docfest @ the appeal: only when i dance

and here's a link to my review of "Only When I Dance."

"'Only When I Dance' is a documentary that focuses on two teenagers in Brazil. Living in the favelas of Rio de Janiero, advanced ballet students Irlan and Isabela both train on scholarships at Centro de Dance Rio, located in an affluent part of the city. 'Only When I Dance' follows these two young dancers as they vie for the "next step"--scholarships to world-renowned training grounds--through international competitions.

Irlan is the dancer with the most promise. Naturally gifted, Irlan shows immense dedication, committing to school and ballet classes with the goal of becoming a professional dancer. These days, more boys are enrolling in ballet than 20 years ago, but still, it's not everyday that you see one with bendy feet, long and lean legs, incredible flexibility, and talent with a capital T..."

The entire review can be found here.

docfest @ the appeal: pop star on ice

this past weekend, i covered two documentaries at the sf independent film festival's docfest for the appeal. here's the first of two reviews.

pop star on ice

" But with all of these expectations, the effervescent Weir can't seem to handle the elephant in the room: himself, an unfocused, eye-rolling hazard on ice skates. And this is what bites him in the butt, time and time again.

Throughout the film, Weir's longtime coach, Priscilla Hill is shown as a mother figure. She hugs him, laughs, shares inside jokes, and pushes him to improve. But she also tip toes around his temper and evasiveness..."

the entire review is here.

phoning it in

does anyone else get sleepy and crave a giant, red, plaid blanket and comfy couch when you hear the iphone commercials telling you there's a nap for that? or am i the only one suffering from this cellular affliction?

dance flash @ the appeal: an interview with alonzo king

this week for the appeal, i interviewed alonzo king.

"I was wondering what kind of traits you look for when you hire dancers or look for dancers?

Well, I think that's really apt what you're saying because if you look at this physical universe, everything is based on the sphere, everything. Nucleus, radius, electrons, protons, the planets, the galaxies, they're all spherical, and so that same thing is inherent in the body, and you manipulate it by going from circle to straight line. And all those things you illustrated are part of developing movement structure.

In terms of looking for dancers, what I mentioned earlier is that the character is the bottom line because what you're looking at onstage is who people are. People dance their consciousness, and so who's brave, who's generous, who's loving, who's consciences, who's risk-taking. All the things we like in heroic people are the things I look for in a dancer because these are human beings, after all. So we're looking for the noblest kind of character.

You know it's inextricable that who people are is what you're watching move, and so if they're givers, if they're brilliant, it's going to be obvious. And the opposite as well. If they are selfish, if they're vain, if they're scared--all of that is apparent. I like people who are heroic, who have the ability to get lost in movement and not be self-conscious. Humility is a beautiful thing to see in dancing. Sincerity is something very rare to see, but beautiful when you see it in dancing. And we take it for granted that they've got a technique that is second nature. Yeah, so who people are."

you can find the entire interview here.

Photo by RJ Muna

dance flash @ the appeal: trolley dances

this week's dance flash: trolley dances

"Picture this: you and your buds, post-40 minute wait at Tartine for the most delicious éclair ever, meet up at Dolores Park, check in with your "tour guide" at the statue of Miguel Hidalgo, and, along with the rest of your group, make your way, via foot and the J, through the Mission, Noe Valley, and Balboa Park, all while stopping along the way to see a wide variety of local dance companies and performers in site-specific works. The cost to you: $2 (your Muni fare)...

But what kind of dance will you see? SF-based Deborah Slater Dance Theater is a sure crowd pleaser, and you've got to feel giddy when watching the SF Merionettes Synchronized Swim Club whirl about in the pool. Former Urban Bush woman Amara Tabor-Smith's Deep Waters Dance Theater doesn't perform in water, but her movement and incorporated text tend to have a liquid feel to them. Knowing Kathleen Hermesdorf, a popular instructor, performer, and choreographer, expect the unexpected (and how can you not? In this video, she gives an interview sitting atop a stove). Also on the bill are Jorge Rodolfo De Hoyos, performance artist and dancer, and Rosamaria Garcia, and Trolley Dances' director Kim Epifano's Sonic Dance Theater.
.."

read more at the appeal.

