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It’s a disaster!

Rescue pilot Ray Gaines (Dwayne Johnson: Furious 7) has saved countless lives. But he was unable to save his daughter from drowning on a family trip. Haunted by memories, Ray drove away his wife Emma (Carla Gugino: Match) and his surviving daughter Blake (Alexandra Daddario: Burying the Ex). Now he longs to have them back.
    What could possibly mend this broken family?
    How about a catastrophic earthquake along the California coast?
    When the earthquake strikes, buildings topple, streets open into gaping maws and thousands struggle for survival. This would be a compelling scenario — if our hero cared. Instead of doing his job as a firefighter, Ray reroutes his helicopter — effectively stealing it — to rescue his wife and daughter. What’s a few hundred lives when your ex needs you?
    The biggest fault in San Andreas is lack of tension. Director Brad Peyton (Journey 2: The Mysterious Island) choreographs a massive earthquake with computer graphics and stirring music. But there is never any question about the outcome. You know Ray will save his wife and daughter and that they will reunite.
    It is possible to make a good disaster movie. The original Poseidon Adventure (1972) showed us how to use disaster to explore a group of characters — before devastating us by killing them. It’s a tried-and-true formula ignored by modern filmmakers. Why develop interesting characters when you can use computers to animate destruction? In these bloodless disasters, we watch cities crumble without the bother of emotion.
    Because the stakes are so low, performances are uneven. Johnson, who’s played this role so many times he could do it in his sleep, isn’t so much acting as flexing his natural charisma. A great star with a commanding presence, he has yet to find a project worthy of his personality.
    Gugino isn’t as lucky. As the damsel in distress, she’s forced to stare admiringly at Johnson, follow mutely behind him and panic so he can manfully calm her. Though she can hit the right hysterical notes, it’s an embarrassing role for a reliable character actress.
    Loud, silly and wholly unsatisfying, San Andreas is the type of film giant tubs of popcorn were made for.

Ridiculous Action • PG-13 • 114 mins.

The mystery of a great white’s whereabouts

Is the Bay becoming a haven for great whites?
    Great white sharks are huge flesh-eating machines that swim at speeds up to 35mph and travel the oceans of the world to satisfy their appetites.
    On May 29, a great white known as Mary Lee was reportedly detected in central Chesapeake Bay between North Beach and Tilghman Island. The predator would normally prefer the salty waters of the Atlantic Ocean. So what would make Mary Lee swim more than 100 miles up into the brackish waters of the Chesapeake?
    Mary Lee is part of a global shark-tracking program led by the non-profit company OCEARCH, which aims to increase our knowledge of sharks while benefiting public safety and awareness.
    Mary Lee’s whereabouts are monitored by a transmitor attached to one of her fins. The transmitor has to be above water for a certain amount of time to give the satellites a precise location and register a ping. The longer it’s above the water, the better the ping.
    In addition to the ping from the Bay that weekend, four additional pings were received placing Mary Lee in the ocean off the coast of New Jersey. Four pings trump one.
    A good ping can correspond very closely to the shark’s actual location — within 250 meters. But a bad ping can be miles off, or even indicate that the shark is on land.
    It’s unlikely that Mary Lee visited the waters off of North Beach. But it’s not impossible. We still have a lot to learn about the migration patterns of great white sharks. Learn more at www.ocearch.org.

