Ashton Kutcher reportedly defended a maiden’s honor at the Stagecoach Music Festival in Indio. According to TMZ, the female fan approached him in a VIP area near the stage and attempted to shake his hand. When Kutcher responded in kind to the greeting, security allegedly intervened and shoved the two of them. Kutcher then allegedly got into a “violent” scuffle with the security guard, until his friend restrained him.
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Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir collapsed on stage in New York last week while playing with his side band, Furthur. Though his people are chalking it up to a “strained shoulder,” video footage shows him barely standing and he looks like he’s about to topple over the whole time. After defying gravity for a few minutes, he finally hits the deck. Strangely, the band just kept on playing, though I suppose when you have played with Jerry Garcia you get used to this sort of thing.
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A former maid to Michael Jackson is thumbing her nose at any nondisclosure agreements she might have signed with the King of Pop by openly calling him a loser and drug addict. “Michael was not a pop hero, but a messed- up, depraved junkie, who was manipulative, twisted and demonic,” Adrian McManus told the UK’s Daily Mirror.
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Playwright (and acclaimed Culture Clash writer-performer) Richard Montoya wrote “The River” for the small, intrepid company Campo Santo, where it is having its world premiere.
More specifically, Montoya and Campo Santo’s Sean San Jose collaborated on the project, with the memory of Campo Santo co-founder-actor Luis Saguar, who died in 2009, in mind.
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Exciting, fast-paced, kinetic — these aren’t words usually associated with “Pericles, Prince of Tyre.” With its convoluted plot, multiple locales and huge cast of characters, Shakespeare’s sprawling late-life romance can add up to a very long night.
That’s what makes the new Berkeley Repertory Theatre production a welcome surprise. Director Mark Wing-Davey delivers a buoyant, ingeniously theatrical staging — one that almost triumphs over the play’s flaws, but not quite.
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Dark are the workings behind the amiable visage of the central character of “Simon Killer,” an amoral psychodrama about an American in Paris and his unsavory unraveling.
Credit character-focused direction, a stirring lead performance and an efficient use of style for making a potentially off-putting film compelling.
Writer-director Antonio Campos, who directed the disturbed-teen drama “Afterschool” and produced the cult-escapee story “Martha Marcy May Marlene,” also displays an interest in disaffected and disturbed souls this time around.
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Born in Little Rock, Ark., writer-director Jeff Nichols has slowly established himself as a strong force in independent film with his first two features, “Shotgun Stories” and “Take Shelter,” which took place in rural, working-class communities and starred the serpent-eyed Michael Shannon.
In his third film, the new “Mud,” a slightly bigger star, Matthew McConaughey, takes over the lead; Shannon gets a potent little supporting role.
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Whenever I have friends in town, my motto is: When in Rome ...
In other words, if you want to go to Fisherman’s Wharf, then you’re on your own.
In addition to a movie at the Castro Theatre, a walk on Ocean Beach and, weather permitting, an afternoon in Dolores Park, a top activity — and only for the very special and patient — is a pilgrimage to the Swan Oyster Depot restaurant.
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Get cozy in one of the ornate rattan booths, and you might feel like you have journeyed back to a 1930s-era tiki lounge. And while the “Star Wars”-themed pinball machine and flat-screen TVs showing sports and Hong Kong action films serve as reminders of the modern era, one look at the tropical drink menu’s prices will convince you that it’s 1995 — the potent Scorpion Bowl, for instance, serves four and costs just $14. And most of the delightful ice cream and liqueur drinks are just $6.50. Trad’r Sam has been a fixture in the Outer Richmond district since Sam Baden opened it in 1937.
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We’re talking Jewish deli, so let’s cut to the chase.
Shorty Goldstein’s thick-cut, moist, properly fatty pastrami nears exemplary status. The only problem? A propensity for pepper. At one lunch, I was unable to finish my sandwich due to an uncomfortably intense mouth sensation leading to an afternoon of water guzzling.
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