6.30.05 is it because i'm not a lesbian?

My internet pal Tom has been analyzing the contestant bios from the upcoming season of "Big Brother" in order to try and figure out who is "the gay one." (Every reality show needs at least one to create that much-needed tension, right?) But is it really possible to figure out one's sexual orientation from a list of likes and dislikes?

SUE
Old enough to know better, young enough not to care.
Web Diva, indie Record Exec, San Francisco Bay Area
Films: Harold and Maude, The Big Lebowski
TV shows: The Daily Show
Actors: Peter Sarsgaard, James Stewart
Actresses: Grace Kelly
Bands: Pavement, Queens of the Stone Age, Foo Fighters, White Stripes, Ted Leo
Hobbies: Reading
Sports to Play: None
Sports Teams: SF Giants
Outdoor Activities: Running, walking
Music: Rock
Cereals: Kashi GoLean
Snacks: Ice cream, nuts
Cookies: Black-and-white
Candy Bars: See's
Alcoholic Drinks: Mojitos
Non-Alcoholic: EBMUD tap water

Tom's response:

Britney Spears Quotient: SF... but the "Bay area," SF Giants, Foo Fighters, EBMUD tap water, does not play sports, Rock.

Ellen DeGeneres Factor: "The Daily Show," knows the name of and can pronounce "Peter Sarsgaard," See's Candy, Princess Grace, reading, Kashi GoLean, can make, order, and/or pronounce "Mojitos," black-and-white cookies.

Reality Show Lesbian stereotype analysis: 49.7%. Possibly just one of those free spirited hippie freaks / communist pinkos.

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6.29.05 an open letter to sen. john mccain

Dear Sen. John McCain,

I think you're the greatest. I really do. You're a war hero; you speak your mind; you have a fabulous rapport with Jon Stewart on "The Daily Show." But Senator, you should never refer to yourself as a "funk master." And please don't allow yourself to be photographed next to the Black Eyed Peas' fashion disaster Fergie ever again. Thank you.

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6.27.05 cruisin'

I always figured The Rev. Sue Trowbridge would eventually purchase the "suetrowbridge.com" domain. And yet, she did not. So I finally laid claim to it. Rev. Sue, .net and .org are still there for the taking.

I don't think I've mentioned Tom Cruise in my blog since his latest publicity blitz began, but at this point, he is just impossible to ignore. Ordinarily, you'd have to spend years and thousands of dollars and/or volunteer hours to learn the core secrets of Tom's religion, but today's issue of Salon.com spills the beans in their article on Cruise, "Missionary Man":

The central creation story, according to Melton, Bartchy, Kent and the former member, is this: About 75 million years ago, a nefarious intergalactic warlord called Xenu rounded up the inhabitants of numerous planets, killed them, and brought them to Earth, then set off a chain reaction of cataclysmic volcanoes (the volcano pictured on the "Dianetics" cover was Hubbard's favorite symbol for the notion of breakthrough and self-actualization), which dispersed their thetans into the atmosphere. These thetans now fester inside the bodies of all humans. They are to be located in specific body parts and summoned out.

No, that doesn't sound at all like it was invented by a science fiction writer.

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6.26.05 my training diary: week 3

Saturday morning, 6:45 AM. Normally, I'd be settling in for another couple hours of sleep (depending, of course, on the whims of the dog). This morning, however, I woke up early and headed to Lake Merritt in Oakland for my first Team in Training group run.

About 50-60 people were gathered there at 8 AM, many of them wearing Team in Training T-shirts. I will admit that when it comes to anything athletic, I feel as out of place as Brooke Shields at a Scientologists' convention. Many, though thankfully not all, of the participants looked younger and fitter than myself.

First, we got a talk about sports drinks and energy gels. One of the products shown was Gu. I had a distant memory of reading a column by Jon Carroll in which he described Gu as having "the consistency of hair gel." We received free samples of a similar product called PowerGel. I took the tiny foil packet, stuck it in my pocket and proceeded to ignore it for the rest of the day. Maybe sometime I'll get up the nerve to try it.

