Hello, Cine-File Readers:
As we all continue with self-isolation and uncertainty, Cine-File is adapting, as so many other things are. Until film theaters and venues re-open for screenings, we will be offering new and rerun reviews each week of a selection of films available to watch online. There has been a deluge of free offerings, lists of things to do, ideas to keep oneself sane and busy on social media and elsewhere. We hope that this limited, focused weekly selection from our contributors will be of value—some eclectic handpicked favorites and rarities recommended by our writers.
Be Well and Stay Inside
NEW REVIEWS
Scott Sidney’s CUPID IN QUARANTINE (Silent US Short)
Available free on the National Film Preservation Foundation website here.
CUPID IN QUARANTINE, a one-reel Strand comedy, tells the story of a young couple (Elinor Field and Cullen Landis) conspiring to stay together over the objections of the young woman’s father (Billy Bevan) by using red ink on their faces to fake having smallpox. This bubbly trifle from 1918 seems in questionable taste in a world then reeling from an influenza pandemic that infected 500 million people and killed, depending on whose figures one believes, anywhere from 17 million to 100 million people. It’s hard to know what prompted Strand to tell this story, but smallpox was a regular fixture in silent film plots, particularly in comedies of thwarted lovers. That the couple invites a preacher diagnosed with smallpox into their home is shocking to see in this time of social distancing and an object lesson in what not to do in an outbreak. This film was repatriated from the EYE Filmmuseum in The Netherlands by the National Film Preservation Foundation during its EYE Project in 2013 and was restored in 2016. The film is topical for today and cute, but no masterpiece. Its value is that it is part of our film heritage and shows attitudes toward a killer disease that has since been eradicated. (1918, 10 min) MF
John Pirozzi's DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN: CAMBODIA'S LOST ROCK AND ROLL (US)
Available for rent and purchase on Amazon, Google Play, iTunes, YouTube and other services.
My first exposure to Cambodian rock was probably in Matt Dillon's film CITY OF GHOSTS, a neo-noir which features a stunning cover version of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" over the end credits. The song, performed by the contemporary band Dengue Fever, adapts the original lyrics into Khymer and includes a Farfisa organ alongside the usual guitar-bass-drums lineup. It sounds like some long lost mid-60s artifact that's slightly askew; at least to most Western ears, familiar yet otherworldly. This engrossing documentary spotlights many of the amazing Cambodian musicians and singers who were producing music in the 1960s and 1970s, before the Khmer Rouge regime and subsequent genocide put an abrupt end to it all. Though the focus is on rock and roll, just as in the rest of the world at the time the boundaries between rock and pop (and even jazz and "novelty" records) were much more fluid. The melting together of traditional Khymer music with outside influences such as cha-cha-chá and mambo, Frank Sinatra, the Shadows, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and even James Taylor resulted in a heady brew that's irresistible. Regardless of how you'd care to label them, the tunes are all fantastic (and thankfully there's a soundtrack album available from Dust-to-Digital). Pirozzi finds some clever ways to animate album covers and incorporate period home movie footage that communicate a real feeling of that period. Most importantly, rather than using the hackneyed approach of inserting celebrity "endorsements" to win us over, he mostly lets Cambodians speak for themselves, including several fortunate enough to have survived the subsequent hellish years. Eloquent and arresting, their testimony helps to paint a sobering yet joyous portrait of creativity's resilience, something that feels especially nourishing right now. (2014, 105 min) RC
Sion Sono’s THE FOREST OF LOVE (Japan)
Available to stream on Netflix (subscription required).
