:: FRIDAY, MARCH 14 - THURSDAY, MARCH 20 ::

📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING

Chicago European Union Film Festival Spotlight: Poland

Gene Siskel Film Center – See showtimes below

Jerzy Skolimowski's EO (Poland/UK/Italy)
Friday, 8pm
In 2022, Steven Spielberg retrofitted JAWS for IMAX theaters, transforming a classic film into a towering, visceral experience. One might say that Jerzy Skolimowski did the same thing that year with Robert Bresson’s AU HASARD BALTHAZAR (1966); his quasi-remake EO (a prizewinner at Cannes) is a big screen experience par excellence, with large-scale imagery and booming sound design that make you feel the titular donkey’s suffering in your bones. Some might balk at Skolimowski’s decision to put his spin on Bresson’s allegorical masterpiece—which is beyond question one of the greatest films ever made—yet such an audacious move is in keeping with this major artist, who first came to prominence in the early 1960s as an acclaimed poet and a figurehead of Poland’s postwar youth culture. The director’s ‘60s work remains astounding in its freewheeling energy and inspired visual metaphors (it’s worth noting that, after Bresson, he was one of the European filmmakers that Cahiers du cinéma championed the most in that decade); this period culminated with the blunt social critique of his 1967 production HANDS UP!, which was so incendiary that it more or less got him exiled from his native country (moreover, he wasn’t able to complete the film until 1981). After that, Skolimowski made movies in several other countries (including the US) before returning to Poland in the 1990s. The handful of films he’s made since then feel less indebted to his work as poet than his work as a painter, which has occupied much of his time in the past several decades. Indeed, EO contains an abundance of striking images, and these drive the film more than the loose narrative, which follows a donkey after he leaves the circus where he’s performed. The animal’s misfortunes mirror those of contemporary Europe; the most upsetting episode is probably the one that concerns the violent activity of a thuggish group of modern-day nationalists. A late episode in the film with guest star Isabelle Huppert works in some anticlerical sentiment that feels more akin to Buñuel than Bresson, while the final episode approaches the apocalyptic feelings of Bresson’s last two features, THE DEVIL, PROBABLY (1977) and L’ARGENT (1983). It’s a grim work, to be sure, yet Skolimowski’s immersive camerawork alleviates the proceedings, reminding us (as Bresson did) how miraculous the cinematic form can be. (2022, 86 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Maria Zbąska’s IT’S NOT MY FILM (Poland)
Saturday, 1:15pm
At the start of IT’S NOT MY FILM, Wanda and Janek have been together for several years, and they feel their relationship is in a rut. Neither one particularly wants to end things—they’re both too afraid of facing single life again in their late 30s—yet they’re too dissatisfied with the current state of affairs to continue with things as they are. The opening scenes exhibit a certain frankness about life and love, addressing everyday frustrations about both that most movies (romantic comedies in particular) tend to ignore. Writer-director Maria Zbąska, making her feature debut, seems to be following in the footsteps of Maren Ade’s great second feature EVERYONE ELSE (2009), eliciting a disarming intimacy from her two leads that makes the confessional dialogue especially impactful. Yet she brings the film to a decidedly gentler register once Janek comes up with a gambit to save his and Wanda’s relationship: the two will hike along a barren 200-kilometer-stretch of the Baltic coast in wintertime; if they can make it to their destination on foot, it means they can weather anything and they’ll commit to making things work between them. The trip accounts for the rest of the film, which doubles as a travelogue of an under-photographed time and place in the world. Wanda and Janek recognize early on that they’re acting out a metaphor—their struggle against nature represents the challenges they face as a couple—so Zbąska doesn’t belabor it; the film falls into a natural rhythm in which the two bicker, laugh, and relearn how to collaborate on common goals. As all this proceeds, Zbąska gradually reveals the characters’ backstories, which explains how they came to be so unhappy in the first place. The causes of their unhappiness aren’t entirely their fault; the film is rather clear-eyed in its assessment of what is and isn’t beyond their control. The overall maturity of IT’S NOT MY FILM can be felt even in its premise. There are plenty of romantic comedies about falling in love, so it’s refreshing to encounter one about staying in love. (2024, 99 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Krzysztof Kieslowski's THREE COLORS: BLUE (Poland/France/Switzerland)
Sunday, 12pm
In THREE COLORS: BLUE, the first in his French flag-inspired trilogy, Krzysztof Kieslowski puts forward the radical notion that liberty—here connected, like the later WHITE and RED (both 1994), with France’s national motto, “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité”—can be attained through loss. Juliette Binoche stars as Julie, a young woman who loses both her husband and young daughter in a car accident at the beginning of the film. Rather than piece her life back together after surviving the tragedy, she decides to leave it all behind, devoid of anything from her previous life except the blue crystal chandelier from her daughter's bedroom. Her husband was a famous composer (though it’s implied that Julie actually wrote his music, or at least helped more than anyone knew), and pieces of his last, unfinished symphony—a concert for the reunification of Europe—haunt her at particularly blue (pun intended) moments. She’s unable to fully escape her past, however, in large part because of that music. She’s pursued by a shrewd journalist and an eager public, both curious about her husband’s final work, as well as his creative partner, who’s in love with her. (Then there’s the weight of her husband’s secrets, which, naturally, include a mistress.) Compelling as the narrative is, it’s Julie’s vacuousness, realized exquisitely by Binoche, that resounds most beautifully. Grief is an inherently cinematic emotion—or, rather, a range of emotions brought about by some sort of drama, the action and aesthetic of which (e.g., the build to a devastating car crash, a somber funeral broadcast on television, two coffins: one big, the other small, etc.) make for compelling cinema. In BLUE, however, referred to as an anti-tragedy just as WHITE and RED are referred to as an anti-comedy and an anti-romance, respectively, Kieslowski cuts it off at the quick, allowing for only said external indulgences before beginning to interiorize Julie’s mourning. In concert with Binoche’s stunning performance, he employs a series of clever tricks to make such scenes understandable to an audience otherwise severed from Julie’s inner dialogue, namely his conceptual use of the French tricolor (mostly blue), musical interludes that signify her preoccupation with the unfinished score, and blunt fade-outs meant to indicate a lapse in focus rather than a shot change or scene transition. Throughout the trilogy as a whole, Kieslowski succeeds in humanizing the symbolism behind the flag’s complicated ideals, but, with BLUE, the canny motifs do not entirely blunt the piercing idea that only without emotional ties one can truly be free. (1993, 100 min, New 4K DCP Digital Restoration) [Kat Sachs]
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Krzystof Kieslowski's THREE COLORS: WHITE (Poland/France/Switzerland)
Sunday, 2pm
The second installment in the Krzysztof Kieslowski's Three Colors trilogy takes a lighter tone than the first and third. Following Karol Karol (a bumbling Zbigniew Zamachowski) as he seeks the love and then the downfall of his ex-wife (Julie Delpy), the Polish filmmaker crafts an anti-romance, a series of convoluted situations that aren’t actually that funny. He doesn’t intend to play these moments for laughs, but rather gives the audience a straight-laced version of a dark, absurdist comedy. Though WHITE has become the most forgotten of the trilogy, it lands its affecting blows near the end of the story, never opting for cheap twists or decisions that run contrary to the behavior of its central character. Zamachowski gives a slight performance as Karol, a man destined to lose even as he’s winning, and Delpy fills in the gaps in her limited screen time, always a welcome presence in any movie. But this film is a chance for Kieslowski to once again prove his ability to contort expectations and offer up something new in a vein that many of us can recognize. In WHITE, he’s reshaping our idea of the romantic comedy, putting forward a portrayal of love that’s far different than what was common in hits of the 1990s. WHITE isn’t the funniest film, or the gushiest, but it still has heart and appeal, even in a drab color palette and a disheartening story about the power and perils of love. (1994, 91 min, New 4K DCP Digital Restoration) [Michael Frank]
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Krzysztof Kieslowski's THREE COLORS: RED (Poland/France/Switzerland)
Sunday, 4:30pm
One of the culminating films of the 20th century, RED not only brings Krzysztof Kieslowki’s “Three Colors” trilogy to a grand close, but stands at the summation of one of the great careers in modern European movies. Kieslowski and his longtime co-writer Krzysztof Piesiewicz symphonically interweave their major themes (fate, coincidence, the possibility of transcendence in modern life), creating a story that’s remarkable for being both dense and flowing. Where BLUE was inspired by the idea of liberty and WHITE by the idea of equality, RED tackles the concept of fraternity, inviting viewers to contemplate how individuals are connected to one another by the social fabric. It centers on the relationship between a burgeoning fashion model (Irène Jacob) and the retired judge (Jean-Louis Trintignant) whom she meets by chance after she hits his dog with her car. The young woman wants to do good by the judge, but she doubts her mission as she gets to know him; the old man turns out to be a misanthrope and a voyeur who uses audio surveillance technology to spy on his neighbors. Kieslowski and Piesiewicz counterpose this story with one about an aspiring young judge who comes to suspect his lover of being unfaithful, and while this tale is more comic in nature, it gains resonance from its parallels with the principal narrative. Like few other directors, Kieslowski was able to suggest the perspective of a compassionate deity looking out on humankind, and in RED, he uses that gift to advance a perspective that’s at once intimate and global. These characters could be anybody (Kieslowski’s camera could have followed any telephone wire from that opening montage, could have landed on any subject); that they experience individual desires and moral aspirations inspires wonder with the depth and variety of human existence. Piotr Sobocinski’s cinematography, with its emphasis on deep reds and blacks, adds to the film’s inviting power. (1994, 99 min, New 4K DCP Digital Restoration) [Ben Sachs]
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Jan P. Matuszyński’s MINGHUN (Poland)
Wednesday, 6pm
Among the most ancient of human beliefs is in the existence of an afterlife in which the dead continue their earthly existence in their customary manner with those they cherished when they were alive. In China, a minghun, or ghost wedding, is performed when a loved one has died before they were able to marry. The reasons for performing this odd ritual vary, but in Jan Matusyzński’s MINGHUN, it is posed as a cure for loneliness in the spirit world. Widower Jurek (Marcin Dorocinski) lives in Gdansk with his beloved daughter Masia (Ntalia Bui), a musician entering adulthood. Following a Chinese New Year celebration, Masia and her friends leave her home to drive to another party; their car hits a lightpost, and Masia is killed. Jurek, bereft, contacts Ben (Daxing Zhang), the Chinese father-in-law from whom he has distanced himself, to come to the funeral from his home in Scotland. When he arrives, he proposes the idea of finding a recently deceased man with whom Masia might have been compatible to be her ghost husband. Initially hostile to the proposal, Jurek slowly warms to the idea as he considers how wonderful it would be if he could see his long-dead wife again. Matuszyński uses flashbacks to get us better acquainted with Masia and somewhat normalize our curious participation in Ben and Jurek’s quest to find someone suitable to be Masia’s forever husband. The script by Grzegorz Loszewski leans into the idea of fate and surrender to the irrational, but MINGHUN never feels forced or ridiculous. Grief is universal, but we all approach it in individual ways. I found the ceremony at the center of Matusyzński’s story both unique and beautifully realized as a creative approach to one of life’s inevitabilities. (2024, 94 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
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View the full schedule for the Chicago European Union Film Festival Spotlight: Poland here.