I joined the group of "new runners," who got a three-minute head start on the 5K training run around Lake Merritt. (Some hardier sorts got to do 10K, but I figured that 5K was more than enough K's for my first day.) Quickly, I figured out that the first rule of running around Lake Merritt is: watch out for goose poop. It's a beautiful day, and I've always thought the Lake Merritt area is one of the loveliest in the East Bay, but I spent most of my run keeping my eyes glued to the pavement. I wouldn't say I'm a speed demon, but I did manage to pass a few runners.

Our next all-Team East Bay group run is in two weeks at Lake Chabot. "Oh, you'll like it," another one of the new runners assured me. "There aren't as many geese there."

Now, I know that you're all ready to make a donation, right? Head over to my Team in Training web page, and you can read a little bit more about why I've chosen to support this particular organization (the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society), and use your credit card to make a contribution. If you prefer to do it the analog way, send me a check made out to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

At first, I thought it seemed appropriate to ask for donations in the amount of $26.20 (a dollar for every mile of the marathon), but my fundraising packet says I should "ASK BIG!! If you ask for $200 and get $100, that's better than asking for $100 and getting $50." So how about $260.20? But seriously, even if you can only give $2.60, I'd really appreciate it.

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6.24.05 she loves the '80s

This letter appeared in the "Dear Abby" column this morning, and I really want to take a crack at answering it.

DEAR ABBY: I am 10. I was born in 1994. My problem is I really, really wish I had lived in the '80s. I know this sounds stupid, but the style was awesome -- not skanky. The music was great -- not rap. The '80s seem awesome! I mean, they had good songs like "She Blinded Me With Science." The '80s seem so cool -- at least people are always saying so.

Help, Abby, please. I'm sitting here listening to '80s music now. I wouldn't admit this to anyone else except my mom or dad. -- BORN IN THE WRONG ERA

Dear Born,

You're right -- "She Blinded Me With Science" was awesome. Have you checked out Squeeze, XTC, Talking Heads, the Sugarcubes, Pretenders, Devo, the Smiths, New Order and The The? (You might have heard The The's "This is the Day," one of my favorite '80s songs, in the current Dockers ad campaign. I guess Matt Johnson needed the money.) There was also a lot of good rap back then, like Run-DMC, the Digital Underground and Public Enemy, so don't be dissin' the whole genre.

However, there was just as much bad music back in the '80s as there is today. Loverboy. Journey. Wham! Lionel Ritchie, for heaven's sakes (he's the dad of that skanky girl on "The Simple Life" -- well, the skanky girl who isn't Paris Hilton). But don't think there's anything wrong with being obsessed with music from a prior era. When I was in high school -- during the '80s! -- I spent hours listening to Velvet Underground, Roxy Music and David Bowie albums from the 1960s and early '70s.

The main thing to keep in mind, though, is that if you had come of age in the 1980s, you'd be totally old now. We're all pushing 40, and you're 10. You have your whole life ahead of you, while we oldsters are contending with stuff like mortgages, wills, 401Ks, tax returns, and putting kids through college. Plus, do you know what we didn't have in the 1980s? The World Wide Web and instant messaging. Cell phones. DVD players. Cable TV was still a rarity and the channel selection was limited. It was like the Stone Age! When I was a kid, and I wanted to see my favorite movie, "Mary Poppins," I had to wait months or even years for it to be rereleased in a theater, and then get my mom to take me. You can watch your favorite movie right at home, every night, if you want to! I probably would have watched "Mary Poppins," like, 200 times.

So keep on enjoying '80s music, but please don't wish you'd actually lived back then. Seriously, the clothes and hair of today are much cooler -- watch an old episode of "Dynasty" if you don't believe me. Just look at those shoulder pads!

Love,

Sue

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6.23.05 that old black magic

If, like me, you are a fan of reading truly savage movie reviews, you should troll the web for opinions of the Nicole Kidman-Will Ferrell remake of "Bewitched," which opens tomorrow. The Village Voice: "To spend even 10 minutes in the movie's universe is to experience the Sartrean nausea of an utterly hollow head and heart... The film is airy and weightless, not like, say, chiffon, but like the black smoke of burning truck tires." James Berardinelli's ReelViews: "I want revenge on those who stole 100 minutes of my life... a travesty of monumental proportions." I actually liked "Bewitched"-the-series, but I don't think the movie would pass my plane test (would I watch it if I were on a long airplane trip?). And I once watched an Olson Twins movie on a plane.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the multiplex, or, to be more accurate, your local art house: If this were 1982, and "Me and You and Everyone We Know" were a pop song, it would be "O Superman" to "Bewitched"'s "Maneater" or maybe "Eye of the Tiger." Like Laurie Anderson's offbeat single, "Me and You" manages to be a little annoying yet strangely compelling, and utterly different than anything else out there right now.