For roughly its first third, THE FOREST OF LOVE marks Sion Sono’s grandest narrative stunt since LOVE EXPOSURE (2008), with the Japanese writer-director moving forward and backward in time with little concern for whether the pile-up of developments makes perfect sense. Sono introduces a gallery of memorable characters here, among them a singing con artist, a small group of underground filmmakers, a young woman who attempted suicide with a group of friends in high school and survived, and another singing con artist who may also be a mass murderer. You may feel lost in all of this, but it’s a fun sort of bewilderment—there are so many plot threads to keep track of that you may just give up and go with the flow of Sono’s confident storytelling. The film settles into a groove around the one-hour mark, however, and becomes easier to follow; one pleasure of this section is seeing how the story lines converge and move forward as one. THE FOREST OF LOVE gets increasingly gruesome from here, too, zeroing in on the multiple homicides that some of the characters attribute to the duplicitous pop singer. The singer is also something of a cult leader, seducing young women, their families, and eventually the underground filmmakers (who are trying to make a movie about him) into his nefarious schemes. I won’t reveal what those schemes are, as part of the fun lies in seeing how horrible the con man’s plans get; suffice it to say the film is not for the squeamish. Like his compatriot Takashi Miike, Sono has always enjoyed breaking taboos in his work, but his films are rarely as exuberant as Miike’s—there’s always a dark current drawing your attention to how ugly the characters’ behavior is. This is no less true of THE FOREST OF LOVE, which builds to a portrait of irreparably broken lives as upsetting as that of Sono’s NORIKO’S DINNER TABLE (2005). (2019, 151 min) BS
Shirley Clarke’s FOUR JOURNEYS INTO MYSTIC TIME (US Experimental)
Available on the Criterion Channel (subscription required) until March 31.
A film cycle comprised of four parts—MYSTERIUM (13 min), TRANS (7 min), ONE-TWO-THREE (8 min), and INITIATION (28 min), though their exact order is ambiguous and each can be viewed and enjoyed independently of the others—Shirley Clarke’s FOUR JOURNEYS INTO MYSTIC TIME is a thoroughly rousing feast for the senses. Clarke’s dance films are undoubtedly linked to her background as an avant-garde dancer; the purity of these films’ collective vision, stemming from Clarke’s devotion to the form, is awe-inspiring. All of the featured performances were choreographed by Marion Scott, whose approach, per the Dance History Project of Southern California, organically linked “mood, sound, choreography and lighting, resulting in a wide spectrum of unique and evocative work.” MYSTERIUM is a study of the human form in motion on par with Maya Deren’s A STUDY IN CHOREOGRAPHY FOR CAMERA. It features two dancers, clad in skin-tight bodysuits, as they move in tandem atop reflective flooring. The accompanying music conjures a sense of mystery (as the title suggests) while also exuding an air of precariousness—that two humans should be able to move their bodies like this is both the question and its answer. TRANS also presents a dance with two performers, though here they often appear as one through the use of an ingenious special effect. It would seem one performance of the dance is superimposed on top of the other, creating an aesthetic similar to what 3-D looks like without glasses, and, if you happen to wear regular glasses, what it looks like without those as well; its quality seems intentionally out of focus to exacerbate the effect. The music is fittingly psychedelic, a cacophony of pings and zings. ONE-TWO-THREE is my favorite of the four and certainly the silliest. In it, two women and one man perform against multicolored backgrounds, sometimes in solid-color silhouettes. The soundtrack is largely gibberish speech; between that and the man’s costume—black suit, red tie, bowler hat and green gauze over his face, all reminiscent of Magritte’s famous Man in a Bowler Hat painting—the influence of surrealism is undeniable, while the musical numbers of Classic Hollywood also loom large. INITIATION is the most conventional of the four, but it’s wondrous nonetheless. It features the largest ensemble of the shorts, depicting a ritualistic initiation ceremony through a sublimely choreographed dance. Clad in ethereal blue-and-white costumes, the dancers are at once angelic and menacing; the soundtrack, consisting of melodious Tibetan bells, likewise conveys this dichotomy. The sheer aesthetic impact of these films makes them a pleasure to watch—Clarke experiments with filmic and bodily forms so that the two become one. (1978, 56 min total) KS
Courtney Hoskins’ The Galilean Satellites (US Experimental Shorts)
Available on the artist’s Vimeo page. Links in text.
The Galilean Satellites by Courtney Hoskins is a four-part tribute to her former professor Stan Brakhage, who passed away the year these films were completed. The four films take Brakhage's grand poetic scope, using masterful hand-painting and optical printing techniques to imagine visions of the eponymous celestial bodies, discovered by and themselves named after Galileo Galilei. THE GALILEAN SATELLITES: EUROPA begins with an icy scratchy view of the surface, then burrows down into the waters beneath—imagining a throwback sci-fi oceanscape of earthly aquatic life and whale sounds. THE GALILEAN SATELLITES: IO depicts "the most tectonically active body in our solar system" with hazy closed-eye visions of instability that bends into a view of eerie blue rivers and shimmering striations. THE GALILEAN SATELLITES: GANYMEDE fades in and out on a cracked, bubbly surface that gets scraped and gouged until the images break down and become liquid. Finally, THE GALILEAN SATELLITES: CALLISTO shows the "most heavily cratered body in the solar system" as a quaking and rapid degradation of the surface image morphing into pulsating light blotches that disappear into thin air. These films were created to be shown on gorgeous 16mm prints, and these are simple 10-year-old digital transfers, but the beauty and skill of Hoskins work is delightfully intact in this home-viewing option. (2002-03, 28 min total) JBM
John Maringouin's GHOSTBOX COWBOY (US)
Streams free on Kanopy through participating libraries with your library card.
