By Chris Roberts
By Joe Eskenazi
By Albert Samaha
By Mike Billings
By Rachel Swan
By Erin Sherbert
By Joe Eskenazi
By Albert Samaha
Drinks on the House
In May, the Beach Chalet Brewery & Restaurant was named "Best New Restaurant" by the SF Weekly Readers' Poll ("Best Of San Francisco," May 20). This represented a popular vote of your readers, our customers, who return week after week for chef Richard Radcliffe's cooking and our inimitable view.
Imagine our surprise when critic Naomi Wise so inappropriately directed her purple prose at these people ("Beach Babies," Eat, July 8). For reasons we can't fathom, she seemed equally offended by attractive, young San Franciscans enjoying one another's company over dinner and drinks and a more mature lunch crowd whose body types were problematic for her.
As an apology for her rudeness, my husband and I will host anyone who brings this letter in to their choice of a complimentary pint of hand-crafted ale or one of our signature desserts.
By the way, Naomi is as off-base about our food and wine as she is about our customers. Richard cooked at LuLu for several years and with Joyce Goldstein at Square One. In both restaurants, carefully sourced ingredients and full flavors were requisite. They are here, too.
Lara Truppelli, Proprietor
The Beach Chalet Brewery & Restaurant
Now, About That Raise ...
Wow! You guys have spent so much time and energy on your Web site trying to insult our publisher and founder ("Love Letters From Bruce B. Brugmann," www.sfweekly.com). That's entertainment!
Eric Geslien, Account Executive
San Francisco Bay Guardian
We Love You Satan, Oh Yes We Do
Thank you for the wonderful article on Anton LaVey ("Has the Church of Satan Gone to Hell?" June 17). We appreciate your unbiased review of his life. We love him still, with all his faults and falsehoods. May the Church survive! Hail Satan, Hail LaVey, Hail Blanche!
Uh, the Berkeley SS?
I am sitting here, looking at Frederick Luis Aldama's review of Bent ("Love in the Ruins," Stage, June 24), and while "Oh my God" doesn't quite cover it, that'll have to do for now. I'll control myself, and comment on just two fine points. First, "... we're far removed from the time of the horrors of the Nazis' sexual and ethnic cleansing campaigns." Yeah, 50 years seems like a heck of a long time to me too, but there are people marching in the Pride Parade who lived through it. This ain't just gender theory.
And then there's the good part: "As the play reached its tragic denouement, the audience in this South Berkeley theater could hear a police siren buzz just outside the hall. ... [T]he PD's red-n-white whirls aren't needed to drive home this ... production's message, that concentration-camp towers still loom."
The Berkeley PD? Let's say it again. The Berkeley PD? Let us sexual and ethnic outlaws of the Bay Area consider our good luck. Some people get the SS. We get the Berkeley PD. Concentration camps in Berkeley? Whoo.
Multi-Subcultural Crazy Gay Shit
This is in response to the piece written about me by Tim Kingston in the June 24 issue ("Boys Will Be Boyz," Music).
I'd like to thank Tim and SF Weekly for their support and for giving me and my new record label, Queercorps, great press and publicity. But I must correct a critical flaw.
Throughout the article, my label was referred to as a "queer hip hop" label. This is not quite accurate. I tell people that Queercorps is dedicated to the new styles of music on the block, with a special emphasis on electronic music and hip hop. It is not about one style or genre of music, as the article maintains. It's a multi-subcultural endeavor.
Queercorps is involved with many different kinds of music, with many different audiences. I do not feel comfortable "claiming" hip hop or representing it. I leave that up to the artists I have worked with.
Other than that, the best way to describe it is indeed what I already stated -- "crazy gay shit!"
Salute to Sragow
I do not necessarily need to have my own prejudices validated to find a critic worth reading, and contrary to some recent negative appraisals of film critic Michael Sragow, I find his criticism to be challenging and perceptive.
His recent review of Gone With the Wind, in particular, demonstrated strengths of scholarship and a considerable love of film as an art form ("The Red and the Black," Film, June 24). Unlike many of his compatriots, Mr. Sragow places his assessment in a historical perspective, instead of looking at this grand epic in strictly PC terms -- instead of fashionably focusing on GWTW's now-outmoded attitudes toward race and feminist concerns.
It is easy to blow off [producer David] Selznick's Technicolor confection as mere golden-age fluff; it is more difficult to judge it on its own terms and make it relevant to any serious filmgoer, a feat Mr. Sragow accomplishes with aplomb. I salute his prowess.
A Big Raspberry From Rhubarb
In regards to Michael Scott Moore's review of Offending the Audience ("The Audience Is the Thing," Stage, July 1), we here at Theater Rhubarb want to criticize him for an incredibly pointless article. We criticize him not out of bitterness because of his dissatisfaction with the play; as any company in the biz knows, reviews can help a production, even the negative ones. Our complaint is that the review came out a week after the run. Thus, no reader could judge for him- or herself whether the critique was "accurate" or not. Do your readers a favor by printing the reviews on time. Otherwise, forget about the past and focus on the plays in progress.