Dangerous Common Sense

I make no excuses for fast-driving, red-light-running, I-yield-to-no-one-drivers. I do not minimize the pain caused by aggressive and distracted operators of cars, trucks, SUVs, or MUNI buses. But folks! We have to move beyond the eco-politics paradigm where pedestrians are always good, bicyclists okay, and motor vehicles are evil, if we are going to decrease the number of traffic injuries.

The news media unhelpfully hypes the vision of vehicular berserkers. For example, Sunday’s Examiner lamented the lack of outrage against one motorist who “struck and killed a pedestrian.” Are we sure that the driver was at fault in that accident? Or, maybe there is a reason why there is no outrage directed that particular person?

Most every day I both walk and drive places. I obey every law when I‘m behind the wheel. But, I admit that I routinely jaywalk in mid-intersections, cross against the “Don’t Walk”, and start crossing early against the red.

At the same time, I cannot drive from home in San Francisco’s Noe Valley district for 15 minutes without having to take action to avoid a collision with a bicycle rider or pedestrian who is violating a traffic law. Ever.

Pedestrians regularly cross against red lights when they see a bus coming or jump out in front of right-turning cars because they have only 5 seconds left on the Don’t Walk timer. Bicyclists split lanes on the right and surge straight in front of right-hand-signaling and turning cars. Bicyclists also frequently run stop signs, turn left and right from weird lanes, ride against traffic for a few hundred feet, and blow red lights.

In San Francisco there is no enforcement of traffic laws for pedestrians or bicyclists. I’m not talking about LA-style “Don’t Walk at an empty intersection” jaywalking tickets, but about tagging people doing truly unsafe things.

Meanwhile, the cops always blame the motor vehicle driver when there’s a pedestrian involved. I saw a young man do the countdown-timer sprint at Castro and 18th two weeks ago in the middle afternoon. The runner lept in front of a SUV which was turning right on a green light and had already entered the crosswalk. There was a cop car waiting at the intersection which lit up and stopped the SUV driver, even though the pedestrian was charging up on the SUV from the right, rear blindside.

We are rightly concerned about traffic safety. But, the “massive internal self-policing from cyclists after the incident on Castro and Market” that one academic sees as a solution for bicyclists’ misbehavior is politically correct horse manure. It’s dangerous excrement, too. Pedestrians and bicyclists are no more likely to self-police than are road-raging BMW jockeys. But, they are more likely to be injured or killed.

Let’s be less biased. Let’s, instead, be effective. Let’s mount a well-publicized, balanced campaign of education and enforcement.

Article first published as Why We Cannot Ticket Cars Enough to Stop Pedestrian Deaths on Technorati.

Seagull
Written by Anton Chekhov
Adapted and Directed by Libby Appel


A three-word summary review of Seagull:  unfortunate play selection.

Everything about this production was well done.  The actors hit the right note in everything they did.  Chris Acebo’s set took inventive advantage of the New Theater’s intimacy.  Deb Dryden’s clothes were rich and a nice counterpart to the early sparseness of the stage.  Libby Apple directed a consistent, restrained, and intelligent vision of this Chekhov classic.  Even with all the top-notch craft work, the scenes dragged and nothing interesting was revealed.

I liked the production of Chekhov’s Cherry Orchid a few years ago, so I didn’t walk into the building wondering why I was there.  But, this play was too predictable and unrelievedly negative.  The characters don’t develop in any significant way, bad things happen, and time moves slowly. 

The cast navigated the turgid script admirably.  I enjoyed seeing Tasso Feldman (Kostya) in a dramatic, not-just-a-cute-kid role.  Armando Duran (Dr. Dorn) still has the looks to come off as a handsome, world weary rake.  I was interested in seeing the skills of Ashland newcomer Kathryn Meisle (Irina). Michael Hume (Pyotr) did a fine job deteriorating into an old man of 60-something.  And so on and so on.