Written and directed by and starring the heretofore-unknown (at least to me) Miranda July, "Me and You" is a slice-of-life film that gives us a glimpse into the worlds of several different characters: Christine (July), a lonely artist who makes a living shuttling seniors around in her ElderCab; Richard (John Hawkes), a recently-separated shoe salesman; Richard's two kids, and the other children who live in their neighborhood; one of Christine's elderly clients (Hector Elias); and other assorted people they come into contact with. I was grateful that July didn't insist on making herself the center of attention, because her character is, frankly, a little creepy and pathetic. My favorite parts of the movie involved Richard's kids, played by Brandon Ratcliff, one of the most adorable and natural child actors I've ever seen, and Miles Thompson. Even though a lot of this film focuses on kids, it is not a kids' movie. It earns its "R" rating.

I don't want to give away too much about "Me and You," because the pleasure comes from watching it all unfold, and seeing how the characters' lives intersect in often surprising ways. This movie isn't for everyone -- leaving the theater last night, I overheard people who loved it and others who hated it. But in a world where old TV shows like "Bewitched" and "The Dukes of Hazzard" are routinely made into feature films, I hope there will always be room for something as original and daring as "Me and You and Everyone We Know."

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6.21.05 an open letter to tv watchers

Dear TV fans (especially Nielsen families):

There are plenty of programs on the tube tonight. You could check out Game Five of the NBA finals; the Pierce Brosnan-hosted "AFI's 100 Years... 100 Movie Quotes" (will "Frankly, my dear..." come in at #1?); at least a half-dozen "Law & Order" reruns; or even "Benny Hill" on BBC America. But there is one thing you should not watch, and that is the Katie Couric special in which she interviews the "runaway bride."

The only people who should care about why she ran away are her fiance, their family members, people who had already sent wedding gifts, and those who had purchased nonrefundable plane tickets in order to travel to the wedding. Everyone else should shrug and immmediately change the channel. And the fact that the pop-eyed fabricator (Jen, have you had your thyroid levels checked? Just a suggestion) has been paid $500,000 for the rights to her story boggles the mind. Next thing you know, she'll be turning up on Celebrity Charades alongside Hank Azaria, Rosie Perez and one of the lesser Baldwin brothers. So for all our sakes... don't watch. Please.

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6.20.05 my training diary: week 2

There are still 10 days left in June but I've already reached my goal for the month, which was to be able to run for 30 minutes straight. I can cover just about three miles in that time. To be honest, I'm pretty amazed I've been able to progress that far, considering that when I started on June 6, I had to stop and walk after two minutes. I've learned to pace myself a little better; I remind myself that I'm focusing on endurance, not speed.

But this week's really big news is that I've joined the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training, which means I'm going to get professional coaching and a mentor. It also means I'll have to get up at 7 AM on Saturday mornings to attend group runs for the next several months. I've always been more of a cranky loner than a team player, but since I'm already doing so many things I wouldn't ordinarily do, what's one more?

Oh, joining the Team also means I've got to start fund-raising. So I'm going to hit you up for money soon. Just giving you fair warning.

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6.19.05 takahata-san, all is forgiven

Despite my disdain for "Pom Poko," I decided I should check out another film by its director, Isao Takahata, because everyone deserves a second chance.

Happily, there are no well-endowed raccoons in "Only Yesterday." At one point, a character says, "Sometimes raccoons come out here at night!" and I was afraid I'd have a flashback, but no 'coons actually show up onscreen.

"Only Yesterday" is a lovely, lyrical story about a Tokyo office worker named Taeko who has lived in the city all her life, but adores the country. She spends her vacations working on her sister's husband's family farm. It seems like an incredibly arduous way to spend one's time off, but I guess the film (released in 1991) was prophetic, since the growth in agritourism proves that working on a farm is a common fantasy for urban dwellers.

