Cine-File continues to cover streaming and other online offerings during this time of covidity. We will list/highlight physical screenings at the top of the list for theaters and venues that have reopened, and list streaming/online screenings below. Cine-File takes no position on whether theaters should be reopening, nor on whether individuals should be attending in-person. Check the venues’ websites for information on safety protocols and other procedures put in place.
CINE-FILE SELECTS: FILM ABOUT A FATHER WHO
In partnership with film distributor Cinema Guild, Cine-File is presenting a virtual screening of independent/experimental filmmaker Lynne Sachs’ 2020 documentary feature FILM ABOUT A FATHER WHO. The film is available at the link below for a $12 rental, with half the proceeds going to Cine-File (funds will be used for general expenses, future programming, and to provide honoraria to our contributors).
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Lynne Sachs’ FILM ABOUT A FATHER WHO (US/Documentary)
Available to rent through Cine-File here
In Horace’s Odes, one among many texts where this sentiment endures, the Roman poet wrote, "For the sins of your fathers you, though guiltless, must suffer." It’s hardly an esoteric dictum, but nevertheless it’s duly reflected in experimental filmmaker Lynne Sachs’ wholehearted documentary portrait of her father, Ira Sachs Sr. Something of a longstanding work-in-progress, the film draws from decades of footage shot by Sachs, her father, and her filmmaker brother, Ira Sachs Jr. (whose own 2005 film FORTY SHADES OF BLUE was inspired by the same so-called “Hugh Hefner of Park City”), plus others, documenting not just the sybaritic “hippie-businessman” patriarch, but also his numerous descendants. Sachs’ knotty chronicle reveals that her father has a total of nine children with several different women, two of whom the other siblings found out about only a few years back. (The film opens with Sachs brushing her elderly father’s hair, working out a particularly unpleasant snarl. “Sorry, dad,” she says. “There’s just one part that’s very tangly.” The irony is faint and benevolent, but present even so.) Sachs considers the enveloping imbroglio from her own perspective, but also takes into account the viewpoints of her eight siblings, her father’s ex-wives (including her own mother) and girlfriends, plus Ira’s mother, a gracefully cantankerous old woman in a certain amount of denial over her son’s wanton predilections and the role she played in his dysfunction. FILM ABOUT A FATHER WHO—the title an homage to Yvonne Rainer's FILM ABOUT A WOMAN WHO...—is comprised of footage recorded between 1965 and 2019 and shot on 8mm, 16mm, VHS, Hi8, Mini DV, and digital; the fusion of all this material (by editor Rebecca Shapass) ranks among the most astounding use of personal archives that I’ve ever seen. It all exists in a state between documentary and home-movie footage, a paradigm that aptly reflects the conflict between reality and perspective, and the uncomfortable middle-ground that bisects the two. Sachs’ work often features her family, but this feels like an apotheosis of her autobiographical predisposition, likewise a question—why do the sins of the father linger?—and an answer. Among the most affecting scenes are roundtable discussions between the siblings where they consider revelations about their father and the implications of his actions. These scenes are heartrending not for their sadness, but rather for their naked honesty; it’s not just a film about a father who, but also a film about a love that defines a family. Sachs’ filmography is centered on infinite poetic quandaries (in voice over, she explores some of them here, such as when she muses on her father’s profession as a developer in Utah: “What happens when you own a horizon?”) and this feels like a logical conclusion to a lifetime of such profound impasses, though I’ve no doubt she’ll continue to probe life and its enigmas in a similarly masterful fashion. For all the suffering on display, Sachs has created an indelible work that, like those within it, perseveres by way of honesty and love. (2020, 74 min) [Kathleen Sachs]
PHYSICAL SCREENINGS
Elizabeth Lo’s STRAY (US/Documentary)
Music Box Theatre - Friday-Sunday Only; Check Venue website for showtimes
The first film from documentarian Elizabeth Lo often moves in slow motion. STRAY follows several dogs living on the streets of Istanbul, focusing on one homeless animal named Zeytin. She walks around the bustling city looking for food, familiar faces, and a place to rest her head at night, as the camera follows close behind. Lo never involves herself in Zeytin’s life, or the lives of both the strays and people she interacts with, keeping a level of distance despite the camera’s close proximity. You experience her life from ground level, only hearing conversations that she hears from restaurant tables, park benches, and late-night protests. Lo decides not to craft a heartbreaking story from Zeytin’s kind eyes, instead opting for a clear-eyed look at loneliness, connection, and the way we treat others, humans and dogs alike. Lo doesn’t rest on any one shot or scene for longer than a few moments and, like its protagonist, the camera keeps moving along, looking for the next place to rest. A beautiful, different look at the city of Istanbul, STRAY forces you to think about the obvious metaphors in this story, from how we treat our fellow passersby, especially a person without a roof over their head, to our apathy towards the people and things that don’t directly affect us. Zeytin drifts around the city without a final destination. Even without a constant stream of love or affection, she seems to have a stake in this place, and a sense of warmth fills you by the time the film ends. Whether you want to watch some good boys and girls run around and play in a bustling city, or you’d like to examine the isolation of city life, Lo’s STRAY satisfies both with certainty and intentionality. (2021, 72 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Frank]
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STRAY is also available to rent online through the Music Box here and is screening free through the University of Chicago’s Film Studies Center on Thursday at 7pm, followed by a live Q&A with director Elizabeth Lo; info and registration link here.
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Also showing at the Music Box Friday-Sunday only is Brendan Devane’s 2021 film THE CANYONLANDS (99 min, DCP Digital).
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COVID policies for the Music Box can be found here.
LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS – New Reviews
Francine Parker’s F.T.A. (US/Documentary)
Available to rent through Facets Cinémathèque here
In 1971 Jane Fonda, Donald Sutherland, Paul Mooney, and a few other performers, put together a war protest roadshow aimed specifically to entertain the American G.I.s deployed abroad—a sort of anti-U.S.O. tour. Traveling to Hawaii, the Philippines, and Okinawa, the group set up performances outside of American military bases and performed satirical sketches along with outright anti-Vietnam War protest songs. Director Francine Parker’s camera and crew documented each of these performances, capturing the energy and excitement of the internal anti-war movement of the American military. What makes this documentary especially important and insightful are the segments in which the members of the F.T.A. roadshow and crew interview the members of the military. With so much of the popular narrative about the protest of the Vietnam War centered on activity back home in the U.S., by mostly white, middle-class college students, F.T.A. gives voice to the people actually deployed and their thoughts against the war. Black soldiers speak out against being sent to die for a country that doesn’t respect them, as well as a military that treats them with extreme prejudice—how they see themselves aligned with the Vietnamese as oppressed POC. Both the roadshow and the filmmakers give space for performers and people of the occupied countries to express their sentiments about the war, and the US military presence in their homelands. Nearly half of the film’s running time is given to voices of protest, making it less of a concert film than an out-and-out piece of radical left propaganda. Considering when this was made, it’s almost shocking how virulently, and overtly anti-war, anti-military, and anti-colonial this film is. There is zero ambiguity about the politics involved, and because of this F.T.A. was, until 2009, largely forgotten. The film was pulled from theatres a mere two weeks after release, and suspicions abound that the U.S. government itself was behind this decision. After all, the distributor, American International Pictures, was notorious for milking their films for all they’re worth, especially the more exploitative and controversial ones. Once nearly impossible to find (the only other time I was able to track it down was via an Nth generation bootleg DVD by an older Maoist I met while living in San Francisco, natch), this new version is a wonderful 4k restoration that gives the film the clarity of picture and sound that really allows for the verité immersion Parker was attempting to achieve. As the U.S. enters its second decade of continuous foreign war, F.T.A. provides a reminder that there has always been political dissent in the military, and, if given a chance to speak about it, people will. So while this is a great document of a specific time, place, and movement, it’s still just as riveting and straight-up entertaining now as it was in 1972. Rentals of the film are accompanied by a new introduction by F.T.A. troupe member Jane Fonda. (1972, 96 min) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS – Held Over/Still Screening/Return Engagements (Selected)
Thomas Vinterberg’s ANOTHER ROUND (Denmark)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and the Music Box Theatre here
Reuniting with leading man Mads Mikkelsen, Danish writer and director Thomas Vinterberg’s (THE HUNT) newest film, ANOTHER ROUND, reaches for a full bottle of vodka and lands in a drunken state of elation, depression, and mid-life difficulty. Denmark’s submission to the 2021 Oscars for Best International Feature Film, ANOTHER ROUND finds Mikkelsen in an acting showcase, surrounded by other steady and solid counterparts in Magnus Millang, Thomas Bo Larsen, and Lars Ranthe, playing four high school teachers that enter into an odd experiment: keeping themselves at a blood alcohol content of .05 at all times. Vinterberg directs the film like a drunken night on the town, from the joy of dancing on tables with great friends to waking up disoriented, broken, and desperate to either never see alcohol again or grab the nearest bottle and take a swig. ANOTHER ROUND’s tonal shifts work, mostly with ease, due to Mikkelsen’s performance, one in which every look, smirk, and curling of his lips is measured and intentional. It’s not a film filled with speeches or fights that last longer than a couple of minutes. ANOTHER ROUND becomes a snapshot into life at its most middling, in which characters reexamine their place in the world, and the oft overwhelming dreams they feel they haven’t accomplished. Though the structure of the film, especially its third act, falters in finishing this wild idea (and experiment), ANOTHER ROUND should satisfy one’s thirst for high-quality acting, careful and considerate storytelling, and a chance to remember, forget, or attempt to capture the supposed “good ole days.” (2020, 117 min) [Michael Frank]
Valentyn Vasyanovych's ATLANTIS (Ukraine)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here
Every now and again a film appears that gets compared to Andrei Tarkovsky’s classic STALKER. More often than not the comparisons are facile at best, using only the basic plot points as comparison—think 2018’s ANNIHILATION. But Valentyn Vasyanovych’s ATLANTIS falls so precisely into that slow cinema sci-fi micro-genre that it feels like it could be taking place in the same universe at STALKER. ATLANTIS is set in a near future Ukraine of 2025, where, after a prolonged war with Russia, the country, and its people, have been devastated. Serhiy is a former soldier with PTSD who loses his job as a smelter when the local works is closed due to automation. The world he once knew is so far in the past that it’s almost unrecognizable. Water now has to be shipped in. A giant wall is being built along the border. As he tries to cope with this new normal, Serhiy takes on a job exhuming corpses. Here he meets Katya, one of the rare individuals who can see past the immediate. Serhiy’s world in ATLANTIS has the same kind of meditative expanse as Tarkovsky’s STALKER and Béla Tarr and Ágnes Hranitzky’s WERCKMEISTER HARMONIES. It’s a sci-fi film only in that it presumes a near future; it could very well be in a contemporary setting—I can think of at least one American city that has lost its metalwork economy and requires bused-in drinking water. ATLANTIS has a poetic ugliness to it that is an absolute joy to revel in. The psychic devastation of a post-war society, resigned into submission of duty, is rendered nearly physical as we watch the quietly mundane pace of people’s lives. With nearly nothing left, the past literally becomes the future: the exhuming and examining of the dead has become one of the only reliable means of employment. Filmed with nearly all wide-angle stationary shots, the film immerses us as voyeurs in this world. We have no choice but to examine everything, including ourselves. Vasyanovych’s framing both creates a sense of claustrophobia with its tight borders and a pronounced sense of agoraphobia, from an inescapable emptiness that threatens to go on forever. Despite its darkness, ATLANTIS is a gorgeous film, and a must see for anyone interested in slow cinema, speculative sci-fi, or explorations of existentialism. As the official Ukrainian entry for the 2021 Academy Awards, I very much hope this becomes Ukraine’s first ever film nominated for Best International Feature Film. (2019, 106 min) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Andrei Konchalovsky’s DEAR COMRADES! (Russia)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Winner of the Special Jury Prize at this year’s Venice International Film Festival, DEAR COMRADES! is writer-director Andrei Konchalovsky’s fraught depiction of the Novocherkassk massacre that occurred June 2, 1962, in Soviet Russia. We follow the labor strike leading to the massacre, the pandemonium of the massacre itself, and the chaos and uncertainty of its aftermath. Yuliya Vysotskay, is Lyudmila, a committed Communist still reeling from the death of Stalin. When her daughter disappears in the anarchy of the massacre, she frantically has to search for her, threatening not only her own safety, but that of those around her. She begins to question not only the methods of the Party but the idea of faith itself. DEAR COMRADES! is filmed in black and white, giving it a gorgeous patina of false historicity that allows us to fall deep inside of it, forgetting that this is a period drama, confusing it for a film of the time. Konchalovsky plays with the perception of the Soviet government quite cleverly through Lyudmila and her family. While she openly laments Stalin’s death, her nameless father gets drunk and wears his pre-Soviet military garb and expresses his wish that JFK would just nuke them all. Lyudmila’s daughter is a product of the era of de-Stalinization and is willing to go against the Party and participate in the strike and demonstrations that lead to the massacre. Konchalovsky pulls off the feat that so many filmmakers attempt and rarely, if ever, achieve, successfully taking a single moment or event and turning it into a true microcosm of the greater political zeitgeist. While I wouldn’t be so brash as to say he thoroughly dissects the entirety of Soviet Russia through this single film, Konchalovsky does manage to leave his fingerprints across it in a way that shows a deft handling. All this, through a story of desperation and mystery; a mother searching for her missing daughter, in the face of the government she has worked her whole life for. DEAR COMRADES! is a dramatic political thriller of the most personal nature. Where faith in government, self, others, God, and oneself all come into question. Films reflect the times in which they are made. Right now, across the globe, we’re seeing a rise of a type of politics that feeds on unquestioning faith, DEAR COMRADES! utilizes the framework of history to unfold today, and warn us about tomorrow. (2020, 120 min) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Olivier Assayas’ DEMONLOVER (France)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and the Music Box Theatre here
