We will highlight physical screenings at the top of the list for theaters and venues that have reopened, newly regrouped in our standard Crucial Viewing and Also Recommended sections, as well as all other physical screenings, and list streaming/online screenings below.
Remember to check the venues’ websites for information on safety protocols and other procedures put in place. More and more venues are now requiring proof of vaccination or a negative PCR test. We recommend verifying those protocols before every trip to the theater. And, of course, always wear a mask.
👁️THE CHICAGO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
The 57th Annual Chicago International Film Festival goes through October 24. Below are select reviews for films whose physical screenings are taking place through Thursday. There are several locations for the physical portion of this year’s festival: AMC River East 21, Music Box Theatre, Gene Siskel Film Center, Pilsen ChiTown Movies (the drive-in venue), and the Parkway Ballroom. We will indicate venue as well as date and time with each review. Furthermore, there’s a virtual aspect to the festival; information about a film’s virtual availability will be noted where applicable. Films still screening virtually will be listed below the physical screenings. More info on the festival here.
Shorts 2: Shifts and Rifts (Animation)
AMC River East 21 – Saturday, 12:30pm
In Renee Zhan’s SOFT ANIMALS (2021, 3 min), two former lovers who haven’t seen each other in years meet again by chance. They sniff each other out like feral creatures before their bodies melt into a swirling, undifferentiated sea of oil paint and smeared charcoal lines. This elastic, liberating use of the animated medium to reconfigure bodies and their spaces runs throughout many of the excellent shorts in this year’s animation program. SOFT ANIMALS can also be read as an allegory of COVID-era derealization, something more explicitly tackled in two of the other shorts: Ayce Kartal’s I GOTTA LOOK GOOD FOR THE APOCALYPSE (2021, 4 min, Digital Projection) and Alex Cardy, Tali Polichtuk, and Kitty Chrystal’s ARE YOU STILL WATCHING? (2021, 6 min, Digital Projection). The former, which juxtaposes rotoscope-painted scenes of isolated pandemic life with the emancipatory space of virtual reality, poignantly captures the longing for connection and release that so many felt during quarantine. The latter film, meanwhile, irreverently diagnoses the psychological state of a queer woman whose endless hours of lockdown binge-watching have resulted in her having erotic fantasies about iconic LGBTQ characters of film and television. Its neon-hued comic book style is echoed and exaggerated in Kristian Mercado’s NUEVO RICO (2021, 16 min, Digital Projection), a Latinx cyberpunk fable that mixes folklore, reggaeton music, and futurist Miami Beach aesthetics. Another music-oriented pastiche, Christopher Chan’s stop-motion CHAMPION EDITION (2021, 3 min, Digital Projection), draws on hip-hop iconography and uses toy figures. Kim Kang-min’s KKUM (2021, 9 min, Digital Projection) employs a more unlikely material, Styrofoam, to tell the Freudian story of a mother whose nightly dreams protect her son from danger. Intimate familial and romantic bonds are the subjects of the program’s remaining three shorts. In Paulina Ziółkowska’s colorful, wistful 3 GENARRATIONS (2021, 8 min, Digital Projection), three (soon to be four) generations of women negotiate their roles as mothers, daughters, and wives. Lina Kalcheva’s claymation film OTHER HALF (2021, 13 min, Digital Projection) takes place in a Greek myth-inspired land where people are considered complete when they physically merge with their significant others. Finally, Joanna Quinn’s whimsical AFFAIRS OF THE ART (2021, 16 min, Digital Projection) centers on a family united by their various eccentric obsessions, from taxidermy to counting the threads on screws. The narrator, a harried British artist and housewife named Beryl, lends the film a drollness matched by the Bill Plympton-esque illustration style. Both in its themes and by its formal example, it’s a tribute to the power of creativity to transform our surroundings—and maybe ourselves. Director Christopher Chan in person. [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Ryusuke Hamguchi’s DRIVE MY CAR (Japan)
AMC River East 21 – Saturday, 7pm
How do we deal with misfortunes that arrive when we least expect them? In DRIVE MY CAR, the characters channel their emotions (or lack thereof) into their art, their tools, and their environments. The film follows Yūsuke Kafuku, a theatre director who is known for putting on multilingual productions, a concept you could spend hours discussing. For a large portion of the film, we find him traveling in his car, listening to a cassette recording of his wife reading lines for Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya in preparation for a production he's going to put on. The film takes on these various layers (it's a cinematic lasagna, if you will), filled with references, different languages, and emotions that are both explosively expressed and shamefully hidden. This comes as no surprise, given that the film is an adaptation of a short story by Haruki Murakami, whose work is also filled with references and taboo eroticism. Hamaguchi delivers a nuanced film that should only get better with each viewing, as details and subtleties are weaved into things said or left unsaid. This makes sense—Kafuku’s multilingual production raises some interesting questions on the ways we can approach communication. Despite a language barrier, or an unwillingness to say something out loud, intentions and feelings can still seep through with a knowing glance or shy shift of the body. Often, the audience and maybe one or two characters might know the truth of the scenario, but Hamaguchi places us in an awkward position, knowing right next to the main cast. It’s hard to say what's the right way to deal with these scenarios, but delaying the inevitable impact of your feelings will only do you harm in the long run. (2021, 179 min, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
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More info here.
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Jacques Audiard’s PARIS, 13TH DISTRICT (France)
AMC River East 21 – Saturday, 8:30pm and Tuesday, 8:15pm
Though it’s adapted from three works by American cartoonist Adrian Tomine, Jacques Audiard’s generational portrait PARIS, 13TH DISTRICT couldn’t feel more French in terms of its filmmaking. The exacting black-and-white photography frequently recalls Philippe Garrel’s films, while the drift-like narrative structure, which reflects the way the characters float in and out of sexual relationships, resembles those favored by André Téchiné. (The second similarity can’t be coincidental; Céline Sciamma, who cowrote this, also worked on the script of a recent Téchiné feature, BEING 17 [2016].) This isn’t to say that Audiard’s film is derivative; it just falls into a very French tradition of movies that comment or expand on other movies. Audiard marries his creative reference points to his own ongoing concerns—principally, the makeup of contemporary, multicultural France—and in this regard the film plays like a follow-up to A PROPHET (2009) or DHEEPAN (2015). One of the main characters, Camille, is of African descent; another, Émilie, is Chinese. Audiard regards their intense, short-lived affair as a sociologically fascinating, only-in-Paris phenomenon, and the sex scenes manage to be erotic in spite of this. After the two protagonists split up, the plot shifts focus from Camille and Émilie to consider another character who lives in the neighborhood: Nora, a thirty-something woman just entering law school who discovers she resembles a popular webcam sex performer. How Nora’s story intersects with the other characters’ is best experienced without reading about it first; this is the sort of movie where half the fun is watching the puzzle pieces of the script fall into place. Audiard and his cowriters are interested in how the sexual habits of a particular generation reflect their general ideas about love, responsibility, and social engagement—somewhat like what director Mike Nichols and cartoonist-cum-screenwriter Jules Feiffer did in CARNAL KNOWLEDGE (1971), although PARIS, 13TH DISTRICT feels much less tormented by comparison. (2021, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Jim Cummings and PJ McCabe’s THE BETA TEST (US)
AMC River East 21 – Saturday, 10:30pm, and Wednesday, 3:30pm
Jordan Hines (Jim Cummings) is a young, white, shallow hustler who works for a shady talent agency uncoincidentally called APE whose business plan comprises ripping off giant agencies like CAA by making side deals with their clients. One day, he receives a purple invitation to a no-strings-attached sexual encounter, along with a reply card on which he can check off his sexual preferences. Although he is engaged to be married, the invitation jumpstarts his fantasy life, and he ends up returning the card and hooking up with his anonymous lover. Afterward, he becomes paranoid about his fiancée finding out and starts the hunt for the sender of the invitation. THE BETA TEST, which starts off like a slasher movie, switches to another horror—the lying, cheating, cutthroat subculture of alpha and wannabe alpha males. Cummings and co-director/co-screenwriter PJ McCabe, who plays Cummings’ best friend in the film, look at the effect of #MeToo on Hollywood climbers and power brokers who have had to revise their dream of becoming the next Harvey Weinstein. THE BETA TEST quite reminded me of Ben Younger’s THE BOILER ROOM (2000), which took aim at what it called “The New American Dream” of infinite greed. This film goes much farther than THE BOILER ROOM by tossing in the intrusiveness and global reach of internet data mining, as well as the much-shorter fuse social media has fostered in people from all walks of life. Incisively written and performed, THE BETA TEST makes an amusing, but appalling comment on society today. Co-director PJ McCabe in person at the Saturday screening. (2021, 91 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
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More info here.
