The Rainbow connection

"They’re a little insistent, but that’s the way Jews are." - Bouncing Baby, on Chabad’s presence at the Rainbow Gathering.

Like a lot of you, I go to my share of festivals, gatherings, hoedowns and whatnot. The one big festival I’ve never been to is the Rainbow Gathering, that annual summer celebration of peace, love, and shared food in the national forest. I was pretty curious for a long while, but never got it together, and then I met E, my next-door neighbor on East 12th Street in the Village. (This was back in 2000, before I made the Westward Migration.)

E was born into the “Family,” raised in Yogaville and bringing light and music to the world with Doofus and other NYC hobos. She went to every Rainbow gathering in New York and tried to bring me along. But I was having my baalat teshuva moment at the time and all I wanted to do was gather with my newfound family…down on Grand Street. All of E’s friends seemed like mooches that wanted to eat all her food and stink up the the hallway with patchouli.

So years later, it was with interest that I today watched Under the Rainbow, Ryan Lifchitz’s documentary about a group of Lubavitchers who go to the 1998 Arizona Rainbow gathering to set up a kosher kitchen and basically, do the Chabad thing. They Bar Mitzvah people, wrap tefillin, share their food, upgrade some neshamas and so forth. They also get their minds opened a little bit about the counterculture. Our heroes have varied experiences of the scene - some are more interested and accepting than others, who see the nudity, drugs and seeker vibe as a symptom of our greater ailing moral culture.

This is a fun little documentary, and a good glimpse of a world many haven’t had the chance to see in person. The film is a bit heavy on crazy old hippies talking shit, and far too few women doing anything, but still, if you’re at all interested in Rainbow, or in Chabad, it’s worth a peek.
San Francisco seekers will get a special kick out of an adorable young Yoav Potash, who’s excited to see the Chabadniks in the forest and what the event will do to them, as well as how they will elevate the event.

Under the Rainbow (three clips of about 20 minutes each)

Robot Rocked

(Warning: frequent Burning Man references to follow.)

Okay, so as you know, I love a good film festival. Last night was SF360 Film + Club, the monthly hipster-night-at-the-movies put on by the San Francisco Film Society. (Last time I checked this crew was showing an R.Kelly hip hop opera with singalong components.) The film this month? Daft Punk's Electroma, which is doing a circuit of festivals right now in advance of a fall DVD release.

The Lackster and I showed up unfashionably early to Mezzanine and yet there was a very long, very hip line stretching all the way down Jessie Street, (bad pee smell and all). Amidst the shag haircuts and gold lame kitten heels I spotted Anne Cook and Jeremy Solterbeck. Jeremy asked if I was going to Burning Man.

We cruised inside and frantically snagged one of the dwindling supply of seats then hit the Chartreuse tasting bar. The stuff is made by three monks who jealously guard its recipe to their graves. Sadly, the promo gal was jealously guarding the supply and we were left to the tender mercies of the Mezzanine bar staff.

Here's the truth. I am not wise in the ways of Daft Punk. Sure, I've seen the Gondry video. But otherwise, I'm a total newb. I asked around.

Ann Campbell told me, "Basically, it all comes down to robots." Greg Hernandez told me "I just really love robots." And the SFFS rep who introduced the film called it "an important contribution to the sad robot genre."

The film was an interesting, if sloooooooow, look at identity and tinkering with it. Two robots are on a road trip through the California desert and other surreal places -- a lab where they get false latex faces painted on, a town where everyone looks the same, sand dunes, salt flats. It does not go well for our robot heroes, although they look sexy in their bedazzled leather Daft Punk jackets. "I want that outfit for Burning Man," Jesse sighed.

The sound was awesome. It wasn't Daft Punk music but it was heavy on vibrating, pulsing sounds and the occasional acoustic ballad. Not a film to watch at home...it does help to have the room shake. In a way, the piece was a reverse Gondry film, with the visuals -- the monotony of the road and rolling desert dunes -- driving the soundtrack rather than vice versa.

The unavoidable problem for this viewer (and many, many others in the room) was that the "action" was all set in Inyo County -- which looks a hell of a lot like the roads, tumbleweed-dotted expanses and, er, playas at a certain festival in Nevada. A guy behind me was getting restless with the desert imagery about 60 minutes into the film and started grumbling "Burning Man, Burning Man..." And truly, it is kind of hard not to let your mind drift off to Pershing County as you watch a robot set himself on fire and walk across a hard packed salt flat.

Schmulik correctly guessed that the film was shot near Death Valley, not Gerlach, but knew that "especially before Burning Man, a lot of Burning Man comparisons are happening." No doubt screenings in, say, France, are less confusing.

After the film, the chairs were cleared and people rocked out to the Robot Rock DJs. Yours truly had to go before Dandi Wind, Riot in Belgium and others took the stage but there was some pretty high energy for a Monday out on the floor. A monthly to watch.

More or less cross-posted to SFGate.com's Culture Blog