Brendan Bellomo and Slava Leontyev’s PORCELAIN WAR (Ukraine/US/Australia/Documentary)

FACETS – Sunday, 4pm

Slava and Anya are married artists in eastern Ukraine who make intricately designed porcelain figurines. Their division of labor in making the little sculptures reflects the healthy, supportive nature of their partnership, which began when the two were children: he constructs the figurines, and she paints the designs. Their artistic process is so essential to their lives together that they’ve continued making figurines throughout the Russian military invasion of their country, which they also help to fight against. PORCELAIN WAR is a tribute to the citizen-soldiers of Ukraine, who come from all sorts of backgrounds and are united in their patriotism. One of the more eye-opening moments of the film comes when it introduces the people whom Slava and Anya are fighting alongside, relating what everyone’s profession was before the invasion. No one seems to have had any military experience, which makes their bravery in combating the invasion all the more admirable. The film also shows how the war is being fought; there’s even a short introduction to how the citizen-soldiers use drones. But what shines through is the central portrait of the married artists and their efforts to maintain some sense of normalcy amidst calamitous times. Some of the scenes that show them making their figurines are even soothing, showing how art can be a salve during difficult times and why the defense of Slava and Anya’s lives in particular is crucial to the fate of Ukraine on the whole. (2024, 87 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

Jules Rosskam's DESIRE LINES (US)