Taeko's present-day experiences are interspersed with flashbacks to her life as a 10-year-old. The adventures of young Taeko are hilarious and relatable; I could certainly empathize with her troubles in math class. The episodes set in the past look different from the more realistic and colorful style of the modern-day scenes -- they have a pastel prettiness, as though they could have been drawn with colored pencils. However, there's really no reason this film had to be animated. I mean, I'm glad it was, since it's lovely, but it could all have been performed by real actors. There are no spaceships or moving castles or monsters anywhere in sight.

There were some kids at the screening I attended, but I suspect they were bored by the scenes with the older Taeko. "Only Yesterday" is a film that will appeal mainly to adults, who will appreciate its theme that sometimes, even after you're all grown up, the kid you used to be remains a presence in your life. Unfortunately, no American DVD release seems to be scheduled, but this low-key gem is definitely worth seeking out.

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6.18.05 big balls

On Tuesday, I watched a movie about bank-robbing dogs. On Thursday night, I saw an avant-garde German play in which a man kisses a woman who is under a spell, shrinks down to a few inches, and becomes trapped inside a brandy bottle in the woman's Berlin apartment. Foolish me -- I thought it couldn't possibly get any weirder. As it turns out, I was so very wrong.

Warning: the following review contains spoilers, as well as vivid descriptions of raccoon testicles. Proceed at your own risk.

I have seen some disturbing movies in my time -- "Eraserhead," "Pink Flamingoes," "The Hole," "Ishtar" -- but I can't recall ever seeing a film that freaked me out as thoroughly as "Pom Poko," a Japanese anime about a community of raccoons. (It is being shown during the Pacific Film Archive's current "The Art of Anime" series.) I have always loved raccoons. Their adorable masks! Their cute little hands! I know they're often rabid and they tip over garbage cans, but they're so darned precious!

"Pom Poko" starts out innocently enough. The raccoons are driven from their woodland home when it begins to be developed as suburban-sprawl housing. At first, they look like ordinary raccoons, but the narrator tells us that when raccoons are among their own kind, they walk on two legs. They kind of morph into teddy bear-like creatures at this point. (See a picture here.) I noticed fairly early on that the male raccoons were drawn with well-defined testicles, but I figured, well, the Japanese aren't as hung up about body parts as we Americans tend to be.

The raccoon elders inform the younger members of the clan that in the past, raccoons were shapeshifters, capable of transforming themselves into gremlins, statues, clay pots -- even humans. In order to fight for their land, the raccoons will have to wage war against the developers. They practice their morphing skills and eventually manage to convince many of the heavy-equipment and construction workers that the site is haunted. Despite their best efforts, though, the building continues unabated.

This is where things get really strange. After a "ghost parade" in which the raccoons shapeshift into skeletons, dragons, rainbows and enormous flames -- the sort of ultra-trippy sequence in which even non-drug users such as myself find themselves thinking, I wonder what it would be like to watch this if you were high? -- fails to deter the development, a rogue band of raccoons decides they need to kill the humans, not just scare them. How do they do this? By using their testicles.

This is an actual quote from the movie: They used their balls as weapons in a brave kamikaze attack. They are able to make them into parachutes so they can leap from the sky; they transform them into large projectiles; they are stretched into trampolines. Unfortunately, even the biggest raccoon balls are helpless against human technology, and the platoon of critters is reduced to a stack of roadkill.

The surviving raccoons are forced to morph into humans and join the dreary, workaday world of salarymen and office ladies. One of the shapeshifters, on his way home from another soul-draining day at the office, spots a raccoon running through an alleyway. He follows it to a golf course, where a group of raccoons are joyously dancing and singing. (In case you weren't aware, they love to party.) He turns back into a raccoon and runs toward his kin. First, though, he stops and addresses the audience directly, pleading with us to stop destroying the habitats of woodland animals. The end.

"Pom Poko" is coming out on a Disney DVD in August, and while there is no way I will ever choose to devote two hours of my life to re-viewing it, I must admit I'm curious if the scenes of raccoons ramming their hot-air-balloon-sized testicles into armed policemen will make it into the American version. (Incidentally, one of the stars of the dub is J.K. Simmons, best known for his turn as a racist inmate on HBO's scary prison drama "Oz.") If there is a child in your life who you really want to f#@$ up, "Pom Poko" should certainly be on your Christmas shopping list this year.

