Cutting-edge photojournalist Jana Marcus pens a true crime mystery Photographer, marketing ace, 2016 Gail Rich-award winner, Jana Marcus is currently in the thick of her latest creative persona—mystery writer. But it’s no fictional mystery she’s concocting—it’s a real-life mystery involving some colorful members of her father’s family. “My mission in all of my work,” explains the award-winning photojournalist, “is to tell a story.” And while the current enterprise is a literal tracking down of a long unsolved murder mystery involving not one, but two great-uncles on her late father’s side, it is very much a continuation of Marcus’ lifelong passion for creative narrative.
Marcus, who up until last year worked as photographer and marketing director at Cabrillo College, admits that having more time now means more creative output. “You’re either working full-time, but not making art,” she says, groaning through a million dollar smile, “or making art and being broke.”
Busy as a freelance photographer—Santa Cruz Shakespeare, Tandy Beal and other performing arts events—Marcus contends that, “you still need several jobs to make ends meet.”
Daughter of Wilma Marcus Chandler and the late poet/author Morten Marcus, Marcus arrived in Santa Cruz in 1968 as a small child. “We moved here because of the Houstons,” Marcus says. Writers Jim and Jeanne Houston had known Marcus’ dad in grad school at Stanford. “Our two families were intertwined in those days,” she says.
Marcus trained passionately for a career as a classical pianist—until her father bought her a camera. “It changed my life,” she confesses. “I realized I was such a social person—I didn’t want to sit in a room and practice piano for six hours a day.”
Marcus credits photography with opening up her “deep reservoirs” of expressive sensitivity. “The day I graduated I left for New York,” she says with a grin. “Visual communication was fascinating,” she says of her time in New York apprenticed to a fashion photographer. Once the glitz wore off, Marcus says she “had a light-bulb moment. I needed to do something that would contribute.” Documentary and photojournalism called. She studied photography, first at New York’s School of Visual Arts, and then finished up at UCSC, where her thesis work in Community Studies led her back to the gritty streets of the South Bronx in 1985. “I spent 10 months working with a social services group who put me in touch with the people who lived there,” she says. Marcus often met with danger and active hostility. “Being young and naive really saved me. It was a learning experience that I have taken throughout my life,” she says.
Marcus returned to Santa Cruz in the mid-’90s. “I cherished the quiet of Santa Cruz to digest and finish projects,” she says.
The pace picked up for photographer Marcus, starting with an unexpected invitation to photograph vampires at Anne Rice’s annual costume ball. That led to her first book, Vampires, in 1997, followed by After Midnight, which documents the nightclub culture, punk and heavy metal.
“Everybody’s a photographer these days,” she complains. “But not everyone is a storyteller.” Determined to hone her skills, Marcus went to grad school at San Jose State, where she had time to create her own work, she says. It was there that she also discovered that her roommate was a transgender man. “I’m fascinated with things I don’t understand,” she says. She gained trust and began asking questions, determined to check out this phenomenon before it had caught the mainstream eye. At transgender support group meetings Marcus gradually found some individuals willing to be photographed. “It takes a huge amount of courage to come and let themselves be photographed,” she says. First transgender men, and then women. The resulting months of work are compiled in Marcus’ pioneer glossy photo essay Transfigurations, which is filled with candid glimpses of transgender individuals in the process of physical metamorphosis. The collection of original photos has toured for six years at universities and galleries all over the country. “The work really touched people in the community,” she notes with pride.
Liberated from her full-time Cabrillo jobs, Marcus recently pivoted into the world of writing, developing a project she began decades earlier with her father—a true family story of 1930s New York, in which her two mobster great-uncles were murdered. “I have been so driven to solve these cases, which were long ago considered closed. The trail had grown cold,” she says.
Armed with a cold-case detective and a crime scene psychic, Marcus has traced the steps that led to those last weeks and days of the murdered brothers. “It’s a huge story, corruption, murder—it’s ginormous!” she says. As you read this, Line of Blood is being finished. “I just got an agent,” she reveals with conspiratorial excitement. “It feels like a new direction for me, finding long-lost relatives, reconstructing their story. I am a recorder of stories, be they visual or written.” For more information, visit janamarcus.com.