Block Cinema (at Northwestern University) – Friday, 7pm

We first meet DESIRE LINES’ protagonist Ahmad (Aden Hakimi) by adopting his POV, the camera roving through a gay bathhouse that eventually reveals itself as the archive he’s visiting for a vague "personal" project. Ahmad, like all of the subjects of Jules Rosskam’s docufiction film, is a gay trans man, and he has come to the archive to learn more about the cruising lifestyle that he never got to experience firsthand. Ahmad meets and eventually grows smitten with his younger archival assistant Kieran (Theo Germaine), as his search is intercut with documentary interviews with other gay trans men about their lived experiences and sexual awakenings. As the film stacks on themes and material to be a sort of ur-portrait of the modern gay trans man, it mounts a sophisticated exploration of the gaze; as laid out in the film’s opening shot where the cruising camera sizes up, and is alternately sized up or avoided altogether by the various congregants of the bathhouse it passes, these interpersonal gazes eventually transcend time as we see Ahmad pouring over material about them, archival searches doubling as a sort of voyeurism that blends the carnal and historical. While the staged material is affecting, it’s the interviews that ground the film as an intellectual project. One subject who refers to himself as a “professional trans person” speaks about his body being intellectualized rather than desired in gender discourse, honing in on the dichotomy the film seems to be exploring with its docufiction balance. Whether the film achieves a really embodied desire is up to the viewer to decide; the fictional sections have a sort of soundstage sterility to them, their Brechtian flatness like an extension of this same project, something "necessary" for understanding the desire at play but still feeling in some ways secondhand, amalgamated from the nonfiction material with which it shares screentime. Central to all of this is Lou Sullivan, one of if not the first public advocate for gay trans men. Rosskam interpolates interview footage with Sullivan, framing him as a key part of this whole archive, a trailblazing figure from whom all future trans men draw from in some way. While treating Sullivan as the literal first ftm to ever exist would be reductive, the material speaks to the power of representation, and the role that Sullivan has played in the life of so many trans men since his public appearances and writing in the '70s and '80s. He was and still is a beacon with the power to unlock self-actualization in others. In one scene, Kiernan instructively invokes Derrida’s concept of the "desire for the archive": many need to find the historical origin of, and thus possess a moment or a feeling as a way to make sense of the self. It’s an ongoing desire for queer and trans people, in a world that is still slowly discovering and rebuilding the history of LGBTQ people from the scraps left us by forbearers wiped out by disease, violence, and repression. For its part, DESIRE LINES is a building block that extends this work, as well as the work of Full Spectrum Features, the film’s production company that’s become a pillar of Chicago queer filmmaking in recent years. Preceded by Henry Hanson's 2022 short film BROS BEFORE (19 min, DCP Digital). Followed by a conversation between Rosskam and Hanson. Screening as part of the Trans Portraiture Series. (2024, 83 min, DCP Digital) [Maxwell Courtright]

Jean Rollin’s LA MORTE VIVANTE, or THE LIVING DEAD GIRL (France)

Alamo Drafthouse – Tuesday, 9:30pm

Marked by a determination to wring gothic artistry from mercenary production realities, the films of Jean Rollin (THE GRAPES OF DEATH, FASCINATION, THE IRON ROSE) display an admirable integrity of tone and ambition across the dozen-odd features he put his name to. From schlock beginnings—a gang stashing toxic waste in a French crypt accidentally revive the nude corpse of blonde maiden Christine Valmont (Françoise Blanchard)—LA MORTE VIVANTE draws a weird tale of homecoming and reunion, as the mute Christine, after slaughtering the intruders, finds her way home to the country castle where she was raised. There, she meets again with Hélène (Marina Pierro, screen muse of director Walerian Borowczyk), the childhood playmate seen in sepia-toned flashbacks that show the blood oath they swore to each other in innocence. Through music and their silent connection, Hélène coaxes Christine back to speech, but not to a full and normal life, for the dead are different than you and me. Interspersed with this story of a disordered friendship rekindled are scenes of tourists enjoying the bucolic surrounding villages, including the photographer Barbara (Carina Barone), who snaps a few shots of the errant Christine, and her husband (Mike Marshall). As Barbara investigates of the strange girl’s connection to the castle and the villagers who live in its shadow, Rollin’s pacing intercuts Hélène and Christine, united in solitude, with the happiness of the tourists; the scene where Hélène stalks through a bizarre polka celebration, surrounded by lovers, encapsulates the film’s unspoken theme of isolation and its consequences. For although Christine has returned as a kind of monster, it is Hélène, her keeper, who drives the action to its conclusion, with Pierro’s hateful glare the answer to Blanchard’s meek compulsion (Blanchard, who had not previously worked with Rollin, fainted during the shooting of a particularly violent scene). Featuring the most rapturous flesh-eating this side of TROUBLE EVERY DAY (2001), the economy of Rollin’s staging belies the sumptuous melancholy of his atmosphere. The sparing use of score goes hand in hand with his use of recurring voices on the soundtrack: pleas for mercy, names whispered in fear. His misfit vision of horror—not truly meant for the gorehounds or the prurient—finds its focus in the mournfulness of his beasts and beauties. The film’s resourceful poetry resolves in a finale of agonizing simplicity, a painterly tableau drenched in blood, set against screams of ecstatic loneliness. Screening as part of the Terror Tuesday series. (1982, 89 min, DCP Digital) [Brendan Boyle]

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Rungano Nyoni’s ON BECOMING A GUINEA FOWL (UK/Zambia/Ireland/US)

Gene Siskel Film Center and the Music Box Theatre – See Venue websites for showtimes

Rungano Nyoni’s transfixing sophomore feature opens in silence and ends in cacophony. The journey from one end to the other is littered with images volleying between painfully accurate recollection and lucid dreaming, sometimes within the same scene, or flowing into one another seamlessly. From the moment our protagonist Shula (Susan Chardy in a revelatory debut performance) finds a dead body in the middle of the road and slowly realizes that the corpse just so happens to be her Uncle Fred, she finds herself (literally) caught between her adult self seeking shelter from the situation and her younger self enraptured by the bizarre scenario before her. Nyoni is deeply fascinated by the rituals of mourning, particularly in older generations, and how the reverent behaviors of preserving someone’s legacy often clash with the sins of the dead. Steeped in the cultural specifics of its Zambian characters and setting, there are still cultural echoes that reverberate, from the aunties’ disappointment in Shula having bathed before the burial, to the lethargic tone that occupies the memorial home. This seemingly holy experience is ultimately threatened by the unfurling revelations of Uncle Fred’s lecherous past, particularly his proclivity towards sexually abusing the younger women of the family. As humorous as early stretches of the film are (Nyoni’s actors nimbly handle early moments of dark comedy with aplomb), the film takes a seamless sour turn, as Shula navigates her own past mirrored against the twists and turns and horrid revelations that lie before her. Visions of the past are resurrected, threatening to upend Shula’s steely exterior, the dam ever in fear of breaking. Perhaps most remarkably, Nyoni’s work of self-actualization finds an ending that confidently navigates narrative ambiguity and thematic closure, seeking justice and retribution and connection through sheer, discordant rage. (2024, 99 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