Seach the sky for Berenice’s hair and Ariadne’s crown

The moon wanes to last-quarter Tuesday, rising more than a half-hour later each night, providing an increasingly darker backdrop for sky-watching.
    As the evening sky begins to darken, the first lights to appear are the planets Venus and Jupiter high in the west. Then you might notice golden Saturn aglow in the southeast. The next brightest object to appear is Arcturus, almost directly overhead.
    Arcturus is the third brightest star in the heavens and is the lead star in the constellation Boötes. It is a red giant 36 light years away burning more than 100 times brighter than our sun. Its name is derived from the Greek word Arktouros, meaning guardian of the bear. Boötes follows Ursa Major along the ecliptic, while behind it is the constellation Hercules. Closer to either side of Arcturus, however, are two lesser-known constellations.
    To the east of Boötes shines a semi-circle of severn stars, Corona Borealis, the northern crown. By about 11pm, this constellation is almost directly overhead. In Greek mythology, this is the crown Dionysus gave to his bride Ariadne. Celebrating after their wedding, Dionysus threw the crown into the sky, where the jewels turned into stars and the crown became a constellation. The lead star in Corona Borealis is Gemma, almost as bright as the North Star.
    To the west of Arcturus is Coma Berenices, or Berenice’s Hair, most notable by three not-so-bright stars making a 90-degree angle. The legend of this constellation dates back to Queen Berenice II of Egypt, whose husband Ptolemy III Euergetes was away in battle. Praying to the goddess Aphrodite, Berenice swore to cut off her long, blonde hair if Ptolemy survived. Upon his return, the queen kept her word and placed her locks on an altar in Aphrodite’s temple. The next morning the hair was gone: the goddess of love was was so pleased with Berenice’s beautiful hair that she placed it forever in the heavens.
    Venus is at its best this week, ­Saturday reaching greatest eastern elongation — or in layman’s terms, its farthest from the sun, 45 degrees as seen from our earthbound vantage, and thus at its highest point in our sky. As the sun sets, look for the Evening Star high in the west. Hereafter, Venus ever so slowly inches toward the setting sun. By mid-August, Venus disappears behind the sun, reappearing in the pre-dawn sky a couple weeks later.
    Jupiter shines a dozen degrees to the upper left of Venus. The two planets are closing in on each other on the way to a close conjunction at the end of the month.
    Sunset reveals Saturn in the southeast, and by midnight it is high in the south. Even a modest telescope will reveal the planet’s famous rings, which are right now tilted at their best angle for viewing. Roughly 10 degrees below Saturn is orange Antares, the lead star in the constellation Scorpius.

It’s not there just to look pretty

Good mulch should be dark brown, persist for at least one growing season, be compatible with all the plants in the landscape and control weeds by suffocation only. Superb mulch does all that plus providing slow-release nutrients to feed the plants it is mulching.
    Mother Nature provides us with an abundance of mulches every fall. Fallen leaves and pine needles are excellent mulches satisfying every standard except being dark brown.  I have never purchased a bag of mulch in my life. Leaves are my mulch. When they decompose, nutrients are released into the soil, thus feeding the roots of mulched plants.
    Bark mulches do not contain any of the major nutrients used by plants except for calcium. But bark can contain essential trace elements, such as manganese, that can accumulate in the soil and cause problems. Thus it is important to choose mulch that is compatible with the species of plants being mulched.
     If you insist on purchasing brown mulch, I recommend pure pine, spruce or fir bark mulches. These contain 90 to 100 percent lignins, a source of carbon not easily digested by microorganisms. Thus they do not decompose readily and last on the surface of the ground one to two growing seasons. These mulches also contain polyflavanoids, which are beneficial because they help make essential trace elements available to the roots.
    Pine bark is available as nuggets, ground or as pine fines. The nuggets and ground mulches are the most preferred. Pine fines are generally only recommended as a soil amendment to increase the organic matter and help in lowering the pH of soils. Pine mulches are acidic in nature.
    Pine needles can be used as mulch but have a limited life, lasting only two to three months.
    Pea stone makes good mulch providing it is laid over landscape fabric. Brick chips, volcano slag or crushed granite are also usable mulches. But because of their density, they will sink into the soil unless they are placed over landscape fabric. 
    In the vegetable garden, straw — not hay — works as mulch. Even newspapers can be used, applied in 10 to 15 layers and soaked with water immediately to stop them from being blown away. I use shredded paper because it is easier to spread and, once soaked with water, remains in place better than sheets of newspaper. You need not worry about the ink because most black ink is made from soy while the colored inks are organic. I would prefer the old zinc ink because most of our soils here in the East are low to deficient in zinc, a mineral important in our diet.
    Shredded cardboard also makes good mulch. The advantage of using straw, newspapers, shredded paper and cardboard is rapid decomposition without creating nutrient stress. As they are opaque, they control weeds by the shade they create.
    Black plastic and landscape fabric also make good mulch. Black plastic mulches prevent the loss of water by evaporation. But these must be removed at the end of the growing season. Landscape fabric has another drawback in that weeds such as Bermuda grass, pig weed and nut sedge can grow through the fabric, making it impossible to pull them without damaging the fabric. Removing the fabric at the end of the season is also harder because of weeds that have grown through it.
    Next week, I’ll give you more reasons to avoid other mulches.