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6.15.05 the "citizen kane" of dogs-robbing-banks movies

One of my favorite movie theaters, The Parkway in Oakland, has instituted a monthly Audience Appreciation Night. Admission is free, and the theater shows some old movie from its archive. Last night's film was "The Doberman Gang," a 1972 feature about a small-time bank robber who is tired of human error messing up his capers. He decides to commit the perfect crime by training six Doberman pinschers to rob a bank.

Joe seemed dubious about going to see this movie, but I kept repeating that it was about dogs robbing a bank, and who wouldn't want to see that? Talk about a high-concept picture! Eventually, I wore him down.

"Doberman" is a so-bad-it's-good film that's got everything you love about early-1970s entertainment: hilariously bad clothes, loads of zoom-in closeups and a "funky" score featuring lots of flute. Ex-con Eddie Newton (Byron Mabe) recruits Barney (Hal Reed), a returning Vietnam vet who worked with dogs during the war, to train the dobermans, but the good-hearted guy doesn't know that the canines are destined for a life of crime. Perhaps their names (Ma Barker, Bonnie, Clyde, Pretty Boy Floyd, etc.) should have been a tip-off.

Once Barney discovers the true nature of his assignment, he flips out, but grudgingly agrees to continue his work in exchange for a big share of the pot. Part of the appeal may be Eddie's super-hot girlfriend, June; when Eddie discovers that Barney and June have been flirting behind his back, he teaches his gal a lesson by smacking her in the face (this was a G-rated movie!), but the trainer doesn't lift a finger to defend her honor -- the only bitches he really cares about have four legs, not two!

Finally, it's time for the caper itself, an elaborate set piece in which the dogs enter the bank and do their business... and their business is stealing money. The bank's security guard makes the mistake of reaching for his gun, which causes one of the Dobies to attack his arm, a harrowing scene which probably caused many of the innocent children who saw this "family" flick to develop a permanent fear of man's best friend. As I'm sure many of the people reading this are eager to experience "The Doberman Gang" for themselves (unfortunately, it's not currently available on DVD or video, but older copies do come up for bid on eBay), I don't want to reveal the shocking! ending, but the moral of the story is clearly that dogs -- and people! -- are unpredictable. Woof!

The auteur behind this film, one Byron Chudnow, went on to direct two sequels, "The Daring Dobermans" and "The Amazing Dobermans." In 1979, he directed a TV movie, "Alex and the Doberman Gang." I'll say one thing about the man, he chooses his subject and sticks with it. In late 2003, he sold the rights to Dean Devlin, writer of schlocky science fiction films such as "Stargate" and "Universal Soldier." Sadly, I haven't been able to find any more recent news about the projected remake, but I'm sure that if it ever gets made, CGI will be used to make the dogs talk, and there will be lots of poop jokes.

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6.14.05 news of the day

Great Moments in Marketing, courtesy of Fastcompany.com:

[Miami ad agency Crispin Porter + Bogusky] landed what could be Coke's most important assignment in recent memory: To revive its famous "Hilltop" campaign in which an international cast of everyman hippies gathered to sing the legendary jingle, "I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony/I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company"... The new lyrics to "Chilltop," as the campaign was renamed, and which is sung by G. Love (who is quite a good choice, it must be said), have about as much personality as the mahogany table around which they were surely penned: "I'd like to teach the world to chill, take time to stop and smile/I'd like to buy the world a Coke and chill with it a while."

By the way, the "Chilltop" (gack) campaign will push the new product Coke Zero, which, as the name suggests, has zero calories. As, of course, does Diet Coke, which has been around for ages. But they're totally different -- Coke Zero will contain aspartame, while Diet Coke will feature Splenda.

Michael Jackson-related quote of the day, from an Associated Press story titled "Jackson Ending Sleepovers in His Room" (and it's about time, I'd say):

The Jackson Web site mjjsource.com trumpeted the acquittal with graphics declaring "Innocent" and showing a hand giving a victory sign as a fanfare plays. A scrolling calendar highlights historic events such as "Martin Luther King is born," "The Berlin Wall falls," "Nelson Mandela is freed," and finally, "June 13, 2005, Remember this date for it is a part of HIStory."

