Sheila E. and Margot Robbie Headline a Dazzling Bay Area Holiday Spectacle

Mia Reynolds, 11/27/2025Experience the vibrant holiday spirit of the Bay Area with dazzling performances, from Sheila E.'s electrifying return to Yoshi's to the inventive twist on "Peter Pan" at Presidio Theatre. Explore unique celebrations like the Garden of D’Lights and a festive fusion of jazz, opera, and culinary delights.

Consider the annual “Peter Pan” at Presidio Theatre. Here, never is there any question of recycling the same old script. Granted, the bones of the story are steadfast, but the spirit? Anything but stale. Instead, tradition finds itself gently ribbed, perhaps even lovingly lampooned, as the production waltzes from classic British panto to a kind of Bay Area fever dream. There are psychedelic flights to Neverland, local actors whose exuberance radiates to the nosebleeds, and enough playful anachronisms to send even the most conservative of grandmothers reaching for the program notes. The effect is nothing less than pure, mischievous escapism—a friendly invitation to rediscover the weightlessness of childhood for just a couple hours.

Not far away, a hush falls over the sprawling beauty of Walnut Creek’s Ruth Bancroft Garden. At first glance, spiky agaves might seem immune to holiday pageantry, but the Garden of D’Lights flips expectations. Imagine cacti casting lurid shadows beneath a mosaic of LEDs, desert flora turned festive by a thousand pinpricks of neon. (Tripadvisor’s bold declaration—“the world’s most beautiful garden”—starts to make a smidge more sense once you’re there, camera in hand, the air tinged with that electric, late-year chill.) The installations here don’t just entertain; they elevate the strange, meditative calm of the garden itself, mixing whimsy and awe in a way only the holidays could.

Jazz, as usual, finds a way to seep through even the tiniest cracks in December’s schedule. With the 60th birthday of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” sneaking up (odd as it feels—wasn’t that album released only yesterday?), jazz trios and soloists pepper venues from City Winery to the coziest wine bars. The Joey Nardone Trio leans in with improvisational warmth, while David Benoit assures everyone at the keys that nostalgia needn’t feel tired. Dave Limina, with a hint of blues, and Jeff Kazee’s horn-heavy band tease out Guaraldi’s melodies so they shimmer, never stall. And, truth be told, there’s comfort in sitting with familiar music—a temporary cocoon, faintly reminiscent of peanut shells and snowflakes.

Flip the dial and things veer toward the flamboyant. Squirrel Nut Zippers, a troupe that has never met a boundary they didn’t want to cancan right over, shakes up the notion of a Christmas standard. Their “Christmas Caravan” beams with a manic, vintage cool; it’s festive but not cloying, laced with a touch of melancholy—especially in that ghostly ode, “A Johnny Ace Christmas.” It’s music that makes you dance, sure, but also think twice about the thin line between merrymaking and memory.

There’s gospel, of course, as only CeCe Winans and her family can offer—voices tumbling over each other in a rush of praise so joyful it threatens to lift the roof. On the Celtic side, Maggie’s Wake brings a windblown edge to fiddles and flutes, fact-checking the idea that every holiday song must be a rerun. Toss in an original or two that sticks long after last call, and suddenly, the season feels less predictable than anyone expects.

Opera, never one to sit quietly during the holidays, adds its own measure of drama. Opera San Jose’s “Madama Butterfly”—centered on Emily Michiko Jensen’s exquisite, nerve-raw take on Cio-Cio San—serves up heartbreak that’s hard to shake off. There’s a moment, right before the final curtain, where the entire theater seems to lose its breath—proof, perhaps, that even in a world of relentless digital distractions, live performance still hits a vein.

What of the music aficionados with rougher edges or roving tastes? The Del Fuegos’ comeback in 2025 brings a touch of grit—equal parts Boston swagger and road-worn resilience, tempered by years away from the limelight. Meanwhile, at San Jose Improv, Tim Dillon is busy dissecting the cultural ferment of the era with all the brash honesty that comedy, at its best, delivers. “A Real Hero” isn’t just a special; it’s a verbal high-wire act—equal parts satire and reluctant optimism.

