, we found the 5 course set menu to be full of uninteresting, mostly weak tastes.

The first course - Scallops with Perigord truffles was inoffensive, but lacking note. Next, came an endive salad with pureed pear and another ingredient that neither of us can remember, or care about. Then, black cod that was barely cooked - which might have been what the chef was going for, for some inexplicable reason. If we'd wanted sushi we'd have gone elsewhere. Fourth, we got chicken cooked two ways - neither of them revealing much energy or taste. Finally, a chocolate mousse, with meringue. Probably the best of the five courses.

Thankfully, I had the wine pairing and a beautiful chauffeur.

REVIEW - Selma

I know I'll get lambasted by my wife - who loved this film, and my African-American friends - who'll no doubt be too committed to the subject to let me get away with an "it was dull" comment. But it was. Dull.

I know Martin Luther King is almost a Saint to most Americans. I know, therefore, that everything he did and said is hallowed by the same side of America. Therefore, it is important to hear again the story of his organization of the march from Selma, Alabama to the state capital of Montgomery to protest the South's prevention of its black population registering to vote - even though the recently passed Civil Rights Act legalized and allowed them to register.  And then there's Governor George Wallace's (Tim Roth) hastily enacted law preventing marches, and President Johnson's (Tom Wilkinson) hemming and hawing saying his plate was too full to do anything about the black vote.

One would have thought there were enough elements to the story to make it somewhat more gripping than the limp makeover this film gave us.

REVIEW - Aquitaine

There are a couple of new trends in SF dining that we've seen emerge during the past few months: Japanese and French restaurants. That second trend led to Michael Bauer, SF food critic reviewing new French restaurant Aquitaine and giving it a thumbs up.

Yet again, I have to disagree with Monsuier Bauer, who declared the cassoulet "worth driving hundreds of miles for". I tried Aquitaine's cassoulet and believe I could save several hours by driving instead to Yountville's Bistro Jeanty, whose cassoulet was a piping hot dish of vibrant ingredients. I found the Aquitaine version to be a dull and stodgy copy, with half the volume and one tenth the flavor.

Other courses similarly left us wanting. Madamoiselle Page's Serrano Ham with Tomato, Garlic and Thyme Tartines seemed lackluster when compared with the same fare a week or so ago at Coquetta. My Brochettes - Prosciutto, Cheese, Cherry Tomatoes, and Pickled Piparra Peppers sounded much more dramatic than they in fact were - bits of mismatched stuff stuck on a few sticks. Her Coq Au Vin was also lacking when compared with the competition.

The wine choices proved interesting and tasty though, which partially made up for the less than stellar food and the lack of Saturday night vigor at the half-empty Aquitaine.

RAVE - Bruce Grobbelaar at Kezar Bar

I'm not usually one to tag along after sports personalities - at least not for the past 17 years, where living in California has reduced my watching of soccer to the televised Premiership games, and cricket to a virtual non-existence.

However, when ex-Liverpool goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar made an appearance at the newly-formed Liverpool Football Club SF Supporters gathering at the Kezar Bar, I made a willing exception.

He looked fit and healthy for his 57 years, and recounted his years at the greatest football team in the world - yeah, I know I'm biased - to a packed and eager crowd of 70 or so fans.

He then answered questions from the audience, many of which revolved around "how can Liverpool get back to the top of the league while having lost their leading scorer Luis Suarez to Barcelona, their current best player Daniel Sturridge to months of injury, and soon their captain Steven Gerrard to LA Galaxy?"

Most of his answers instead - perhaps predictably bearing in mind his own particular skills - focused on the dismal state of the team's current goalkeepers Simon Mignolet and Brad Jones.

I sealed the evening by getting him to sign a couple of postcards to my brother, Lawrence.

YNWA

REVIEW - The Gambler

Watching films or documentaries about drug addiction is as tough for many people - including me - as it is following stories about individuals suffering with another addiction, to gambling. And watching either - when they feature lame acting by cardboard characters - make them even tougher to watch.

The plot - if you can call it that - revolves around an English teacher (Mark Wahlberg) who gambles big time on Blackjack and Roulette in his spare time. This brings him into contact with a sinister trio of money lenders - one Korean, one African American, and one large, white guy. Wahlberg spends the entire film borrowing from one to pay the other - or more often than not to gamble further instead of paying off the others.

Wahlberg isn't a good enough actor to pull off the pages of dialog the role calls for, and everyone else seems there just to pad it out to its full ninety minutes.

Disappointing.

RANT - The Interview

The publicity saved it from being a commercial flop, but even Kim Jung Un's weirdness couldn't make this piece of crap funny.

RAVE - Farmhouse Inn, Forestville

Taking advantage of the low holiday road traffic, and our equally low stash of fresh food at home, we trundled up to the Sonoma area for a stay at the uber-Luxe Farmhouse and their even uberer-Luxe restaurant.

The menu sounds straightforward, but that hides it's all around excellence. The dining room is elegant; the service impeccable. And the food is outstanding.

Mrs P had the crab crepe, scallops, elk, and cheese. I had the lobster, the gnocchi and truffles, the other half of that elk, and most of the Vosne Romanee.

What crowned the weekend was that it was all her ladyship's treat!

RAVE - Coqueta

If your body craves rich food; food that's richer than Croesus; food that would make Governor Chris Christie think "Oh, that's a bit rich for me!", then Coqueta is the place for you.

Despite the fact that a friend of ours used to own the restaurant before it became Coqueta, and despite the fact that its current owner is a "TV Chef", and despite the fact that he annoys the spit out of me by pronouncing caramelize as carmelize, I love this place.

It always has a festive atmosphere, and the food is sumptuous.

There are plenty of places in San Francisco serving Spanish Tapas, and they usually offer tasty - yes, and rich - plates of patatas bravas, or albondigas. But Coqueta manages to turn those humble dishes into works of art, flavored with peppers, olives, and various tasty herbs.

RAVE - Mr Turner

Covers the last 25 years or so of the life of J.M.W. Turner, the English painter of land- and sea-scapes. Now, before you switch off, it's admittedly a slow-ish piece, but one that's full of rich characters, and richer language.

Timothy Spall plays the grunting, harrumphing Turner who - when not grunting or harrumphing - busies himself with his brethren at The Academy, wobbles off to paint a scene, or grabs his housekeeper for a quickie.

Turner's interactions with John Constable, John Ruskin, Benjamin Haydon, and the rest of the rabble at The Academy are wonderful, and turn this into a rewarding couple of hours.

"Capital", as Turner might have said.

RAVE - The Imitation Game

It was heartening to find the movie theater completely full today, replete no doubt with hundreds of other party-poopers who would happily do anything rather than sit around listening to their families squabble over their Christmas dinners.

And what better way to mark the fake birthday of Jesus (his being born on December 25 is about as likely as Father Christmas barreling down one's chimney after all) than seeing a war film about the cracking of the Nazi Enigma machine by a group of upper class braniacs.

While it was entertaining, full of droll, British humor, and arguably THE key development of the second World War (historians have calculated that the breaking of the code machine shortened that war by two years and saved 14 million lives), it dragged on a bit. There was no real explanation of how the code-breaking machine actually broke codes, or why there needed to be a dozens of rotating dials on the front. Instead, the film focused on what an utter dick Alan Turing was to everyone who had the misfortune to meet him. His being gay certainly led to his prosecution, sentencing, and eventual suicide, but surely it had nothing to do with his mathematical acumen.

And whatever possessed the producers to cast airhead Keir Knightley as one of those braniacs?