I can't get up the gumption to actually visit the web site, so I have no idea whether or not the "scrolling calendar" also features "Lincoln signs Emancipation Proclamation," "King John attaches seal to Magna Carta," "Jesus born," and "universe created" -- and whether or not the "hand" in question wears a sparkly glove.

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6.13.05 can you handle her truth?

If there's one television show more pointless than "The 100 Greatest Americans," it's got to be "Britney and Kevin: Chaotic," the reality show featuring Britney Spears' shaky-cam home movies documenting her love affair with uber-skanky babydaddy Kevin Federline. Please note that I have not gone so far as to watch the show, but I have read all of the recaps on Television Without Pity so I consider myself very well-informed.

BritBrit and K-Fed are hanging out and now they're clearly closer than ever because there is less bantering going on and they're just talking more. BritBrit, more relaxed, babbles about what's good about them. "It's like we're friends, and we have good sex... well, I think we do. And I think we're cute. Like, we're cool. We're not too serious. We're not too anything. We're fun. And I like that." Okay, let me offer a quick rebuttal. A) You're not friends. You have a parasitic relationship and that can never breed true friendship. The hippo can "get along with" the tiny birdie who lives on his back, but they'll never be BFF. B) Your sex is certainly mediocre at best, because you're both always high, dirty, and there is always a transmission of virus involved in the act. C) Not cute. D) Not cool. Etc. Etc.

I weep for the youth of today.

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6.12.05 my training diary: week 1

Somebody actually clicked through the Amazon.com link and purchased the book I mentioned a few days ago (The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer) as well as 4 Months to A 4 Hour Marathon, which seems to have a rather different training philosophy. I don't know who bought them, but I feel like I've inspired somebody, which is nice. And now, I invite you all to follow along on a weekly journey as we ask the question, can a couch potato who was picked last for every dodgeball team in her elementary school's gym class turn into a marathon-running athlete in just 20 weeks?

Well, I made it through the first week, so that's good, I guess! Each week will involve four days of training and three days of rest. This week's assignment (again, all of this is based on the schedule laid out in The Non-Runner's Marathon Trainer) consisted of 30-minute sessions: five minutes of jogging followed by five minutes of walking, repeated three times. Luckily, I was able to do this without much difficulty, although I did sweat an awful lot.

So far, I have only been working out on the treadmill in my building's exercise room. I have yet to take it to the streets, as it were. I'm reminded of the first couple of weeks after we adopted Hobie. I had never owned a dog before, and whenever I took him out, I would look at all the other dog walkers who obviously knew exactly what they were doing, and I felt like a total fraud. What did I know about this strange creature at the other end of the leash? I worried that everyone could tell that I was only pretending to be a "dog person."

In time, of course, I became one of them. And I hope that in time, I'll be able to leave the confines of the exercise room and run along the streets and trails of the East Bay without feeling like I'm wearing a neon sign that says "I'm Not Really A Runner." I'll keep running, and that will make me a runner, just as owning, walking and growing to love my dog gradually made me into a dog person.

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6.11.05 madonna vs. lincoln

Sometimes, life in these United States gets to be too much for me, and I must take to my bed with a case of the vapors. The current culprit: a TV ad running incessantly on cable TV for a Discovery Channel show, hosted by "Today"'s Matt Lauer, on the 100 Greatest Americans.

In the commercial, several photogenic, demographically-desirable members of the public (by which I mean actors) voice their picks. "Tiger Woods," says the first. "Benjamin Franklin," says the second. And then -- I can barely stand to type these words -- the third guy says, "It's gotta be Madonna."

It's gotta be Madonna. Yes, indeed, she is a greater American than George Washington, Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln combined. I feel ill.

There is some small consolation, I suppose, in the fact that Madonna didn't make it into the top 25, which includes such strange bedfellows as Lance Armstrong, Elvis Presley, George W. Bush, Oprah Winfrey, both Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt, and well-known Jew-hater Henry Ford. Oh, and that Paris Hilton isn't on the list.

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6.10.05 howl's moving castle

The Hayao Miyazaki cult was out in full force last night at UC Berkeley's Pacific Film Archive. The screening had sold out weeks ago. We were there to see a rare subtitled print of Miyazaki's new film, "Howl's Moving Castle," which opens today at the AMC Kabuki in San Francisco in a dubbed version (Billy Crystal, Christian Bale and Lauren Bacall are among the voice actors). For the purists, there is only one way to see a Miyazaki film, and that's with its Japanese language soundtrack intact.

