RANT - Trouble With The Curve

Monday night at The Kabuki Theater is dead. Nobody's around. The cinema is deserted, which is somehow appropriate for this lackluster effort by Clint Eastwood.

He's had a less than impressive couple of weeks, what with making a joke of his speech at the Republican conference, where he addressed part of his rambling talk at an empty chair on the stage, imagining Barack Obama was sat there.

In this film, he plays an aging baseball scout who's losing his eyesight. His daughter comes along with him to keep him company and watch out for him as he's scouting a young batter with great hopes of making it in the big league.

It's a cutesy little story, but comes across like an episode of The Waltons, with the all the drama that evokes. It's certainly not a patch on the last baseball movie we saw, Moneyball.

Heaven knows I wouldn't mind sitting around watching baseball for a job when I'm pushing eighty-something, but I'd like to be doing more than just complaining all the time and being just - you know - an eighty-something year old.

It was the same with Gran Torino - Eastwood huffs and puffs his way around, grunting rather than talking to anyone. But at least there was a plot. Alright, every step was telegraphed, just like in The Curve. But at least something happened occasionally.

Out friends didn't make it to the movie - some school thing going on. You may say I'm stretching things a bit, but I'd almost rather have been there with them.

RAVE - Another Monkey

For the past couple of years, this location has been home to Conduit, a hip-ish Valencia Street place serving I forget what kind of food. I only dined there once during those two years, and it looks like everyone else did just that. For now it's changed into Another Monkey. Owned by the same people that owned Conduit, and still own Koh Samui and The Monkey, this is not just another Monkey, but another Thai restaurant.

I know it was Saturday night in the Mission, and I know there was a packed Greek Night in the parking lot the other side of the street, but even so Another Monkey surprised us by being totally full - all tables in this far from tiny place were in use. 

We soon learned that virtually everyone else had a Groupon dining discount. No matter, it didn't bother us a bit that we were paying the full price for dinner - it still felt a bargain.

Our Crispy Calamari, Bags of Gold (minced chicken and shrimp wrapped in rice paper), Lamb to Die For, and Grilled Bangkok BBQ Chicken were accompanied by a variety of sweet and spicy - but not too spicy - chili sauces.

Another Monkey had a nice, warm atmosphere - helped no doubt by its being packed. Let's hope they don't have to hand out discount vouchers every night to make that happen.

RAVE - End of Watch

If you like your cop movies hard and funny, violent and warm, tender yet brutal, this one's for you.

Brian Taylor (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Mike Zavata (Michael Peña) are police officers, partners in a Los Angeles squad car.

Most of the film is taken up with watching the pair handle the daily grind - driving around South Central looking for trouble. Eventually, that trouble gets out of hand, as they pull over and arrest a Latino carrying some fancy handguns and "Liberace's AK47" - a gold-lacquered assault rifle. In the guy's truck they find a stash of money and drugs, two of the "food groups" along with guns, for which the cops are always on the lookout.

It turns out our pair have arrested their way into a drug cartel, thereby upping the stakes for everyone involved.

After the long - at first it feels overly long - scene setting, the film explodes into a series of deadlier and deadlier discoveries, encounters, and violence, where the cops are caught between the drug dealing, racial and territorial fighting among the denizens of South Central.

"From the writer of Training Day" goes the ad for this movie. Maybe it's not quite up to the high mark set by that story, but it's a cracking film nonetheless.

RANT - Arbitrage

It was hard to watch this film with an unbiased frame of mind.

First, it's hard to watch any film featuring a sighing, pressured Richard Gere. I'm not a Pretty Woman fan, but that was arguably the Gere-meister at his most appropriate - a fabulously rich playboy. 

But Gere wasn't the main problem in Arbitrage. It was the basic premise, that of a fabulously rich hedge fund manager on the brink of losing it all - his wife, his home, his mistress, his money. 

His permanently hollow and self-centered attitude is exemplified when he rolls his car, leaving his dead or dying mistress in the passenger seat to walk off and pretend he wasn't there. And that attitude - indeed the perceived attitude of many people in their positions as managers and owners of deep vats of money as they ran roughshod over the lives and lifetime savings of their respective investors - made him a very unattractive lead. 

And all of this might have been interesting when it was relevant, back in 2008, when all of this hedge fund crookedness last came to light. It's like watching either of the Wall St movies now - they're out of date. Not so out of date they make riveting history. Just out of date.

Gere, in his position of Chief Crooked Officer, contends with the need to sell his company before his huge loans are called in, or the involuntary murder charge against him is proven.

There were inexplicable lapses in logic - why would a billionaire traipse down dark alleyways, unarmed and alone, in Harlem - was just one of many.

But in the end, this was pedestrian, seen-it-all-before, lacking in any kind of excitement viewing.