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Kavich Neang’s WHITE BUILDING (Cambodia/France/China)
AMC River East 21 – Sunday, Noon
Two opposite forces pull at Samnang (Piseth Chhun). On the one hand, he desires to leave home and chase his dreams of becoming a famous boy band dancer. On the other, he still lives with his parents, and their home is on the verge of being torn down. While many coming-of-age films focus on going out into the world and becoming who you want to be, WHITE BUILDING is one that focuses on what ties you to your home. The film, based upon Neang’s personal experiences, is an honest and complex portrayal of what coming of age often truly looks like. Chasing your dreams is great and shouldn't be forgotten, but the unfortunate fact is that this never comes about for many people. Oftentimes young adults find themselves in a position where they have to help hold down the fort, and the luxury of chasing their destiny is not afforded to them. In WHITE BUILDING, Samnang is placed in the limbo of filling a caretaker role and having to contend with the stubbornness of people around him. His father, the elected chief of their apartment complex, constantly tries to reassure the other antsy tenants, negotiate a better deal with the buildings’ buyers, and deal with complications from his diabetes in his foot. His mother, meanwhile, is traditional, superstitious, and perhaps a bit overbearing. Samnang has excellent role models to look up to: there's his best friend, who's left for Paris; his sister, who moved out on her own before the film begins; and his mother and father, who live their lives in their own way. Neang doesn't advocate for one way of life over another—there are no judgments here on how people choose to live. His nonjudgmental attitude offers a worthy life lesson, which runs counter to the common misconception that staying true to your roots is a bad thing (or, alternatively, that wanting to abandon your roots is a bad thing). The film does have some pacing issues in the opening chapter; Neang likes to linger on his subjects to a point where the impact of the scene is diminished. Despite this, WHITE BUILDING is a vulnerable and honest film that deserves attention, and Kavich Neang is a talented filmmaker to keep your eye on. Screenwriter Daniel Mattes in person. (2021, 90 minutes, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Gordon Quinn and Leslie Simmer’s FOR THE LEFT HAND (US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center and AMC River East 21 – Sunday, Noon, and Wednesday, 5:45pm, respectively
In 1949, at the age of 10, Norman Malone lost the use of his right hand when he and his two brothers were attacked while they slept by their hammer-wielding father, who intended to kill them all. His father died by suicide after the attack, leaving Norman’s brothers severely disabled and Norman’s dream of becoming a pianist seemingly as lost to him as his father. FOR THE LEFT HAND chronicles Norman’s burning desire to continue to make music, his accomplishments as a music teacher at Chicago’s Lincoln Park High School, and his growing concert career made possible by the exposure he got from Chicago Tribune music critic Howard Reich, who told his story in the newspaper in 2015. Director and Kartemquin Films co-founder Gordon Quinn and Reich first teamed up to tell the story of Reich’s mother, a Holocaust survivor suffering from delayed PTSD, in PRISONER OF HER PAST (2010). Now, they and co-director Leslie Simmer have created another moving look at a person who has had to endure trauma and go on with his life. In Malone’s case, his affliction became a quest for piano pieces written for the left hand. So far, he has rediscovered more than 300 such pieces and had a rag composed for him by Reginald Robinson, which we see him perform in the film. He also had a chance to play part of his favorite piece, Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand, on the very piano of his hero, Paul Wittgenstein, a pianist who lost his right arm in World War I and commissioned Ravel to compose the piece for him. Reich walks us through the elements of the concerto as the 79-year-old Norman prepares to play it for his first-ever performance with an orchestra. I was struck by a comment of Reich’s, who said he has seen note-perfect performances of the difficult Ravel piece, but that only Malone’s interpretation revealed to him what the concerto means to a person who has lost the use of a hand. These and many other moments from Norman Malone’s full, well-lived life make FOR THE LEFT HAND a treasure. Directors Gordon Quinn and Leslie Simmer, writer/producer Howard Reich, producer Diane Quon and subject Norman Malone in person at both screenings; the Sunday screening will be followed by a live piano performance by Malone. (2021, 74 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
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More info here.
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Sergei Loznitsa’s BABI YAR. CONTEXT (The Netherlands/Ukraine/Documentary)
AMC River East 21 – Sunday, 12:15pm
Ukrainian director Sergei Loznitsa frequently exhumes archival footage to fashion historical narratives that unfold in present tense. BLOCKADE (2006) used bits of newsreels and home movies to revisit Leningrad during the Nazi siege of World War II; more of an impressionist poem than a narrative, the film succeeds in conveying the Soviets’ unworldly reality during the war. THE TRIAL (2018), a shockingly engrossing reconstruction of a 1930s Stalinist show trial, showcased Loznitsa’s brilliant editing skills and keen understanding of totalitarian rhetoric. STATE FUNERAL (2019) found Loznitsa working on an epic scale, incorporating footage of tributes to Stalin from across multiple Communist countries to reflect the epic fiction that was the Stalinist “utopia.” That film ended on a note of grave moral seriousness, with a reminder of how many millions were murdered or starved to death under Stalin’s rule; with BABI YAR. CONTEXT, Loznitsa continues his necessary meditation on the atrocities of the 20th century. The film centers on the Nazis’ slaughter of nearly 34,000 Ukrainian Jews over two days in September 1941, but as the title alerts us, it's also about the culture of Kiev (where the atrocity took place) in the time before, during, and after the tragedy. Loznitsa approaches his subject from multiple angles, but principally in terms of the widespread anti-Semitism that took root in Ukraine in the period leading up to World War II—a key detail in the film is of Ukrainians cheerfully putting up posters around Kiev in support of the anti-Semitic government. Loznitsa incorporates newsreel footage of the round-up of Kiev’s Jews, and these scenes are some of the most harrowing depictions of the Holocaust in cinema. Shot with the Nazis’ full (and, from the looks of it, sickeningly prideful) participation, the footage shows the lead-up to atrocity with almost unbelievable matter-of-factness. This passage occurs about halfway into BABI YAR. CONTEXT; the rest of the movie considers the aftermath of the massacre, with an emphasis on shots of the citizens of Kiev going about their daily business as though everything were normal. Like Romanian director Radu Jude in some of his recent films (THE DEAD NATION, I DO NOT CARE IF WE GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS BARBARIANS), Loznitsa confronts the complicity of some of his countrymen in the Jewish Holocaust of World War II. That’s not an easy project, and BABI YAR. CONTEXT isn’t easy viewing, but it is crucial. (2021, 121 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. There will be a livestream Q&A with director Sergei Loznitsa on Monday at noon. More info here.
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Francesco Zippel’s OSCAR MICHEAUX – THE SUPERHERO OF BLACK FILMMAKING (Italy/Documentary)
AMC River East 21 – Sunday, 1:15pm
An illuminating and accessible survey on Oscar Micheaux—the first Black filmmaker of note, whose lasting influence echoes throughout the sprockets of moving image history—Francesco Zippel’s OSCAR MICHEAUX – THE SUPERHERO OF BLACK FILMMAKING (ill-titled though it may be) provides much-needed insight into the life and artistry of the cinematic great. Where Zippel excels in this straightforward documentary is in letting the artist and his disciples speak for themselves, with little in the way to distract from details of Micheaux’s pioneering brilliance. I laud the filmmakers in their choice of interviewees; there are few overly enthusiastic talking heads (as is now the fashion) and more scholars and artists whose practices connect to the subject. Prominent among them is Chicago’s own Jacqueline Stewart, now chief artistic and programming officer at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures and recent recipient of a MacArthur Genius Grant. She contextualizes, with grace and good humor, details of Micheaux’s life and the circumstances under which he became one of the most important directors of all time. Stewart herself declares Micheaux to be “the most important Black filmmaker who ever lived,” an assertion confidently elucidated throughout this compact primer. What I love about this biography is that it highlights the ways in which Micheaux was a tenacious visionary whose success (relative at the time but certainly enduring) was due in large part to a perseverance that even the most privileged artists often don't exhibit. The film traverses Micheaux’s life from his birth in Metropolis, Illinois, and later stint in Chicago (where he was a Pullman operator) to his time out west and finally to his creative endeavors as an author and filmmaker. As various interviewees point out, Micheaux embodied the independent/DIY spirit on both fronts, self-publishing his books and selling them door to door, then starting to make films after a producer became interested in adapting his first book but wouldn’t let Micheaux have complete creative control. And thus a legend—or, as the title would suggest, a superhero, evoking Metropolis’ decision to erect a Superman statue as a way of distinguishing the small midwestern town (as apparently they couldn’t think of anyone else better to represent their legacy)—was born. Other insightful interviewees include Micheaux’s biographer Patrick McGilligan, film historian Richard Peña, and filmmakers John Singleton and Amma Asante, who speak extensively of his influence. Also included are Haskell Wexler, who worked with Micheaux, and Melvin van Peebles; between Singleton and van Peebles, the film also serves as a tribute to recently departed Black luminaries who carried on MIcheaux’s tradition of intransigent filmmaking. There are some animated sequences, which is par for the course in most documentaries nowadays, as well as footage from Micheaux’s films. The latter are artfully curated, highlighting choice elements of Micheaux’s artistic mastery and social significance. I suspect the film will succeed in what should be its greatest aim: enticing audiences previously unfamiliar with Micheaux’s films to seek them out and revel in what they are, what they mean, and how they inspired what came after. (2021, 80 min, DCP Digital) [Kathleen Sachs]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Panah Panahi’s HIT THE ROAD (Iran)
AMC River East 21 – Monday, 5:15pm
