LAKEPORT, Calif. – The first of a four-part contemporary chamber music series produced by Beth Aiken and Jeff Ives takes place on Sunday, Jan. 10, at 3 p.m.
January's program features mezzo-soprano Heather McFadden and tenor Nick Reid performing songs by Johannes Brahms, Frank Bridge and Ralph Vaughan Williams for oboe and tenor, as well as a Johann Sebastian Bach Cantata for solo voices.
The series is presented under the auspices of the Soper Reese Theatre. All seats are reserved.
Tickets are $20 and $15. Children 18 and under are free.
Three more concerts follow on the second Sunday in February, March and April.
On Feb. 10 Bay Area harp group, Triskela, and Mendocino County’s Panamericana present a classical Latin program.
On March 13 a string quintet performs Schubert and Onslow, and the season ends on April 10 with SquarPeg, a group that brings a 21st century perspective to classical chamber music.
Season tickets are now on sale and include the January concert.
The four-concert package is priced at $70 and $50.
Go to www.SoperReeseTheatre.com to purchase individual or season tickets. Tickets also are available at the Theatre Box Office, 275 S. Main St., Lakeport on Fridays from 10:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., or at The Travel Center, 1265 S. Main, Lakeport, Monday through Friday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.
There are two things to know about the comedic reunion in “Daddy’s Home” of Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg, once again polar opposites that previously carried the day when they were mismatched detectives in “The Other Guys.”
First, the slapstick humor is crude and raunchy often enough to be extremely questionable family-oriented entertainment.
That’s why it seemed surprising that the screening was set up so that critics could bring along younger kids.
Second, this is type of film that one must grant is sufficiently predictable in many ways and yet leads to some dumb fun, which many critics are going to dislike.
Perhaps they were duped into bringing their grade school children to the screening and now seek payback with bad reviews.
For the rest of us, the overriding consideration is whether “Daddy’s Home” might provide enough laughter so that our concern about a PG-13 rating is mitigated by having the good sense not to take young kids to this kind of movie in the first place.
It’s good to see Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg back together on screen, this time around as parental rivals vying for the affection of grade school kids who need the nurturing of the stepdad but yearn for the reckless fun times with their cool biological father.
In familiar typecasting, Ferrell’s Brad Whitaker, the sensitive beta male, is now married to Sara (Linda Cardellini), the mother of Dylan (Owen Vaccaro) and Megan (Scarlett Estevez).
Brad is an executive at the Panda, a smooth jazz radio station rated the third most popular in the nation, where his boss Leo Holt (Thomas Haden Church) is fond of giving marital advice while telling absurd stories about his many failed marriages.
Driving a sensible Ford Flex family car, Brad wants to be a model stepfather, often reading from the self-help book “Step by Stepdad” and trying hard to win over bratty kids that have been drawing crayon pictures of the nuclear family with Brad depicted in various stages of distress.
Along comes Mark Wahlberg’s Dusty Mayron, the ultra smooth alpha male father who rides a Harley, wears cowboy boots and often takes off his shirt to expose a well-sculpted muscular torso, thereby revealing a true contrast to Brad’s basic nice guy timidity and flabby physique.
That Brad is essentially insecure and unsure of himself may have a lot to do with his inability to procreate. A flashback shows that Brad suffered a blow to his manhood as the result of an accident with an errant dental x-ray machine.
Having returned to the family scene with macho swagger, Dusty senses an emerging chasm in the household that he may exploit in order to reclaim his patriarchal role.
It’s not without irony that Dusty enjoys telling bedtime stories to his little tykes about the noble king being the superior person in returning to the castle to protect the kingdom where the step king has failed.
At first, Brad is seemingly seduced by Dusty’s self-assured charm offensive, trying a bit too hard to be his friend even though Sara has knowingly warned that her ex-husband is potential trouble.