Cheryl Dunye's THE WATERMELON WOMAN (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Sunday, 12:15pm

It’s 1997 in Philadelphia, but Cheryl (Cheryl Dunye) can’t get her mind off the 1930s. An aspiring filmmaker who pays the bills by juggling various wedding gigs and shifts at a video store, Cheryl becomes fascinated by an obscure film actress named Fae Richards—also known as The Watermelon Woman—who played Black “mammy” roles throughout the ‘30s. Cheryl turns this obsession into her first real film project, a documentary that leads to a journey of finding forgotten pieces of Black lesbian history and filmmaking. At the same time, Cheryl navigates her budding relationship with a white woman, Diana (Guinevere Turner), often mirroring Richards’ rumored relationship with director Martha Page. Dunye makes it clear that THE WATERMELON WOMAN is both a Black film and a lesbian film, and that acknowledging the importance of how those identities relate to one another is integral to understanding a broader picture of queer history in America. This is not a film that cares about a white gaze—nor should it—but it is crucial viewing all the same. The dialogue is sometimes charming, sometimes awkward, and always laugh-out-loud funny, making THE WATERMELON WOMAN a breeze to watch. But there is real heart and substance in addition to all that; the yearning for a past that was never yours, a future that isn’t quite here yet, and an identity that guides how you move through the world. (1997, 90 min, New DCP Digital Restoration) [Cody Corrall]

Bennett Miller’s MONEYBALL (US)

Music Box Theatre – Tuesday, 7pm

“How can you not be romantic about baseball?” Brad Pitt asks Jonah Hill in MONEYBALL. Director Bennett Miller’s answer to that question is that you can’t. Tasked with assembling a team for a third of the money of his rivals, Oakland A’s general manager and former player Billy Beane (Pitt) meets Peter Brand (Hill), a low-level team advisor who introduces him to an unconventional drafting and scouting system called sabermetrics. Sabermetrics is a system used to identify “undervalued players” by in-game activity and sign them on the cheap. Sounds dry, doesn't it? It easily could be, but Miller’s delicate, sure-footed approach to the material is transformative through his centering of character. By focusing on the people that make up the game of baseball, it paints a larger picture of emotional stakes and determination. Miller treats the material with the weight of the world shifting because, in baseball, it did. A sharp, incisive screenplay penned by Steven Zaillian, based on the best-selling book Moneyball: The Art of Winning An Unfair Game by Michael Lewis, was later rewritten by Aaron Sorkin and reads as one of his most muted. The dialogue is straightforward and quotable, not overly punchy or abrasive. It was lensed by Christopher Nolan collaborator Wally Pfister, who utilizes the low lights and shadows of the maze-like, empty stadium. Often photographing figures at a distance, dwarfed by their surroundings, a speck among the sport they’ve dedicated their lives to. It occasionally engages with the aesthetics of watching the game through close-ups of monitors, players pixelated, playing with the concept of distance as Beane (who never attends games in person, afraid he might jinx them) views it unfolding directly below the field. Baseball is romantic—a strategic game that requires skill, immense discipline, and total luck. What MONEYBALL does is open up an insular world of sports and economics into a character study hinged on emotional truths. Billy Beane is a man filled with regret, signed to the major leagues right out of high school but didn’t have what it takes to play the game. He's a man who was told he had a purpose, but it wasn't meant to be and he has been searching for a new one ever since. He found it in revolutionizing the game. Pitt approaches the role of Beane with a humanist touch, a good ol' boy with pain behind his eyes. His daughter, Casey (Kerris Dorsey), brings a tenderness to the masculinity of the narrative, her sweet voice carrying the final moments of the film. Hill's Peter Brand is a shy, reserved genius, happy to be a tool for Beane to utilize. MONEYBALL is a film that makes me weep. Mychael Danna's potent strings weaken me at the knees, moments of loss and triumph burgeoned by the score. There is something so moving about commitment, not only doing a job but doing a job well. My family often teases me for crying at movies where men do their job well. I admit, it is a soft spot and by god, Billy Beane does his job well. There is dignity in practice, shaping yourself to achieve a goal. And when doing that with a team, trust is formed. There is a reliance on each other, an understanding that you will let each other down and lift each other up. Trust is a scary thing, but its rewards can be endless. MONEYBALL is not about the ability to see potential, but about the act of taking a chance on it. Screening as part of Play Ball! A Baseball Series. (2011, 133 min, 35mm) [Olivia Hunter Willke]

Basel Adra, Hamdan Ballal, Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor’s NO OTHER LAND (Norway/Palestine/Documentary)

Alamo Drafthouse – See Venue website for showtimes

“This is a story about power.” Basel Adra, a lifelong resident of the Masafer Yatta region of the West Bank, speaks these words to cap off a story about former British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s visit to the region, a visit that—while perhaps nothing more than a publicity stunt—resulted in the IDF's previously scheduled demolitions of Palestinian schools and homes to be called off. But this film, NO OTHER LAND, is also a story about power, about needless emotional and physical damage, about the constant barrage of senseless destruction of peoples’ livelihoods that so many around the world have either become desensitized to or have found labyrinthine methods of justifying to themselves this continued degradation of humanity. The framework of the onscreen narrative stretches from the summer of 2019 through October of 2023, and it focuses on the growing friendship between two of the film’s directors: the aforementioned Basel and Yuval Abraham, an Israeli journalist who has arrived to learn more about the continuing Israeli mission of Palestinian subjugation. The footage we see is, at the very least, rage-inducing: homes and schools and entire villages senselessly bulldozed to oblivion, supposedly for the flimsy excuse of being turned into “military zones.” The ensuing carnage and accompanying attitudes perpetrated by the Israeli soldiers captured on film oscillates between “duty-bound” apathy or entitled machismo, in one instance resulting in a soldier shooting and paralyzing a friend of Basel’s, Harun Abu Aram. The law is, indeed, on the side of the Israelis, so why should these Palestinian children be so upset when their homes are destroyed in broad daylight when it’s perfectly “legal” to do so? The filmmakers make a point to highlight the intentional existential ploy being pulled off here, where Israelis can come and go as they please throughout the West Bank, whereas Palestinians are legally bound to the region and otherwise othered in all aspects of Israeli society (Basel notes, despite having a law degree, he would only realistically be able to find a job as a construction worker were he to move to Israel). Throughout it all—perhaps to actively combat it all—there are still laughs shared among family members, there are still games played in the snow during winter, and the children still play and swing around and try to find some semblance of joy amidst their displacement. Underneath the political mire of the “complicated” banner so often thrown at the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, there are simply families wanting to share a meal together, mothers caring for sons, fathers keeping businesses afloat, and countless young people staring at their phones, because what else is there? That the directing team is comprised of both Israelis and Palestinians points towards some kind of hopeful future where a shared understanding of the horrors at hand can be truly realized (some of the more noteworthy and thorny passages arise when various Palestinians question Yuval’s own complicity in the continued settlements of the region, though the film leaves these points dangling rather than digging deeper, for better or worse). Additionally, that the film failed to find US theatrical distribution, while still receiving an Academy Award nomination for Best Documentary Feature, speaks to how open endorsement for Palestinian rights tends to only go so far. Perhaps the true power of NO OTHER LAND, and of this entire story, is the continued resilience and drive in Palestinians capturing the reality on the ground and urgently spreading the truth as far as possible. Here, the camera proves mightier than the sword. (2024, 96 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