Panah Panahi’s debut as a writer-director bears resemblance to his father Jafar Panahi’s recent feature 3 FACES (2018) in that it’s a seriocomic road movie that considers the difficulties of being a young adult in the Islamic Republic of Iran. The film approaches its concerns obliquely, however, making it an open-ended allegory more in line with certain films by Mohsen Makhmalbaf (THE CYCLIST, THE SILENCE) and Mohammad Rasoulof (IRON ISLAND, THE WHITE MEADOWS). Most of the story follows a family of four on their road trip across a remote, mountainous region of the country. Panahi generates winning humor from the familiar situation of family members trapped with each other’s quirks, and he provides the principal characters with memorable idiosyncrasies. The father, mother, and 20-ish older son each get moments in the dramatic spotlight, but they’re all overshadowed by the family’s six-year-old younger son, a hyperactive brat who goes unpredictably (yet always believably) from being endearing to being obnoxious. Like a lit firecracker, he doesn’t seem to belong inside a moving car—he really ought to be doing sprints up and down the mountains the family keeps passing. The little boy’s liberty stands in sharp contrast to the fate awaiting his older brother, which Panahi starts to intimate around the half-hour mark of HIT THE ROAD, continues to allude to, but never reveals outright. All we ever learn for certain is that the family is delivering him to some group of people—maybe good, maybe bad—in the middle of nowhere. That the character’s future is literally unwritten brings an air of dread to this superficially pleasant movie, and it inspires alarm about whatever hangs in the balance for all of Iran’s young people. Yet in keeping with the poetic tradition of much Iranian art cinema, Panahi buoys the proceedings with plentiful moments of childlike wonder, most vividly in a late sequence that finds father and bratty tyke literally floating through the cosmos. (2021, 94 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY (Japan)
AMC River East 21 – Monday, 8:15pm
HAPPY HOUR, the intimate epic that established Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's international reputation, achieves a novelistic density through the uncommonly detailed way it plumbs the emotional lives of its quartet of lead characters. WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY, the first of two 2021 releases by the director (followed by DRIVE MY CAR), resembles a short-story collection in how it depicts three narratively unrelated vignettes that are formally separated by their own chapter headings and credit sequences. Hamaguchi proves to be equally adept at the short-film format as he was with a 5-hour-plus run time: the mini romantic dramas that comprise WHEEL are gratifying to watch as self-contained episodes, but when one contemplates how they might be linked on a thematic level, the entire project attains a profound resonance (it wasn't until the morning after my first viewing that I realized the magnitude of Hamaguchi's deceptively modest approach). The first section, “Magic (Or Something Less Assuring),” begins with an extended Rohmerian dialogue between two female friends, one of whom regales the other about a "magical" date with a man she has fallen in love with, unaware that he is also her friend's ex-lover. It ends with a chance encounter between all three characters, punctuated by a brief but daring fantasy sequence. The title of the second section, "Door Wide Open," refers to a literature professor's policy of avoiding scandal by always keeping his office door open when meeting with students. One day he receives an unexpected visitor, a woman who is attempting to ensnare him in a trap. Or is she? The final section, "Once Again," is the best: two women who haven't seen each other in 20 years meet providentially on a train-station escalator before spending the day together and eventually realizing that neither is whom the other had thought. Hamaguchi himself has said that "coincidence and imagination" are the movie's main themes and, indeed, as the title indicates, each of the stories involves the intersection of the free will of the individual and the fickle nature of fate. But WHEEL is also about the inexorable pull of the past and how the characters' regrets over roads not taken have keenly shaped who they are. This latter aspect is the key to understanding how a film so charming on the surface can also contain such a melancholy undertow and how characters with only a small amount of screen time can seem so fascinatingly complex and believable. Hamaguchi shows the psychological underpinnings of everyday human behavior in a manner rarely seen in the movies. He knows how to pierce your heart. (2021, 121 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Glover Smith]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Shorts 8: Discursive Proclivities (Experimental)
AMC River East 21 – Monday, 8:30pm
Progressing from the nonrepresentational to the searingly personal, the films in this year’s experimental shorts program showcase a myriad of ways image-making is a socially, culturally, and historically situated practice, albeit one that also has the ability to transcend boundaries of time and space. Kwa’s PANTA RHEI (EVERYTHING IS IN FLUX) (2021, 9 min, Digital Projection) is by far the most abstract of the group; a kaleidoscope of undulating, deliquescing blobs and streaks of color, it recalls 1960s psychedelia and the perceptual projects of such experimental filmmakers as Jordan Belson and Stan Brakhage. A different sort of sensory play is in operation in Michael Robinson’s narrative/found-footage hybrid POLYCEPHALY IN D (2021, 23 min, Digital Projection). Centered on two men who telepathically communicate their love in the aftermath of a major earthquake, it weaves around them a collage of video games, music videos, film and television clips, memes, sporting events, and nature footage to create an epic supercut that suggests the possibility of some kind of post-humanist evolution from the cultural detritus of our media-consumed world. Wang Yuyan’s ONE THOUSAND AND ONE ATTEMPTS TO BE AN OCEAN (2021, 12 min, Digital Projection) employs a similar deluge of found footage to represent the excesses of the world, with a particular emphasis on ecological disaster and the proliferation of viral videos. The soundtrack, which cryptically loops, manipulates, and eventually transmutes the phrase “hurt you tonight,” gives the film a hauntingly incantatory rhythm. Scaling back from such macro visions of the world is Tulapop Saenjaroen’s SQUISH! (2021, 18 min, Digital Projection), an idiosyncratic portrait of a female Thai animator who proclaims herself an “unfinished sketch.” Throughout the anarchic and somewhat precious film, she uses her imagination as an act of resistance, refusing to have her work, body, or identity be defined by anyone but herself. Also preoccupied with the body, Allison Chhorn’s supremely moving BLIND BODY (2021, 14 min, Digital Projection) profiles the filmmaker’s grandmother, Kim Nay, a survivor of the Khmer Rouge who’s losing her eyesight. Chhorn embodies her perspective through out-of-focus shots that frustrate our desire for clarity; she also links her grandmother’s failing vision with the burgeoning vision of her own infant daughter, conveying national memory as something carried through the body across generations. Sahar al-Sawaf and Thomas Helman’s SHADOW OF PARADISE (2021, 7 min, Digital Projection) closes the program with a focus on another national trauma, the Gulf War. Sahar al-Sawaf, who escaped from Iraq with his parents and eventually found refuge in California, juxtaposes George H.W. Bush’s speech announcing Operation Desert Storm with glitching, distorted images of military aircraft and views through bomber cameras. It’s a damning condemnation of US military interventionism that will sadly never lose its timeliness. Director Kwa in person. [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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Use code EXPSHORTS3 for $3 off the physical screening! Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Hong Sang-soo's IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE (South Korea)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Tuesday, 7pm
It is currently October 14, 2021, as I write this, and we are a little over a year and a half into the COVID-19 pandemic. While many of us are just starting to find a semblance of normalcy, what is South Korean director Hong Sang-soo busy with? Rolling out his second feature film of the year, of course. Hong's work ethic is certainly one to aspire to, and his need to create always proves fruitful. IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE is a minimalist film, like much of Hong's work, but that doesn't mean the film lacks complexity or substance. To those unfamiliar with Hong’s oeuvre, it may appear that there isn't a lot going on in this film. It focuses on a former actress’s visit to her native country of South Korea, and unfolds mainly in two major parts. In the first, the actress visits with her sister to catch up; in the second, she meets with a director who is interested in casting her in a project. It sounds simple enough, but there's in fact a lot at play here. Hong's strength as a filmmaker lies in his ability to elevate everyday occurrences—for example, spilling soup on your pink blouse. This type of sequence could easily occur in any number of films; perhaps a giant, heaping pot of chili gets dumped on a person's chest or someone feels the horror of a stain before the first date. Where Hong excels is in bringing gravity to mundanity, finding a certain joy in the everyday, even in a goofy accident like spilt soup. If there is one blessing I gained from the pandemic, it’s the reminder to appreciate these immensely graceful mundanities, because once the world starts spinning again it will be hard to stop it. (2021, 85 minutes, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
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More info here.
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Asghar Farhadi’s A HERO (Iran)
AMC River East 21 – Tuesday, 7:45pm
With such films as ABOUT ELLY (2009), A SEPARATION (2011), and THE SALESMAN (2016), Asghar Farhadi established himself as a master of intricate, morally complex social dramas. Concerned with how seemingly small actions can carry wide-reaching social, economic, and political implications—particularly within and across the stringent societal dictates of Iran—he has cultivated a taut, character-driven style that builds both suspense and intellectual frisson out of snowballing ethical quagmires. After the relative disappointment of his Spanish-language EVERYBODY KNOWS (2018), Farhadi returns to his bailiwick with A HERO. Amir Jadidi plays Rahim, a sign painter in debtor’s prison for failing to pay back a loan to his aggrieved creditor, Bahram (Mohsen Tanabandeh). During a short leave, Rahim comes into possession of what could be his ticket out of jail: a handbag containing 17 gold coins, found by his girlfriend at a bus stop. However, when this turns out to not be worth enough, he decides to return the bag to its owner. For his allegedly altruistic deed, Rahim is hailed as a hero by the media, given a certificate of merit from a prisoners’ charity, and offered a job in the city council. What we see that these groups don’t is that Rahim’s publicized story of civic goodness is not as he claims. Gradually, his relatively minor misrepresentations branch out into a latticework of face-saving lies and ethical predicaments in which nearly everyone, from the prison warden to the leader of the charity, becomes complicit. A HERO continues to prove Farhadi’s adeptness at navigating a sprawling cast of three-dimensional characters with divergent backgrounds and vantages, whose personal stakes he parcels out with a rigor befitting a procedural thriller. He doesn’t make value judgments on their decisions, as there’s always another unexpected wrinkle to complicate the situation, always another (and then another) detail to problematize our sympathies. The RASHOMON-esque perspectives of his dense script are further compounded by the presence of social media, a timely device Farhadi uses to comment on the propagation of fraudulent narratives by opportunistic actors. A HERO may not be as grand as A SEPARATION or have as engrossing a central performance as THE SALESMAN, but it’s just as effective at getting us to look beyond judgment-minded systems and their reductive logics to acknowledge the fallible, multifaceted humanity of which we’re all part. (2021, 127 min, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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More info here.