DEMONLOVER was one of the first movies to address the internet’s impact on communication and interpersonal relationships; what distinguishes it from many of the other, lesser movies on the subject to have come in its wake is that Olivier Assayas, a cineaste of the highest order, doesn’t regard the Information Age from a detached, moralizing position, but rather from an immediate and sensuous one. Perhaps the defining trait of the movie’s intoxicating style is Assayas’ tendency to cut from one tracking shot to another and then another. The technique conveys a sense of constant movement through the physical world and, more importantly, the fluidity with which we move online between ideas, cultures, and the intimate details of other people’s lives. Likewise, the narrative of DEMONLOVER is a fusion of high- and lowbrow cinematic references that include David Cronenberg’s VIDEODROME, Michael Mann’s THE INSIDER (Gina Gershon, who appears here, essentially plays a variation on her character from that movie), espionage thrillers, and animated S&M porn. This mixture suggests an early 21st century update of the French New Wave in that Assayas—who, like the New Wave directors, wrote criticism for Cahiers du Cinéma before he started making movies—builds on his references to craft a statement about the zeitgeist. What he has to say is unsettling as well as seductive: the movie posits that the most typical relationships in the Information Age involve people using or being used by others; it also suggests a dark underside to the world of knowledge created by the Internet. Yet Assayas’ concerns never come across as cerebral, thanks to the mobile filmmaking and the exciting plot, which has to do with power plays (both corporate and sexual) within internet bondage porn companies. The score—written and performed by Sonic Youth when they were a five-piece with Jim O’Rourke on third guitar—adds to hypnotic effect. (2002, 122 min) [Ben Sachs]
Éric Baudelaire’s UN FILM DRAMATIQUE (France/Documentary)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here
I could relate easily to UN FILM DRAMATIQUE, a French documentary about middle school students in a diverse urban community with a large immigrant population. Since the fall of 2019, I’ve taught middle school students in Chicago’s Uptown, which is also a diverse urban community with a large immigrant population. Director Éric Baudelaire captures this milieu so precisely that I must admit I found the movie a little tiring—watching it felt like tacking an extra two hours onto my work day. In its design, UN FILM DRAMATIQUE resembles a big class project: Baudelaire didn’t just document a group of students over four years; he taught them about filmmaking along the way, assigning kids different tasks of shooting, recording sound, editing, et cetera, so that they became co-creators of the project. This clever (and aptly pedagogical) approach to documentary cinema provides an ideal means of considering the subject of pre-adolescence, an exciting time when kids take long strides toward independence and self-awareness. The film is most compelling when it presents kids speaking frankly with each other on such subjects as current events, national identity, filmmaking, and life in the Paris suburbs (an area comparable to the “inner city” of most American metropolises). These scenes provide an inside look at kids discovering new intellectual frontiers as they form complex arguments and articulate abstract ideas. It’s gratifying to watch their conversations grow more sophisticated as the movie proceeds; more immediately uplifting is the humanist spectacle of kids from so many different backgrounds working together and becoming friends. The onscreen subjects come from all over (eastern Europe, the Middle East, sub-Saharan Africa), but they find common ground in their experiences as foreigners, as pre-teens, and, finally, as filmmakers. The kids’ ideas about what makes films “dramatic” aren’t highly developed—the scenes they stage and shoot are the least interesting in the movie, making one long for the imagination and control of THE WE AND THE I (2012), Michel Gondry’s fiction feature made with New York high school students. Still, the subjects’ bourgeoning awareness of how filmmaking works allows for some enjoyable, self-reflexive moments. Michael Sicinski likened UN FILM DRAMATIQUE to Agnès Varda’s work, and I can understand where he’s coming from. In drawing attention to the filmmaking apparatus to illustrate learning, Baudelaire creates the impression that the film itself is thinking, growing. (2019, 114 min) [Ben Sachs]
Rodney Ascher’s A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX (US/Documentary)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and Music Box Theatre here
Revolving around a 1977 lecture by legendary sci-fi writer Phillip K. Dick, A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX explores the ever-expanding idea that the world in which we exist is actually some kind of computer simulation. Ascher—best known for his documentary ROOM 237, about outré interpretations and readings of THE SHINING—pieces together a loose overview of this increasingly popular idea through an essay-style framework that never leans too far into staking a claim for, or against, this idea. Not to say that Ascher’s film lacks conviction; it instead leaves space for the viewer to contemplate. There are interviews with experts such as Oxford professor Nick Bostrom (whose 2003 article “Are You Living in a Computer Simulation?” has become one of the biggest influences on the popularization of Simulation Theory) and culture writer Emily Pothast, as well as interviews with average people who have come to this idea themselves as children—and even a man currently incarcerated for murdering his family after becoming obsessed with THE MATRIX. Stylistically, A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX falls somewhere between a standard talking-head documentary and an Adam Curtis collage essay. Ascher leans heavily on Fair Use to bring visual clips of examples of the various arguments made—STAR WARS, BLADE RUNNER, STARSHIP TROOPERS, Grand Theft Auto, Wolfenstein 3-D, The Man in the High Castle (and various other Phillip K. Dick adaptations), and countless more are all intercut throughout to buttress points made. There are two very interesting choices made, though. Firstly, for a film with the title in its name, no one from THE MATRIX is interviewed in the film. It leans heavily on it as being the biggest pop culture parcel that introduced Simulation Theory, but neglects to speak to anyone involved in the franchise. The second interesting choice is that while the “experts” are shown in a Zoom/Skype style window all the “average people” are made visually anonymous by overlaying them with a digital avatar. Does Ascher want us to think of them as lost in their own personal simulation? Possible biases aside, A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX does a good job of not making anyone seem any more eccentric than anyone else even though the chance to paint some of the people interviewed as complete tinfoil wingnuts is right there. The film gives everyone involved a dignity, which helps the viewer take the film seriously as a whole, because as a movie exploring a mind-altering philosophical conceit, it does a great job of explaining what Simulation Theory is, and the various ways people view it. The film also doesn’t shy away from discussing the theological implications of what living in a simulation brings. If we are in a digital simulation and we are in a world created by a computer programmer, how is that different than being created by God? The mythologies of Christianity and Hinduism are given the same conceptual weight as Minecraft, an idea that might seem offensive until you see it unpacked here, so well done that it almost seems obvious in hindsight. A GLITCH IN THE MATRIX manages to cover its complex subject matter deftly, in a way that guides you while never insulting your intelligence. (2021, 108 min) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Fernanda Valadez’s IDENTIFYING FEATURES (Mexico/Spain)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Watching Fernanda Valadez’s auspicious debut feature, I was struck by how a film about something so ugly—the ugliness of pain, of an exodus spurred and eventually terminated