For the uninitiated, Miyazaki is probably the greatest director of animated feature films in the history of the medium. His work makes even the lushest Disney classics look like an episode of "The Flintstones." His most famous movie is probably "My Neighbor Totoro," which has become something of a hit on home video. His films have grown increasingly ambitious as the years have gone by, but despite the somewhat haphazard marketing efforts of Disney, which owns the U.S. rights to his work, Miyazaki's Studio Ghibli has never gained much of a commercial foothold in this country.

Frankly, I doubt "Howl's Moving Castle" will make much of an impact here, either; the story (which borrows a bit from both "Beauty and the Beast" and "The Wizard of Oz") is pretty convoluted, and plucky young heroine Sophie is turned into a withered old crone by an evil sorceress within the first few minutes of the film -- will younger moviegoers be able to identify with a teenager who looks like Grandma throughout most of the two-hour film's running time? (Sophie falls hopelessly in love with the vain wizard Howl, who looks alarmingly like a member of a boy band.)

But those who go to Miyazaki movies just to revel in the pure spectacle will have a marvelous time. The film looks absolutely incredible. It takes place in a fairytale kingdom that's sort of like an English village plunked down in the breathtakingly beautiful Swiss Alps. The titular castle, which clanks through the countryside on bird legs, is an amazing contraption. There were times I wished I could freeze-frame an image just to gaze upon it a little longer. (Most of the detail in "Castle" will be lost on all but the biggest, highest-resolution TV sets, reason enough to go see it in the theater.)

"Castle" has its kawaii (cute) moments as well -- a dog named Heem provides some comic relief, and I found the fire demon strangely adorable (I think it's the eyes). All in all, I wouldn't say that this is one of Miyazaki's absolute best, but it's by far the best looking movie playing in theaters now.

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6.8.05 bean 1994-2005

A little Boston Terrier in Pennsylvania changed my life. Bean, who belonged to Joe's college friend Tony, was such an adorable creature that I was overwhelmed with feelings of I want one of those! after we visited a few years ago. I posted a message on Craigslist, got a response from a woman who does Boston Terrier rescue in San Francisco, and that's how we wound up adopting Hobie. We sometimes referred to Bean as "Hobie's cousin," even though they never met.

It is with a heavy heart that I share the news that Bean has died of a brain tumor. Tony has posted this beautiful tribute to Bean. Look at those pictures, and you'll get a sense of why this dog had such an impact on me. He was a real sweetheart, and will be missed.

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6.7.05 a farewell to e!

Who has time to read an enormous, multi-part newspaper story these days? Usually, I must admit I give those things a miss, but on Sunday I started reading Alicia's Story in the San Francisco Chronicle and I'm so glad I did. (The series is continuing all week long.) Alicia Parlette is a 23-year-old copy editor at the paper who was diagnosed earlier this year with a very rare form of cancer. Bet you'll be hooked after the very first page -- and after reading a couple of chapters, you'll really feel as if you know her, and admire her for her honesty and courage. This is award-worthy writing and I'm glad the Chron chose to publish it.

From one extreme to the other... yesterday, I said goodbye to "The Michael Jackson Trial," the nightly recap on the E! network. The case is closed, the jury is deliberating, so the show is off the air (though the participants will reunite for a final live broadcast once a verdict is reached). Oh, how I will miss you, the legal experts on the show... Shawn Chapman Holley, with your ever-changing hairstyles and fabulous outfits, you brought some much-needed glamour to the legal profession. Then there's crusty ol' Howard Weitzman, the intellectual of the bunch... no-nonsense Rikki Klieman... and affable James Curtis, I shall miss you most of all! You always struck the right tone, acknowledging the seriousness of the charges while never losing the twinkle in your eye that told us it's Wacko Jacko we're talkin' about here.

And then there are the actors... Edward Moss, I'm so sorry that MJ never testified and you were stuck sitting there in your full Jackson makeup and regalia for weeks on end. I'm sure you could have shown us so much more! Rigg Kennedy, your Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer wig and Valley Boy accent made defense lawyer Thomas Mesereau come alive. Bob Wood, your D.A. Ron Zonen was masterful. And guest star Jimmy Kimmel, your turn as Jay Leno, complete with gray wig and prosthetic chin, was almost enough to make one wish for a sequel to "The Late Shift." Ah well, I'll always have my memories. If we're lucky, maybe E! will release the highlights on a DVD.