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Isidore Bethel and Francis Leplay’s ACTS OF LOVE (US/Documentary)
AMC River East 21 – Tuesday, 8:30 PM
For many people, a breakup may spark a brief period of pain and melancholy, ideally followed by some modest reflection. For deeply introspective, obsessive creative types like Isidore Bethel, a breakup is an occasion to make art—specifically, a self-reflexive essay film that probes the slippery natures of love, communication, intimacy, and modern gay culture. To do this, the Chicago-based Bethel set up a casting call for gay men living in the city; after interviewing them, he chose four to star in a fictional film based on the conversations they had. ACTS OF LOVE documents this process from its inception, beginning with the interviews and proceeding through the scripted encounters, where the protective cover of fiction gives way to candid dialogue and behavior (one subject, unable to hide his desire for Bethel, constantly insists that they both undress). Meanwhile, Bethel also focuses on the interstitial moments in which he, with frequently humorous over-the-phone counsel from his mother, expresses doubt about the direction of the project. Among the many things it’s not shy about addressing, ACTS OF LOVE openly questions its own ethics and intent. Is this just a navel-gazing vanity project assuaging Bethel’s relationship anxieties? Is Bethel exploiting his subjects’ subordinate positions—and horniness—for his own personal and artistic ends? In many ways, it’s hard to say no to some of these questions. Yet ACTS OF LOVE is very much about its own searching, uncertain tack, about the nebulous, even dubious ways relationships can form and mutate, particularly in the digital era. Underneath its more esoteric or academic qualities, the film reflects a common, ongoing process of self-discovery and redefinition. In one of Bethel’s most quietly resonant gestures, he periodically displays montages of mobile phone images sent between him and the ex who served as the catalyst for this film. Bethel fixates on the number of photos: 1,877. By the end of the film, it’s 1,878, and most likely still growing. Co-director Isidore Bethel and actor Ed Sanderson in person. (2021, 71 min, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Sebastian Meise’s GREAT FREEDOM (Austria/Germany)
AMC River East 21 – Wednesday, 5pm, and Thursday, 8:30pm
Until 1969, there existed in the German Criminal Code a provision (known as Paragraph 175, which was made even harsher by the Nazis before the war) that prohibited sexual activity between men. Though this facet of the code was later repealed, it wasn’t until 1990, following the reunification of West and East Germany, that it was abolished altogether. This isn’t too shocking, considering similar laws existed in the United States up to just a few decades ago (even if they were not as specifically targeted and sparsely enforced, sodomy laws were only fully abolished in 2003); truly galling, however, is the fact that, when the concentration camps were liberated following the end of World War II, German survivors who had been deported because of their sexual orientation were sent back to prison to finish out the remainders of their sentences. Such is the case for Hans Hoffmann, the main character of Sebastian Meise’s staggering second feature, GREAT FREEDOM—he’s played by Franz Rogowski, who turns in as complex and nuanced a performance as he did in Christian Petzold’s 2018 masterpiece TRANSIT. The film begins with Super 8mm footage of Hans and several men engaging in sexual activity in a public bathroom; it’s then revealed that the footage comes from various sting operations and is being used to prosecute Hans under Paragraph 175. He’s sent to prison, a place that seems familiar to him. It soon becomes clear via a clever narrative structure that this isn’t Hans’ first time in jail: presumably he’s been in and out of prison since the 40s, when his first sentence had been disrupted by his deportation to a concentration camp. The film cuts between that episode and two of Hans’ other prison stays, including one in the late 50s and another in the late 60s, with little explanation as to what he did in between. Each period of imprisonment is distinguished by its own unique drama. A through line, however, is Viktor (Georg Friedrich, impressive in his almost childlike severity), a surly prisoner serving a long sentence for murder. He and Hans are cellmates at first, with Viktor initially shunning Hans for his homosexuality. Viktor warms up to Hans upon realizing, by way of the tattoo on the latter’s arm, that he’d been in a concentration camp; Viktor offers to cover the marking, an activity that brings the two into a tentative understanding, if not exactly a friendship. Hans’ second detainment, in the 50s, revolves around his relationship with his partner, who’d been arrested with him. Hans’ radical tenacity is evident here, as he refuses to apologize for who he is and whom he loves. During Hans’ final stay (scenes of which are stitched throughout), he becomes closer with Viktor as he helps his avowedly heterosexual cellmate contend with the physical horrors of drug addiction. Gradually the pair begins to express both physical and emotional affection, and the story evolves beyond one of queer love to one of just plain love, between two people struggling against a merciless world. The deft narrative framework aside, it’s a strikingly simple story (almost oversimplified at times, the film’s one deficiency); the work of cinematographer Crystel Fournier, a frequent collaborator of Céline Sciamma, is stunning, further conveying via evocative imagery the tale of these maltreated souls. Sporadic inclusion of 8mm footage, of Hans’ in the midst of sexual acts and, later, during a relaxing sojourn with his partner, reveal the freedom, illusory and otherwise, inherent to the sensation of privacy. The motif of confinement persists all through, and Hans’ ultimate, antithetical embracement of it as sublime as it is bewildering. (2021, 116 min, DCP Digital) [Kathleen Sachs]
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Luiz Bolognesi’s THE LAST FOREST (Brazil/Documentary)
AMC River East 21 – Wednesday, 6pm
Yanomami leader Davi Kopenawa receives co-writing credit on THE LAST FOREST, a film about his endangered Indigenous culture residing in the Amazon. The presence of director Luiz Bolognesi (EX SHAMAN) is only really felt in the camera itself. Bolognesi avoids fetishizing the Yanomami people or patronizingly explaining their culture. Instead, he interferes as little as possible, relying on the Yanomami to illuminate the viewers in their own unique way, with their own voices and actions. This is particularly felt through Davi’s consistent narration. He tells of his people’s mythology, leading to filmed reenactments of these important stories by the Yanomami themselves. Significant, too, is Davi’s discussion of his relationship to white people and the constant threat they impose on the Yanomami’s way of life. With a new government installed in 2019, a rush of gold prospectors was emboldened to invade their lands, poisoning water sources and bringing disease—something which occurred in the 80s and led to devastation for the Yanomami. Davi’s passionate determination to fend off these invaders, protect his culture, and fight for continual survival is the driving force of THE LAST FOREST; the sweet, detailed focus on the daily life of the women of the Yanomami is its heart. The cinematography is gorgeous, highlighting the lush, colorful beauty of the Amazon and its Indigenous peoples. Perhaps more interesting is the sound design, in which the score blends seamlessly with the noises of the forest and the Yanomami’s voices, drawing the audience even further into this engrossing documentary. Director Luiz Bolognesi in person. (2021, 76 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Margaret Byrne’s ANY GIVEN DAY (US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Wednesday, 7pm
For me, the most difficult part about having a mental illness is not the low periods themselves, but the anticipation of those descents when things are generally going well. At some point it becomes a learned anxiety, dreading the inevitable downturns that follow weeks, months, and even years of relative contentment. This is further compacted by such factors as addiction and socioeconomic misfortune; I’ve been privileged not to experience these things, but many people with mental illnesses do. With her 2016 documentary RAISING BERTIE (produced by Kartemquin Films), Margaret Byrne distinguished herself as a likely successor to KTQ’s own Steve James in how she interacted with and subsequently documented a marginalized community; with her second feature-length documentary, ANY GIVEN DAY, Byrne solidifies that connection. She comes into her own as a non-fiction filmmaker adept at blending the stuff of documentary with distinctly personal elements, which uplift the content above just facts. But the facts are certainly harrowing: Byrne focuses on three people, all of whom had recently been in jail because of crimes committed in the throes of their respective mental illnesses. Each subject also participated in a voluntary two-year probation program through mental health court that provides a treatment plan in lieu of typical penalties, one of the last vestiges of state-funded assistance after Mayor Rahm Emanuel unceremoniously closed half the city’s mental health clinics in 2012. Two of the subjects are Black: Angela has several children, including a few younger kids who had been removed from her custody upon her arrest; and Daniel has long-term struggles with substance abuse in addition to mental illness. The Bulgarian-American Dimitar, who’s white, endures intense, schizoid-like episodes and contends with other vices. The film follows the subjects toward the end of the program and afterwards, showing with remarkable compassion the journey, rife with setbacks, of those suffering from mental illness. Byrne herself has had to fight similar demons and includes references to her own breakdowns and hospitalizations, one of which occurred while she was making the film. Her use of graphics to mimic the text messages she exchanged with the participants, about details of their lives and her own, aids in probing the dark crevices of mental illness and the shame and secrecy that often surround it. Also included are scenes of the participants at what might be considered some of their darkest depths; Byrne and her subjects, who generously allowed her to include this footage, don’t shy away from the aspects of mental illness that go overlooked either in abject ignorance or overcompensating acknowledgement. Filmed over the course of several years, Byrne’s film shines a light on issues related to the experience of mental illness, including our flawed justice system; lack of treatment, community support, and stable housing; and the intersection of these issues with substance abuse. The film also implicitly advocates for treatment over incarceration. I wish I could say it has a happy ending, but, even though it’s subjectively positive, there still lingers a sense of melancholy that’s part and parcel of our dire social landscape. It’s difficult to say, on any given day, how a person existing with these illnesses may feel. Let’s just hope that, at some point, our system stops mirroring that volatility and becomes a source of stability instead. Director Margaret Byrne in person. (2021, 94 min, DCP Digital) [Kathleen Sachs]
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Also available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin. More info here.
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Alexandre Koberidze’s WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE LOOK AT THE SKY (Georgia)
AMC River East 21 – Wednesday, 7:45pm
Pharmacist Lisa and footballer Giorgi bump into each other one ordinary day in the ancient city of Kutaisi, Georgia. The two are instantly smitten, and after another encounter that night, they arrange to meet the next day at a café. Unfortunately, a curse befalls the would-be lovers, and by morning, their faces have changed, making them unrecognizable to one another. This is the fairytale-like premise of WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE LOOK AT THE SKY?, but it soon becomes obvious that any conventions of narrative are but pretext for the film’s wandering explorations of Kutaisi, its inhabitants, and the language of cinema itself. Like the football bobbing down the Rioni River at the film’s midsection, Alexandre Koberidze’s sophomore feature floats along languidly, its indulgent runtime set to the rhythms of the quotidian. Koberidze lackadaisically drops in and out of his protagonists’ lives, in no hurry to resolve what would charitably be called their “storyline,” following ambling digressions whenever he sees fit. Often he abandons his fictional narrative entirely to observe the sights and sounds of the city, from the exuberant play of schoolchildren to sidewalks, trees, football-loving stray dogs, and the hands and feet of pedestrians, captured in abstracted closeups Bresson would adore. Meanwhile, World Cup fever is gripping the city, drawing everyone’s attention like some collective dream. The other collective dream here is the cinema, alluded to in a meta-textual subplot about a filmmaker and reinforced by Koberidze’s playful, self-aware manipulations of form, including oblique compositions, zooms and dissolves, and a direct address asking spectators to participate in the film’s illusion by closing their eyes at a specific moment. Much of his aesthetic also harkens back to the era of silent film, with narration (provided by Koberidze himself), a lush, twinkling score (by his brother), and intertitles largely replacing spoken dialogue. Taken with the film’s quasi-magical realist story, the effect is simultaneously meditative, estranging, and bewitching. At a few points, Koberidze’s narrator makes intimations about the violence and other ills plaguing the modern world, and wonders if we’re all focusing on the wrong things. WHAT DO WE SEE… suggests we could do a lot worse than look to cinema and its potential to refocus us. (2021, 150 min, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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More info here.