Ask Dr. Gouin your questions at DR.FRGouin@gmail.com. Please include your name and address.

So many variables are at play it can sometimes be baffling

We arrived at our fishing spot at 9am, two hours after the predicted low tide. Consultations with tide and current charts told us that at our location about a quarter-mile below the Bay Bridge, the incoming tide would just be starting. It ­wasn’t; the current was still going out.
    Anchoring and expecting the change at any moment, we set out our chum bag and flipped our baits over the side. After an hour with no tidal change and no action, we headed farther south, reasoning that the outgoing tide would be starting earlier there. Again we were wrong.
    We debated going down the Bay farther still but decided to stick it out. Our fish finder was showing a substantial population in the waters around us. Logically, we concluded that all that we needed was a tidal change and an increase in current to get the stripers feeding. After all, the tide sooner or later would have to change, right?
    Undoubtedly that was true. Yet four hours later it became clear that it was not going to change while we were there. With the tide still inching out and our baits going untouched, we headed home.
    Tides are the result of the gravitational pull of the moon as it orbits the earth. Ocean tides are regular and predictable. It seemed inconceivable that in the Bay an outgoing tide could continue for over 12 hours.
    I decided to renew my acquaintance with how the tidal functions in our great estuary can behave so erratically. The Chesapeake, I was reminded, has a unique and vastly more complex tidal operation than the ocean.
    The moon sets up the basic tidal rhythm of two high tides and two low tides during a typical 24-hour period. But those tidal surges have to travel the length of the Bay, 200 miles. Much can happen in that distance, and many variables can impact the flow of tidal water.
    One of the more important variables is caused by density differences between heavier saltwater coming up from the ocean colliding with lighter freshwater from the Bay’s tributaries. Because of the Coriolis Effect, generated by the turning of the earth on its axis, the incoming tide is always stronger (and saltier) on the eastern side. The fresher water exits the Bay on the western side’s stronger outgoing tides.
    This difference between salt and fresh creates a stratification of Bay waters and generates a secondary circulatory current with the heavier saltwater tending to sink to the bottom as it moves up the Bay and the lighter freshwater tending to float on top and moving south to exit the estuary.
    There are also secondary currents and eddies created as the water moves over different depths. More than 25 percent of the Bay is less than six feet deep, but the channels coursing down its length often average 50 to 60 feet deep.
    Wind is another factor. Sustained high winds can delay, accelerate or even cancel tidal phases. Northwest winds associated with high-pressure areas can push water away from the Atlantic Coast, resulting in very low tides. Northeast winds and high pressure can create exceptionally high tides.
    The interactions of these many variables can also generate seemingly impossible effects. Occasionally currents flow in one direction on the bottom of the Bay and the opposite direction on the top. An outgoing tide that seems to continue for 12 hours can be caused by conditions some distance away and invisible to those experiencing the phenomenon.
    Considering all these forces, the overall accuracy achieved by our tide and current charts is remarkable. It wouldn’t surprise me if the old saying Just go with the flow was coined on the Chesapeake.