by a too-cruel world—could also be so beautiful; each shot wringed for a certain visual ecstasy is at odds with the disquieting subject matter. Claudia Becerril Bulos’ cinematography is extraordinary, but the true achievement is how the visual sublimity complements the story of a middle-aged mother in Mexico seeking her teenage son, Jesus (Juan Jesús Varela), who’s left their small town for the southern U.S. border. The film begins as Magdalena (Mercedes Hernández, outstanding) recounts in voiceover the circumstances of her son’s departure while the memory is realized onscreen. Valadez then cuts to Magdalena and her friend, the mother of another boy with whom Jesus left for the border, in a sterile office, attempting to locate their children after months without contact. The friend discovers that her son was found dead, while Jesus is still missing. This begins what Valadez describes as a road movie, with Magdalena traversing the countryside to discover the whereabouts of her child. At a facility where she’s nearly coerced into having her son declared dead (on the basis of authorities having found just his duffle bag), she meets another mother in a similar situation; she encourages Magdalena to continue searching. Along her journey to find a man who’d allegedly been on the same bus as her son, she meets a young man, Miguel (David Illescas), himself a migrant who had been compelled to self-deport from the U.S. back to Mexico. The film is deliberately ambiguous, though it’s clear that the ongoing presence of Mexican drug cartels is to blame for the lingering violence and chaos; the threat of disappearance and senseless murder, especially among the migrant population, looms large. Valadez and cowriter Astrid Rondero aren’t explicit in their indictment of this culture. Instead they consider the phenomenon on a metaphorical level, with Magdalena representing all those impacted by the brutality, her journey a modern-day odyssey as regrettable as it is epic. Some elements of the film are disturbing—early on, we see someone cutting into an eyeball, and, later, rotting animal corpses and people being murdered by what appears to be the devil incarnate—and others are reminiscent of the thriller genre, but in general it’s breathtakingly beautiful. Valadez renders transcendent such mundane images as a makeshift office formed out of plastic and the crack in a windshield, to say nothing of the verdurous landscapes that the protagonists tread. The beauty serves to lay bare the ugliness that Magdalena and others like her suffer. Other techniques (such as not subtitling the dialogue over a pivotal flashback, a recurring motif of people speaking to the protagonists not shown in full) convey a sensation of uncertainty that plagues not just the characters, but a society in crisis. (2020, 95 min) [Kathleen Sachs]
Robin Lutz’s M.C. ESCHER: JOURNEY TO INFINITY (Netherlands/Documentary)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and the Music Box Theatre here
This documentary about M.C. Escher hangs on a clever conceit: all the narration comes from Escher’s letters and diaries, so the film proceeds as if the great Dutch artist is telling his own life story. Recited with delicious hamminess by Stephen Fry, the narration allows for a more intimate portrait than one usually gets from contemporary biographical docs; you come away from the movie having learned not just about Escher, but how Escher saw himself. One of the more interesting insights is that Escher didn’t see himself as an artist, but rather as a mathematician who worked in visual design to realize various logical puzzles. Apparently, Escher described the whole creative project of his mature period as one of depicting infinity within defined spaces—a paradox to describe a series of paradoxes! He also claimed to have less interest in achieving beauty with his work than a sense of wonder, which reveals his creative intentions as well as his modesty. Much of the personal information presented in JOURNEY TO INFINITY supports the film’s characterization of Escher as self-effacing: he maintained a low profile, spent much of his adulthood caring for his mentally ill wife, and gently disparaged the individualist youth counterculture that popularized his designs in the 1960s. The movie really sings when it gets into the designs themselves, often deploying animation to illustrate Escher’s lucid explanations of his work. (2018, 81 min) [Ben Sachs]
Ousmane Sembène’s MANDABI (Senegal)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
By the time Ousmane Sembène directed his second feature at the age of 45, he was already a legend. Sembène had been a war veteran, a labor organizer, the author of several book-length works of fiction, and the first sub-Saharan African to release a feature film. One might expect a movie by such an accomplished individual working at the height of his renown to display a certain grandeur or sweeping perspective, yet the greatness of MANDABI (as with most of Sembène’s films) lies in its humility. The story unfolds so plainly that it could be understood by a child, while the imagery, however bright and engaging, tends to be organized around such basics as character and locale. In short, MANDABI feels like a folktale; and like many folktales, the apparent simplicity serves as a conduit to deep wisdom. Dieng, the film’s put-upon hero, is an unemployed, but big-talking man who lives on the outskirts of Dakar with his two wives and seven children. Near the start of the story, Dieng receives a money order from a nephew living in Paris (in a bittersweet montage, Sembène illustrates what the young man has had to do to earn the money), who asks his uncle to cash the order, set aside most of the money, and keep some for himself. Dieng sees this windfall as a chance to pay off his debts, but cashing the money order (or mandabi in Wolof) opens up all sorts of new problems. He learns he lacks the proper documentation required for any banking transaction—and that acquiring this documentation means tangling with an especially messy local bureaucracy. Dieng also finds himself besieged by strangers and acquaintances coming out of the woodwork and asking for loans. But the biggest setback of all comes in the form of a “New African” businessman who promises to help Dieng solve his problems. Sembène characterizes the businessman with the same bitter, satirical sensibility he’d later flesh out in his novel Xala (and his film adaptation of it), but for the most part, the writer-director reserves his anger for institutions rather than individuals. MANDABI condemns the societal factors that keep people in poverty while maintaining, against all odds, an ingratiatingly cheery tone. When seen from the proper perspective, Sembène asserts, injustice is nonsensical enough to seem funny. (1968, 92 min) [Ben Sachs]
Andrei Tarkovsky's THE MIRROR (USSR)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Long before the great TREE OF LIFE euphoria of 2011, another film (from another director's famously sparse oeuvre) went off uncharted into the space between memories past and present, mapping onto them a universal significance. Andrei Tarkovsky's THE MIRROR may lack dinosaurs and metaphorical doors in the desert, but it does set a mean precedent for everything a passion project can be when an auteur is working on such an intensely personal level. Long a dream project of Tarkovsky's, it was only in the wake of SOLARIS that he was able to secure funding, and armed with a meager allotment of film stock, he began production in late 1973. Given the non-linear, dreamlike progression of the film, such obstacles aren't hard to comprehend, and they perhaps explain why this is his most fleeting film outside his debut, IVAN'S CHILDHOOD. Drawn across the middle of the 20th century, THE MIRROR takes a stream of consciousness journey through familial memories, with actors in dual roles as father and son, as wife and mother. Woven in are poems penned by Tarkovsky's own father, assorted clips of wartime newsreel footage, and the quiet, ethereal imagery characteristic of all his films. It all makes for a hazy dream of cinema, one from which you tragically wake too early. But lest the length should fool you, this is not Tarkovsky for beginners. No surprise that at his most personal he's also at his most esoteric, so an afternoon spent with one of his aforementioned films would be a good primer. As for those already in his thrall, this is imperative viewing. (1975, 108 min) [Tristan Johnson]
Tali Yankelevich’s MY DARLING SUPERMARKET (Brazil/Denmark/Documentary)
Available to rent through Facets Cinémathèque here