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Shorts 1: Expanding Sensibilities (City and State)
Available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin; more info here
This program focuses on talent in Chicago and elsewhere in Illinois. Per the synopsis: “This eclectic showcase highlights the vibrancy of the Chicago and Illinois filmmaking communities across an array of forms and genres.” The first short, WINNING IN AMERICA (2021, 11 minutes) looks at a young girl’s experience participating in a spelling bee. The pressures of the father, who seems to be living through her daughter, are evident as she struggles to balance her own desires with what is expected of her. In CLOSE TIES TO HOME COUNTRY (2021, 15 minutes), a quirky immigrant dog walker sits for some annoying Instagram influencers who are going to vacation in the main character's home country. While the dog's owners are painting hearts on elephant’s foreheads, our lead Akanksha Cruczynski (who also directed) struggles to see her sister again after years apart. SINK (2021, 17 minutes) is a horror short that's shot entirely from above a bathroom sink and concerns how a man’s life quickly spirals out of control after a chance encounter with evil. In a nice switch of tone, MONOCHROMATIC DREAMS (2021, 7 minutes) is a documentary short about the art of Yvette Mayorga; her giant, pink canvases, accompanied by lovely music, make for a pleasant experience. GET WELL SOON (2021, 5 minutes) features a young woman on the phone with her sister after their father falls ill. Without giving too much away, you will leave this one with a therapeutic sense of relief. SPECK OF DUST (2021, 6 minutes) is a poetic exercise that feels steeped in nostalgia and memories. In THE YEAR I WENT LOOKING FOR BIRDS (2021, 10 minutes), Danny Carroll assembles archived footage into a meditation on the limitations of living during a pandemic. Finally, BY THE TIME I REACH HIM (2021, 4 minutes) shows firsthand the struggles of a daughter caring for her father who has progressing Alzheimer's Disease. All of these directors share a similar location, but they also share integrity and honesty. Their vulnerability is vital, and I would expect nothing less from our wonderful region. [Drew Van Weelden]
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Jacob Gentry’s BROADCAST SIGNAL INTRUSION (US)
Available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin; more info here
In our current digital age, fascination with analog technology abounds, as seen in referential shows like Stranger Things or in the sale of audio cassette tapes at places like Urban Outfitters. I’ve argued elsewhere that this fascination represents both a nostalgic pull and a longing for the physical, both in terms of objects and the community they engendered. While Jacob Gentry’s BROADCAST SIGNAL INTRUSION adds to the contemporary obsession with outdated media technologies, it also explores this intriguing idea about the vacillating of technology as a tool for human connection and as an isolating force. In Chicago in 1999, archivist and AV whiz James (Harry Shum Jr.) stumbles upon on video of a cryptic hacker who interrupted a local television channel in the late 1980s; the film loosely references a real-life Max Headroom signal hijacking that occurred in Chicago in 1987 and for which no one was ever caught. As James digs further into these enigmatic acts of video piracy, he discovers they may be related to a series of disappearances, including his wife’s from years earlier. BROADCAST SIGNAL INTRUSION leans heavily on inspiration from 70s paranoid thrillers; it’s here where the film gets bogged down in a convoluted plot rather than focusing on the compelling psychological horror at its core. It works best when it directly engages with its dark thematic questions about media and communication; the fetishization of technology throughout the film feels compulsive, as James easily utilizes innumerous formats in his quest for answers. Gentry uses a few fascinating techniques to draw the audience into the unnerving use of technology; at moments, characters begin to speak before their mouths can be seen moving, highlighting the ways audio/visual technology can create temporal and spatial disruptions—not just for James, but the viewer as well. (2021, 104 min) [Megan Fariello]
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Semih Kaplanoğlu's COMMITMENT HASAN (Turkey)
Available to stream for the duration of the festival in the following states: Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, and Wisconsin; more info here
Turkish writer-director Semih Kaplanoğlu might be described as a post-Tarkovsky filmmaker in that his work often aspires to a meditative quality through reverential depictions of natural landscapes. COMMITMENT HASAN, the second film in Kaplanoğlu's "Commitment" trilogy, feels less contemplative at first glance than most of his previous movies (or, for that matter, Tarkovsky's), since it forgoes his usual long-take style in favor of shorter shots that maintain the flow of the story and character development. It's still designed for patient audiences—the pacing is relaxed, and most of the substantial revelations don't occur until the final third—but it suggests that the filmmaker is beginning to sublimate his tonal and aesthetic concerns into more accessible pursuits, similar to how his countryman Nuri Bilge Ceylan evolved starting with ONCE UPON A TIME IN ANATOLIA (2011). As the title suggests, the subject under consideration is commitment, whether it's commitment to one's homestead, family, or faith. Hasan is a middle-aged landowner who grows fruits and vegetables on the 20-acre farm he inherited from his parents. Early in the film, a representative from a power company arrives to propose the construction of a new electrical tower on Hasan's land; the farmer rejects this proposal, but the company man insists that the tower will benefit the surrounding rural community and ominously pledges to return to continue the conversation. Kaplanoğlu seems to be setting up a fable about the eternal battle between tradition and progress, but he gradually reveals that he has something else in mind. As concerns over the electrical tower fade into the background of the story, a sense of Hasan's entire life begins to take shape; Kaplanoğlu considers the character's complicated relationships with his wife and son, his religion (much of the movie considers Hasan and his wife's upcoming pilgrimage to Mecca), and his business associates. Hasan emerges as a complex figure, more like the protagonist of an epic novel than a typical feature film. Noble in some respects but callous in others, Hasan resists simple interpretations, and this reflects the complexity of adulthood and the challenges of living in the world. (2021, 148 min) [Ben Sachs]
📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING
Anocha Suwichakornpong’s BY THE TIME IT GETS DARK (Thailand/Experimental)
Conversations at the Edge at the Gene Siskel Film Center – Thursday, 6pm
Screening before the local premiere of experimental Thai filmmaker Anocha Suwichakornpong’s latest feature, COME HERE (part of this year’s Chicago International Film Festival), is a presentation of her second, an experimental narrative that moves sinuously around themes of identity, cinema, and contemporary Thai history. BY THE TIME IT GETS DARK (2016, 106 min, DCP Digital) drifts from one narrative premise to another like an extended dream, and the pace is fittingly languorous. It begins as a straightforward story about a filmmaker who goes to a secluded cabin with the older woman she intends to make a movie about, a one time leader in the student protests against Thailand’s dictatorship in the mid-1970s. Those protests prompted a brutal government backlash in 1976, and the film is haunted not only by this period of state violence, but by the way Thai society failed to deal with it afterwards. “BY THE TIME IT GETS DARK is my attempt to deal with the impossibility of making a historical film in the place where there is no history,” the director wrote in an artist’s statement. “What begins as a single narrative soon becomes fragmented, and ultimately devours itself.” To wit, the interviews between the filmmaker and her subject give way to scenes from the movie the filmmaker is going to make—and these scenes are followed by a few unrelated narrative strands. Suwichakornpong doesn’t alter the film’s quietly inquisitive mood even when it changes form; that she manages to sustain this delicate feeling makes the film seem a bit like a moving glass sculpture. BY THE TIME IT GETS DARK will be preceded by fellow Thai filmmaker’s Pom Bunsermvicha’s experimental short LEMONGRASS GIRL (2021, 18 min, DCP Digital), which was shot on the set of COME HERE. [Ben Sachs]
Chicago Home Movie Day (Special Event)
Chicago History Museum (1601 N. Clark St.) – Saturday, 11am – 3pm (Free Admission)
This yearly, worldwide celebration of home movies is absolutely essential viewing for anyone who cares a whit about motion picture art, history, sociology, ethnography, science, or technology. Anyone who loves the sound of a projector. Anyone who loves deep, luscious Kodachrome II stock that is as gorgeous as the day it was shot. Anyone who loves dated, faded, scratched, and bruised film—every emulsion scar a sacred glyph created by your grandfather's careless handling 60 years ago. Anyone who wants to revel in the performance of the primping and strutting families readying for their close up. Anyone who wants to see what the neighborhood looked like before you got there. So find your 100 foot reels of 16mm you just had processed from your sister's Quinceañera or your grandfather's thousands of feet of Super 8mm from your uncle's Bar Mitzvah in 1976 or that 8mm your great aunt shot from Daley Plaza in 1963 and come out for Home Movie Day. Just walk in with your films for staff and volunteers from the Chicago Film Archives and the Chicago Film Society to inspect your home movies that day! Select films will be screened throughout the day. Co-Presented by Chicago Film Archives and the Chicago Film Society. [JB Mabe]
Fred Wolf’s THE POINT (US/Animation)
Doc Films at University of Chicago – Saturday, 7pm
Harry Nilsson noted that the inspiration for his 1971 concept album The Point! was an acid trip. Animator Fred Wolf’s aesthetic fits this completely: the accompanying film of THE POINT is a vibrantly psychedelic fairy tale. Nilsson’s music was a staple of my childhood, and this children’s story album stood out as a family favorite. I can recite the album by heart, and my fondness for the animated feature is beyond sentimental. Narrated by Ringo Starr as a father reading his son a bedtime story, THE POINT brings the album to life, animating the characters and using Nilsson’s original music. It's a sweet, at times humorous fable about nonconformity and finding your purpose. It follows a cheerful boy named Oblio (voiced by Mike Lookinland) who lives in a town where everything has a—literal—point; even the people have points on the tops of their heads. The problem is the round-headed Oblio was born without one. Though Oblio does his best to fit in, he and his faithful dog Arrow are eventually banished to the Pointless Forest; from here, he starts out on a journey to find his point. The roughly drawn, colorful animation perfectly complements Nilsson’s beautiful voice. The visuals stand to support the music, particularly when the animation veers towards experimental; the melancholy “Think About Your Troubles” stands out, deviating from the narrative to present a vision of a teardrops’ journey. Celebrating its fiftieth anniversary this year, the film has been re-released on television several times, though never in theaters; it’s a wild and very lovely cult artifact of the '70s worth revisiting. (1971, 74 min, 16mm) [Megan Fariello]
Nicholas Ray's IN A LONELY PLACE (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Thursday, 7pm
Let's set aside for a moment the convention that IN A LONELY PLACE is another of Nicholas Ray's sub rosa memoirs, charting the decline of his marriage to Gloria Grahame; that the apartment complex Bogart and Grahame's LONELY lovers live in is a replica of one of Ray's own early Hollywood residences; that screenwriter Dixon Steele (Bogart) is in some way a stand-in for Ray's own Hollywood disaffection: an "abnormal" man isolated among jocular thieves and pretty louts. What's up on the screen is enough to satisfy us without resorting to biographical criticism: that is, a film whose wit, maturity, and bruised romanticism defy us to subdue or deconstruct them. LONELY is the most perfect sort of romance: one that shows the lover revealed as a "tyrannical detective" (Bogart is Spade even when he isn't); one that squeezes out a little of our own optimism as we watch suspicion roast our heroes alive. It is the most perfect sort of mystery: one that succeeds in making its own solution entirely irrelevant before it's revealed. Finally, it is the most perfect sort of noir: one that isn't. The tropes are here, but LONELY is as much about the impossible hope of shoehorning real and immutable suffering into a Hollywood film circa 1950 as about the gruesome deaths of hat-check girls or the fatality of character. They don't make 'em like this anymore—and, like the man says, they never really did. If anyone's counting, LONELY may be the best Bogart movie ever made, and it certainly contains his best performance. More to the point, it is one of the great American sound films: turning star-power and genre both into deadly weapons for getting under our skin. (1950, 94 min, 35mm) [Jeremy M. Davies]
📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED
Bruce LaBruce’s SAINT-NARCISSE (Canada)
Analog (2118 W. Lawrence Ave.) – Saturday, 11pm
The mythological figure of Narcissus has long been associated with homosexuality, his love of his own reflection translated as a love of others whose bodies match his own. As the film's title lets on, SAINT-NARCISSE is not only preoccupied with this notion, but with how its queer possibilities might intersect with and subvert the sexually repressive institution of the Church. This being a film by cult queercore director Bruce LaBruce, one knows that blasphemous irreverence is in store. The setting is Quebec in 1972. Twenty-something Dominic (Félix-Antoine Duval) has never known his parents; living with his ailing grandmother, he passes the time by getting drunk and habitually taking pictures of himself. One day, he comes across a box in his grandmother’s closet containing a cache of letters addressed to him by a woman who claims to be his estranged mother. Despite foreboding warnings and premonitions (LaBruce uses a heavy hand in his smash cuts to ominous figures), Dominic sets off to the small town of Saint-Narcisse to track down a woman named Beatrice, an alleged lesbian witch living with her immortal girlfriend. If that weren’t enough, Dominic is soon drawn to an abused Trappist monk who bears his exact likeness. Things get more bewildering and knottier from there, as SAINT-NARCISSE transitions into a religious sexploitation thriller featuring autoerotic flagellation, twincest, and all manner of affronts to Catholic dogma. Somehow, none of this feels quite as outrageous as it probably should, especially coming from someone as renowned for taboo-busting as LaBruce; perhaps after all these years we’ve simply grown inured to the wonton perversion of religious iconography. SAINT-NARCISSE still has its campy fun, though, and it’s nothing if not queer in its defiance of the orthodoxies of family, love, and faith. (2020, 101 min) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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Also screening are Bruce LaBruce’s 1991 film NO SKIN OFF MY ASS (73 min) at 7pm and his 1994 film SUPER 8 ½ (100 min) at 9pm, both on VHS, with a recorded introduction from the filmmaker. Adults and cash only; paid entry includes a drink.