Not to be overshadowed, spectacle takes center stage as the San Francisco Symphony tackles “Barbie”—the movie, not the toy aisle icon. There’s an odd, delightful grandeur to watching Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt’s soundscape filter through the concert hall. Margot Robbie’s existential Barbie quest might sound improbable in an orchestral context, but perhaps that’s the point. When was the last time a film score made a whole crowd pause and wonder, “What Was I Made For?”

Here and there, tradition cozies up to culinary delight. Holidays in the Bay don’t just mean another pass at sugar cookies—they offer natilla and buñuelos, borrowed from warmer climes and perfect for chilly evenings. Even wandering San Jose’s Christmas in the Park, past the Community Giving Tree—sixty feet of local generosity and light—there’s a lingering sense that, for a fleeting moment, the city itself believes in the promise of brighter days. Maybe local officials do go a touch overboard in their press releases (“explosion of holiday merriment”), but honestly, who’s counting?

In the East Bay, Yoshi’s pulses anew as Sheila E. returns, her percussion cutting a path through jazz, R&B, and funk. The crowd seems in on the secret: there’s nothing artificial about live music played with true intention. Her new record, “Hella FonkE,” doesn’t just reference the Bay—it channels it, beat by beat, groove by groove.

All things considered, December here isn’t a parade of checklists or a forced march through holiday tropes. It’s an unruly, vibrant mix—part memory, part revelation, all wrapped in unexpected light. Where else does a theater tradition bump elbows with illuminated gardens and see its reflection in the glass of a crowded jazz bar? At a time when streaming fatigue is widespread and attention spans are rumored extinct, maybe that’s the real gift: the chance, just for an evening, to get lost inside a room of strangers and walk out—if only slightly—changed.

Come to think of it, perhaps that’s the measure of any holiday worth its salt: the stories shared, the music ringing long after midnight, and the stubborn glimmer of wonder that refuses to be snuffed out by routine. The Bay Area, in its usual offbeat fashion, insists on giving all of that—often in the same night. Sometimes, all it takes is saying yes to whatever’s glowing on the next block. Or simply listening for that first note drifting across the fog.