Early on in Tali Yankelevich’s documentary MY DARLING SUPERMARKET, one of the interviewees expresses confusion about the film: Why would someone make a film about a supermarket, anyway? And at first glance, it might not be too exciting of a premise—but Yankelevich manages to capture an infectious energy between the aisles with a profound fondness. MY DARLING SUPERMARKET follows a charming array of supermercado workers in São Paulo as they go about their day-to-day duties and reveal parts of themselves in the process. The film often feels like a confessional therapy session: a chance for these workers to grapple with their questions about the universe, the monotony of repetitive labor, the duality of their lives in and outside of the store. But the film is not without humor and personality; two workers engage in a heated conversation about the cultural relevance of a manga character, another discusses how to go about dating customers, there’s something unique and whimsical to discover about each subject. Working in tandem with both the film's playfulness and its moments of emotional vulnerability is its meditative filmmaking style, heightened by Gustavo Almeida’s luscious cinematography. From restocking empty shelves, to painting price signs like fine calligraphy, and meticulously kneading and scoring bread—MY DARLING SUPERMARKET makes the most ordinary of routines utterly mesmerizing. (2019, 80 min) [Cody Corrall]
Stéphanie Chuat’s and Véronique Reymond’s MY LITTLE SISTER (Germany)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Through and through, Stéphanie Chuat’s and Véronique Reymond’s MY LITTLE SISTER is about the twin pairing of Lisa (Nina Hoss) and Sven (Lars Eidinger). Born two minutes prior, Sven is battling a brutal bout of leukemia, though the majority of the film exists to service Lisa’s journey. More often than not, the writer-director duo focus on this younger sister, mom of two, and dutiful wife to her private-school-running husband. Once a playwright, Lisa serves others throughout this German drama, showing her willingness to compromise, to care, and, finally, to drop everything to live solely for her dying brother and her family’s well-being. MY LITTLE SISTER hits a familiar rhythm in its depiction of cancer within the family, complete with marital fights, relapses, and one wild night in which Sven is able to let loose, despite the obvious repercussions. Still, the film strikes a chord, as Hoss gives a gut-wrenching, full-body performance, causing the emotion to well up inside of you, even if you know it might not be wholly warranted. MY LITTLE SISTER remains compelling due to the strength of its performances and the sheer emotional punch it has the ability to produce, especially if, as many of us do, you have seen the pained depths that cancer can instill into a once-healthy person. (2020, 99 min) [Michael Frank]
Philippe Lacôte’s NIGHT OF THE KINGS (Ivory Coast)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
At once folkloric and cutting-edge, NIGHT OF THE KINGS transposes elements of the Arabian Nights to a prison in present-day Ivory Coast, showcasing in the process writer-director Philippe Lacôte’s talents for narrative construction, mise-en-scène, and suspense. The film dispenses with all the necessary backstory in a few minutes: the setting, “La Maca,” is the world’s most dangerous prison, where the inmates have so overwhelmed their captors as to have created their own self-governing society. One of the society’s traditions is that on the night of a red moon, a prisoner is chosen to entertain all the inmates through storytelling until dawn. Enter a fresh-faced new prisoner whose innocent look catches the eye of the inmate Boss. The young man is named the new “Roman,” or storyteller. He has a few hours to prepare for a nightlong performance; if he fails, he will be killed. Lacôte introduces a claustrophobic and highly realistic setting, only to subvert it through the fantastic power of the Roman’s storytelling. The surprise appearance of Denis Lavant early on signals that NIGHT OF THE KINGS will not be a straightforward prison drama, and indeed, Lacôte finds ways to open up and complicate the confined setting, first in the Roman’s performance, then in scenes visualizing the stories he tells. The director handles the transformation elegantly, generating mounting tension along the way. (2020, 93 min) [Ben Sachs]
Lili Horvát's PREPARATIONS TO BE TOGETHER FOR AN UNKNOWN PERIOD OF TIME (Hungary)
Available to rent through Facets Cinémathèque here, the Gene Siskel Film Center here, and the Music Box Theatre here
Feeling middle age encroaching, brilliant neurosurgeon Dr. Marta Vizy (Natasa Stork) returns to her native Budapest after 20 years of practicing in America. Dr. Janos Drexler (Viktor Bodo), a visionary in her field, is the man she met a month earlier at a conference in New Jersey; as she recalls, they arranged a rendezvous at her favorite bridge back home. Yet at their next encounter Janos claims not to know her, and Marta begins to wonder if she wanted love so badly she dreamed up the whole thing. Lili Horvát wrote and directed this intriguing, poignant story about loneliness and tricks of perception. Her well-made film is worth a look for its sensitively handled treatment of love’s dark, obsessive, potentially destructive side. Horvát keeps Marta framed closely as she glides through the city in cabs and trams, and Stork gives her a shaky self-possession, a secretive expression encompassing Marta’s angst and hope. (2020, 95 min) [Scott Pfeiffer]
Andrei Konchalovsky’s SIN (Russia/Italy)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Multifaceted Russian screenwriter/director Andrei Konchalovsky has made many types of films over the past 60 years, from Chekhov adaptations (UNCLE VANYA, 1970) to mainstream Hollywood fare (TANGO & CASH, 1989). He will probably always be best known as the screenwriter of Andrei Tarkovsky’s masterwork ANDREI RUBLEV (1966), an impressionistic rendering of the life of the eponymous Russian artist. It seems even Konchalovsky is haunted by this indelible association. In an interview, he said of RUBLEV, “There is no love story, just an enigma of his life, and only at the end of the film his works are shown, which, to some extent, could be projected to what you’ve just seen. And once I’d written the script of THE SIN, I realized it was, in a sense, a continuation of RUBLEV.” There are indeed similarities of approach between the two films. Both are as interested in the harsh and teeming worlds in which their dramas are set as they are in their protagonists, both are biopics of a sort, and both end with allusory comparisons of the art with the artist. SIN focuses on a short period in the life of Michelangelo Buonarroti (Alberto Testone), from the completion of the Sistine Chapel frescos under Julius II (Massimo De Francovich), the pope and a member of the reigning Della Rovere family, to his assumption of a commission from the newly empowered Medicis under their kinsman, Pope Leo X (Simone Toffanin). Political intrigue mixes with Michelangelo’s obsession with money, beginning with his instruction to his family of financial leeches to buy several properties near Florence before the Medicis take power and jack up the prices. He returns to Rome, determined to redo the Sistine frescos to correct a proportion problem, only to be restrained as workers dismantle the scaffolding, bringing his work to its divine conclusion. Way behind on his commission to create 40 sculptures for the pontiff’s tomb, the plan is permanently derailed when Julius dies. From then on, he maneuvers between the Della Roveres and the Medicis, taking their money and stringing them along. Seeing this genius play politics, steal, lie, and lose the trail of conversations while he studies people’s hands provides a grounded portrait of the artist during the height of his fame. Every frame of this film shot by Aleksandr Simonov is a miraculous work of art that brings this world completely to life, including actions on the edges and behind the main focal point in ways that reminded me of Michelangelo’s Dutch contemporary Pieter Breugel’s human mélanges. The film is interspersed with evocative dreams and hallucinations, many of which relate to Michelangelo’s idol, Dante Alighieri, disorienting not only the artist, but also the viewer and leading us to doubt what we are seeing. Testone, who bears a resemblance to the man he plays, is perfect as he moves precariously between inspiration, paranoia, and shrewd intelligence. The major set-piece and moment of greatest suspense in SIN is Michelangelo’s procurement of a huge marble slab “as white as sugar” nicknamed the “monster.” Moving a piece that size had never been done and proves irresistible to the Carrara quarrymen who help him with this quest. The parallels with Moby-Dick and Ahab are obvious, but this white monster helped Michelangelo realize his artistic ambitions, offering a vision of hope instead of destruction and elevating the filmic experience. (2019, 134 min) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Lance Oppenheim’s SOME KIND OF HEAVEN (US/Documentary)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and Facets Cinémathèque here