Mia Hansen-Løve’s BERGMAN ISLAND (France/Sweden)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Check Venue website for showtimes
Shortly after Ingmar Bergman died in July 2007, the critic, programmer, filmmaker, and onetime Cine-File contributor Gabe Klinger organized a weekend program of Bergman titles at the Chopin Theatre. Jonathan Rosenbaum introduced a revival of SAWDUST AND TINSEL (1953), then led a post-show discussion; the conversation yielded some of the most constructive thinking about Bergman I’ve yet encountered, in large part because Rosenbaum acknowledged what makes the Swedish writer-director such a difficult filmmaker at times. Noting that Bergman was inspired to make SAWDUST AND TINSEL by the dissolution of one of his marriages, Rosenbaum called out the film’s central allegory as being too personal to achieve the sort of universal impact the filmmaker was going for. “One definition of pretension,” Rosenbaum suggested, “might be pretending that something is universal when it’s really not.” I bring up Rosenbaum’s insight not to devalue Bergman, but to honor him. How many filmmakers before him attempted to give voice to the full range of their psyches, good and bad? Bergman almost single-handedly brought to narrative cinema the idea that a movie could be the expression of a filmmaker’s soul, and this makes him one of the indisputable giants of the medium. At the same time, Bergman was a complicated human being; as more than one character in Mia Hansen-Løve’s BERGMAN ISLAND points out, he was great artist but also a self-centered jerk whose relationships with his nine children by six mothers ranged from nonexistent to psychologically abusive. Because Bergman plays such a crucial role in the development of movies, reconciling with his personal contradictions feels like confronting certain contradictions inherent to movies as a whole. Like all the major art forms, cinema can be a vehicle for unbridled self-expression, in all that implies—it can give rise to soul-searching and narcissism, and Bergman certainly indulged in both. BERGMAN ISLAND is an appropriately personal tribute to the Swedish master: it’s the kind of soul-bearing, self-regarding art film that could not have been conceived without Bergman’s influence. Plainly inspired by Hansen-Løve’s longtime relationship with fellow French director Olivier Assayas, the movie charts a short vacation that two married filmmakers (Vicky Krieps, Tim Roth) take to Fårö, the small island where Bergman spent the last several decades of his life. The first half of the movie follows the couple as they tour the island and run into other cinephile tourists (including Gabe Klinger, who’s credited as “American Man”); Hansen-Løve delivers a semi-autobiographical account of a marriage falling part that can’t help but recall certain passages of Bergman’s SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE (1973). The second half, which largely consists of the movie that the female filmmaker is currently writing, recalls some of Bergman’s narrative experiments like PERSONA (1966). Both stories center on a woman who’s unhappy in her longtime relationship; the major difference is that the first shows the woman remaining unhappy in her plight and the second shows her having an affair with an old flame she re-encounters at a wedding. The concentration on female psychology is Bergmanesque, but the sensitivity and understatement shown by Hansen-Løve, a great director in her own right, are very much in keeping with her previous films (particularly GOODBYE FIRST LOVE [2011], which the second half of BERGMAN ISLAND most resembles). As usual, Hansen-Løve elicits exacting performances from her leads (including Mia Wasikowska and Anders Danielsen Lie as the stars of the movie-within-a-movie), and she uses Fårö to memorable, if characteristically subtle, effect. This may be too inside-baseball for many viewers (even fans of Hansen-Løve’s other films), but it succeeds in stirring debate about Bergman—and making a passionate case for why he still matters. (2021, 113 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Rodrigo Reyes’ 499 (Mexico)
Facets Cinema – Check Venue website for showtimes
The title of this Mexican art film refers to the 499th anniversary of Spain’s conquest of the Aztec empire; the drama reflects on the legacy of violence in Mexico, both historical and contemporary. Director Rodrigo Reyes employs a boldly fictional device to consider the weight of history, following a 16th-century conquistador who gets shipwrecked, magically, in the 21st century. Landing on the northern Mexican coast, the unnamed conquistador returns to the regions he once visited with Hernán Cortez and comments on how they no longer resemble the places he once knew. His narration also touches on the large-scale atrocities the Mexicans committed against the Aztecs; like Alain Resnais’ NIGHT AND FOG and the numerous films it inspired, the film asks viewers whether they can see traces of historical atrocities in modern landscapes. Reyes confronts present-day atrocities through documentary segments about men and women who have lost loved ones to pandemic violence in northern Mexico. Heightened by the historical meditation, these passages create the feeling that this area of the world will always be plagued by widespread murder. 499 is upsetting viewing to be sure, but it’s not always despairing; Reyes mines the scenario of the unstuck-in-time conquistador for subtle humor, and the widescreen cinematography is consistently good-looking. (2020, 88 min, Digital Projection) [Ben Sachs]
David Osit’s MAYOR (US/UK/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Friday, 7pm
Many people might disagree with me, but I think that MAYOR, a well-made documentary about Ramallah Mayor Musa Hadid, is a perfect movie for Christmas [This review originally ran around the Christmas holiday last year –ed.]. True, the film contains scenes of the mayor fielding complaints about sewage runoff from Israeli settlements that are contaminating grazing fields, fires set to protest the 2018 move of the U.S. embassy headquarters in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, and Israeli soldiers blasting teargas right in front of city hall and beating someone in a nearby restaurant with the situationally ironic name of Café de la Paix. Nevertheless, spending time with Musa, as he is known familiarly by the many residents of Ramallah who greet him warmly as he walks and drives through the streets, is to be bathed in the light of goodness. Musa is the kind of public servant the humble and powerless need to have in their corner. We see him in a school apparently painted with Pepto-Bismol inspecting its physical condition and promising to replace its broken doors. In another school, he objects to a window design that makes the school look like a prison. He travels to the United States and England to press for more support for Palestine’s nationhood. A Christian who plans spectacular Christmas celebrations for the entire city, he nonetheless rejects U.S. Vice President Pence’s promise to make Palestine safe for Christians by responding that it should be safe for everyone. He’s a loving husband and father who enjoys spending time at home but can’t stop thinking about the problems Ramallah faces. He simply wants the resources, and more importantly, the right to provide Ramallah’s citizens with the things they need to thrive—a right Israel will not grant. Finally, in a conversation he has with a German delegation trying to broker some kind of détente between Palestinians and Israelis, Musa makes his simplest and most profound statement—a Christmas message, if you will—about every person’s right to be treated as a full human with dignity before any understanding can begin. Watching this important and empathetic film would be a great gift for anyone who hopes that the new year will be the start of a more peaceful, just era for our country and our world. Screening as part of the Chicago Palestine Film Festival. Preceded by Farah Nabulsi’s 2019 short film THE PRESENT (24 min). See “Physical Screenings/Events - Also Screening” below for more information about the festival. (2020, 89 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Jules Dassin's RIFIFI (France)
Doc Films at University of Chicago – Thursday, 9:30pm
Though not made in the US, RIFIFI is possibly the greatest byproduct of the Hollywood blacklist. Exiled to France, American director Jules Dassin landed his first film in five years (after a string of gritty late 1940s noirs) when Jean-Pierre Melville gave him the script for the film. The plot is classically Melville: an old crook... honor among thieves... one last score... etc., etc. In many ways Dassin likely empathized with the main character of RIFIFI: an aging professional, suddenly irrelevant and in surroundings he can't control, with a crew he does not know, just hoping he can still pull it off. Today the film is most famous for the riveting heist sequence, a gorgeous and tense half-hour spent breaking into a jewelry store in total silence, the hushed robbers agonizing over the slightest sounds they make. Complications arise (don't they always?) and our man finds himself embroiled in the underworld intrigues of nightclub owners, junkies, and the woman he loved before he went to prison. Will he make it to the end? There is a likely apocryphal story surrounding RIFIFI, from Jules Dassin's screening of the first cut for critic André Bazin. When the lights came up in the theater, Bazin supposedly said to Dassin: "Hitchcock makes the same film over and over, and he is Hitchcock. Keep making this film, Jules, and you'll be Dassin." (1955, 122 min, Digital Projection) [Liam Neff]
Kelly Reichardt’s FIRST COW (US)
Block Cinema (Northwestern University) — Saturday, 1pm (Free Admission)