With a barbed, cockeyed wit and profound sense for the uncanny, GHOSTBOX COWBOY chronicles the travails of a wannabe American entrepreneur in China’s booming tech market as an ignominious descent into the maw of global capitalism. His name is Jimmy Van Horn (weirdo indie filmmaker David Zellner), an oafish Texan huckster in cheap cowboy regalia who’s come to Shenzhen to peddle his invention to investors. The product? “Ghostr,” a dumb little toy box that allegedly enables communication with the dead. But instead of achieving capital success like a good mountebank and cultural imperialist, the comically dislocated Yank finds himself increasingly in over his head, dragged helplessly through a series of economic misfortunes and social mishaps. The film offers one of 21st-century cinema’s most potent representations yet of the absurd, grotesque spectacle of commodity culture and the predatory machinations of out-of-control capitalism under globalization, employing a mockumentary aesthetic as a thin veil over the veracity of the world it documents. GHOSTBOX COWBOY's visuals thus achieve a surreal effect: they at once testify to the material reality of China’s radically accelerated economic transformations, and underline the alienness of its resulting mass-mediated hyperreality, making strange the sensory experience of modern urban life. (Think Jia Zhangke on speed). Through John Maringouin’s jittery edits, this modernity is captured as a discombobulating movement of capital and labor through an obscure landscape of ubiquitous advertisements, neon-lit streets, and unknowable networks of power. As our hubristic protagonist weathers debasing (and hilarious, in its cringe-comedy way) humiliations, his cowboy persona deflating from an icon of mythic imperialism to a tawdry commercial relic, the film takes trenchant account of the U.S.’s displacement from the putative center of cultural and economic domination. Wryly, uneasily, it suggests how the American Dream has been reduced to an exportable and antiquated commodity, now fully consumed by the market it helped spawn. (2018, 120 min) JL
Gillian Armstrong’s MY BRILLIANT CAREER (Australia)
Streams free on Kanopy through participating libraries with your library card. Also available on the Criterion Channel (subscription required) and on iTunes to rent or buy.
My Brilliant Career, the first novel published by Australian writer Stella Maria Sarah Miles Franklin under the name Miles Franklin, was a semiautobiographical account of a headstrong young woman named Sybylla Melvyn and her romantic longings for a life in the arts. The title could just as easily refer to director Gillian Armstrong, who, with this second feature film, was laying the groundwork for a distinguished career in film. It could also refer to Judy Davis, whose spirited and memorable performance as Sybylla presaged a long series of varied and skillfully executed roles in such films as HUSBANDS AND WIVES (1992), THE NEW AGE (1994), and CELEBRITY (1998), and the masterful television series Mystery Road (2018 and 2020). As Sybylla, Davis seems to be stretching at the boundaries of her own skin, trying to escape more than her rustic, unromantic life on a cattle station. Her impetuous, joyously untamed spirit attracts two suitors, but Sybylla is searching for a way off the track of a conventional life of marriage and children. When I first saw this movie as a young, aspiring writer, I felt that I had found a kindred spirit and role model in Sybylla. I still do, thanks to Armstrong’s evocative, exuberant depiction of what it looks like to be determinedly and fully alive. (1979, 100 min) MF
Geoff Murphy’s THE QUIET EARTH (New Zealand)
Streams free on Kanopy through participating libraries with your library card. Also available on Shudder with a subscription and for rent on YouTube and Amazon Prime.