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6.6.05 marathon (wo)man

Out of all the things you might expect me to post on this blog, "I am going to run a marathon" is probably extremely low on the list, perhaps somewhere beneath "I can't wait to buy the new Michael Bolton album" and "Boy, that Ann Coulter sure knows what she's talking about!" However, it's strange but true. I have the shoes! I have the book! And most importantly, I have the completed registration!

Before you all start thinking I must have lost my marbles during that last long plane trip, check out this testimonial and the reader reviews on the Amazon.com page. The book's introduction suggests you choose a marathon about five months away, register for it, and tell everyone you know that you will be completing it. (The goal is simply to finish, no matter how long it takes.) When I heard about the Nike Women's Marathon, almost exactly five months away, and that it will benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (a good friend of mine is a leukemia survivor), it seemed predestined, somehow.

The actual marathon training won't begin until the first week in July. Until then, I'll be spending 30-45 minutes 3-4 days per week training for the training (brisk walking on a treadmill, alternating brief periods of jogging with walking, etc.). I'll keep you posted on my progress.

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6.3.05 jonestown

Never mind the fact that it's only the beginning of June. I already know that I've already seen the best play of the year, because a theatrical experience of this caliber only comes along a few times in a lifetime -- the kind of play that draws you in from the very first moments, and leaves you spellbound until you stand up three hours later, dazed and shaken by the powerful thing you've just witnessed.

The play is "The People's Temple," now showing at the Berkeley Rep (through Sunday the 5th). Based on the rise and fall of the Rev. Jim Jones and his movement, "Temple" is based on oral histories collected from Jonestown survivors, friends, relatives, reporters who covered the story -- every word spoken onstage comes directly from interviews or documents. A multiethnic cast of 12 actors portrays over 40 people.

Only about 2 percent of the material gathered in the research for the play wound up in "Temple," and head writer Leigh Fondakowski (who also created the similarly structured "Laramie Project") and her associates have done a masterful job of putting compelling stories onstage. One of the most poignant is Hyacinth Thrash (played by Miche Braden), who joined the Temple early on together with her sister, Zipporah Edwards (Margo Hall). Thrash survived; Edwards did not, and Braden's feelings of guilt and pain are palpable. Another stand-out story is that of the Rev. John Moore (James Carpenter) and his wife Barbara (the dynamic Lauren Klein), who lost two daughters and a grandson at Jonestown. Kelli Simpkins reads letters written by their daughter Annie, a true believer until the very end.

If you see "Temple," you'll never casually use the term "drinking the Kool-Aid" again (though some readers may recall my longstanding loathing of this particular phrase, especially as it's inaccurate -- the poisonous drink was actually the cheaper Kool-Aid knock-off, Flavor Aid). "Temple" makes it abundantly clear that what happened in Jonestown was mass murder, not mass suicide. Many people wanted to leave, and were turned back by armed guards. One tried to convince Jones to move the group to Russia. For most of the residents, the choice was to drink the poison or take a bullet. And the 276 children who died there certainly were not willing participants in a suicide.

As always, the big question is "why?" "Temple" shows that Jones was very savvy in whom he targeted to join his group (mostly poor African-Americans, who were lured by Jones' promise of an interracial utopia) -- anyone who asked too many questions was not welcome. He also used old tricks of the trade, like removing "tumors" that were actually chicken livers during faith-healing sessions, to convince worshipers that he had magic powers.

The subject matter is depressing, but the play itself is so beautifully staged and performed that it's an exhilarating experience. And there's some very uplifting gospel music in the show. However, the songs used in "Temple" aren't just any old toe-tappers; as the program notes reveal, the music is taken from a album called "He's Able," recorded in 1973 by the People's Temple Choir.

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6.1.05 separated at birth

Exhibit A, from the March 30 issue of Entertainment Weekly:

Exhibit B, or Phil Spector's Wall of Hair, May 24, 2005:

Somebody at Camel's ad agency is downright prescient.

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All content © 2004-05 by Sue Trowbridge.