Kelly Reichardt’s FIRST COW begins with a poignant quote from William Blake: “The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.” Based on a novel by Reichardt’s frequent writing collaborator, Jonathan Raymond, FIRST COW is a gorgeously crafted masterpiece about the importance of friendship to the human condition. In early 19th century Oregon Country, Otis “Cookie” Figowitz (John Magaro), a survivalist and chef, meets King-Lu (Orion Lee), a Chinese immigrant on the run; they begin to reside together at King-Lu’s shack on the outskirts of a settlement. Conversations about Cookie’s baking leads them to steal milk from the region’s first cow, owned by a wealthy Englishman (Toby Jones). The biscuits they make with the milk become quite popular at the local market, gaining them a bit of cash, but their growing reliance on–and fondness for–the cow ends in tragedy. It’s an unassuming story but meticulously told and with beautifully achieved, overarching themes. Stunning cinematography of nature and heartbreaking performances drive the film; Magaro and Lee are both excellent, especially in scenes that feature Cookie and King-Lu’s thoughtful conversations about their pasts and ambitions. Likewise, even characters that only appear for a scene feel completely realized. At times exceedingly slow paced, FIRST COW is itself about time, both its passage and what remains when we’re gone. Widely released around the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s difficult not to feel particularly moved by a story of two people supporting each other with such kindness when they need it most. It’s also an interesting commentary on U.S. history, quietly yet firmly critiquing American ideals of ownership, capitalism, and manifest destiny; like many of Reichardt’s films, it’s a sweet, small tale with profound implications. (Notably, FIRST COW was consistently the highest ranked film amongst Cine-File contributors’ best of 2020 lists.) (2020, 122 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Julia Ducournau’s TITANE (France)
Music Box Theatre – Check Venue website for showtimes
Julia Ducournau’s TITANE is difficult to summarize without revealing too much of the wild and twisted plot. It centers on Alexia (Agatha Rousselle), a woman with a deep predilection for cars and violence and who's had a titanium plate in her skull since a vehicular accident in childhood. Did the accident awaken her perversions? Or did the piece of metal implanted in her head do it? The film cares not to say. One thing that is certain is that many of Alexia's motivations seem to come from someplace deep within herself. She expresses them in an animalistic fashion, focusing on her baser urges and her will to survive. Much like Ducournau's first film, RAW (2016), TITANE takes body horror to a shocking extreme, and the brutalities it depicts again tie into the animal side of human nature. Body horror isn't relegated to violence; it also explores the ideas of the body as status symbol and personal prison. There comes a point in the film where Alexia finds herself living with fire captain Vincent (Vincent Lindon), and their relationship takes on a father-daughter dynamic. The interactions between these two are surprisingly touching, offsetting the film’s more gnarly moments. Like the inhabitants of the Island of Misfit Toys, Alexia and Vincent find solidarity and comfort from a lonely world in each other’s presence. Visceral and thought-provoking, TITANE demonstrates Ducournau’s ability to weave a story that is batshit crazy yet grounded in fully realized characters. (2021, 104 min, DCP Digital) [Kyle Cubr]
📽️ MUSIC BOX OF HORRORS: DAWN OF THE DRIVE-IN
The Music Box of Horrors: Dawn of the Drive-In series, presented by Shudder, takes place through October 31 at the Chi-Town Movies Drive-In, with films playing every night of the week. In addition to the film reviewed below, John Adams’ 2021 film HELLBENDER (86 min, Digital Projection) and Avery Crounse’s 1983 folk-horror film EYES OF FIRE (90 min, Digital Projection) screen on Friday starting at 9:30pm, co-presented by the Chicago International Film Festival; HELLRAISER (reviewed below) screens with Susilo S.W.D’s 1989 Indonesian film ROH (77 min, Digital Projection) as part of Rip-Off Saturdays; Leonard Kastle’s 1970 film THE HONEYMOON KILLERS (107 min, Digital Projection) screens on Sunday at 9:30pm as part of Serial Killer Sundays; Tarsem Singh’s 2000 film THE CELL (107 min, Digital Projection) screens on Monday at 9:30pm as part of Nü-Metal Mondays; Don Dohler’s 1982 film NIGHTBEAST (80 min, Digital Projection) screens on Tuesday at 9:30pm; Terence Fisher’s 1959 film THE MUMMY (88 min, Digital Projection) and Edward Dein’s 1959 film CURSE OF THE UNDEAD (79 min, Digital Projection) screens on Wednesday starting at 9pm, as part of the Hammer Horror Double Feature presented by Windy City Double Feature Picture Show; and Michael Almereyda’s 1994 film NADJA (93 min, Digital Projection) screens on Thursday at 9:30pm as part of Thirsty Thursdays. Check Venue website for more information and to buy tickets.
Clive Barker’s HELLRAISER (UK)
Saturday, 9:45pm
“Jesus wept,” utters Frank Cotton as hooks and chains manifest from a hellish dimension and tear his body to scraps of flesh and fiber. With HELLRAISER, Clive Barker made his feature film directing debut, and he certainly did not hold himself back. Barker, adapting his 1986 novella The Hellbound Heart, knew exactly what he wants to do here—and that's an extremely undervalued quality. This is a fabulously disgusting, funny, and erotic film. HELLRAISER presents what happens after Frank comes into possession of a mysterious puzzle box that summons the grotesque Cenobites, who describe themselves as “Explorers in the further regions of experience. Demons to some. Angels to others.” The Cenobites are demonic-looking beings whose flesh is mutilated in horrific ways. The most recognizable one is Pinhead—a giant, ghostly white being with nails protruding from all over his head. Pinhead has transcended the HELLRAISER films, being featured in popular video games among the likes of the other horror icons like Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers, while the HELLRAISER IP has stagnated and declined. The good news is that HELLRAISER will be receiving a reboot with Barker closely involved, something that hasn’t happened since he received a “Story By” credit on HELLBOUND: HELLRAISER II (1988). While the disdain towards remakes and reboots is understandable, let's hope the makers of the new one can take some cues from the originator of the series and produce something equally fun and filthy. HELLRAISER is full of amazingly gory practical effects that will leave horror aficionados pondering the techniques that make everything look so slimy. The film also contains a healthy blend of corny dialogue and sexual tension that round this out as a horror classic. (1987, 93 minutes, Digital Projection) [Drew Van Weelden]
🎞️ PHYSICAL SCREENINGS/EVENTS –
Also Screening
⚫ Analog(2118 W. Lawrence Ave.)
The 2012 and 2013 horror anthologies V/H/S and V/H/S/2, respectively, screen on Friday at 9pm.
⚫ Asian Pop-Up Cinema
The grand finale for Season 13 of Asian Pop-Up Cinema, the world premiere of Shum Sek-Yin’s 2021 Hong Kong film THE DISHWASHER SQUAD (100 min, Digital Projection), screens on Sunday starting at sunset at the Chi-Town Movies Drive-In (2343 S. Throop St.). More info here.
⚫ Chicago Filmmakers
The US premiere of Kapra Fleming’s 2021 documentary LEE GODIE, CHICAGO FRENCH IMPRESSIONIST (74 min, Digital Projection) takes place this weekend, with screenings on Friday at 8pm (though this screening is sold out); Saturday at 8pm; and Sunday at 6pm. More info here.
⚫ Chicago Southland International Film Festival
The fourth annual Chicago Southland International Film Festival goes through Sunday at Governors State University in the F1622 Auditorium; there’s also a virtual component on Eventive that goes through Sunday as well. More info here.
⚫ Doc Films at the University of Chicago
David Lowery’s 2021 film THE GREEN KNIGHT (130 min, Digital Projection) screens on Friday at 7pm and Sunday at 4pm. Per Doc’s website, “[c]urrently, only UCID holders will be allowed to purchase single tickets. Please bring cash or purchase tickets online here, as [they] no longer take credit cards at the theater. There is a Citibank ATM on the first floor of Ida for your convenience. Non-UCID holders cannot purchase single tickets and must buy a season pass to attend screenings. Passes may be purchased at the theater in cash upon showing proof of vaccination.” More info here.
⚫ Facets Cinema
Satoshi Kon’s 1997 Japanese anime film PERFECT BLUE (81 min, Digital Projection) screens on Thursday at 8pm as part of the Alternative Horror Essentials series. More info here.
⚫ Film Studies Center (at the Logan Center for the Arts)
Ehsan Khoshbakht’s 2019 Iranian/UK documentary FILMFARSI (83 min, Digital Projection) screens on Friday at 7pm. Robert Eggers’ 2016 horror film THE WITCH (92 min, Digital Projection) screens on Wednesday at 7pm as part of the Film Studies Center’s Open Classroom series. Admission to both is free. More info on all screenings here.
⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
Amalia Ulman’s 2021 Spanish film EL PLANETA (79 min, DCP Digital) continues with showtimes this week; also screening is Evgeny Ruman’s 2021 Israeli film GOLDEN VOICES (88 min, DCP Digital). As part of the Chicago International Film Festival, Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s highly anticipated 2021 film MEMORIA (136 min, DCP Digital) screens on Monday at 7pm and Anocha Suwichakornpong’s 2021 Thai film COME HERE (69 min, DCP Digital) screens on Thursday at 8:15pm; as part of the Chicago Palestine Film Festival, in addition to MAYOR (reviewed above), Collectif Varcarmes Films’ 2021 documentary FEDAYIN, GEORGE ABDALLAH’S FIGHT (81 min, DCP Digital) screens on Sunday at 3pm. Check Venue website for showtimes; more info on all screenings here.
⚫ Music Box Theatre
E. Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin’s 2021 documentary THE RESCUE (108 min, DCP Digital) continues this week. Check Venue website for showtimes. Tommy Wiseau’s 2003 cult classic THE ROOM (99 min, 35mm) screens on Friday at midnight, and Tom Hooper’s 2019 masterpiece CATS (110 min, DCP Digital) screens on Saturday at midnight. More info on all screenings here.
