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⭐ DOC10
The Doc10 Film Festival goes through Sunday, with screenings at both the Davis Theater (4614 N. Lincoln Ave.) and the Gene Siskel Film Center. We have reviews of select films below; the entire line-up can be viewed here.
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Sara Dosa's FIRE OF LOVE (Canada/US/Documentary)
The Davis Theater – Saturday, 9pm
Volcanoes are some of earth’s most majestic features—they’re its literal ends, wrestling with themselves until they spew out molten rock. They’re almost impossible to photograph not-beautifully. Sara Dosa’s FIRE OF LOVE, which follows the careers of married French volcanologists Katia and Maurice Krafft, features a litany of volcano footage; it’s a feast for the eyes if nothing else. But while being about the Kraffts, the film is also predominantly by them, as it's composed largely of their original footage and photographs. It’s a paean to people whose drive to experience the world’s wonders firsthand was matched by an equally relentless drive to catalog them. Since both the scientific importance and raw beauty of their work is hard to deny, the film is mostly in a celebratory mode; it's not overly critical of what seems increasingly like a death drive in its subjects. There are shades of Alex Honnold in FREE SOLO (2018) in the Kraffts' cool acknowledgement of the calculated risk they take each time they approach the edge of the pit—they know these beasts, and for them they're no more dangerous than a busy intersection. The key difference between FIRE OF LOVE and other films about driven geniuses is that the subject here is not one, but two people, both of them ruinously committed to the volcanoes. It’s then that much scarier and more awe-inspiring to encounter the seeming lack of checks and balances between husband and wife. In this sense, there are shades of an addiction narrative here too; the couple eventually focus solely on "gray" volcanoes, those more likely to hurt people and less likely to create the psychedelic ooze people associate with the more photogenic “red” volcanoes. The Kraffts' need to discover pushes them closer and closer to the edge both literally and metaphorically, culminating in their deaths while filming eruptions in Japan in 1991. It’s a tragic end to two fulfilling and intertwined lives, but it also inspires hope that one can love anything as much as these two borderline-sociopaths loved volcanoes—and that one can live as relentlessly in pursuit of that passion. Followed by a Q&A with Dosa and writer Shane Boris. (2022, 93 min, DCP Digital) [Maxwell Courtright]
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Simon Lereng Wilmont’s A HOUSE MADE OF SPLINTERS (Denmark/Sweden/Finland/Ukraine/Documentary)
The Davis Theater – Sunday, 4pm
About Danish non-fiction filmmaker Simon Lereng Wilmont’s 2017 documentary THE DISTANT BARKING OF DOGS, I wrote that the Ukraine-set chronicle “feels like an epic work—like a novel that contains the scope of all humanity pared down to its most basic truths.” High praise for a film deserving of it but perhaps an anomaly, its subject and setting natural complements to artistry of that cinematic caliber. That’s true, yes, but, as is evidenced in Lereng Wilmont’s A HOUSE MADE OF SPLINTERS, his eye for belletristic visuals (enhanced by an apparent propensity of Ukrainians to decorate their homes and workplaces with intricately designed wallpaper and linens) combined with an artistic soul drawn toward the moments of his subjects’ lives that beautifully abridge the exquisiteness of being are the source of the near-literary absoluteness that distinguishes his documentaries from any others. The film is a spiritual sequel of sorts to that first film, centering like it did children and the impacts of hardship on them, though here focusing on kids in the foster system due to unstable home lives rather than one affected by the war in Donbas. Lereng Wilmont writes with images a saga of contemporary upheaval, specifically in Ukraine but nevertheless symbolic of a world mired in chaos, using the plight of innocent children as the source of his inquiry. Set at the Lysychansk Center for the Social and Psychological Rehabilitation of Children in Eastern Ukraine, Lereng Wilmont’s film documents several children at the temporary housing facility as they contend with the circumstances that brought them there (most commonly it would seem to be parents struggling with substance abuse) and await where they’ll go, whether back home, with a relative, to a state orphanage, or with long-term foster/adoptive parents. The kids featured are all unique: some are bashful, others rebellious, but they have in common the fact that their precarious home lives contribute to why they are the way they are. They exhibit acute consciousness of their parents’ struggles in some of the film’s most heartbreaking scenes; a recurrent scenario is the kids attempting to reach their parents by phone to no answer and still no idea as to where they are. It’s not all gloomy, though, as Lereng Wilmont includes moments of sweet levity and endearing weirdness that partly account for the kids’ astounding fortitude. Social workers at the facility appear very much to care about the children, though the grim candor they’re tasked with imparting may sometimes seem insensitive to those who’ve never had to do so. It’s one of their voice overs that’s intermittently heeded, providing information with world-weary wisdom, spoken as if recited from the pages of Les Miserables, Oliver Twist, or Jane Eyre, those classic tomes of the orphan’s plight (though, thankfully, the social service of Lereng Wilmont’s work seems to have the kids’ best interests at heart). "Here in Eastern Ukraine,” the voice ruminates, “people still feel the echoes of war,” referring to the fluctuating but still ongoing conflicts in the region, obviously worse as of late. Hearing that which was said in the past and knowing it applies to the present imbues the film with a haunted quality, as if about a world of ghosts who will never know peace. Still, the children remind one that, as the social worker’s voice over affirms, it’s hope that dies last. Followed by a Q&A with the director. (2022, 87 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
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Ron Howard’s WE FEED PEOPLE (US/Documentary)
The Davis Theater – Sunday, 7pm