Mike Leigh’s HARD TRUTHS (UK)

FACETS – Saturday, 3pm and 5pm

Mike Leigh has long shown a liking for dyspeptic characters, exploiting both the thrill and pathos of individuals taking out their anger on the world. In his gallery of ornery malcontents, only David Thewlis’s Johnny in NAKED (1993) comes close to the voluble, angsty belligerence of Leigh’s newest creation, Pansy. As played by a blistering Marianne Jean-Baptiste, reuniting with Leigh for the first time since SECRETS & LIES (1996), Pansy is a walking stick of dynamite ready to explode at whomever is unlucky enough to be in her vicinity. This is mostly her husband Curtley (David Webber, superb) and adult son Moses (Tuwaine Barrett), whose sullen, passive demeanors suggest they’ve become numb to her incessant tirades. At first, Pansy’s grumpiness is quite funny, and even relatable, as in a dinnertime rant in which she goes from decrying sidewalk charity workers to pockets on baby clothes (“What’s it gonna keep in its pocket? A knife?”). But as HARD TRUTHS goes on, Pansy’s sour mood and all-encompassing contempt grow more untenable and, finally, tragic. Arguably one of the most profound humanists in contemporary cinema, Leigh demonstrates a patience and empathy toward Pansy that is hugely disproportionate to the patience and empathy she extends to others; in the process, he allows us to see the wounded human being beneath the bitterness that is her armor, to understand how the hurt she’s endured is transferred into hurt she perpetuates. HARD TRUTHS hints at reasons for Pansy’s behavior (some expository dialogue with her much happier sister, Chantelle, indicates a traumatic relationship with her late mother), but the film declines to diagnose her, or give her a trite arc of redemption. She remains as severe as Dick Pope’s starkly lit digital images, among the least inviting in Leigh’s oeuvre, and as willfully hemmed-in as the little backyard of her row house that even she fears to venture into. There is no catharsis in HARD TRUTHS, just a prolonged impasse in which honest, mutually productive communication feels like one of the hardest things in the world. (97 min, 2024, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]

Preston Sturges' THE LADY EVE (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Saturday, 12pm

Preston Sturges made one of the most revered screwball comedies, THE LADY EVE, in 1941 and continued his string of 1940s masterpieces in 1942 with another screwball classic, THE PALM BEACH STORY. The zany montage sequence set over the opening credits (scored with a speedy version of the “William Tell Overture”), tells viewers to expect a wild ride. Tom Jeffers (Joel McCrea) is an inventor living with his wife Gerry (Claudette Colbert) in New York. As financial burden sets in for the couple, Gerry comes up with the crazy idea to divorce Tom in order to marry someone rich, who will invest in one of Tom’s inventions. She travels to Florida via rail to file for the divorce and serendipitously finds someone who could help, J.D. Hackensacker (Rudy Vallée). Throw in love-triangled Tom, a quail-hunting club, and a mysterious subplot alluded to during the opening credits, and THE PALM BEACH STORY becomes an absurd juggling act orchestrated by Preston Sturges' dexterous hands. It wouldn’t be a Sturges film without whipcrack dialogue, and both McCrea and Colbert’s ability to perform physical comedy while delivering such ahead of their time lines is remarkable. The plot doesn’t have to make sense in a traditional way to make sense—the ride is worth the price of admission. (1942, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Kyle Cubr]

Mark Jones’ LEPRECHAUN (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Monday, 9:45pm
The Logan Theatre – Friday - Monday, 11pm

Mark Jones began his career in 1976 as a TV writer, working on cartoons like Scooby-Doo, Yogi’s Space Race, and What’s New, Mr. Magoo? In the 1980s, he wrote for shows like The A-Team and Superboy. With a background in family-friendly entertainment, Jones sought to write a horror film for kids who had outgrown Goosebumps—a GREMLINS-style slasher. This script became LEPRECHAUN, Trimark Pictures’ first in-house production. The early ‘90s, particularly 1990-1995, is often maligned as a low point for horror. By 1989, Jason Voorhees had been shipped to Manhattan before being sold to New Line Cinema, Freddy Krueger had a dream baby that flopped, Cannon’s investment in a TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2 failed at the box office, and Michael Myers’ revenge against his now-mute and extrasensory niece failed to draw a crowd. Declared “dead” by the industry, horror rebranded itself as the thriller, with films like MISERY, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, FLATLINERS, THE GUARDIAN, and JACOB’S LADDER falling under this new umbrella. Yet, amid this so-called drought, horror still found new icons. Pre-SCREAM, the era gave us CHILD’S PLAY 2, TREMORS, CANDYMAN, and LEPRECHAUN—all franchises that remain relevant today. Trimark initially tried to buy Jones out of directing, but he refused. The studio also opposed casting the then-unknown Jennifer Aniston, preferring someone more recognizable and more “blonde.” Jones fought for her, and she went on to solidify her place in the Final Girl pantheon. Jones wanted Warwick Davis but feared his success after WILLOW would make him an unobtainable choice. Davis received the script for LEPRECHAUN shortly after his newborn son had passed away from complications due to achondroplasia. The loss profoundly affected Davis, and he has spoken in interviews about how acting became a refuge for him. His portrayal of the Leprechaun is infused with manic energy, but there’s also an undercurrent of bitterness and rage beneath the humor. The character is grief personified—an ancient, vengeful being whose entire existence is consumed by the loss (or theft) of his gold. Jones originally conceived the film as a PG-13 horror-comedy, but Trimark demanded reshoots to add gore, forcing an R rating. This tonal imbalance only adds to its oddball charm. The film opens with an Irishman returning from a pilgrimage to Ireland, where he captured a leprechaun and stole his gold. The creature kills him and his wife but is trapped in a crate, bound by a four-leaf clover. Years later, a father and daughter (Aniston) move into the farmhouse and take on the Herculean task of fixing the place up. They are aided by a hunky painter, his little brother, and a helper. When the gold is discovered and the Leprechaun is mistakenly unleashed, the creature is determined to reclaim his treasure at any cost. Davis steals the show, delivering every line with Shakespearean relish and B-movie exuberance. He doesn’t just play the Leprechaun—he inhabits him, elevating the character beyond parody. His performance transcended the original film, becoming the lifeblood of a multi-million-dollar franchise. LEPRECHAUN is an episode of Looney Tunes with commercials for Lucky Charms and punctuated by bursts of violence. It’s as if Karl Marx and Tex Avery swapped notes on dialectical materialism before slipping on a banana peel. Unlike the ‘80s horror icons, the Leprechaun isn’t a specter of death or trauma—he’s a Reagan-era gremlin, a supernatural force driven by greed. He doesn’t haunt dreams; he haunts pawn shops, embodying the pursuit of maximalist capitalism. The franchise is pure excess and spectacle, replacing traditional horror fears with something both absurd and disturbingly relatable—greed. Despite studio interference, Jones’ decision to give Davis creative freedom fused the original PG-13 concept with Trimark’s R-rated demands. His anarchic energy which oscillates between Chaplin’s tramp and a trickster god of folklore makes LEPRECHAUN unforgettable. Just watch him destroy a kitchen, only to compulsively shine every shoe in sight—proof of the film’s bizarre brilliance. Screening as part of the Killer Cuts film series. (1993, 92 min, Digital Projection) [Shaun Huhn]