⚫ South Side Home Movie Project
On Thursday at the Arts Incubator’s 2nd floor flex space (301 E. Garfield Blvd.), the South Side Home Movie Project hosts “Making Rituals Workshop with A.Martinez featuring Avery LaFlamme.” This is the first of a three-part series; per the event website, the first event, “Things / Remember,” “is a unique workshop focused on how our things and the way that we document our lives (photos/videos) play a role in how we remember our own lives, how future people may recall us, and how we can intentionally craft that memory.” Limited capacity; RSVP required. More info here.
⚫ South Side Projections
Co-presented by South Side Projections and the Bronzeville Historical Society, Christine Dall’s 1989 documentary WILD WOMEN DON’T HAVE THE BLUES (50 min, Digital Projection) screens on Saturday at 2pm, at the Parkway Ballroom (4455 S. MLK Dr., Suite 103), with a discussion after the screening led by singer, songwriter, actress, producer, and director Maggie Brown. The free screening is currently “sold out.” More info here.
🎞️ LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS –
Held Over/Still Screening/Return Engagements (Selected)
Michael Caplan’s ALGREN (US/Documentary)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here and the Music Box Theatre here
About 30 years ago, I was in a book club composed of people who were in my circle through marriage—mostly doctors and psychologists from places other than Chicago. When it was my turn to choose a book for the group to read, I picked Nelson Algren’s The Man with the Golden Arm. When next we met, the looks on their faces let me know that mine wasn’t a popular choice, and when I said I identified with the characters, their outraged disbelief was truly a shock to me. Now that I’ve seen Michael Caplan’s ALGREN and heard Billy Corgan voice what I felt—that it’s hard to explain how much Algren understood what Chicagoans from all walks of life feel about the city—I don’t feel crazy, though I’d still be an outcast in many circles for my sympathies. ALGREN is a chronological telling of the life of Chicago’s “bard of the down-and-outer” (as he was introduced when he was presented with the very first National Book Award for Fiction), from his working-class upbringing on the Northwest Side to his college matriculation into the jobless abyss of the Great Depression and through his career as a novelist and journalist. Caplan makes copious use of the still photos of Art Shay, who documented Algren and life on the skids better than anyone, to reflect what his interview subjects have to say about the writer and his city. He also creates animations that illustrate, for example, Simone de Beauvoir flying between her two lovers on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean—Jean-Paul Sartre and Algren. While I know a great deal about Algren from his writings, newspaper articles, an expansive biography, and another documentary about him, Caplan added to my knowledge of the man and gave an alternate and plausible explanation for why Algren moved to the East Coast in the final years of his life. The film, which apparently was finished in 2014 but not released until now, includes interviews with several people who are now dead, including Florence Shay, Art Shay, and Studs Terkel—all people who knew him very well. Best of all, Caplan is generous in recording excerpts from Algren’s work, read by Terkel, a voice double for Algren, and the writer himself. This is a worthy look at the man who famously penned, “Chicago divided your heart. Leaving you loving the joint for keeps. Yet knowing it never can love you.” (2014, 96 min) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
João Paulo Miranda Maria's MEMORY HOUSE (Brazil)
Available to rent through Facets Cinema here
A striking, unsettling story set in southern Brazil from João Paulo Miranda Maria pits Christovam (Cinema Novo regular Antonio Pitanga), an aging, solitary Black man relocated from the north, against the austerity measures of the multinational dairy factory that employs him as well as the local Austrian community who disrespect and torment him (and his dog). The headstrong Jenifer (Ana Flavia Cavalcante) is a prostitute at the local watering hole who rejects Christovam’s chauvinistic guidance. His ramshackle home houses a panoply of ancestral totems, which prompt him to transform first into a traditional cowboy and, eventually, to imagine himself as an avenging bull. With its unified motifs of cattle and execution, Miranda Maria’s film—his feature debut—offers no simple vision of racism, resistance, and colonialism. Make this one a priority: while cold, it offers the kind of original, visceral, surprising vision we look for. (2020, 93 min) [Scott Pfeiffer]
Notes on Black Video: 1987–2001
Available to stream for free on VDB TV until 10/20
Something struck me as I watched and rewatched the five videos in this program, a gripping survey of Black video art curated by Emily Martin: In addition to being made by Black artists, each of the works contains multitude forms of divergence, forswearing symbolism and revelling instead in almost punishing ambiguity. Why should you get the answers so easily? each seems to ask—and they’re right to do so, as theirs is a truth I cannot possibly understand. Upon reading Martin’s illuminating essay on her program, it became clear that this loaded obscurity is the essence of these works’ brilliance, which embrace a concept known as black space. Martin quotes poet and video artist Anaïs Duplan, who asserts that “[t]his approach, a kind of ‘communication after refusal’ decentralizes a white socio-racial meaning-making framework by naturalizing the idea of opposition, rather than marginalization. This opens up for black [sic] artists a new, local margin in which to propagate what has yet to be seen.” The first video in the program, Lawrence Andrews’ AN I FOR AN I (1987, 18 min), is a formidable visual reckoning, transposing meaning in every edit. Using a variety of techniques, including piquing sound design, discursive on-screen text, and evocative split-screen machinations, Andrews confronts mass media as a tool of dehumanization, specifically in how they portray Black people. This isn’t conveyed straightforwardly—scenes from RAMBO and random hardcore pornography subliminally transmit the notion that violence has become sexualized and vice-versa; the gaze is a vicious spectator here. Throughout, Andrews includes footage of himself being punched in the stomach over and over, saying “again” each time. These actions reveal how violence can become learned (and even desired) by way of repetition and eventually directed toward one’s self; at the end we see Andrews hitting his hand with his own fist. Learned paradoxes are further explored in Thomas Allen Harris’ BLACK BODY (1992, 5 min), a compact work that nevertheless embodies a strong message. Various strong messages, actually, during which the image of Harris’ naked body, entangled in wire, is shown writhing against its constraints. (Harris originally performed this during the 1992 Los Angeles uprising.) Over this visual are myriad, conflicting phrases beginning with the prompt “Black body is…” Beaten, beautiful, feared, living. These are some of the contradictory qualifiers that express the indefinable quality of being, especially of being a marginalized person whose identity is constantly in question by society and who in turn may begin to incarnate that sentiment. A disembodied monologue, delivered by an unidentified woman, mentions random body parts not respective to the speaker’s gender but inclusive of all. This emulates the piece’s subject of projection, as each descriptor featured on screen is one of many unduly cast upon those with Black bodies. Cannily referred to as a “video noir” by Martin in her essay, Leah Gilliam’s SAPPHIRE AND THE SLAVE GIRL (1995, 18 min) references Basil Dearden’s 1959 crime drama SAPPHIRE, about the murder of a young bi-racial woman who passed for white. Several women portray the titular Sapphire in Gilliam’s rendering, though they’re not really characters so much as they’re embodiments, all of these enigmatic figures inexplicably fleeing from authority. Gilliam examines the qualifiers of identity that often serve to depersonalize someone versus empowering or even just describing them. She also explores urban locales, using on-screen titles like networks, buildings, and open spaces to draw a connection between the vastness of space and the smallness of self. Tony Cokes’ FADE TO BLACK (1990, 32 min) has an extraordinary introduction, in which, via a cropped image with text below it on screen, the artist—or at least a ghostly, unidentified stand-in for him—assesses their relationship to Hitchcock’s VERTIGO. “What does this film have to do with me?” reads a snippet of the text. Then, later: “Why didn’t I just go to sleep in this master-piece, [t]his other world where I am not imagined, [w]here no one looks like me.” There’s more to it, including further excoriations of various films; like the rest of the works in the program, it’s a collage of considerations, utilizing “found” sound and footage. Cokes also includes a dialogue between two men about interpellation (hailing), a Marxist philosophy originated by Louis Althusser that connects the formation of ideology to the material world. Additionally, the onscreen text includes titles of films that depict Black people in a stereotypical light. The epilogue comes from a speech by Malcolm X, offering, in a way, a solution to the problem at hand. Art Jones’ LOVE SONGS #1 plays like a distillation of the videos before it; each of the three quasi-music videos in it is its own vibrant contradiction. The first, “Blow #2,” juxtaposes lethargic, pixelated images of beautiful women with machine guns against the melodic tones of The Delfonics’ “Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time),” the disparity—but also the uncanny symbiosis—between violence and beauty blatantly obvious. Ironically, Jones takes a a subtler approach with the second segment, “Nurture,” which features Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Brooklyn Zoo” against quivering imagery from the Bronx Zoo over which animated animal characters perform their requisite movements. The connection between the song and the images, both relating to the zoo, is obvious. More transgressive, however, are the Franz Fanon quotes that periodically appear without context, like subliminal messages. The most subdued of the three, “Over Above,” appears as if shot from a plane window looking down upon a chaotic event. What’s seen is footage of a real-life event, the 2000 beating by police of a Black man, Thomas Jones, as it was filmed from a window above. The ethereal song to which it’s set, “Sunday Part II” by Cibo Matto, is a foil to the events being depicted. Where “Blow #2” trades in a humorous dichotomy, the dichotomy of the final segment is more disconcerting. The viewer assumes the vantage of a passive onlooker, helpless, and even maybe unwilling, to intervene. This last video puts the onus back on the viewer, after all they have seen, to examine their role as a quiescent witness. [Kathleen Sachs]
🎞️ LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS –
Also Screening/Streaming
⚫ Facets Cinema
Jeanette Nordahl’s 2020 Danish film WILDLAND (88 min) is available to rent through October 21. More info here.
⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
Connie Hochman’s 2021 dance documentary IN BALANCHINE’S CLASSROOM (88 min) and Ted Bogosian’s 2021 documentary LIVE AT MISTER KELLY’S (83 min) are available to rent hrough November 4. More info on all films here.
⚫ Media Burn Archive
As part of their “Virtual Talks with Video Activists” series, artist Doug Hall will appear virtually in conversation with media curator Steve Said for an hour-long screening and discussion. The event is free; more info here.
⚫ Music Box Theatre
More info on hold-over titles here.
CINE-LIST: October 15 - October 21, 2021
MANAGING EDITOR // Patrick Friel
ASSOCIATE EDITORS // Ben Sachs, Kathleen Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Kyle Cubr, Jeremy M. Davies, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, JB Mabe, Liam Neff, Scott Pfeiffer, Michael Glover Smith, Drew Van Weelden