I’m not sure when I first heard about The Villages, but my curiosity about this vast Disneyland for retirees in South Florida clearly was shared by director Lance Oppenheim, himself a South Floridian. Designed for faux nostalgia built around a faux history complete with a bronze statue of its founder, land speculator Harold Schwartz, The Villages has become a haven for its almost entirely white residents who want to retreat from the world into the country’s most elaborate summer camp, where custom golf carts are the vehicles of choice. Oppenheim emphasizes the pursuit of conformity at The Villages in the opening scene, which features a synchronized golf cart team, a rowing team, and a synchronized swimming team. But we learn all is not fun and games once Oppenheim introduces us to four people in this bubble—married couple Reggie and Anne Kincer, recent widow Barbara Lochiatto, and Dennis Dean, who lives in his van and is not an official resident of The Villages. None of them looks particularly happy, and we learn why as Oppenheim unfolds their stories. Reggie seems like an old hippie, indulging in polydrug abuse and yoga to find enlightenment, much to the unhappiness of his neglected wife. Barbara works in The Villages’ healthcare system, yearning to return to her native Boston but unable to because her savings are gone after 11 years on the property. Dennis is on the run from a California warrant related to a DUI conviction; he’s a restless man whose credo is to live fast, love hard, and die poor. All four of them face their troubles and different varieties of loneliness in ways that seem to demonstrate that our essential character remains relatively fixed throughout our lives. David Bolen’s gorgeous cinematography and ability to capture facial emotions in unguarded moments contrast the heaven of the South Florida landscape with the frenetic activity of the seniors who are determined, as the song goes, to live till they die. It’s tempting to think Oppenheim cherry-picked outliers from this community to feature, but nothing is as idyllic as it seems at first glance, nor is enduring one’s hardships as hopeless at it sometimes seems. Exposing these truths in such an affecting way does all of us—and especially the residents of The Villages—a service we all need. (2020, 81 min) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Shatara Michelle Ford’s TEST PATTERN (US)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Like Joyce Chopra’s SMOOTH TALK and the more recent PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN, the most affecting films I’ve seen about sexual assault are those that do not shy away from complete terror of the situation as they teeter into full horrors from other genres—in this case a romance film. TEST PATTERN, unlike the aforementioned films, however, brings in a necessary consideration of race, highlighting the injustices and failures of a system that is concurrently sexist and racist. The tension built throughout the film is palpable, as director Shatara Michelle Ford begins with the assault and then flashes back to the lead up. The first section follows the meet cute start of the relationship between Renesha (Brittany S. Hall) and Evan (Will Brill), an interracial couple. The title—and only opening credit—doesn’t appear until about fifteen minutes in, as the film establishes that the two’s burgeoning relationship has resulted in them now happily living together. After Renesha is sexually assaulted by a man she met while out for the night with a friend, Evan insists they go to a hospital so she can get a rape kit done. Renesha now has to navigate a dismissive healthcare system that makes it exceedingly difficult to get any kind of help. Hall is incredible as she skillfully captures the heartbreaking reality of self-blame and confusion as Renesha—mostly silently—tries to piece together the trauma of what’s happened to her. This is all while Brill brings a more frenzied performance as Evan, who is taking action and making decisions on how Renesha should handle the situation; a scene where she watches on as he and a police officer—two white men—discuss her assault is quietly shocking. First time feature director Ford, who also wrote TEST PATTERN, provides deliberate pacing and nuance throughout, slowly making clear that Renesha is not only facing sexism and racism in this moment of trauma, but throughout her relationship with Evan. This is achieved in part through unsettling flashbacks, which are filmed like romantic interludes, shot in gorgeous sunlight, but are instead unsettling insights into Evan’s treatment of Renesha. TEST PATTERN is a remarkable and timely first feature—an honest and important portrayal of sexual assault and the many injustices that surround it, particularly for a Black woman. (2019, 82 min) [Megan Fariello]
Filippo Meneghetti’s TWO OF US (France)
Available to rent through Facets Cinémathèque here, the Gene Siskel Film Center here, and the Music Box Theatre here
TWO OF US eerily opens with a game of hide-and-seek between two young girls, during which one of them suddenly vanishes. A traumatic memory or a nightmarish omen, this prologue summarizes the predicament of the two septuagenarian women we’re about to meet, whose decades-long, closeted lesbian relationship has never progressed beyond the “hide” part of the game. Living across from each other in an old Parisian apartment complex, Madeleine (Martine Chevallier) and Nina (Barbara Sukowa) have become accustomed to carrying out their romance in secret, Nina routinely crossing the hallway for a meal or late-night rendezvous with her beloved. The two agree to sell Madeleine’s apartment and move to Rome; it seems the couple will finally find the freedom they’ve been looking for. But obstacles loom, particularly in the form of Madeleine’s children, who guilt their mother into staying put. The situation becomes even more fraught when a stroke leaves Madeleine in a semi-catatonic state, and the installment of a live-in caretaker augurs the end of the women’s apartment-hopping trysts. Rather than hit the obvious keys of melodrama, first-time filmmaker Meneghetti unfolds this ripe scenario using a cinematic language more allied with a psychological thriller, making especially unnerving use of peepholes, reflections, and pregnant silences punctuated only by the churn of a washing machine or the sizzle of a frying pan. Implacably driven to get her Madeleine back, Nina ends up taking matters into her own hands, Sukowa expertly and scarily conveying the mania that can grow from a love denied. The horror and tragedy of TWO OF US lie not so much in her increasingly unhinged behavior, but in the suppression of desire that fosters it, the absence reflected in the sad, hollow eyes of a mute Madeleine, forced to listen to her children prattle on about her nonexistent devotion to her late husband. Meneghetti invests so strongly in the women’s indestructible bond that he has the tendency, intentionally or not, of belittling his other characters, while too easily waving away Nina’s ruthless actions. Yet the performances from Chevallier and Sukowa are so powerful, you can’t help but root for them to find their way back to each other. “I will follow him / follow him wherever he may go,” goes the Little Peggy March song. An Italian translation of the earlier version of this song, Petula Clark’s “Chariot,” plays throughout TWO OF US as the women’s theme. Here, in lieu of “him” or any sexist declarations of obedience, there is only the mountains-moving force of love. (2020, 95 min) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
Amjad Abu Alala’s YOU WILL DIE AT TWENTY (Sudan)
Available to rent through the Music Box Theatre here
Stunning from its opening shot, YOU WILL DIE AT TWENTY is a fully realized, flowing visual examination of faith and mourning life before it’s fully lived. Set in a small Sudanese village on the Nile, the film was the winner of Lion of the Future Award at the Venice Film Festival and is Sudan’s first-ever Oscar submission. After being told by a Sheikh that her newborn son will die before he reaches age twenty, Sakina (Islam Mubarak) shelters the boy throughout his life, protecting what little time he has left—his father (Talal Afifi), takes off immediately, unable to cope with the anticipation of death. Muzamil (Mustafa Shehata), grows up fully aware of his predicted fate and, like his mother, is preoccupied by the knowledge that he’ll die young. As he reaches closer to twenty, however, Muzamil begins to question both his belief in the prophecy and his faith in general, prompted by those in his life who are unconvinced, including his frustrated childhood sweetheart (Bunna Khalid) and a local (Mahmoud Maysara Elsarraj) who’s back from spending years travelling abroad. Individual shots are strikingly composed, as director Amjad Abu Alala contrasts the beige, rocky, static spaces of the village with mindful, colorful movement of life, including people, wind, and water; in addition, sounds of life—breath, heartbeat, and even the recurrence of a buzzing fly—all work subtly yet effectively to reflect Muzamil’s strange position as a young person expecting death. The remarkable and sometimes dreamlike visuals are complimented by a series of earnest performances, particularly by Mubarak as a mother mourning her son his whole life. The film does miss some opportunities in its more grounded moments to directly speak to suggested themes surrounding the political backdrop and even sexual abuse—a few scenes stand out as completely unaddressed, but particularly unsettling is one towards the end between Muzamil and an older woman. Overall, however, YOU WILL DIE AT TWENTY artistically threads its themes on life and death through both its gorgeous visuals and thoughtful performances. (2019, 102 min) [Megan Fariello]
LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS – Also Screening/Streaming
Gallery 400 (UIC)
Gallery 400 presents an online talk by Columbian filmmaker Camilo Restrepo on Tuesday at 1pm. More info and a registration link here.