David Byrne's TRUE STORIES (US)

Davis Theater – Monday, 7pm

Among other things, David Byrne's film is simultaneously a satire of television and a celebration of television. Two musical numbers specifically appropriate TV. "Wild Wild Life" has various characters lip synching to the song in front of a giant bank of video monitors, which all show a seemingly endless mélange of stock footage. "Love For Sale" is even more direct, featuring Byrne's band Talking Heads interacting with actual 80's era TV commercials before eventually transforming into chocolate-coated, foil-wrapped treats. Byrne's obsession with capturing striking environmental details is perfectly matched with Ed Lachman's cinematography. Visually, TRUE STORIES evokes the shiny pre-fab face of Texas, where money from oil and microelectronics makes everything look new, as well as the dusty, weird Texas, a result of its funky ethnic mix. Yet, at least according to the film's distributor, it was framed for the 1.37:1 aspect ratio. Perfect for TV. Screening as part of the Big Screen Classics series. (1986, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Rob Christopher]

Robert Aldrich's WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO BABY JANE? (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Sunday, 11:30am

One of Aldrich's secret weapons was composer Frank De Vol, with whom he worked multiple times. Better known as simply DeVol, he churned out the theme songs as well as the incidental music for TV shows like Gilligan's Island and The Brady Bunch: catchy, yet generic-sounding stuff was his forte. He worked the other end of spectrum too—check out his score for KISS ME DEADLY. Aldrich knew that DeVol could be counted on to supply meat and potatoes cues like "Joan Uncovers the Rat" and "Bette Kicks the Shit Out of Joan." A sort of grotesque musical wallpaper, his music effectively magnifies shock and revulsion but without sufficient individuality to call attention to itself; DeVol was the anti-Bernard Herrmann. It's exactly what WHAT EVER requires. Aldrich keeps the focus squarely on Joan and Bette, the yin and yang of "has-been showbiz legends," playing Jane and Blanche, two made-up "has-been showbiz legends." Celebrity and "reality" and fiction blur together more deliciously than ever before or ever since. (1962, 134 min, DCP Digital) [Rob Christopher]

Jonathan Demme's STOP MAKING SENSE (US/Documentary)

Music Box Theatre – Friday, 11:15pm

In nearly every shot, STOP MAKING SENSE makes the case that Jonathan Demme was the greatest director of musical performance in American cinema. It isn't difficult to convey the joy of making music, but Demme's attention to the interplay between musicians (and, in some inspired moments, between the musicians and their crew) conveys the imagination, hard work, and camaraderie behind any good song.  And, needless to say, the songs here are very, very good. By this point (the performances are culled from three concerts from 1983), Talking Heads were the headiest American band to achieve their degree of success, and they made the most of it, doubling their line-up to include back-up singers and a few instrumentalists from the golden years of George Clinton's Funkadelic. It's never openly acknowledged that the five new members are Black and the Heads are white; the sheer creativity of the music, which fuses everything from soul to traditional African rhythms to then-advanced electronic effects, is fully utopian in its spirit. (1984, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

David Lynch's TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Saturday, 1:15pm & 6pm, Monday, 9:30pm, and Thursday, 6:15pm

I once knew a survivor of childhood sexual abuse who told me that David Lynch's TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME is the only film that ever really got it right. The way incest deranges you, the unprocessable betrayal, the PTSD. Describing her abuse, she said she'd had her own personal Freddie Krueger, and Lynch portrays Laura Palmer's final days as a horror movie—scarier than most, and truer. Critics missed the thrust of this baffler, calling it the worst thing Lynch ever did, if not one of the worst films ever made. Today, it looks like a flawed masterpiece, exhausting and exhilarating. It's a singular portrayal of "garmonbozia" (pain and sorrow), the cream corn of evil—with all the Lynchian disjunctures that sentence implies. It's abrasive at every level, from Lynch's screaming, whooping sound design to the punishing immersion into Laura's hell. But its extremism is the source of its hypnotic power, and Lynch's corybantic surrealism fits the theme. Sheryl Lee is astonishing as doomed, anguished Laura; Ray Wise is terrifying (and, in deranging moments, loving) as her molester father. Then there's that first 35 minutes, which play like a savage parody of the TV show, with Chris Isaak and Keifer Sutherland investigating a murder in Deer Meadow, a negative image of our favorite Pacific Northwest town. Here, the coffee's two days old, the diner is seedy, the small-town cops are jerks, and the dead woman is not exactly the homecoming queen. (One suspects that the cherry pie would be damn poor.) The "Lil the Dancer" scene is a delightful thumbnail illustration of semiotics, and Harry Dean Stanton is on hand as Carl, manager of the Fat Trout trailer park. Angelo Badalamenti's score is creamy and dreamy, mournful and menacing. Actually, I suspect that if you're not already well-versed in the lore of Bob, Mike, the One Armed Man, The Arm a.k.a. The Man From Another Place, Mrs. Tremond and her grandson, and the Owl Cave ring, then you might have stumbled upon this site by accident. I'd guess our readers share my excitement that the stars, and the passage of 25 years, have aligned so that we are actually poised to reenter the Black Lodge. If you haven't boned up on this prequel, then hie to this revival. (Or even if you have: you'll see something new every time.) (1992, 135 min, DCP Digital) [Scott Pfeiffer]