Trouble arrives quickly in the guise of very competitive games to win the hearts and minds of the young children for the title of the finest dad, with Brad constantly one-upped by the cunning, persuasive Dusty.
The competition goes from the ridiculous to the sublime, and along the way Dusty manages to turn others against Brad, even convincing African-American handyman Griff (Hannibal Buress) that Brad is a racist.
Dusty does not confine his damage to the Whitaker household. On a visit to Brad’s radio station, he lucks into a chance to become the on-air voice of the station’s identity, thereby securing a handsome residual income.
The outlandish competition goes to extremes. Dusty builds an awesome tree house fit for an entire family, while Brad stages a full-blown Christmas celebration with expensive gifts during the summer.
Some of the humor is a bit cringe-worthy such as the visit to a fertility doctor where Brad and Dusty are reduced to the primitive state of exposing their manhood for the sake of medical examination.
Sexual innuendos, questionable at best for a younger audience, aren’t confined to clinical assessment. This and other forms of more adult-oriented humor are just part of the territorial contest between the father figures.
“Daddy’s Home” is filled with plenty of goofy antics, which are not only downright conventional and predicable, but on the whole prove to be quite funny.
Tim Riley writes film and television reviews for Lake County News.
The hype for the major film of the holiday season has been colossal, but it has proven authentic.
Yes, I’m talking about “Star Wars: The Force Awakens,” which is the real deal after the regret of the remarkably dull trilogy of prequels that fans had to endure to get to Episode VII.
In the capable hands of director J.J. Abrams (two “Star Trek” films), the feeling that we are back on track for the tone, style and even humor of the original “Star Wars” is unmistakable, and obviously a welcome relief to the misfires that George Lucas foisted on us with “The Phantom Menace” and the two episodes that followed.
The “Star Wars” franchise is now in the hands of the Disney Empire. Good news for all, it’s not an evil empire. Evidence abounds that the new home for this beloved franchise (okay, just the first three films) has treated this new adventure with great respect and reverence.
Right from the very opening scene of the screen crawl that informs us that Luke Skywalker has gone missing somewhere in the galaxy, the audience is propelled into a state of wonder and absolute delight within the vastly exhilarating realm of the “Star Wars” universe.
Darth Vader may no longer be around, but his progeny are in full villainous mode in the oppressive force called by the totalitarian name of First Order, commanded by Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) under the tutelage of hulking Supreme Leader Snoke (voiced by Andy Serkis).
Landing on the desolate planet of Jakku, the First Order descends on the unsuspecting inhabitants, setting loose the army of stormtroopers to exterminate everyone while searching for a piece of a digital map that may reveal the hideaway of Luke Skywalker.
It’s on Jakku that we are introduced to several new key players, all of whom prove to be valuable assets to the series. Giving C-3PO and R2-D2 a run for their money is the new adorably rotund robot BB-8, an essential figure in helping the Resistance fend off the First Order goons.
Up until the attack on Jakku, the clever BB-8 had been the constant companion of fighter pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac), the best commander in the Resistance fleet. The charismatic Poe is a prime figure in later battle scenes that have a superbly familiar yet welcome feeling.
Probably the most inviting new character is Daisy Ridley’s Rey, an outcast loner and scavenger on Jakku, who’s barely scraping by selling spare parts taken from abandoned spacecraft and other equipment. But she’s drawn into the Resistance from a most unlikely source.
During the raid on Jakku, a stormtrooper who only goes by a serial number develops a conscience and becomes appalled at having to kill innocents. Later taking the name of Finn (John Boyega), this former member of the First Order joins forces with Rey for pure survival.
More resourceful than her scavenging skills would suggest, Rey proves to be an adept female hero and a true fighter, and along with Finn’s brave new outlook, this dynamic duo eventually gets noticed by Harrison Ford’s iconic Han Solo.
By the time Han Solo makes his entrance, teamed up as usual with his co-pilot Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew), the massively hairy creature that delights with his quirky behavior, the story line is moving into full battle conflict mode between the heroic Resistance fighters and the First Order goons.