Chicago Filmmakers
The online shorts program Strong Female Lead, featuring recent local narrative works by Amber Eswani, Nina Slesinger, Ricardo Bouyett, and Patricia Frontain, is available to rent for a suggested donation from Monday through March 14. More info here.
Block Cinema
Northwestern University’s Block Cinema presents Voices Across Time: Sharing Women’s Experiences of Re-entry, which continues through Sunday at 6pm. Two films by Beyondmedia are available for screening here.
Facets Cinémathèque
Check the Facets website for hold-over titles.
Gene Siskel Film Center
Lisa Marie Malloy and J.P. Sniadecki’s 2020 documentary A SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME (77 min) and Maryam Touzani’s 2020 Moroccan/French film ADAM (98 min) are both available for streaming beginning this week. Check the Siskel website for hold-over titles.
The Film Center’s new online lecture series, Talking Pictures, presents three thematic strands through the spring featuring critic and author Jonathan Rosenbaum (Tuesdays, continuing through April 13), filmmaker John Sayles (Mondays in March), and journalist and curator Sergio Mims (Mondays in April and May). Details here.
Music Box Theatre
Alan Adelson and Kate Taverna’s 2020 documentary THE PEOPLE VS. AGENT ORANGE (87 min) and Quentin Dupieux’s 2018 French film KEEP AN EYE OUT (73 min) are both available for streaming beginning this week. Check the Music Box website for hold-over titles.
ADDITIONAL ONLINE SCREENINGS
John Sayles' LONE STAR (US)
Available to rent on Amazon Prime, Apple TV, Google Play, and other services
In an American Cinematographer interview from 1995 with acclaimed multi-hyphenate writer, producer, director, and editor John Sayles and his longtime collaborator Haskell Wexler, a clear picture emerges of how Sayles works with his cinematographers (one of the few filmmaking jobs Sayles has never taken on himself). Wexler's comments about directorial input are basically summed up with the quote "John liked it - I mean he didn't say he didn't like it;" and Sayles, while speaking artfully and intelligently about the cinematographer's role, remains self-deprecating about his own skills behind the camera and speaks with gratitude and admiration toward those he hires. So while some folks knock Sayles for not being a great visual director, what is truer is that he acknowledges his deficit and shrewdly hires dynamic and brilliant people who can appreciate and translate his vision. Besides the legendary Haskell Wexler, Sayles has racked up a deeply impressive list of collaborators including Ernest Dickerson, Michael Ballhaus, Robert Richardson, Roger Deakins, Dick Pope, and Lee Briones-Meily. In the entertaining and fabulously well-acted Texas-set murder-mystery-romance LONE STAR, Sayles hired Stuart Dryburgh, who was in the middle of a fruitful run of masterpieces with Jane Campion, to shoot the roving widescreen compositions. The story is simple enough. Chris Cooper plays Sam Deeds, who left town long ago to escape an oppressive family legacy and a tormented teenage romance. He returns home to reluctantly take the job of sheriff and falls back into the old entanglements he sought to leave behind. Deed's story of conflicting histories, shifts in power, and group identities are blown out narratively and echoed through the community in an expansive structure of subplots. The stories Deeds tells himself about his father (Matthew McConaughey) are at odds with the legendary stories of heroism and integrity celebrated in the town. Similarly the town argues about the conflicting histories and meanings of textbooks, borders, and military service. Deeds' attitudes toward power and racism are colored by his personal story. Unlike most everyone else in town, he sees little difference between the explicitly violent and racist power structure (represented by a mustache-twirling Kris Kristofferson) from two generations prior and the kindler gentler neoliberal dominance of his father's generation. Deeds warily meanders around through the thriving Chicano, marginalized Black, and withering white communities trying to solve a mystery no one wants figured out. The Chicano community's stories revolve around a school teacher played by Elizabeth Peña and her immigrant mother's hardline belief in American bootstrapism. The Black community's story revolves around the army base and an always excellent Joe Morton as a Colonel with his own paternal issues and a then-unknown Chandra Wilson trying to keep her troubled past behind. There's also an exceptional one-off scene with Frances McDormand as a woman living outside of an established community, making due with her own constructed reality built entirely on Texas football. The Faulkner axiom “The past is never dead. It's not even past.” is fully at play both narratively and visually, as past and present stories can happen in the same drifting shot. Deeds eventually makes some peace with the central mystery and his personal grief by acknowledging a little of the moral murkiness his father indulged in. With a final outré narrative twist, the movie itself will likely leave you in the same place of subdued and puzzled gratification. (1996, 135 min) [Josh B. Mabe]
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LONE STAR is the subject this week of the Gene Siskel Film Center’s online conversation series with John Sayles on a selection of his films. The event is on Monday at 6pm. More info and a link to purchase a ticket here.