photo finish

recently, i spent a few minutes clearing out my camera phone images. just like i can't stand the thought of traditional filing (i'm way too fond of piles, cluttering the floor of my closet, and leaving things out in the open where i'll best remember them), i can't just delete these old, useless, reference-less photos without letting them fulfill their photographic destiny.

like this tourist guy and his wife/girlfriend/best friend with benefits. yes, the weather in SF is temperamental, but no matter what, guys should never ever wear capris. they'll make your legs look short and your ass huge, while drawing attention to your sparkling white sneakers and socks. the matching shirts aren't helping, either...

we have a local farmers' market every sunday just down the street (just about six blocks east!) and it's started hosting unpaid performers. on this particular sunday, we had a three-piece band who played strapped into this banana/monkey painting.

this is the same pub that offered hand maid burgers. i've never seen franch fries, but maybe they're french fries covered in ranch dressing?

along the embarcadero, there are these 2 1/2 foot high, 6 inch wide white boxes. all they say are the text above. um... thanks prop. k for using my tax dollars to create this empty, useless white box. bravo.

walking up 3rd street toward my bus after work one day, this guy was in front of me, walking pretty slowly... for some strange reason, i decided to turn off 3rd and take a more circuitous route.

if you have an interest in working in the visa, copy, and ax business, then we're the employer for you! the ideal shop assistant must be able to work long, dark, and dangerous nights and lift body bags filled with up to 200 lbs. of "shredded copy paper." an interest in international wood chopping is optional.


for three days, this bus shelter's bus prediction readout didn't list which bus was coming when. all transit riders got were estimated arrival times without the bus lines attached.

this is the penis tree. or really, the orange dildo tree. at the end of august, someone's arts and craft collective covered a few trees in the panhandle with life-size orange dildos. i had nothing to do it with. i swear.

last but not least, todd and i witnessed a car break-in on fell last sunday night and shortly after reporting it, we got to ride along with the cop and look for the bad guy. we came up empty, but date night sure was exciting!

dance flash @ the appeal: burning dance questions 101

this week's dance flash is up at the appeal, and it's the beginning of a bi-monthly Q&A.

"Q: What's a tutu? And I wear an XXL, so where can I buy a fourfour?

A: Female ballet dancers may wear a tutu, aka a poofy skirt, in ballet performances. There are many different styles and lengths of tutus, but the one that you're probably thinking of is the really, and almost indecently, short one that's designed to show off a female dancer's intricate foot and leg work. Professional tutus (of all sizes) are custom-made, but cheaper ones can be purchased at dancewear stores."

for more, go here.

sukkot uh-oh

last friday, i got a call from a colleague in southern california. i hear from her once every few months, and each time she manages to emanate massive waves of jewish guilt on multiple levels. the beginning of our latest exchange went something like this:



me: hello, this is becca.

yael: hello becca hxxxxxxman*! it's such a glorious day!!!

me: hi there, yael **. what can i do for you?

yael: well, first off, i want to apologize. i know i'm calling you on sukkot, and yes, i agree, i should be home celebrating with my family, going to temple and services, and taking a well-deserved break, but i'm sure you know how it is, we just have so much work to do and deadlines deadline deadlines, whoopee!!! but it's all for the children, right? i hope i'm not keeping you from leaving to go to your temple for the festivities! i mean, there are just so many special days to observe right now, and we shouldn't forget that god and everyone are constantly warming up our lives with joy, but without work, all we'd have left is temple! and family! and leftover challah sandwiches! but sheesh, keeping it all in balance is just so important for me. i mean, i've already taken three vacation days in the past week to observe, and i bet it's the same for you, too, right, becca hxxxxxxman*? i mean, right now i should be hanging fruit and finishing up the sukkah! how's yours coming along?

me: ...***


* she always calls me by my first and last names. thankfully she doesn't know my first name is officially rebecca nor anything about my middle name. if she asks, i'm becca tuttifruiti razzmatazz hxxxxxxman, in honor of the most ingenious jolly rancher flavor never to have been created. or at least mass produced.
** name changed to protect and confuse, just like bart police.
*** this is where i debated running and hiding in the publications closet, but i declined and stuck with the call. there's no wifi down there, and i'd miss my google reader way too much.