Among so-called “last person on earth” films, THE QUIET EARTH is a cult classic that brings an interesting sensibility to the storyline in large part due to the touching, nuanced, and utterly original performance of Bruno Lawrence as electronics engineer Zac Hobson. The deliberate, powerful, opening sequence depicts a sunrise on the ocean, the sun huge and red when it breaks free of the horizon and casts a reflection in the water resembling a figure 8—the symbol for infinity. The film shifts to Zac arising for the morning and driving to and entering a secure facility. Computer monitors show that Project Flashlight has been completed. Reaching the bowels of the facility, he sees a slumped body, its skin desiccated and eyes bulging hideously. “Now you’ve done it,” Zac despairs. He senses that, save for him, all life on Earth is gone. Zac eventually encounters two other people, but if he hadn’t, Lawrence would have made the best sole survivor in history. His fearless performance takes him to the very edge of insanity and suppressed desires in an extremely well-modulated performance. Lawrence’s haunted eyes tell us volumes about his fears and his resignation to actions he must take. He is simply one of the most incredible actors I’ve had the pleasure to watch, accomplishing seemingly effortless truth in this role. The spectacular scenery of Auckland adds to our appreciation of the world in which we live and signals the nostalgia overtaking our survivors, but most especially Zac, even as they walk along its beaches and plunge into its oceans. This film has an ache, one I’ll feel for a long time to come. (1985, 91 min) MF
Pat Collins’ SONG OF GRANITE (Ireland/Canada)
Streams free on Kanopy through participating libraries with your library card. Also available for rent and purchase on Vimeo and Amazon Prime (“free” if you have a Prime membership).
SONG OF GRANITE is an experimental biopic shot in black and white that, despite some beautiful cinematography, privileges sound over image in telling the story of legendary sean-nós singer Joe Heaney. Heaney’s childhood in the Irish-speaking village of Carna in County Galway is recounted in loving detail, with some spell-binding scenes of a storyteller speaking in an ancient stone dwelling to a rapt audience that includes Joe (Colm Seoighe) and a song collector recording Joe’s father and other villagers singing some traditional folk songs. We get a real feel for the rhythms of life in rural Ireland in the early part of the 20th century and especially for the sounds of Heaney’s world—songs, birds, water, and mixed Irish and English language. That said, when director Pat Collins leaves Heaney’s childhood behind, the narrative becomes difficult to follow, perhaps an allusion to the dislocation of immigration. Heaney’s 1949 move to London is tossed off as the clamor of the construction work he did, and his story’s chronology is scrambled. The film leaves one with the impression that Heaney’s connection with his homeland was the only thing that made sense to him; the sounds of Carna return again and again to the adult Heaney (played in his 40s by Michael O’Chonfhlaola and in his 60s by Macdara Ó Fátharta), particularly birdsong and, of course, the music that defined Heaney’s essence. Most filmgoers are attuned to what their eyes can see, but SONG OF GRANITE elevates the importance of sound, a fitting approach to the story of a man who lived to sing. (2017, 104 min) MF
Daniel Barnett's WHITE HEART (US Experimental)
Available on the artist’s Vimeo page.
Daniel Barnett's films were once quite tricky to see, going in and out of distribution and with his masterpiece WHITE HEART existing only as delicate and costly Kodachrome prints. Thankfully, some of us got to see that gorgeous 16mm print back in 2008 at The Nightingale, but for everyone else, Barnett has graciously put a wonderful looking 4K transfer on Vimeo for all to view. It's such a deeply detailed film that a lower quality transfer would not have expressed its magical qualities. WHITE HEART is a bursting-at-the-seems kitchen-sink of a film. It is, in turns, messy and exacting—rapid fire and patience-testing. It's purposely contrarian and frustrating. It's the filmic equivalent of a discussion with a jokingly belligerent, philosophically-minded friend. It resembles the form of an avant-garde comedy (think Owen Land and Robert Nelson), but frustrates even the jokes. It takes emotionally referent material and eludes and denies symbolic meaning. Barnett himself says of the film: "People describe this film as a machine that's constantly on its way to breaking down. And that's part of its seediness and its humor. For me that description of it sums up that quality of…um…I mean there's almost a way in which I really do see the whole film as the outfielder chasing the fly ball. And on the way to the fly ball he trips over second base. He gets lost in the color of the grass." It's a damn beautiful wreck of a film and comes highly recommended. (1975, 53 min) JBM
Norman Foster’s WOMAN ON THE RUN (US)
Free to watch on the Internet Archive here.