REVIEW - Shanghai

Not the City - although I'm sure that's equally wonderful - but the restaurant. More specifically, the old Mecca restaurant, re-suited and re-booted, and with the Chef from the now defunct Shanghai 1930.

That's a mixed history to have to contend with.

First, I loved Mecca, when it was arguably the best restaurant in the Castro - a mix of luxe lounge and snazzy food emporium. But I have bad memories of one time when their valet parkers stole a CD case with 10 or 15 CDs from my car. It was something I didn't discover for a week or so, by which time it was too late to do much of anything except not go there again.

Second, I grew to loathe Shanghai 1930, when it squandered its great location near the Embarcadero, its sweeping entry staircase, and its subterranean vibe with tacky presentation and lackluster food.

With that - as I said - mixed history, it was possibly a gamble hitting the new Shanghai place tonight. But gamble we did, and while far from perfect, it was a pleasing dinner.

Parking is a nightmare around the Castro generally, and it's not made any easier by their hollow provision of a shuttle service to and from the nearest parking lot. We screwed around for 40 minutes between the restaurant and the parking lot, so by the time we got our first cocktail, we were gasping.

The food was worth the wait though. Alright, my drunken chicken appetizer looked like a dish of food either of our cats would be delighted to get, but my lovely sidekick enjoyed her Blasting Prawns. Her Chicken Flambe was a bit sweet 'n sour-like - i.e sickly-sweet and not much else, whereas my Dim Sim was terrific. Dumplings, noodles, scallions. Uh-huh.

On balance though, Shanghai lacked the atmosphere that ought to have been there; belonged there, at that spot on Market Street. Maybe it was the haphazard styling - part Castro supper club, part family Chinese. Or the clientele - part Castro types, part families with whining kids. 

They need time to polish things up.

RAVE - Mission Rock Resort

They could serve raw eggs and cardboard fries at Mission Rock and it would still be a fabulous place to lunch.

It's a real bonus they don't though, because our oysters, with fish and chips, and corned beef hash with poached egg were perfect accompaniment to the blazing sun and great view at this recently refurbished dockside place in the Dogpatch.

We used to treat Kelly's Mission Rock, as it was known, as our regular weekend brunch haunt. Its location, as part of the Dogpatch marina and boatyard, makes for a beautiful spot, especially when the sun's shining.

The place has had a makeover, with a new and wider upper deck, new sunshades and an all round freshen up. 

No doubt we'll be there again soon.

REVIEW - Park Tavern

There were things right, and things wrong with Park Tavern.

It's a big place, and it was full. So, it was noisy as hell.

It's in North Beach, and it was Saturday night. So, it was noisy as hell, and full of tourists.

Our table was ready the instant we arrived, but it was within earshot of the wait-staff's cutlery station, so we heard every bellowed conversation they had.

The food was fresh and plentiful, but the quality was patchy.

Our appetizers, duck liver mousse for me, and heirloom tomato, burrata and prosciutto for her, were excellent. So far so good. 

Mrs P, who had recommended the place after a previous visit with a friend - one "Coco Van", or Coq Au Vin, don't ask - got the pork chop, which had to be returned because it was cold. I got the NY strip steak, which was perfect, along with its black pepper-parmesan fries, prosciutto butter and red wine jus. Meanwhile, her Ladyship's plate had returned, with a fresh, hot pork chop. However, this one was slathered in Dijon mustard, and tasted too much - for her - of the accompanying thick cut bacon on the plate. "I make better pork chop at home" was the verdict.

So far, so 50/50.

On seeing that madame hadn't enjoyed her chop, our waiter thoughtfully removed it from our bill.

But she wasn't done yet. After donning her blonde wig she questioned why anyone would want the Ferret with a Ginger Back. She happily ordered it when I pointed out it was Fernet, not Ferret; the former being an Italian herbal liquor with as many as forty ingredients, including saffron, aloe, gentian, myrrh, iris, bitter orange and galangal. Of course, a Ferret is basically a long rat.

However, with that confusion settled, the Fernet dish turned out to be a less than satisfying slop of peaches covered in granola, which my date couldn't finish.

Thankfully, the cocktails were great, and the pulsating activity in the place at least gave us plenty to watch.

RAVE - Lawless

This is a cool, moody, prohibition-era movie based on a true story of three brothers from Virginia who produce moonshine, and the new deputy determined to stop them.

It's not without its faults. For example, it was unclear how on earth Chicago - 700 miles from Fairfax County, Virginia - should figure so heavily in this film. According to the story, the bootleggers sold their liquor there, drew their inspiration from the gangsters there, practically commuted there every day. This was the 1930s, so there was no way the roads or the vehicles could have made those journeys possible.