TELLING STORIES With two photography collections under her belt, as well as the pioneering photo essay ‘Transfigurations’—which offers glimpses of transgender individuals in the process of physical metamorphosis—Jana Marcus is now pouring her energy into a new book.PHOTO: JANA MARCUS
A new discovery in Santa Cruz Mountains pumas reveals that after pollution enters the ocean, some toxins may return to land Veronica Yovovich kneels beside a dead mountain lion. Her field tweezers tighten around a whisker and slowly pull. The skin of the cat’s cold snout stretches out and then silently snaps back as she plucks the hair free.
“Mountain lions don’t tend to live very long in the Santa Cruz Mountains,” says Yovovich, a wildlife biologist with the Santa Cruz Puma Project. “Many are hit by cars.” But when scientists took a closer look at the puma whiskers Yovovich has plucked in recent years, they found that the animals in the foggy Santa Cruz Mountains faced an unexpected problem: mercury.
In research presented this week in San Francisco at a meeting of the American Geophysical Union, environmental chemist Peter Weiss-Penzias and longtime Puma Project director Chris Wilmers showed that mountain lions in the woods and mountains around us are consuming potentially toxic amounts of mercury—carried from the ocean to the redwood ecosystem within the chilly droplets of coastal fog.
Something in the Fog
Weiss-Penzias is an expert in tracking the spread of mercury, a toxic chemical released mainly from coal plants.
“It’s iconic of the most reckless, unnecessary pollution,” he says.
Mercury sails on atmospheric currents around the globe, and some settles into the ocean—which is why Weiss-Penzias now watches fog reports regularly. Biking to work at UCSC one morning a few years ago, he noticed the heavy, wet air pressed against his temples and spider webs sagging under glowing water droplets. He realized the ocean was, in effect, all around him. He stopped pedaling and stared into the white horizon. “What is fog?” he recalls wondering. “What’s in it?” No one had ever looked for hazardous forms of mercury in coastal fog.
So Weiss-Penzias set up nets that condense fog into water, like the spider webs and their beaded droplets. His tests at the lab showed that every sample of fog water contained high levels of mercury.
“I didn’t believe it,” he says. “I was trying to figure out how we could have contaminated the sample somehow to get these high numbers.” So his team returned and collected more fog water, but the mercury was always there.
Still, he wasn’t sure what his findings might mean for the plants and animals in our foggy coastal habitats. “This was a source of a toxic compound to the environment that was new,” he says. “Here’s a mechanism that involves the air, the ocean and the land, and nobody knows anything about it.”
Coastal fog forms in Central California because the ocean is much colder here than our latitude and climate would suggest. The region’s spring winds cause cold, deep water to rise, cooling the surface water along the coast. When clouds from the Pacific encounter this cold coastal band, the chilled vapor forms heavier droplets that drape the Santa Cruz Mountains foothills, often reaching the summit. Mercury pollution from the surface ocean may hitch a ride.
“Coastal fog is basically an extension of the ocean,” Weiss-Penzias says. “Mercury settles into the ocean from the atmosphere, but it also finds a way back out.”
Tracing the Toxins
When Wilmers heard about Weiss-Penzias’ results, he wondered whether mercury could enter redwood ecosystems. The mercury in coastal fog is elevated but still dilute. For example, fog contains much less mercury than a can of tuna. But Wilmers also knew that trace metals can build up to much higher levels once living organisms get involved—like redwood trees.
In the Santa Cruz Mountains, redwoods survive the long rainless summer by using their needles like Weiss-Penzias’ fog nets. They sop up water directly from the wet air and trickle it along their needles. As redwoods drink, the toxic mercury builds up in the trees’ tissues. Eventually, redwoods shed their needles, along with the bound mercury, to the forest floor.
Researchers from the U.S. Geological Survey helped the UCSC scientists out. They gathered redwood needles and brought them back to Weiss-Penzias’s lab. Here, the team not only found mercury, but they also measured much more than was in the fog. “It seemed a little too simple to be actually occurring,” Weiss-Penzias says. The amount of mercury in the redwood needles was too small to threaten humans, but now the team wondered if they might find more elsewhere in the forest.
They soon had another opportunity—a graduate student in Weiss-Penzias’ lab was fond of collecting wolf spiders. “He would lay out cups in the forest, and the spiders would simply fall in,” Weiss-Penzias says. The team tested the spiders, and once again they found mercury—but this time at levels beyond the safe human health threshold.
