FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 13
FILM
Fred Noland
Find Werner Herzog in this illustration and win a bratwurst. Discuss. (See Film, Friday.)
“The Creep” by the Creep; art by Christopher Ulrich
Forget me not. (See Hipster, Friday.)
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Great German Cinema
“Let’s pour gasoline on the flowers, they’re in full bloom,” proposes one of the pintsize insurrectionists in Werner Herzog’s Even Dwarfs Started Small, in which an all-dwarf cast runs amok on an otherworldly volcanic island. Pointless havoc descends into total chaos, while cannibalistic chickens, a crucified monkey and cockfighting attest to the director’s customary flair for animal imagery. This extraordinary film — a sort of missing link between Todd Browning’s Freaks and Harmony Korine’s Gummo — has often been interpreted as a grotesque metaphor for the failings of the late-’60s student revolts. A different kind of anomie pervades Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Katzelmacher, a hypnotically shifting tableau of urban ennui in which a group of young malcontents — including a miniskirted Hannah Schygulla — spend their summer afternoons on the railing outside a Munich apartment, bickering about sex and money, and occasionally engaging in sullen, apathetic couplings. Their disaffected idyll is interrupted by the arrival of a Greek laborer, the katzelmacher (cock artist) of the title — played by Fassbinder himself — whose rumored sexual prowess strains tensions to breaking point. In these, their respective second films, Herzog and Fassbinder stake out the turfs they would develop and call their own. In both style and content, these uncompromising filmmakers couldn’t be much further apart, but at this stage in their careers they shared a bracingly bleak and darkly comic view of the human condition, which announced the arrival of the new German cinema of the ’70s. Part of “Torn Curtain: The Two Germanys on Film.” LACMA, 5905 Wilshire Blvd., L.A.; Fri., Feb. 13, 7:30 p.m.; $10. (323) 857-1777. —John Tottenham
READINGS
What Ever Happened to Pleasant Gehman?
Love is a many-splendored, no-good, rotten thing, making Valentine’s Day the most misery-inducing and suicide-provoking holiday this side of Christmas, so here are two local writers, Iris Berry and Annette Zilinskas, who’ll leaven this weekend’s oppressive gloom with considerable wit and a punk rock–infused perspective. Iris Berry is a former member of the music/poetry troupe the Ringling Sisters and has released several poetry and short-story collections (Two Blocks East of Vine, Bad Blood & Bittersweets) and spoken-word CDs (Collect Calls, Life on the Edge in Stilettos). While she’s not a particularly lavish stylist, Berry captures the essence of the true, vanishing old Los Angeles in such poems as “The Garden of Allah” and “Hollywood & Blind,” and charts the ups and downs of modern romance with deceptively simple, diarylike phrases (“My specialty/dramatic exits”). Her fellow Ringling Sisters alum Zilinskas might be better known as a fiery Linda Ronstadt/Wanda Jackson–style country-pop singer who was an early member of the Bangles, but she’s also an intriguingly talented, if frustratingly unprolific spoken-word performer. Zilinskas’ short story “Grounded for the Summer” (from a 1993 Ringling Sisters single) is a funny yet casually insightful character sketch that deftly evokes the hazy daze of the late ’70s by recounting her crush on a popular stoner dude at Mulholland Junior High School. “Yeah,” she confesses, “I was a Val but with Huntington Beach potential.” Stories Books & Café, 1716 Sunset Blvd., Echo Park; Fri., Feb. 13, 8 p.m. (213) 413-3733. —Falling James
HIPSTER
Saint Talkin’ ’Bout Love
Any press release that promotes an event that “gives the finger to Valentine’s Day and introduces saints that never existed” gets our attention. Oh, hell, let’s quote the whole thing: “World-famous rock & roll outfitter the Congregation of Forgotten Saints, will host The Congregation of Forgotten Saints Hosts Forgotten Saints: Reinterpreting Sainthood at the Altar of Rock, a gathering of artists and connoisseurs, to pay homage to saints that never existed, but deserve the title.” A black carpet and reception kick off an exhibit by Art Core — 40 sculptors, graffiti artists, tattoo artists and other fine artists (you know, like flesh-branders). It goes on, “These won’t be the saints you learned about in Catholic school but rather a reinterpretation of what sainthood means, what people worship today, and the effigies people identify with and revere.” Like Snoopy? Maybe not. Also on the bill: music, cocktails, interactive confessional and live painting, gift bags, attitude. The Congregation of Forgotten Saints, 7569 Melrose Ave., Hollywood; Fri., Feb. 13, 8 p.m.; free, resv. required. (818) 264-6479. —Libby Molyneaux
POLITICS
Revenge of the Lesbians
With Valentine’s Day arriving on Saturday, gay-rights activists thought it would be a good idea to remind the public — and the more aloof segments of the gay community — that legalized same-sex marriage in California is still kaput . . . thanks to the passage of Proposition 8, of course. So on Friday, February 13, Robin Tyler and Diane Olson, the plaintiffs in the California Supreme Court case initially legalizing gay marriage in the Golden State, on May 15, 2008, will repeat their vows on the steps of the Beverly Hills Courthouse at Beverly Hills Marriage Action, sponsored by the Equality Campaign, MCC Church, Marriage Equality USA, 10, Equal Roots, and GetToKnowUsFirst.org. There has been talk that from the courthouse, people will be marching in the streets again. Local and national TV news crews will probably cover the event, and the anti-gay-marriage crowd will probably be on-site waving their hate posters for the cameras, so pro-gay visibility is important. Show up and be counted! Beverly Hills Courthouse, 9355 Burton Way, Beverly Hills; Fri., Feb. 13, 10 a.m.-1 p.m.; chris@equalroots.com. —Patrick Range McDonald