Janicza Bravo’s MAN ROTS FROM THE HEAD (US/Short)
Available to stream on the Criterion Channel* (subscription required)
Janicza Bravo’s films are full of awkward and obstinate loners, struggling to relate with others—even if that means elbowing their way in the door. Shot in black and white, with a film-noir veneer and jazz score, MAN ROTS FROM THE HEAD features Michael Cera as a door-to-door salesman making his way through an apartment building. Driven relentlessly forward by a deep sense of duty—both to his job and some kind of religious fanaticism—his encounters with the residents get increasingly surreal. The vignettes are driven by mood, presenting no clear idea of what’s going on with the unstable salesmen or the apartments’ strange occupants. The Los Angeles noir style is visually striking, adding the sense of foreboding that grows throughout. In a lot of ways MAN ROTS FROM THE HEAD is a follow up to Bravo’s dreamy 2016 short WOMAN IN DEEP, both which employ Classical Hollywood styles while thematically addressing white privilege through the unhinging of their main characters and interactions with those they encounter. What I admire most about Bravo’s films are their fearlessness in examining unlikable and impenetrable characters, finding humor and sympathy without romanticizing the often dark and desperate search for human connection. (2017, 16 min) [Megan Fariello]
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*Included as part of the “Four Films by Janicza Bravo” series
Mikio Naruse’s MOTHER (Japan)
Available to stream on the Criterion Channel (subscription required)
Note: Spoilers! Though concerned with sudden deaths and the somber passing of time, Mikio Naruse’s postwar portrait of the Fukuhara family, held together by indomitable mom Masako (Kinuyo Tanaka), retains a magnificent buoyancy of spirit. The opening minutes display the bed-wetting and nose-picking antics of rascally nephew Tetsuo (Takashi Ito), and the reflections of teenage daughter Toshiko (Kyoko Kagawa)—who frames the action in voice-over—frequently take on an endearingly wide-eyed quality, as when she marvels at the decades-hardened physique (“Look at his bulging biceps!”) of her longtime laundryman father (Masao Mishima). As tragedy befalls the overworked household, with both the dad and the only son dying from fatigue-related illnesses, Naruse and screenwriter Yoko Mizuki continue supplying festive distractions from the day-to-day toll: a variety show at which Toshiko’s admirer (Eiji Okada) performs woefully, an elaborate hairdressers’ competition that causes confusion among friends and neighbors, even a scene of moviegoing that the director handles slyly. This oscillation between tones and perspectives—each generation in the story, down to sullen youngest daughter Chako (Keiko Enami), receives a slice of narrative autonomy—is one of MOTHER’s salient attributes, and can perhaps be partly chalked up to the unusual source material (a prizewinning entry from an essay contest among schoolchildren). But the movie also devotedly salutes Masako’s heroic maternal efforts: Even in scenes that play out calmly in composition and pace, she is clearly attending to a never-ending inventory of responsibilities. We see many characters sleep in MOTHER, but rarely her—she’s usually too busy tucking people in or reading them bedtime stories. In one of the loveliest scenes, she stays awake with her ailing, curled-up husband as they reminiscence about the old days, the poignant conversation serving as both a temporary reprieve down memory lane and a reminder of the abundant demands (funeral bills, the dry-cleaning business) ahead. (1952, 98 min) [Danny King]
Joanna Hogg’s UNRELATED (UK)
Streams free with a subscription to MUBI and on Kanopy through participating libraries with your library card
Into every life comes a moment of reckoning. That moment differs from person to person, but many of us face it in middle age, when the endless possibilities we enjoyed when we had many years of productive, vital life ahead of us start to narrow. In her feature film debut, British director Joanna Hogg drops us into the crucible moment of her middle-age protagonist, Anna (Kathryn Worth), when reality slaps her in the face during a summer vacation in Tuscany. Anna steps off a bus, wheels her luggage across dusty, sunbaked cobblestones, and eventually arrives at an electricity-free villa to which she has been invited by her old friend Verena (Mary Roscoe). Anna has arrived without her husband, blaming his work obligations but actually covering for a fracture in their relationship. As the vacation progresses, Anna chooses to spend most of her time with the “youngs,” whose irreverence and daring activities align more with her idea of a good time than playing games by candlelight with the “olds.” She falls into a flirtation with Oakley (Tom Hiddleston) and conspires with the “youngs,” with disastrous results that force Anna to come to terms with her life and delusions. For a first feature, UNRELATED is extraordinarily assured, displaying the mature style that characterizes Hogg’s later films. Her observational approach lends a certain clinical distance to the story she is telling, with conversations sometimes hard to hear and incomplete, and private encounters largely occurring within clusters of human interaction. Cinematographer Oliver Curtis offers us the palpable feel of the Tuscan heat, and his candlelit sequences provide both a dreamy glow and a touching tinge of nostalgia for a time when human beings were more vulnerable and, thus, more interdependent. Hogg has admirable empathy for all of the characters she has written, understanding that some of our youthful decisions result in unduly harsh consequences that we never really anticipate. After exposing Anna’s immaturity with painful objectivity, in the end, Hogg allows her a graceful resolution to her midlife malaise. (2007, 100 min) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
SUPPORT LOCAL THEATERS AND SERIES
As we wait for conditions to improve to allow theaters to reopen, consider various ways that you can help support independent film exhibitors in Chicago weather this difficult time. Memberships, gift cards, and/or merchandise are available from the Gene Siskel Film Center, the Music Box Theatre, and Facets. Donations can be made to non-profit venues and organizations like Chicago Filmmakers, the Chicago Film Society, South Side Projections, and many of the film festivals. Online streaming partnerships with distributors are making films available through the Gene Siskel Film Center, the Music Box Theatre, and Facets; and Facets also has a subscription-based streaming service, FacetsEdge, that includes many exclusive titles.
COVID-19 UPDATES
Most independent, alternative, arthouse, grassroots, DIY, and university-based venues and several festivals continue to have suspended operations, are closed, or have cancelled/postponed events until further notice. Below is the most recent information we have, which we will update as new information becomes available.
Note that venues/series marked with an asterisk (*) are currently presenting or plan to do regular or occasional virtual online screenings.
CLOSED/POSTPONED/HIATUS:
Beverly Arts Center – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice
Block Cinema (Northwestern University) – Closed until further notice
Chicago Film Society – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice*
Chicago Filmmakers – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice*
Comfort Film (at Comfort Station) – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice
Conversations at the Edge (at the Gene Siskel Film Center) – The Spring 2021 season will take place online
Doc Films (University of Chicago) – Screenings cancelled until further notice
Facets Cinémathèque – Closed until further notice (see above for virtual online screenings)*
Film Studies Center (University of Chicago) – Closed until further notice
filmfront – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice
Gallery 400 (UIC)*
Gene Siskel Film Center – Closed until further notice (see above for virtual online screenings)*
Music Box Theatre – The Music Box has again reopened with limited capacity (see above for virtual online screenings)*
The Nightingale – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice
The Park Ridge Classic Film Series (at the Park Ridge Public Library) – Events cancelled/postponed until further notice
FESTIVALS:
Postponed with no announced plans yet:
The Cinepocalypse film festival (June) – Postponed with plans to reschedule at a future time
The Windy City Horrorama festival (April 24 - 26) – Cancelled; will possibly be rescheduled or reconfigured at a future date
The Chicago Critics Film Festival (May 1 - 7) – Postponed until further notice
CINE-LIST: March 5 - March 11, 2021
MANAGING EDITOR // Patrick Friel
ASSOCIATE EDITOR // Ben Sachs, Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Cody Corrall, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Michael Frank, Tristan Johnson, Danny King, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, Josh B. Mabe, Raphael Jose Martinez, Scott Pfeiffer