The high mercury level in spiders doesn’t come from the fog droplets that bead on their webs. Instead, Weiss-Penzias says, spiders must consume mercury-laden prey. In a common ecosystem phenomenon called bioaccumulation, toxins become more concentrated as they move up the food chain. When predators consume prey, they burn through the fats, carbohydrates and proteins in their food, but the unusable toxins—often heavy metals—become trapped in their tissues.
Wilmers and Weiss-Penzias suspected that mercury might contaminate the entire redwood ecosystem. “Pretty much everywhere we look, there seems to be an enhancement,” Weiss-Penzias says. And bioaccumulation hints that mercury increases with each rung up the food chain. To know for sure, the team wanted to find out whether the redwood forest’s apex predators, mountain lions, were consuming mercury.
The Puma Connection
To study redwood ecosystems, Wilmers had been collecting mountain lion whiskers for years and storing them in a lab freezer. “It’s hard to catch a mountain lion,” says Yovovich, “but every time we capture one we want to gather as much data as we can, so we pull a whisker.”
Like a human hair or a tree ring, a mountain lion whisker is a chemical archive that traces the cat’s health as the whisker grows. Mercury in particular sticks to hair-like tissues, Weiss-Penzias says, such as whiskers. As a mountain lion whisker grows, tiny amounts of the mercury from within the cat attach to the whisker.
The team pored through the Puma Project’s whisker collection. More than one-third of Santa Cruz–area mountain lions had mercury levels well above the human health threshold. Of the 88 pumas sampled from the Santa Cruz Mountains, three cats had whiskers with four times the human health threshold—with one animal carrying 12 times more of the metal than is considered safe in humans.
Meanwhile, technicians at the California Department of Fish and Wildlife sent the team whiskers from Sierra Nevada pumas—inland cats that live hundreds of miles from coastal fog. When the scientists tested the whiskers of these fog-free cats, the high level of mercury wasn’t there. Only cats from foggy coastal climes, they found, had whiskers rich in mercury.
Mercury pollution can come from other sources, such as abandoned mines. However, for the mercury that reached pumas here, fog is the most likely source. Cats in the Santa Cruz Mountains that live near old mines are about as likely to have high mercury as those that live far away from them. “We do see some high mercury levels near old mines at the summit,” Weiss-Penzias says. “But we also see comparable levels at some coastal sites.” And abandoned mines exist in the Sierra Nevada, too.
Weiss-Penzias points to another important clue that coastal fog is the most likely source. “Mercury from old mines exists in a form that is hard for organisms to take up,” Weiss-Penzias says. “I’m not sure how they could even do it.” The mercury in coastal fog, on the other hand, is very dilute, but it’s in a form that is more easily bound by plants and animals.
Scientists don’t know exactly how mercury gets into fog, but the idea that it trickles back into coastal ecosystems is new. And for pumas, the potential effects of mercury haven’t been examined before. “We didn’t really think mercury was a threat to mountain lions,” Yovovich says. Now scientists need to understand whether the mercury that pumas are consuming poses risks to them.
Mapping Mercury’s Path
Researchers don’t yet know how mercury might be affecting mountain lions, but research has clearly shown that it harms other large mammals. Mercury tangles up the enzymes that make important “cleaning molecules” in cells. These molecules are necessary to prevent natural but harmful byproducts from building up. In small doses, an animal can cope with the damaging clutter. But if it consumes too much mercury, the rogue byproducts damage tissues in an irreversible, cascading cycle. Still, the researchers emphasize, mercury’s effects—and the levels that should be deemed dangerous—are unknown in mountain lions.
The team’s next step will be to understand where the pumas are consuming the mercury-rich prey. “In general, the majority of what mountain lions eat in this area is mule deer,” says Yovovich. The researchers plan to use deer fur, like the puma whiskers, to find out whether deer are the source of the mountain lions’ mercury. They will also look for mercury in the plants that Santa Cruz mule deer graze. Their tests should help map out mercury’s path through the redwood ecosystem.
Yovovich points out that increasing residential developments in San Francisco’s Bay Area may also affect how mercury reaches pumas. “In more urbanized areas, mountain lions tend to eat less deer, and more small mammals,” says Yovovich. Unlike mule deer that graze meadow grasses, small mammals may feed on mercury-contaminated prey such as spiders. If more pumas eat small mammals, their exposure to mercury may increase.
Mercury from fog may be the latest and most surprising threat to wildlife in the Santa Cruz Mountains, and knowing that coastal fog can carry toxins from the ocean into the hills may complicate how scientists track pollution. But the biggest struggle for pumas in the Santa Cruz Mountains is still simply a lack of space. “There’s a challenge of pumas being pumas,” Wilmers says.