There are hardly more satisfying moments than when Han Solo joyfully brings the Millennium Falcon, derisively called a heap of junk by others, out of mothballs and gets it going once again to travel through the galaxy.
Han Solo may be the most beloved character for his nicely offbeat nature, being characteristically grumpy and irreverent, while tossing off sarcastic barbs. It’s also funny when rival bounty hunters show up to threaten his life for failure to deliver promised goods.
Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) is also in the picture, but she’s ditched her royal title and the hair buns to become General Leia, head of the Resistance. But what she really needs is a Jedi Knight, and well, Luke Skywalker is the one who can harness the power of the Force.
Without giving too much away, the quest to find Skywalker is the primary reason for an escalating fight between the Resistance and the First Order. The bad guys know Skywalker could train legions of brave souls to turn back the predatory Evil Empire.
Certain things happen in the course of “Star Wars” that no one should know when experiencing this Episode VII for the first time. Disney pleaded with critics not to reveal too much, and that request is honored here.
Suffice it to say, for “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” the title says it all. Indeed, the Force is now awake and alive, and it is something to be reckoned with. From start to finish, the whole enterprise is a glorious adventure, one that lets us forget if not forgive the George Lucas mistakes of the past.
This shiny new “Star Wars” easily ranks with the best movies of the year, and without question, it is the best one for this holiday season.
At least two more installments are in the works, and let’s hope the Force is with the creative talent putting them together.
Tim Riley writes film and television reviews for Lake County News.
Here’s a New Year’s poem by Judy Ray, who lives and writes in Tucson.
I like the way that common phrase, “the turning of a year,” has suggested to her the turns in a race track.
Her most recent book is To Fly Without Wings, (Helicon Nine Editions, 2009).
Turning of the Year
We never know if the turn is into the home stretch. We call it that—a stretch of place and time— with vision of straining, racing. We acknowledge each turn with cheers though we don’t know how many laps remain. But we can hope the course leads on far and clear while the horses have strength and balance on their lean legs, fine-tuned muscles, desire for the length of the run. Some may find the year smooth, others stumble at obstacles along the way. We never know if the finish line will be reached after faltering, slowing, or in mid-stride, leaping forward.
The only times I feel truly homicidal are when I see somebody abusing a pet, and I was glad to find this poem so I could get that off my chest.
But don’t ever even think about taking a kick at my old dog, Howard.
Wesley McNair lives in Maine and is that state’s poet laureate. This is from his book Lovers of the Lost, from David R. Godine. His most recent book is The Lost Child: Ozark Poems, (Godine, 2014).
The Puppy
From down the road, starting up and stopping once more, the sound of a puppy on a chain who has not yet discovered he will spend his life there. Foolish dog, to forget where he is and wander until he feels the collar close fast around his throat, then cry all over again about the little space in which he finds himself. Soon, when there is no grass left in it and he understands it is all he has, he will snarl and bark whenever he senses a threat to it. Who would believe this small sorrow could lead to such fury no one would ever come near him?
Several years ago, I co-edited an anthology of poems about birds, and I wish I’d had the opportunity to include this one, a delight. J. Allyn Rosser lives in Ohio. Her most recent book is Mimi’s Trapeze (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2014).
Pelicans in December
One can’t help admiring their rickety grace
and old-world feathers like seasoned boardwalk planks.
They pass in silent pairs, as if a long time ago
they had wearied of calling out. The wind tips them, their
ungainly, light-brown weight, into a prehistoric wobble,
wings’-end fingers stretching from fingerless gloves,
necks slightly tucked and stiff, peering forward and down,
like old couples arm in arm on icy sidewalks, careful,
careful, mildly surprised by how difficult it has become
to stay dignified and keep moving even after the yelping gulls have gone;
even after the scattered sand, and the quietly lodged complaints.