In all my years of attending the Music Box Theatre’s annual Noir City series, my favorite discovery has been WOMAN ON THE RUN, a little-known (but, thanks to the Internet, now easy to see) feature from 1950. The movie is technically a noir; it contains murder, detectives, and, the title notwithstanding, both men and women on the run. Yet its core concerns—love, marriage, friendship—aren’t typical of noir, nor is the lighthearted tone of many of the scenes. Ultimately it’s an unclassifiable film, which makes it all the more interesting. WOMAN begins with a familiar noir set-up: Frank Johnson, an ordinary San Franciscan, witnesses a murder while walking his dog one night. He calls the police, who tell him he’ll need to identify the murderer in court—and that this will put him at risk of being killed himself. Frank decides he doesn’t want this responsibility, then bolts, leaving his wife Eleanor (Ann Sheridan) to look for him while the police hover over her. Much of the rest of the movie details Eleanor’s search, during which time she learns things about her husband she hadn’t known before. As she learns about Frank, so do we learn about their marriage, which would make an interesting movie in and of itself. Apparently Frank is a struggling painter whose frustrations have carried over into his marriage; according to Eleanor, the two are in the middle of a troubled period. Yet as she discovers, through Frank’s coworkers and friends, how he lives his life when he isn’t home, Eleanor begins to fall in love with her husband all over again, if not for the first time. It’s a weirdly uplifting story of how a murder investigation saves a marriage, and the weirdest thing about it may be how naturally it all flows. A one-time associate of Orson Welles (who directed the master in the very enjoyable 1943 thriller JOURNEY INTO FEAR), Norman Foster handles the cast gracefully, eliciting fine supporting performances from every bit player, particularly John Ford regular John Qualen, who turns up as one of Frank’s coworkers. Dennis O’Keefe is very good too as a journalist who helps Eleanor in her search; the nature of his identity provides one of the film’s numerous entertaining surprises. (1950, 77 min) BS
RERUN REVIEWS FOR FILMS WITH SPECIAL AVAILABILITY
Lori Felker’s FUTURE LANGUAGE: THE DIMENSIONS OF VON LMO (US Experimental Documentary)
Selected as the Opening Night Feature for this year's virus-cancelled Ann Arbor Film Festival, FUTURE LANGUAGE will be livestreamed on Tuesday, March 24 at 7 PM, by the festival, in lieu of a physical screening (as will all of the competition films in the festival). Details at festival website.
Most modern documentaries about eccentrics, forgotten geniuses, and cult heroes are about as adventurous as a Disneyland jungle cruise. Suffocated by voice-overs, clogged by talking heads, and bloated with cloying AfterEffects photomontages, they aspire to a one-size-fits-all competence that evacuates the strangeness of their subjects even as they turn that strangeness into a commodity. Conceivably, such films will one day be made entirely by algorithms and a few Wikipedia links. But FUTURE LANGUAGE: THE DIMENSIONS OF VON LMO is the only documentary that could be made about Frankie Cavallo, aka VON LMO, irrepressibly bent noise musician and space refugee from the planet Strazar—and Chicago-based filmmaker Lori Felker is the only person who could have made it. Ask LMO why it had to be Felker, and he might talk about their shared “extraterrestrial hybridity,” or about their past lives together, perhaps as two ingredients in an 18th-century salad. The filmmaker certainly has gift for entering what Steven “Laserman” Cohen, VON LMO collaborator and inventor of the “Gimbaled Laser Bongo,” describes as a “mindlocked brainfuck” with the post-punk icon: throughout FUTURE LANGUAGE, Felker tunes us to station WLMO by way of pixel-frying video effects, Martian-time-slip montage, and sheer sonic attack. Something of a stylistic factotum in her experimental film and video work, Felker’s got enough technique to be exactly as weird as she wants to be, maneuvering between interviews, candid camera phone footage, animation, live performances, and blizzards of CRT noise with exhilarating confidence. Clearly her subject is impressed: after seeing one of his acid trips woozily brought to life in Mike Lopez’s cartoon recreations (sequences which serve as color-coded act breaks in an otherwise very freewheeling film), VON LMO lets out an unbridled shout of recognition that conveys as much joy on screen as I’ve seen in eons. In these moments when FUTURE LANGUAGE circles back on itself, revealing the seven (hundred?) year process of portraying a bizarre and troubled life, we see Felker’s fandom take on the gravity of real friendship, but this film is really an extended dialogue between two artists, and only an artist of her ingenuity and idiosyncrasy could slingshot around this “intergalactic superstar” without burning out. Though an undeniably affectionate, sometimes awestruck tribute, the film wisely describes a more elliptical orbit around its subject than most rock profiles—over the years, VON LMO seems to come in and out of focus not only to Felker and to us, but to himself. Her trajectory not only helps shield the filmmaker from her subject’s sometimes disturbing volatility, it also lends FUTURE LANGUAGE a peculiar rhythm, one that mirrors the flux of its own making. Most importantly, her ability to step back preserves the quantum of VON LMO’s essential strangeness, which utterly confounds conventional rise-and-fall-and-rise biographical structures anyway. Thrilling and sometimes frightening up close, the dimensions of VON LMO become both more spooky, and more affecting, at a distance. (2018, 84 min) MM
Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson, and Galen Johnson’s THE GREEN FOG (US)
Maddin has, at least temporarily, made the film available for free on his Vimeo page.