For mountain lions, living in a crowded world isn’t new. But the protected cats are doing better here than elsewhere. “We don’t have a lot of older pumas,” Wilmers says, “but we still do have a lot of pumas in the Santa Cruz Mountains.”
As they hunt and roam through the foggy hills, these wild cats have to make do in the tight margins created by our towns and highways. “There are tendrils of development interspersed with the open spaces,” Yovovich says. “It’s a mosaic of land uses that the cats have to negotiate in order to just be cats.”
The Puma Project
The Santa Cruz Puma Project is a collaboration between UC Santa Cruz researchers and the California Department of Fish and Wildlife that tries to understand how pumas and people coexist in the Santa Cruz Mountains.
Pumas help maintain a healthy balance of animal life in the redwood forest ecosystem. Ecologists call animals like pumas keystone species, because their activities help shape their habitat. For example, pumas prevent deer from overgrazing plants, or trampling stream corridors. But although pumas play a pivotal role in the redwood ecosystem, making space for them has never been easy.
The Santa Cruz Mountains border one of the densest urban areas in the country. Highways and roads cut through pumas’ redwood homes, and everywhere people and pumas compete for scarce space. Neither people nor pumas are to blame, say the researchers, but the more we know about how pumas adapt and respond to human development, the better we can design our communities to help share the space.
The Puma Project uses tracking collars to map out how pumas move through our local mountains. Knowing how pumas travel, and where they choose to spend their time, helps us learn what regions are most important to conserve, and what highway crossings are most dangerous.
The Puma Project’s whisker library, which provided the samples used to test for mercury, also helps researchers understand food chain position and foraging behavior.
Follow the Santa Cruz Puma Project’s online blog at santacruzpumas.com, or search santacruzpumas on Twitter to hear about what Chris Wilmers and other researchers are up to each week.
The Friday morning rain has dispersed, and a crowd of two dozen has gathered outside of New Leaf Community Market on Fair Avenue for the battle of the century: leaf blower vs. broom. Ken Foster of Terra Nova Ecological Landscaping is pitting his environmentally friendly, manually operated stick broom against activist Brent Adams’ two-stroke gas and oil leaf blower. The rules are simple: each contender had to clean up a trash can’s worth of leaves and debris spread over 75 feet of sidewalk. The grades were passed by four judges on four criteria: air pollution, noise pollution, time and efficiency.
The real issue at hand, Foster says, is to highlight the unnecessary emissions produced by gas-powered blowers.
“This is a critical issue for urban areas,” Foster says. “We think we can destroy the soundscape in this vain search for the perfect landscape.”
Leaf blower pollution goes beyond just noise. A 2011 study by automotive information site edmunds.com found a consumer-grade, two-stroke blower produces 23 times more carbon dioxide and almost 300 times more non-methane hydrocarbons than a 2011 Ford Raptor truck.
Foster, a founding member of the Leaf Blower Task Force (LBTF), formed in 2013, quickly pointed out that even if landscapers don’t want to ditch the blower, many of today’s models can be electric and produce significantly fewer emissions than their antiquated equivalents. The LBTF plans to take the results of the broom vs. blower competition, along with a survey of more than 500 Santa Cruz residents, to the Santa Cruz City Council early next year in hopes of moving forward with progressive legislation on the issue.
Foster says the task force isn’t necessarily calling for a ban: “We’re saying intelligent use, education, and restrictions are a good way to go,” he says.
According to a 2000 report by the California Air Resources Board, 20 California cities have banned the blower.
So what were the final results of the first-ever Santa Cruz Broom vs. Blower Challenge?
The broom beat the blower in all categories except time, where Adams pulled into the lead by 24 seconds, although Foster put on a great show. Even if your average landscaper doesn’t work as vigorously as Foster—one cheering spectator exclaimed it looked like he was doing “garden CrossFit”—the landscaping guru believes alternative options to the blower are worth exploring.
“My associates in the industry will say, ‘See? Leaf blowers are faster,’” Foster says. “But that’s one factor of a handful of issues.”
Even just reading the categories in this year’s gift guide makes me remember why I love Santa Cruz.
Where else would the essential list of giftees to buy for range from bookworms, environmentalists and wellness gurus to foodies, skaters, stoners and vinyl fetishists? Not to mention, of course, ocean lovers and techies. I want all of these people to have a big holiday party, and I want to be invited. I might even throw it. We can Secret Santa using this gift guide, of course. I have to go get the invitations written, so in the meantime enjoy shopping eclectically and locally!