David Lynch's WILD AT HEART (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Saturday, 9:15pm, Sunday, 2:45pm, and Tuesday, 12:30pm

Films of the “lovers on the run” subgenre are sexual, dark, and exude a melodramatic dreaminess. They often, too, thematically address complications of Americana and nostalgia. With continual references to THE WIZARD OF OZ, WILD AT HEART explores themes of home that are found throughout David Lynch's work; while his more recent Twin Peaks: The Return is all about how it’s impossible to go home again, WILD AT HEART is ultimately about the dream beyond the rainbow. After getting out of prison for murder, Elvis-obsessed Sailor (Nicolas Cage) and his girlfriend Lula (a transcendent Laura Dern) run away to California, telling each other stories of their pasts along the way. Unbeknownst to them, they’re pursued by Lula’s mother (a fabulously unhinged Diane Ladd), who hires hitmen to kill Sailor. Filled with surreal vignettes and characters, WILD AT HEART is dynamic and strange, sordid and ethereal. At one point Lula and Sailor pull over to dance on the side of the road to heavy metal; it’s as if the film, too, needs to shake off some irrepressible energy. Scenes like these are paired with quiet moments of horror—namely, the scene where Willem Defoe’s character aggressively corners Lula in a motel is one of the most upsetting in cinema; Laura Dern portrays Lula’s reaction with heartbreaking authenticity. But the most affecting scene is where Lula and Sailor find a woman (Sherilyn Fenn) injured in a car accident on the side of the road. These kinds of emotionally driven images of violence and trauma experienced by women would be more fully addressed in his film TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME, released just a few years later. (1990, 124 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]

Edgar Wright's SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD (US/UK/Canada)

Music Box Theatre – Thursday, 9:45pm

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD has stood the test of time, having influenced music, video games, and other facets of popular culture for well over a decade. Despite a poor box office performance, Wright’s adaptation of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s graphic novels left its mark on a rapidly growing internet subculture surrounding DIY music scenes—so much so that a new generation of guys you wish you didn’t start talking to at a party were introduced to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope through Ramona Flowers, the title character’s romantic interest whose name will now forever be attributed to girls with brightly colored hair by boys who just bought their first indie rock album. Despite the film’s continued success, some may still write off SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD as a product of its time. After all, there was plenty of nerd-chic to go around in 2010 as the Marvel Cinematic Universe continued to build hype, and TV shows like The Big Bang Theory framed nerd subcultures in a more flattering light for the masses. But to dismiss the film as just having come out at the right time would be to ignore the gripping romance and slapstick humor that have endeared it to audiences for years. Michael Cera and Mary Elizabeth Winstead as Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers have a chemistry that does not feel like it should work on paper, but is electric on film. The two carry an awkwardness that really brings the quirks and discomfort of the early stages of a relationship to life. The film’s supporting cast, a revolving door of actors soon to make their big break, also bring their A-game as effective caricatures of what ex-partners and friends in your 20s are really like. For example, Chris Evans plays one of Ramona’s exes, an overconfident, pompous hunk who became an action star, and Brie Larson plays Scott’s ex-girlfriend, the snobby front woman of Toronto’s hottest indie band who changed her entire personality to fit the role. The plot follows Scott as he fights a league of Ramona’s ex-partners in comic book fashion in order to win her over, learn from his own shortcomings, and grow past the stagnation their daily lives have settled into. While the film doesn't reinvent the wheel, it recontextualizes the tropes of modern drama, action, and comedy films through frameworks that are easily relatable to younger millennial and Gen Z audiences alike, making for an entertaining cult classic and must-see experience for anybody with a nose ring or stick-and-poke tattoo. Presented by Ramona Slick and Rated Q - A Celebration of Queer, Camp, & Cult Cinema, with themed pre-show drinks and a DJ set in the Music Box Lounge at 9pm. The drag show performance begins in the Main Theater at 9:45pm with the screening to follow. (2010, 112 min, 35mm) [Michael Bates]

McG's CHARLIE'S ANGELS (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Monday, 7pm

Though it's a continuation of the iconic '70s television classic, CHARLIE’S ANGELS couldn’t feel more Y2K. Director McG’s previous music video credits included some of the most iconic ska punk/pop rock songs of the late '90s: Sublime’s “Santeria,” Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week,” and Sugar Ray’s “Every Morning,” just to name a few. In the heyday of MTV’s Total Request Live, his bright and kinetic aesthetic inarguably helped drive the popularity of the music as much as anything else. All that’s here in CHARLIE’S ANGELS, a film that clips along like a series of music videos strung together. It’s exhilarating, though, with plenty of slo-mo, cutaways and freeze frames; it’s impossible to be bored. There’s a humor and looseness to it as well, evident by the amount of dancing the film features—including some impressive moves by supporting star Sam Rockwell—and the extended bloopers over the end credits. While there's a plot, CHARLIE’S ANGELS is more concerned with elaborate action set pieces and providing a rollercoaster of a good time. All this fun is reliant on the Angels themselves. Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz, and Lucy Liu play a group of accomplished private investigators working for an unseen benefactor named Charlie. Their latest assignment, however, may be their most important as they begin to realize the case hits very close to home. The three leads are contagiously enthusiastic with an easy chemistry as they peppily change costuje and disguise their way through this investigation. There’s also a solid supporting cast and a ton of cameos. Most memorable is Crispin Glover as the mysterious “Thin Man,” in an unnerving performance that feels wildly out of place and yet completely works. It’s emblematic of the film itself; it’s a lot of energy and tone to throw at the wall, but it all sticks, making for an entertaining ride and 2000 time capsule. Perhaps it's no surprise that CHARLIE’S ANGELS includes a notable soundtrack, which features Destiny Child’s “Independent Women Part I,” originally released for the film. Screening as part of Queer Film Theory 101. (2000, 98 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]

Osgood Perkins’ THE MONKEY (US)