These thoughts tracking the actors’ careers were going through my head during the performance.  I was desperate to keep my mind going and to keep focus.  The narrative was not doing it.

There were minor parts of the production I would change:

• The shiny deep blue of the stage didn’t work for me;  if it was supposed to help us think we were outdoors, wouldn’t earth brown be better?


• This new adaptation could have helped itself by making Michael Hume older than 62.  When the doctor told Hume that his physical condition would just go downhill because he was past 60, the mostly white-haired audience snickered.  I don’t think it was supposed to be a laugh line.


• The blocking had the actors marching too close to my row A seat, and I thought I was going to be accidentally hit on the back swing of Hume’s cane at one point.


• The dead seagull prop looked positively fuzzy and cuddly.

The White Snake
Written and Directed by Mary Zimmerman

Playwright Mary Zimmerman has distilled an ancient, often modified, Chinese legend of The White Snake into a coherent, relevant, engrossing, artistic, and accessible 138-minute story. The text is stylized and full of Eastern cultural references, but Zimmerman’s lively, humorous, and rich approach somehow [“somehow” as in “the magic happens here”] honors the fable’s roots while letting it transcend its place and time of origin. 

The White Snake avoids being artsy fartsy as Zimmerman’s works have been in the past (I’m thinking specifically of Berkeley Rep’s Metamorphoses which I disliked, its later Broadway Tony notwithstanding), and instead rises to a mesmerizing blend of straight-forward narrative, stylized symbolism, humor, gorgeous visuals, and conflicting morality. The Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s own January-deadline publications warned that the script had not yet been written, yet at its opening the play was polished, professional, and ready for prime time. ( Read more... )

The White Snake is surprising and wonderful theater.  It’s a good story, excellently extracted and written, played out expertly on the stage with music, movement, and words. Although brand new,  no flaws grabbed me.  Its running time is a bit awkward, and I would probably find 10 minutes to cut, but where?   The experience is a memory-producing winner.

Ozdachs Rating:   

Romeo and Juliet
by William Shakespeare

In Director Laird Williamson vision, Romeo and Juliet is a farcical melodramatic moral play filled with bawdy clowns.  It’s a slapstick tragedy, a category  underrepresented on modern stage.  The script’s only fault is the pesky obvious rhymes and flowery language that can be best gotten through in a quick pace at high volume. 

Williamson has ordered up so many pelvic thrusts for the hormonal young men that the show is unsuitable for school tours.  What in other productions comes off as witty sexual innuendo, Williamson unmasks as full-on, lowest-common-denominator sleazy talk. He gets the audience giggling at the sex, tittering at the over-wrought emotions, and focused on the comic characters of nurse, friar, and apothecary. ( Read more... )

So, what do I really think? This R&J was so bad that I feel angry at the director.  He robbed a great play of its meaning, ignored its poetry, and paid no attention to cohesion along the way.  This is a production unworthy of a professional theater company.

Ozdachs Rating:   

As exhibitors, our favorite dog show is the Golden Gate Kennel Club’s event at the Cow Palace.  The show runs the last Saturday and Sunday of January every year, and it’s unusual because it is “benched.” That means the dogs in competition must come be on available for public viewing the whole day.  Just like at the Westminster show, at the Cow Palace dogs and their owners cannot show up just before ring time and leave as soon as judging is over. They have to remain on the bench so non-exhibitors can see them up close.

For the past three years Sequel has been on display by 10 am and hasn’t left before 4:30 or 5, except for a brief foray into the judging ring each day. It’s a long day for a little dog.

But, what fun!

Hundreds of people come by our spot on the dachshund bench, and most want to see her, pat her, and learn about dachshunds. 

We’ve talked to a teary-eyed elderly woman who remembered the pet she had before the war… it looked just like Sequel.  There was the group of Egyptian exchange students who had never seen a pet dog before coming into the Cow Palace, and they were stunned at the different looks, sizes, and temperaments of the canines around them.  Smiling adults come by to share their stories of childhood companions and more recent dog friends.  And, most of all, there are the wide-eyed children who come by to try on the different breeds.