ups and downs in the pacific northwest, part 1

now that things have quieted down a bit (namely the roto rooter van and a handful of city employees making a racket outside of my office window), i have a few moments to recall the more unanticipated events while todd and i were in washington.


first, and most importantly, the driving. todd drove the entire time we were up there because he has insurance coverage already, plus everyone can attest that my driving skills, when in unknown surroundings, are negligible at best. if you ever need to travel with me for work, you may be safer hitchhiking. just saying. because i can't take photos like this and drive at the same time.





we spent the first two days traversing mount rainier national park. even with the rain and lack of vegetarian options, we were having a great time: muddy jeans, hot tubs, and deer breakfasting just steps away from our cabin.


at the end of day 2, we were driving back from sunrise, the highest point you can reach in the park by car. here's a view of the mountain from sunrise at about 5PM.


as we're driving along the main park road, we saw a park ranger driving toward us. being the happy, we're-enjoying-nature type of folks, we waved at him as we passed. things are looking good, right? but no. he stops his car, turns on his lights and siren, makes a three-point turn, and comes after us. we immediately pull to a stop, and can't figure out why we're being pulled over. oh, sh!t, i'm thinking. what's wrong? is our rental car on a stolen vehicle list? did we not have our lights on? first, the officer asked us if we knew what the speed limit was in the area. duh, 35 MPH. now, i'm confused. i always freak out when todd speeds, and b/c of this, i have a really bad habit of freaking out pretty much anytime i'm in the car with him, so i'm confident that we weren't speeding, or at least not that much to cause the ranger to stop us on an empty road. in fact, i had looked at the spedometer just before we saw him and it read 38 MPH. but no. mr. ranger insists that he clocked us at 58 MPH. being the logical guy that he is, todd suggested that maybe the radar gun was faulty, but mr. ranger took his license, insurance card, and registration and went back to his SUV. we sat in the car for about eight minutes, which is a really long time when all you have to look at are a ton of trees. we had no radio reception, and the most we could hope for to de-stress us was an elk sighting (the best we got was a crow).

the ranger walked deliberately back to the car and told us he was going to be generous (yey! no ticket!!!) by knocking our speed down to 45 MPH (boooo!). but we had to pay $91 or appear in Tacoma court in 3 weeks. we played the good driver/good passenger role of yes sir, we're sure we weren't speeding, sir, etc., etc., etc., but still, we drove away with a bright pink ticket and a shadow looming over our heads.


not 20 minutes later, around 6PM, we're slowly (think 25 MPH) driving back toward ashford, with very limited visibility due to the fog, when the whole car (toyota corolla) goes "BOOM!" and then a "putter putter vrmmmmmmmrughah." yes, we blew out a tire. todd changed it, and i tried my darnedest to get some semblance of cell phone reception, only to find out that we needed to drive the car all the way back toward seattle, at a speed limit of less than 50 MPH, and exchange it.



the next morning, we drove back to avis, where the 18-year-old rental manager didn't give us any hassle at all about the flat tire or the exchange. i think he was still hung over from the night before. but interesting factoid: we have yet to be charged a fee for the tire or wheel. yippee! with all that under our belt, we then faced a three+ hour drive east for our one night in yakima wine country.


but could everything really go as planned? naw. while touring some wineries, all of which were subpar to sonoma and napa, we almost ran over a turtle trying to cross the rode. we drove back and helped the little guy make it to safety, which in this case was a massive corn field.


our wine country destination for the evening: a small bed & breakfast along the river in everyone's favorite tiny-ass town, prosser. but lo and behold, the b&b's proprietoress forgot we were coming, leading to a very awkward exchange where she insisted i had called awhile back to cancel and that i never really had a reservation anyway. at this point, i was mentally preparing myself to camp out in the vineyards next door, but i whipped out my confirmation email, and by the time we took a little drive and came back, she had magically remembered that we had in fact confirmed the reservation a month ago. thankfully, the overnight turned out ok, and we picked concord grapes just outside the b&b, which were ripe with flavor (and seeds).

all of this hubbub made this voicemail, received somewhere between our car rental return and the b&b fiasco, ever so much more appreciated (it's soft, so you may need to turn up the volume).