That’s what we want in stories — and libraries

For sharks like Mary Lee, the great white star of this week’s Creature Feature, mobility is the law of life. Though even she can’t be two places at once — despite a suggestive reading from her satellite transmitter that she was swimming toward Chesapeake Beach on May 29.
    For others of us, it’s hard to be anywhere but where we are. Though firmly rooted creatures like trees and oysters broadcast their seeds in uncountable abundance to transcend their immobility.
    Like Mary Lee, some of us are citizens of the world. Where are you from? is a question that means little to the child of a military family. But live in a place a while and you put down roots, sipping up through them the terroir of our lands and waters. So it’s with a satisfying sense of affinity that I welcome sister St. Louisan Kristen Minogue as a Bay Weekly writer this week. By way of Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, science writer Minogue finds herself transplanted to Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, off Muddy Creek Road deep in woods that barely look like Edgewater.
    At Smithsonian, a big part of her job is bringing research into the language and experience of people who don’t speak science.
    “I’m very glad to see a new generation committed to good science journalism,” the director there, Anson ‘Tuck’ Hines, told me “to translate science for the general public, including resource manager and politicians.”
    In this week’s feature story, Minogue tells another story learned from evidence, highlighting people who came before the scientists in the 3,000-year history of the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center land. Even for people rooted in a place, seeing through time takes specialized vision. Read it and you may feel, as I did, the mobility of a traveler through time.
    We do more time traveling this week in Diane Burt’s profile of baseball fan Ray Cox, whose appreciation of the Nationals rises from his teenage association with The Senators, a batboy on the field as history was made.
    Where are you from? From what place do your ­stories rise? We want to know.

A Library of Another Place — and Another Color
    In the ordinary way of things, I’m stuck in place like an oyster. But over the weekend, I adopted the mobility of a shark for a quick trip to San Antonio. Libraries were still on my mind from last week’s paper, and in my luggage to share with the editors of that city’s daily newspaper, the Express News. So the central San Antonio Public Library popped my eyes open wide. A six-story stack of red-earth and burnt-sienna rectangles highlighted in purple and silhouetted against a true blue sky, the 20-year-old Central Library encloses 240,000 square feet of space and 580,300 books plus all the other media and services that make a modern library.
    That $28 million bond purchase — plus $10 million to equip and furnish — has paid off, as a place defining its city while serving a system of 24 libraries and a county of 1.8 million people.
    Out of the debate over Anne Arundel County libraries, I hope we build places that, inside and out, reflect us as well. Budgeting decisions are only a week away. Now’s the time to share your vision with your elected representatives, your county executive and councilmen at www.aacounty.org.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher; editor@bayweekly.com

Whodunnit? Ask the audience

When Charles Dickens died 145 years ago this month, he left behind an unfinished novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood. Release was scheduled in a dozen installments between 1870 and 1871, but he finished only six. Afterward, it became a bit of a cottage industry to take on the novel’s completion, including deciding which of Dickens’ characters was responsible for the murder of the title character.  Would-be Dickens met with varying levels of success. One that turned out quite well is the version that kicks off Annapolis Summer Garden Theatre’s 50th season.
    With book, music and lyrics by Rupert Holmes (earworm warning: Holmes is perhaps best known for his 1979 hit “Escape … The Piña Colada Song”), the show debuted in 1985 and won Holmes five Tony Awards, including Best Musical, Best Book and Best Original Score. Lighter and broader than the novel, this musical Drood’s action and audience are in an old-time English music hall, a show-within-a-show complete with emcee and cast playing not Dickens’ characters but music hall performers playing Dickens’ characters.
    And what characters they are, an English town’s worth of winking whackies, led by a triad of top talent. David Merrill has a great time as John Jasper, Drood’s schizoid uncle and choirmaster. Paige Miller is the sincere ingénue Rosa Bud, Drood’s betrothed after whom Jasper lusts. Emily Lentz is Drood in a traditional cross-dressing role. All three have wonderful voices, and Merrill’s and Miller’s especially soar on the operatic “The Name of Love and Moonfall,” sung after he confesses his love for her.
     As the proprietor of the Music Hall Royale, Erik Alexis excitedly introduces us to the actors and their characters and guides us through the story with old jokes and a fine voice. His duet with Merrill on “Both Sides of the Coin,” a 100mph patter-song romp through an actor’s confusion when playing two parts, is a highlight of the night.
    As the newcomers from Ceylon, Casey Lynne Garner and DJ Wojciehowski stir things up nicely as siblings Helena and Neville Landless. Wendell Holland’s Reverend Crisparkle is perhaps not the upstanding man of the cloth he wants us to believe. As Princess Puffer, an opium den denizen, Maribeth Vogel offers up a fine “The Garden Path to Hell” in describing how a boyfriend turned her to a life of sleaze. Several other fine characters anchor the show, including Ethan Goldberg as Durdles, the usually drunk stonemason, and Stephanie Bernholz, doing a fine job with the stick puppet that plays Durdles’ Deputy.
    Connecting all of these characters to the plot might take more space than allotted here, so let’s just say that when Drood ends up murdered, there are plenty of suspects, plus a new character who comes on to investigate. This being a musical based on Dickens’ version of Drood rather than the brooding, dark and incomplete novel, it’s all tied up with a happy ending. Several, in fact.    
    Whodunnit? You get to decide.