There’s something peculiar about December in the Bay Area—a kind of kinetic energy that pulses through the fog and lights up even the quietest street. It might be the swish of panto pirates’ boots across a stage, or maybe just the lingering notes of jazz tumbling out of a packed lounge. Whatever it is, the season knows how to dress up ordinary weekends in the most unexpected sparkle.Consider the annual “Peter Pan” at Presidio Theatre. Here, never is there any question of recycling the same old script. Granted, the bones of the story are steadfast, but the spirit? Anything but stale. Instead, tradition finds itself gently ribbed, perhaps even lovingly lampooned, as the production waltzes from classic British panto to a kind of Bay Area fever dream. There are psychedelic flights to Neverland, local actors whose exuberance radiates to the nosebleeds, and enough playful anachronisms to send even the most conservative of grandmothers reaching for the program notes. The effect is nothing less than pure, mischievous escapism—a friendly invitation to rediscover the weightlessness of childhood for just a couple hours.Not far away, a hush falls over the sprawling beauty of Walnut Creek’s Ruth Bancroft Garden. At first glance, spiky agaves might seem immune to holiday pageantry, but the Garden of D’Lights flips expectations. Imagine cacti casting lurid shadows beneath a mosaic of LEDs, desert flora turned festive by a thousand pinpricks of neon. (Tripadvisor’s bold declaration—“the world’s most beautiful garden”—starts to make a smidge more sense once you’re there, camera in hand, the air tinged with that electric, late-year chill.) The installations here don’t just entertain; they elevate the strange, meditative calm of the garden itself, mixing whimsy and awe in a way only the holidays could.Jazz, as usual, finds a way to seep through even the tiniest cracks in December’s schedule. With the 60th birthday of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” sneaking up (odd as it feels—wasn’t that album released only yesterday?), jazz trios and soloists pepper venues from City Winery to the coziest wine bars. The Joey Nardone Trio leans in with improvisational warmth, while David Benoit assures everyone at the keys that nostalgia needn’t feel tired. Dave Limina, with a hint of blues, and Jeff Kazee’s horn-heavy band tease out Guaraldi’s melodies so they shimmer, never stall. And, truth be told, there’s comfort in sitting with familiar music—a temporary cocoon, faintly reminiscent of peanut shells and snowflakes.Flip the dial and things veer toward the flamboyant. Squirrel Nut Zippers, a troupe that has never met a boundary they didn’t want to cancan right over, shakes up the notion of a Christmas standard. Their “Christmas Caravan” beams with a manic, vintage cool; it’s festive but not cloying, laced with a touch of melancholy—especially in that ghostly ode, “A Johnny Ace Christmas.” It’s music that makes you dance, sure, but also think twice about the thin line between merrymaking and memory.There’s gospel, of course, as only CeCe Winans and her family can offer—voices tumbling over each other in a rush of praise so joyful it threatens to lift the roof. On the Celtic side, Maggie’s Wake brings a windblown edge to fiddles and flutes, fact-checking the idea that every holiday song must be a rerun. Toss in an original or two that sticks long after last call, and suddenly, the season feels less predictable than anyone expects.Opera, never one to sit quietly during the holidays, adds its own measure of drama. Opera San Jose’s “Madama Butterfly”—centered on Emily Michiko Jensen’s exquisite, nerve-raw take on Cio-Cio San—serves up heartbreak that’s hard to shake off. There’s a moment, right before the final curtain, where the entire theater seems to lose its breath—proof, perhaps, that even in a world of relentless digital distractions, live performance still hits a vein.What of the music aficionados with rougher edges or roving tastes? The Del Fuegos’ comeback in 2025 brings a touch of grit—equal parts Boston swagger and road-worn resilience, tempered by years away from the limelight. Meanwhile, at San Jose Improv, Tim Dillon is busy dissecting the cultural ferment of the era with all the brash honesty that comedy, at its best, delivers. “A Real Hero” isn’t just a special; it’s a verbal high-wire act—equal parts satire and reluctant optimism.Not to be overshadowed, spectacle takes center stage as the San Francisco Symphony tackles “Barbie”—the movie, not the toy aisle icon. There’s an odd, delightful grandeur to watching Mark Ronson and Andrew Wyatt’s soundscape filter through the concert hall. Margot Robbie’s existential Barbie quest might sound improbable in an orchestral context, but perhaps that’s the point. When was the last time a film score made a whole crowd pause and wonder, “What Was I Made For?”Here and there, tradition cozies up to culinary delight. Holidays in the Bay don’t just mean another pass at sugar cookies—they offer natilla and buñuelos, borrowed from warmer climes and perfect for chilly evenings. Even wandering San Jose’s Christmas in the Park, past the Community Giving Tree—sixty feet of local generosity and light—there’s a lingering sense that, for a fleeting moment, the city itself believes in the promise of brighter days. Maybe local officials do go a touch overboard in their press releases (“explosion of holiday merriment”), but honestly, who’s counting?In the East Bay, Yoshi’s pulses anew as Sheila E. returns, her percussion cutting a path through jazz, R&B, and funk. The crowd seems in on the secret: there’s nothing artificial about live music played with true intention. Her new record, “Hella FonkE,” doesn’t just reference the Bay—it channels it, beat by beat, groove by groove.All things considered, December here isn’t a parade of checklists or a forced march through holiday tropes. It’s an unruly, vibrant mix—part memory, part revelation, all wrapped in unexpected light. Where else does a theater tradition bump elbows with illuminated gardens and see its reflection in the glass of a crowded jazz bar? At a time when streaming fatigue is widespread and attention spans are rumored extinct, maybe that’s the real gift: the chance, just for an evening, to get lost inside a room of strangers and walk out—if only slightly—changed.Come to think of it, perhaps that’s the measure of any holiday worth its salt: the stories shared, the music ringing long after midnight, and the stubborn glimmer of wonder that refuses to be snuffed out by routine. The Bay Area, in its usual offbeat fashion, insists on giving all of that—often in the same night. Sometimes, all it takes is saying yes to whatever’s glowing on the next block. Or simply listening for that first note drifting across the fog.