Although many of his films have featured significant influences from German Expressionism and silent film styles more generally, Guy Maddin (and his co-directors, Brothers Johnson) takes a totally different approach in THE GREEN FOG, a creative retelling of VERTIGO using clips from nearly 100 different films (and a few TV shows) that take place in or near San Francisco. This condensed homage is broken into three sections: a prologue featuring a green fog rolling into the city and two chapters that are marked by some shifts in their respective editing styles. Much of the film is devoid of dialogue and intentionally edits conversation out of its source sequences to only show the characters’ inhalation or exhalation before or after their lines would have been spoken. Instead, Maddin’s narrative utilizes visual elements to recall VERTIGO’s plot points, such as the music video for NSYNC’s “This I Promise You” which takes place in the Redwood National Forest or Mel Brooks falling in HIGH ANXIETY. The film quickly becomes a game of ‘I Spy’ for the viewer as one mentally runs VERTIGO’s story in one’s mind and try to align the original with the scenes happening on screen. Maddin’s trademark avant-garde style blends well with this film’s intriguing concept and its editing is truly clever. Prior knowledge of Hitchcock’s masterpiece is not required to appreciate the artistry here, as it is a film that feels like it’s made for those who love movies of all eras. At times pure cinema and at others a montage on steroids, THE GREEN FOG showcases Guy Maddin as one of the finest working in experimental cinema. (2017, 63 min) KC
COVID-19 UPDATES
All independent, alternative, arthouse, grassroots, DIY, and university-based venues and several festivals have suspended operations, closed, or cancelled/postponed events through the end of March at least. Here is the most recent information we have, which we will update as new information becomes available:
Asian Pop-Up Cinema – Spring series postponed till the fall
Beverly Arts Center – Closed through the end of March (tentative)
Block Cinema (Northwestern University) – Spring calendar on hold with no definitive start date
Chicago Film Society – Remaining March and April screenings on their current calendar are postponed, with intentions to reschedule at future dates
Chicago Filmmakers – All screenings postponed until further notice, with the intention of rescheduling at future dates
Comfort Film (at Comfort Station) – Programming cancelled with no set start date
Conversations at the Edge (at the Gene Siskel Film Center) – Remaining programs cancelled, with plans to reschedule at future times
Doc Films (University of Chicago) – Spring programming cancelled
Facets Cinémathèque – Closed through April 17 (tentative date)
Film Studies Center (University of Chicago) – No April screenings/events; May programming is wait and see
filmfront – Events postponed until further notice
Gene Siskel Film Center – Closed through April 10 (tentative date)
Music Box Theatre – Closed through April 3 (tentative date)
The Nightingale – March and April programs postponed
The Park Ridge Classic Film Series (at the Park Ridge Public Library) – Screenings cancelled through the end of March at least
Festivals:
The Onion City Experimental Film + Video Festival (March 12-15) - Postponed with plans to reschedule at a future time
The Chicago Latino Film Festival (April 16-30) – 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
The Chicago Underground Film Festival (June 10-14) – Postponed (tentatively in September)
CINE-LIST: March 20 - March 26, 2020
MANAGING EDITOR // Patrick Friel
ASSOCIATE EDITORS // Ben Sachs, Kathleen Sachs, Kyle A. Westphal
CONTRIBUTORS // Rob Christopher, Kyle Cubr, Marilyn Ferdinand, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, JB Mabe, Michael Metzger