As a UCSC student, I think it does a lot for the community, from working with the Homeless Garden Project to students volunteering in schools around town.
The debut EP from Pyromids, Out In Time Past, contains the cover image of a trio of water skiers in a triangle formation—all with their heads on fire. The obvious question is: Does this have something to do with the odd spelling of the band’s name?
Yes, it turns out. The name occurred to lead singer/guitarist Joseph Perrin as he was playing around with the words “pyramid” and “pyrotechnics,” and his friend (and now guitarist) Devin Eiring started laughing, thinking he accidentally misspelled Pyramids.
“I laughed too, and said, ‘maybe this is fate.’ It kind of stuck,” says Perrin. “It can be super serious or super funny. Things moved a lot faster than I thought they would, so that was just kind of the name.”
The name is fitting, though, because the songwriting is dark, but its overall feel is an upbeat, dance-y post-punk sound, like New Order, that mixes electronics and instruments. What better way to convey the nuanced emotions of the music than with a band name that evokes both humor and darkness?
“When it all comes together, it just seems like it works much better if you can move to it. I want it to be fun to see live. I wanted a cool vibe to it. I know the actual subject matter can be a little dark. I’m just trying to keep a good mix,” Perrin says.
Eiring and bassist Celeste Deruisa have played every show with Perrin, but otherwise the lineup isn’t set in stone.
“A lot of times it’s a five-piece. Sometimes it’s a six-piece. It depends what the lineup is for that show. Whoever I have that’s down to do the shows is pretty much what I have to work with,” Perrin says.
Cupcakes come to your house Let’s take a moment to think about how wonderful cupcakes are. Now let’s think about how much better they are when they are delivered to your house. That’s the appeal of Kelly Daher’s business, My Cupcake Corner, which she’s run since 2010. She delivers across the county, from Scotts Valley to Aptos. You could get on her website and order yourself a bunch of cupcakes, or if you’re like most of Daher’s clients, order them for someone else. (She also does pick up orders.) She has 31 flavors to choose from on her website, as well as something called “pull-aparts.” Daher answers all of our cupcake questions. GT: How excited do people get when they get cupcakes delivered to their house?
KELLY DAHER: It’s pretty awesome if it’s a surprise. It’s the best when it’s UCSC students. We have one called the Banana Slug [chocolate-banana]. A lot of parents will order that one for their kids that are going to school at UCSC. It’s fun for me because I always get a positive reaction. How does it work?
Usually the website requires two days in advance for an order. If you call, sometimes we can do it a day in advance, but it’s a lot better if it’s at least two days. I’m a one-woman show. What are your most popular flavors?
The SC Strawberry [vanilla-strawberry] is a crowd pleaser. People like chocolate. They tend to order that one because it’s the “safe” cupcake, but it’s not the tastiest. Red Velvet seems to be popular. I don’t feel like it’s my favorite. OK, what are your favorites?
I like the Cruz-N-Kahlúa. I think that’s the best one. It’s just a chocolate cupcake, and it has Kahlúa frosting and a chocolate Kahlúa filling. I like the peanut butter one, too. Those two are my favorite. And plain vanilla—that one is surprisingly good. People don’t think of it because they think, ‘it’s vanilla, it must be boring.’ It’s fat and sugar. How can you go wrong with that? What is a pull-apart?
I take the cupcakes and I put them all together in the shape of whatever somebody might want, whether it be an animal or a truck or train or whatever. There was a local company that wanted the cupcakes in a sandal. Once I did an Old English 40-ounce—it was for somebody’s 21st birthday. Some are Halloween-themed. Someone wanted a divorce cake, where they wanted their ex-husband in a meat-grinder. That was kind of fun. Do you do custom flavors?
Cookies and cream isn’t on the menu, but if someone wants it, I can do a cookies and cream. Someone wanted tres leches once. That one wasn’t on the menu, but I did it. If it’s something I’m familiar with, I’ll pretty much try it out. If I’ve never heard of it, then maybe I don’t. mycupcakecorner.com, 831-278-0022.