And Gary Oldman, as the Chicago-based top gangster, had a virtually non-existent role. It was almost as though he was contracted to play that role before the story was written, and despite it barely featuring him. It was perversely fitting for Oldman, an Englishman, to take that role however, seeing as Tom Hardy and Jason Clarke, both English, played two of the bootleggers, Forest and Howard Bondurant. To cap the foreign contingent; Guy Pearce, an Australian, played the dastardly deputy Charlie Rakes. And the screenplay was written by another Australian, Nick Cave. Cave the moody musician probably lent much of the story its spare, morose feel.

But forget the inconsistencies. This was a great tale, and one that cast the criminals as heroes, and the lawmen as either dumb hicks, or in the case of Pearce, an affected - he wore scent, and "smelled funny" - bigot and sadist.

Mrs Page reckons this is Oscar-worthy, but I think she may have fallen somewhat under the spell of Forest Bondurant. It's funny how women so often are attracted by gruff-speaking, mono-syllabic, crusty hicks. But I wouldn't advise you to alter your Match.com profiles.

One sidenote: the film featured a hillbilly version of the Velvet Underground song "White light / White Heat", which was I think written by Lou Reed about the use of amphetamine. An inspired prequel to the song, and one of the many reasons Lou Reed is a shadow of the writer and performer he used to be.

Not bad, a traffic report, dating advice, and music history, all rolled up into a movie review.

RANT - 360

Films based around vignettes - series of short stories that are loosely connected - are usually patchy, inconsistent.

Vienna - Jude Law is an automobile dealer at a trade show, arranging to meet an escort at a bar.

Paris - someone follows a woman in a red beret.

London - Rachel Weisz is having an assignation with her lover, who returns to his studio to find that his girlfriend has cleared out. Weisz's husband turns out to be Jude Law.

Colorado - a prisoner is due to be released from a sex offender's unit.

On a flight from London to Colorado, the girlfriend chats with Anthony Hopkins.

I said it was patchy. For a few minutes the story that wove through the film seemed to make sense, but in the end it was all a waste of time.

RAVE - Redd Wood, Yountville

While it'd be hard to justify a trip to Napa just for pizza, if you had to this would be the pizza to use for that justification.

The owners of our favorite restaurant in the Napa Valley, Redd in Yountville, have done the decent thing and opened a second place in the same town. This one is called Redd Wood, and focuses on pizza and pasta.

Almost directly opposite The French Laundry, Redd Wood has a lot to live up to, both from its parent and its neighbors.

There can be nothing finer than to be sat in the sunny courtyard, sipping a chilled Pinot Grigio and munching on any one of their delicious dishes. The crust is crispy, underneath as well as around the edges, and the ingredients were as fresh as one could wish for.

The quick one hour drive gives the lucky passenger a chance to snooze in the sun and awake refreshed to battle for another evening on the sofa. Ahhhhhh .....

RAVE - Abbott's Cellar

From the owners of that other beer palace, Monk's Kettle, comes Abbott's Cellar, nestled among a bevy of exciting eateries along Valencia Street.

This place also features an impressive selection of 100+ international beers, by the glass and by the bottle.

Having just enjoyed necking several pints of Boddington's each night for a week in England, this was the other end of the brewing spectrum.

With a modest two glasses of Confidence and some Pinot Noir, we both chose the excellent gnocchi to start.

Then Mrs Page had the sea bass while I had the dry aged strip loin steak. Both were pleasant if not gripping.

Service was outstandingly attentive, and the whole place seemed like a Bar Agricole wannabe. It wasn't quite as good as BA, but nonetheless was a perfect place for a date.

That summary probably does a disservice to the warm, accommodating feel of the place, but we're sure to be back to soak up more of that - although it'll probably be the ambiance, rather than the somewhat restricted menu that'll draw us back.

REVIEW - Bernie

A sad, true story - surprising in that it stars Jack Black - about mortician Bernie Tiede, who marries a much older woman, the wife of a man Bernie recently prepared for burial. 

The woman, Marjorie Nugent, a miserable, nagging, selfish - but wealthy - Shirley MacLaine, makes Bernie's life a constant challenge, but he bears through with patience, consideration and love, the same attitude he's spread around their small town in Texas for the past few years.

He bears through that is, until he snaps, and shoots her four times in the back with a rifle they keep in the garage to hunt the pesky armadillos that dig up their lawn. Bernie hides Marjorie in the freezer and carries on, pretending to everyone that she's had a stroke and is in hospital. The pretense lasts for 4 months, until Marjorie's stockbroker is just too suspicious and calls in the police.

Bernie is arrested and brought to trial, but the townspeople rally round and vouch for their ever-loving mortician.

The film's comedic thread - and for me it's only value - comes from the real-life people who play themselves in the film, offering observations on Bernie and Marjorie that come as light relief to the sugar coated Jack Black and the horrible life that living in small town Texas must be.