We generally sit in front of the bench with Sequel in our laps.  Signs everywhere warn the visitors to ask before petting dogs, and most do.  Sequel is a good girl, and doesn’t squirm when packs of youngsters approach with their hands out.  She gets very tired, but refuses to fall asleep in her kennel like the other dogs.  She won’t close her eyes and miss anything or any of her public.

I have published more pictures of Sequel's People here.

• The breeder should ask you more questions about your fitness to parent than you ask about the dog.
• The breeder probably should tell you that they have no puppies now but may have some in the future... even if they have 8-week-old puppies all over their home.  Saying "Not now, but..." takes the pressure off and it's a great segue to a conversation about your lifestyle and ability to take care of a dog.
• If a breeder has puppy picture books and grabs you as you go by the bench, smile at them, but do not stop. 

• Сб, 16:29: Why Cruise Lines May Not Be Safe After All - what the Costa Concordia disaster makes me consider. http://t.co/WxfIn2U6

• A former crew member claims that there is a, "... coded alarm which is known by the crew. This is done to begin evacuation without panicking the passengers".  After this coded signal went out, crew were telling passengers not to worry and to return to their staterooms.  If true, this statement seems to say that lying to passengers during a disaster is company policy.  Did any of the dead heed the crew's instructions and go back to their rooms to die?
• Confusion in a disaster is to be expected. But, confusion among the leaders during a disaster speaks to a lack of training, drilling, discipline, and standards. How could Costa Cruises trust a man like Captain Schettino to command one of its ships?  What ongoing certification does the line require of its officers and crew?
• Ship's captain's egos are traditionally large.  The cruise lines embrace this tradition by building up their captains to be super-social directors whose job is smiling and posing with passengers.  What proportion of a captain's duties are nautical and what portion are PR related? Are the proportions healthy? Safe? I think we need to know.
• International law requires that cruise ships be evacuated within 30 minutes.  Unlucky passengers on the Concordia waited more than five hours on deck to be rescued. Some were screaming as the last of the lifeboats left. If the Concordia met safety requirements, then those standards are too weak.  They must  assume an evacuation in a perfect situation when there would be no need to abandon ship. No one abandons ship when everything is working and the ship is upright and sound.

Article first published as Why Cruise Lines May Not Be Safe After All on Technorati.

In Iowa President Obama’s campaign headquarters is the target of anti-war Occupiers demanding the dismantling of the “ U.S. military empire.” .  A photograph of the protesters taken Sunday shows fresh-faced people mugging for the camera in friendly sincerity.  The Occupiers were  apparently either oblivious or unmoved by the news that the final American troops were departing Iraq as they pitched their tents in a public opposition to the President who orchestrated and ordered the war’s end.

In San Francisco, my church has been a hive of anti-Iraq war activity.  The peace-loving congregation wrapped the building up in anti-war tape one year for a Mother’s Day anti-war media event, and we melodramatically toll a bell and read the names of war dead during the worship service several times a year.

Yet, not a word was said at church Sunday about the end of the war this Sunday, the day of the war’s end.  Not a word from the pulpit during the prayers and not a word during the sermon.  In fact, there was not a word of mention in any coffee hour conversation I heard.  No prayers of thanksgiving  nor  even a secular fist-bump for having accomplished a dramatic change in the nation’s policy. Not a word.

On the streets and in halls of worship there is no acknowledgment that an ugly, unwanted chapter of American history has ended.  There is no gratitude that the President has fulfilled his campaign pledge to end the war in Iraq.  There is no celebration – even an appropriately solemn one – ticking off the significant end of a tragic misstep.

I worry.  Moderates are doomed if we cannot appreciate policy victories and praise the leaders that achieved them.