HOMEBAKED Kelly Daher in her home kitchen with a plate of freshly baked cupcakes. PHOTO: CHIP SCHEUER
Women withhold sex to end gang war in angry, vital ‘Chi-Raq’ Black lives matter to Spike Lee. In his new film Chi-Raq, an excoriating look at gun culture and gang violence in urban America, Lee wants to make sure they also matter to black youths who are killing each other in record numbers, as well as to the failing institutions that are supposed to be serving them. A provocative mash-up of classical tragedy, rap music, minstrel show, and musical theater, the film is an in-your-face explosion of anger and vitality.
Lee and co-scriptwriter Kevin Willmot borrow their source material from the ancient Greeks. Aristophanes’ Lysistrata is a comedy of sex, warfare, and gender relations, in which the women of Greece, led by the title heroine, make a sacred pact to withhold sex from their men unless the men make a peace treaty to end the devastating Peloponnesian War against the Spartans.
The filmmakers reboot the story for Chicago’s gritty South Side, where gang warfare in the impoverished neighborhoods (as we’re told early on) are responsible for twice as many deaths in a given period than the death toll of U.S. troops from Afghanistan and Iraq combined. Lee’s updated Lysistrata (Teyonah Parris) is the girlfriend of an aspiring rapper calling himself Chi-Raq (Nick Cannon), which is local slang for the war zone of the South Side.
Chi-Raq is also the leader of a gang called the Greeks (their colors are purple), whose rivals are the Spartan gang, who dress in orange. One night, onstage at a local club, Chi-Raq’s show is busted up by gunfire. Later that night, while he and Lysistrata are doing the down and dirty at home, someone sets fire to the building. When a 7-year-old girl is killed by a stray bullet in the neighborhood and the pain of her sorrowing mother (Jennifer Hudson) touches everyone, Lysistrata gets an earful from her neighbor, Miss Helen (Angela Bassett), who claims ending the violence is everybody’s responsibility.
Lysistrata Googles her namesake, and gathers her girlfriends. They meet with the Spartan girlfriends, and once the trash-talking is over, they make a pact to withhold sex from their men until they turn in their guns. To make sure there’s no backsliding, they infiltrate and take over the Armory building downtown and lock themselves in. The women at the strip club sign on, and the movement spreads to upscale and professional women as well. As the sex strike continues (“No Peace, No Pussy” is their battle cry), angry women all over the globe take up the cause.
Lee sticks surprisingly close to his ancient source, from the characters’ names (Wesley Snipes plays a one-eyed gangsta called Cyclops), to the use of Greek choruses to comment on the action. Aristophanes’ Chorus of Old Women is Miss Helen and her sisterhood of doctors and lawyers; the Chorus of Old Men is a local black lodge brotherhood. But he also uses a devilish master of ceremonies (Samuel L. Jackson, impeccably duded up) to set each scene, and lavish music and dance numbers, like the funeral at the church, and the precision chorus line of the women in their chastity belts dancing at the Armory. And most of the dialogue is in verse, albeit the rough, profane rhymes of rap songs.
With so much going on in Lee’s ambitious vision, there’s a lot that doesn’t work. That the compassionate church pastor (John Cusack) is white suggests the violence affects all races, but since it’s said he grew up in the neighborhood, shouldn’t there be a few other white parishioners too? The wheezy sex farce of the scene when Lysistrata worms her way into the Armory by promising her favors to the white racist commanding officer (it involves a Civil War cannon called “Whistling Dick”) is grueling to sit through.
But images of silent women carrying posters of their murdered children, or neighborhood streets full of young men in wheelchairs and on crutches, add up to a powerful statement. Lee lays plenty of blame on an uncaring government that fails to ensure jobs, affordable housing, and social services in black communities. But he aims his movie at the young black urban audience, knowing the first change that’s gotta come is in attitude. CHI-RAQ
*** (out of four)
With Teyonah Parris, Nick Cannon, Jennifer Hudson, Angela Bassett, and Samuel L. Jackson. Written by Spike Lee and Kevin Willmot. Directed by Spike Lee. A Roadside Attractions release. Rated R. 127 minutes.
PEACE MAKER Teyonah Parris plays the leading heroine, Lysistrata, in Spike Lee’s ‘Chi-Raq,’ which parallels Aristophanes’ comedy ‘Lysistrata.’
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Win tickets to Santa Cruz Symphony: Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 on SantaCruz.com Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 was scored for a symphony of 100 musicians and is described as “towering,” and “incomparable.” Written in 1887 and 1888, the work was envisioned by Mahler as a symphonic poem and is considered a landmark in the history of...