Director: Andy Scott. Music director: Ken Kimble. Choreographer: Elysia Greene-Merrill. Stage manager: Kristy McKeever. Costumer: Jackie Colestock. Lighting designer: Drew Fox.
 
Playing thru June 20. Th-S plus W June 17 8pm: 143 Compromise St., Annapolis. $22; rsvp: 410-268-9212; summergarden.com.

The music is timeless as life ­imitates art

Is it life imitates art? Or art imitates life? Either way, when Kiss Me, Kate hit Broadway back in 1948, winning a Tony Award, it marked the first time that Cole Porter’s music and lyrics integrated into a stage story, moving beyond showcasing Porter’s clever musical banter to pushing the story along. The story, told in show-within-a-show technique, is the on-and-offstage comedy of errors of the producer, director and star of musical version of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, Fred Graham, his ex-wife and costar Lilli Vanessi, and a comic cast with some very fine voices.
    Brian Binney nails Fred’s egoism, has a fine voice and cavorts across the stage with a jumpiness that mirrors his desperation to ensure that the show goes on. He is desperately trying to keep Lilli from quitting after she discovers his lust for Lois Lane, the sexy young actress whose boyfriend owes some very bad men some very big bucks. As Lilli, Brenda D. Parker is as convincingly egotistical as Fred. She has a powerhouse voice that is flexible enough to move from ballad to comedic in a matter of measures. As Lois and Bill, her boyfriend in arrears, Amy Greco and Nathan Bowen give us a pair of sure-footed hoofers and singers who seem born to the stage of old, whose attractions were soft shoe and solid voices, not special effects and remakes.
    The story is frantic and funny, but it’s the classic Porter songs that keep the audience — at least those of a certain age or interest in Broadway history — thinking a-ha at recognizing tunes that turned out to be timeless. The hit parade starts with the company announcing “Another Op’nin’, Another Show.” As the parade passes by, we’re mesmerized by Parker’s beautiful “So in Love” and riotous “I Hate Men,” Greco’s and Bowen’s “Why Can’t You Behave?” and, opening Act II, Jared Shamberger’s turn as Paul energetically leading the company through a very nicely choreographed “Too Darn Hot.” Special mention to the bassist in the orchestra — either Jeff Eckert or Steve Hudgins in the program — who plucks a very jazzy accompaniment on the latter.
    Other chestnuts, from “Wunderbar” by Binney and Parker to Greco’s “Always True to You in My Fashion,” keep the parade of hits coming. When two toughies, played by Josh Hampton and Michael Iacone, show up trying to collect from Bowen’s Bill and end up a part of the cast, they bring a cool liveliness to the goings-on that culminates in a hilarious “Brush Up Your Shakespeare” that seems to go on forever — and deserves to.
    Costumes by Linda Swann are colorful and fun. Director Roy Hammond and choreographer Rikki Howie Lacewell keep the pace moving. Stage manager Joanne D. Wilson keeps the scene changes short. The live orchestra led by Joe Biddle does a nice job moving the music without overpowering the singers, quite an accomplishment when an orchestra of more than a dozen is playing in a relatively small 155-seat venue like Bowie Playhouse.
    2nd Star’s Kiss Me, Kate brings us old Broadway that’s as good as new. It’s comedy, romance and music that were built to last. Judging by the vitality of 2nd Star’s production, tickets likely won’t.


Playing thru June 27, FSa 8pm; Su 3pm: Bowie Playhouse at White Marsh Park, Bowie; $22 w/discounts; rsvp: 410-757-5700; 2ndstarproductions.com.