Alamo Drafthouse and the Music Box Theatre – See Venue websites for showtimes

A blood-drenched Adam Scott torches a drum-banging toy monkey with a flamethrower, but the cursed relic returns to his twin sons, Hal and Bill (Theo James). Too late, the boys realize that winding the key brings only suffering. Desperate, they discard it in a well, where it remains silent for twenty-five years—until the drumming starts again. No one is safe. Osgood Perkins adapts Stephen King’s short story from Skeleton Crew but takes creative liberties, transforming a tale about suppressed trauma finding its way back into a visceral expression of trauma. Perkins’ film unfolds along multiple threads: two orphaned brothers growing estranged, a son struggling to reconnect with his absent father, and an overarching meditation on inherited anguish. The monkey—don’t call it a toy—becomes both a harbinger of death and a metaphor for generational suffering. Perkins even stitches his own past into the film, drawing from the loss of his mother on 9/11 and the enigmatic shadow of his father, Anthony Perkins. One character states outright that 9 and 11 are just numbers, which highlights the point Perkins is trying to make about the absurdity, pointlessness, and ultimate randomness of death. By shifting the tone of the source material, Perkins makes the story more interactive. Seeing THE MONKEY in a packed theater is the best way to experience this carnival ride. Step right up and see a man's intestines stretched the length of a pawn shop. The FINAL DESTINATION films attempt these feats of Rube Goldberg-style death traps with sincerity, but Perkins strips away the earnestness, leaving only the absurdity. Balancing horror and comedy is no small feat, but a strong narrative and razor-sharp dialogue make it work. The quarrelling and hopeful reconciliation of the twin brothers is an element added by Perkins. Osgood is the older brother of singer-songwriter Elvis Perkins, and within the twin brothers of Hal and Bill there is sibling rivalry, estrangement, and resentment, but theirs is a story of coming back to one another. Whatever relationship the Perkins brothers may have had in the past, they certainly work well together now. Elvis provided scores for THE BLACKCOAT'S DAUGHTER (2015) and also LONGLEGS (under the name Zilgi). There is something larger at work within Perkins' variation of King's short story. A reflection of the paradox of human experience where suffering and laughter console each other. Moments of gallows humor offer a relief from the tragedy, while the tragedy itself deepens the stakes of the comedy. The Structuralist view of this link says that tragedy moves from order to chaos and comedy moves from chaos to order. This leaves only a liminal space for laughter and sorrow to greet one another. This absurdist quest to find meaning where there is none, stays within the confines of that liminal space and is on full display in THE MONKEY. Within the stages of grief, moments of dark humor can be necessary and healthy. Perkins' own tragic past works its way into his narratives. He has called his own work a Trojan Horse for exploring his own loss, using genre as a vehicle for deeply personal storytelling. THE BLACKCOAT’S DAUGHTER dealt with sorrow and longing through possession while his other films have been attempts at connecting with his father, his mother, how attachments to the past can get in the way of growth, and now with THE MONKEY, the lasting effect of laughter in the face of incomprehensible pain. Obviously, gallows humor and Grand Guignol spectacles may not elicit catharsis for everyone, but it absolutely did for Perkins, which shows in every frame. Staring into the void has never been this much fun. (2025, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Shaun Huhn]

📽️ ALSO SCREENING

⚫ Alamo Drafthouse
A mystery screening called Mystery Machine takes place Monday at 7:15pm. 

Christopher R. Mihm's 2025 film THREE BAD GIRLS WHO FIND A GUN AND BECOME VAMPIRES (70 min, Digital Projection) screens Wednesday, 9:30pm, as part of the Weird Wednesday series. More info on all screenings here.

⚫ Chicago Filmmakers
Animated Breakdowns: Six Films Drawn Beyond the Limits of the Frame, the third screening in the Picture Restart Series:16mm Films from the Picture Start Collection, takes place Saturday at 6pm. More info here.

⚫ Chicago Film Society
Justin Lin’s 2006 film THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS: TOKYO DRIFT (104 min, 35mm) screens Monday, 7pm, at the Music Box Theatre. Preceded by Ilppo Pohjola’s 1999 short film ROUTEMASTER - THEATER OF THE MOTOR (17 min, 35mm). More info here. 

⚫ Chicago Public Library
View all screenings taking place at Chicago Public Library branches here.

⚫ Consignment Lounge (3520 W. Diversey Ave.)
LEPRECHAUN-a-thon, during which as many LEPRECHAUN films as possible will be screened, takes place Monday starting at 4pm. More info here. 

⚫ FACETS
Andrew Davis’ 1993 film THE FUGITIVE (131 min, DCP Digital) screens Friday, 7pm, followed by a panel with Davis, art director Maher Ahmed, location sound mixer Scott Smith, and script supervisor Dru Anne Carlson and live music and post-show mingle in the lounge and lobby. Please note this event is sold out.

RaMell Ross’ 2024 film NICKEL BOYS (140 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday at 7pm and Sunday at 1pm. More info on all screenings and events here.

⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
A free Film Center and Cinema/Chicago members-only advance screening of Michael Shannon’s 2024 film ERIC LARUE (119 min, DCP Digital) takes place Sunday, 7pm, followed by a post-screening Q&A with Shannon, moderated by Michael Phillips. Please note this screening is sold out.

Mai Masri’s 2015 film 3000 NIGHTS (103 min, DCP Digital) screens Tuesday, 6pm, as part of the Lecture of War series. More info on all screenings and events here. 

⚫ Goethe-Institut Chicago (150 N. Michigan Ave.)
Kurt Barthel’s 1965/2020 film MISS BUTTERFLY (68 min, Digital Projection) screens Thursday, 6pm, as part of the Berlin Nights series. Free with advanced registration. More info here.

⚫ Music Box Theatre
Bong Joon-Ho’s 2025 film MICKEY 17 (137 min, DCP Digital) continues screening this week. See Venue website for showtimes. 

Jim Sharman’s 1975 film ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (100 min, 35mm) screens Saturday, midnight, with  a shadowcast of the film (that’s actors acting in front of the screen during the film) performed by the excellent Midnight Madness.

Penny Marshall’s 1992 film A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN (128 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am, as part of the Play Ball! A Baseball Series.

Ray Mendoza and Alex Garland’s 2025 film WARFARE (94 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday, 7:45pm, with a post-screening Q&A with filmmakers Mendoza and Garland and actor Will Poulter. More info on all screenings and events here. 

⚫ VDB TV (Virtual)
Wendy Clarke: Love is All Around screens as part of VDB's new virtual program, curated by Kristin MacDonough. This program features a selection of five excerpts from Clarke’s iconic LOVE TAPES series, showcasing personal reflections on love from 2,500 diverse individuals. The LOVE TAPES project, ongoing since the late '70s, explores various interpretations of love, from lust and friendship to first love and familial bonds. This VDB TV program highlights newly remastered works, preserved by Clarke and the Wisconsin Center for Film and Theater Research. More info here. 

CINE-LIST: March 14, 2025 - March 20, 2025

MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs

CONTRIBUTORS // Michael Bates, Brendan Boyle, Cody Corrall, Maxwell Courtright, Rob Christopher, Kyle Cubr, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Michael Frank, Shaun Huhn, Ben Kaye, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, Scott Pfeiffer, Olivia Hunter Willke