Focus on the future; forget the plot

As a little girl, Casey Newton (Britt Robertson: The Longest Ride) dreamed of reaching the stars. Her father (Tim McGraw: Country Strong), a NASA engineer, always told her it was possible. But as Casey enters high school, that dream seems light-years away.
    Her dreams fall before her eyes when NASA tears down the Cape Canaveral launch pad near her home and lay offs her father. It seems the world has stopped dreaming and stopped reaching for the stars. The environment is crumbling, violence around the world is skyrocketing.
    Just as Casey is about to give up on her dreams and the world, she discovers a mysterious pin. Touching it transports her to the futuristic Tomorrowland, where energy is clean, people are happy and space exploration is a high school requirement.
    Fascinated, Casey seeks to know more. She finds Frank Walker (George Clooney: The Monuments Men), a former child prodigy who lived in Tomorrowland. He has grown into a bitter hermit exiled after inventing something bad. Though he refuses to speak to her, Casey’s presence tips off Tomorrowland security, which rushes to contain her.
    Can Casey elude the security forces? Will Frank take her to Tomorrowland? How can a movie be beautiful and boring at the same time?
    Tomorrowland promises excellence. Robot henchmen, a girl who can lift a car, ray guns, hover trains, George Clooney. Yet it’s overlong, oversimplified and sometimes just plain dull.
    For all its attempt to say big things, Tomorrowland lacks nuance and depth. Director Brad Bird (Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol) builds a stunning world, but the philosophical questions he ­raises, though sophomoric, are never answered — even explored. The premise of keep dreaming, everyone! would look great on a poster outside Tomorrowland in Disney World (which is the inspiration for the film).
    The biggest problem is that Bird builds a visually sumptuous future world but denies us exploration rights. Plenty of panning shots show us technology, but we only meet one inhabitant, the film’s antagonist. Without people, the beautiful visuals are a hollow façade.
    Not all is lost. Clooney and Robertson have excellent chemistry, so the film comes alive when they interact. The problems arise when the film attempts to expand on the world beyond them. Supporting players fall flat, plotlines go nowhere and motivation is murky.
    Tomorrowland isn’t a failure, but it wastes a lot of its potential. We could hope such an advanced society would be better at telling its story.

Fair Fantasy • PG • 130 mins.

Our atmosphere tints summer moons

The moon waxes through the weekend, reaching full phase Tuesday, June 2. This time of year the moon follows a low, lazy arc above the southern horizon. At such a low angle to the horizon, before reaching our eyes the moon’s light must cut through much more of earth’s atmosphere than in winter, when the moon shines high overhead. Gases and trapped moisture within the atmosphere combine to tint the image we see a red, orange or yellow, which explains the names of June’s full moon: the Strawberry Moon, the Rose Moon and the Honey Moon.
    Friday night, the moon is joined by Spica, the blue-white first-magnitude star of Virgo, which is just a few degrees below and to the right of the moon.
    Saturday the moon has pulled westward and is midway between Spica to its right and Saturn to its left. Sunday the moon is less than 10 degrees to the left of Saturn, and Monday it is just two degrees to the the left of Saturn with red-orange Antares a few degrees below.
    Having just reached opposition, its closest point to earth and dead-opposite the sun, Saturn rises as the sun sets, is high overhead at midnight and sets with daybreak. Shining at zero magnitude, Saturn is brighter than it’s been in eight years. Better yet, its rings are positioned to allow the best possible viewing and appear all the brighter so close to opposition.
    Saturn isn’t the only planet visible after dark. Sunset reveals Venus high in the west and Jupiter 20 degrees higher still. Night to night, Venus is gaining ground on Jupiter leading to a grand conjunction in late June. Monday Venus forms a near-stright line with the Gemini twins Pollux and Castor.
    By late-evening the stars of the Summer Triangle are perched above the east horizon. Farthest west is the brightest and the fifth-brightest star, Vega, of the constellation Lyra. Off to the southeast of Vega and almost as bright is Altair of Aquila the eagle. Closing the triangle is first-magnitude Deneb, the head of Cygnus the swan.