Chaos comes in many forms. Among the worst comes with natural disasters; lesser versions can be found in the kitchens of most popular restaurants. Celebrity chef, restaurant entrepreneur, and World Central Kitchen (WCK) founder José Andrés is comfortable living in chaos, creating exquisite high-end cuisine for the world’s most discerning gourmets or freshly prepared, authentic dishes for hungry people in need in countries devastated by earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, fires, and other natural calamities. Director Ron Howard gets up close with Andrés as he reels from one disaster to the next, scouting kitchen locations, organizing distribution of sandwiches and hot meals to remote locations, and helping the stricken to help themselves, especially when government aid is slow or nonexistent. Howard has cobbled together a brief introduction to Andrés through archival film clips, TV interviews, and a montage of magazine and newspaper clippings. He interviews the Andrés family and his restaurant and WCK partners. And he sends his camera crews along on the sometimes dangerous food deliveries and scouting trips that accompany every WCK mission. I have long been curious about WCK, and I was happy to learn a great deal about how the cooks respect the eating habits of the people they are helping and, more importantly, the dignity of those who are looking for a bit of help, not a paternalistic takeover. Andrés himself eschews titles, including “chef” (he prefers “cook”), and is always looking to improve the systems he designs for each circumstance to help sustain people in their time of need. My respect for him and his partners has only grown, even as he says that WCK can never do the work that governments dedicated to the welfare of their populations can do. He’s right, of course, but in the absence of will (e.g., the U.S. government’s abandonment of Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria), he and WCK do a lot. Followed by a Q&A with Sam Bloch, the Director of Field Ops at Work Central Kitchen. (2022, 87 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING
To Render the Infinite: Visual Genealogies of Black Kinship (US/Experimental)
Block Cinema (at Northwestern University) – Wednesday, 7pm
This excellent shorts program showcases three filmmakers who approach the subject of Black identity in novel ways, both thematically and formally. Paige Taul (who’s represented here with four pieces) often presents images whose connection to the soundtrack isn’t readily apparent, forcing viewers to readjust their relationship to the material as they watch the films. In Taul’s particularly moving I AM (2017, 3 min), for instance, the filmmaker’s mother speaks candidly on the soundtrack about growing up Black in a predominantly white community and how this shaped the way she forms relationships with other people; tantalizingly, the images are of a Black woman dressed as a cheerleader practicing a routine alone on an empty football field. These shots emphasize how Taul’s mother has felt isolated in life but also how she’s drawn on her internal resilience to feel secure in her identity. THE PROMISE (2019, 5 min) reveals even more about Taul’s mother; in this piece, she delivers another candid monologue about a near-death experience she had as a child while riding in a car with her father when he was driving drunk. This work isn’t explicitly about Blackness, yet it enhances the depiction of Taul’s mother as a proud woman secure in who she is. The program’s namesake, zakkiyyah najeebah dumas o’neal’s TO RENDER THE INFINITE (2021, 11 min), takes a more sociological approach to the subject of Black womanhood, but it’s no less moving for doing so. In this collage-like work, the filmmaker draws on old home movies (courtesy Chicago Film Archives), an archival interview with playwright Lorraine Hansberry, and a pointed scene of Sidney Poitier delivering Hansberry’s dialogue from the film adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun; the effect is a kaleidoscopic depiction of Black identity thriving despite social impediments. The poignant scenes of domestic life found in TO RENDER THE INFINITE rhyme with some of those found in the Kevin Jerome Everson shorts also included in the program. NINETY-THREE (2008, 3 min) is a brief, slowed-down take of an elderly man (who’s presumably 93 years old) blowing out the many candles on his birthday cake; the slow motion draws attention to the subject’s gestures, his internal resolve, and his inherent dignity. Everson’s SISTER (2019, 2 min) is another snapshot-like work that portrays moments from a funeral where a few young Black men carry the casket of Mary Louise Everson Humphries Tubbs. Like NINETY-THREE, it is a silent piece, and the lack of sound draws attention to the dignified physicality of the subjects. Death is also the theme of VANILLA CAKE WITH STRAWBERRY FILLING (2014, 2 min), a touching short in which attendees of a memorial cut around the image of a recently deceased man printed on a cake so as not to spoil his memory. The Everson selections here touch on more than just aging and death; MUSIC FROM THE EDGE OF THE ALLEGHENY PLATEAU (2019, 7 min) and JUNETEENTH COLUMBUS, MISSISSIPPI (2013, 2 min) present scenes of celebration in distinctly American regions. These pieces, distinguished by Everson’s accomplished compositional sense and musical editing, spotlight the joys of the Black American experience and communicate a sense of triumph. Also on the program are Taul’s 10:28’30 (2019, 4 min) and FOR MY BABE (2018, 3.5 min) and Everson’s FLAK-KASERNE LUDWIGSBURG (2021, 4 min) and PATENT 1,571,148 (2022, 4.5 min) All shorts are projected digitally. Filmmakers in-person for a post-screening discussion and Q&A. [Ben Sachs]
Large and Uncut: Cynthia Plaster Caster on the Silver Screen (Documentary/Event)
Hideout Chicago (1354 W. Wabansia Ave.) – Sunday, 8pm
Most people will live their whole lives and never be as cool as Chicago-based artist Cynthia Albritton, better known as Cynthia Plaster Caster (the epithet on which, yes, the KISS song is based). She was born cool, she lived cool, and she passed away, on April 21, still cool as hell (as much as anyone can—an iconoclast shuffling off this mortal coil is never cool, per se); she leaves in her wake a legacy beyond the average person’s wildest dreams, rendered tactile by an assortment of penis statuettes that comprise her life’s work. In addition to a bevy of rarely seen footage and home movies featuring the late icon, which precede the feature, Jessica Everleth’s 2001 documentary PLASTER CASTER (91 min, Digital Projection) illuminates the life and lore of the singular legend. It’s rough and ready, like the artist herself, a vaporous love letter seeking to distill her elusive brilliance. Why are Cynthia and her plaster castings of rock stars' penises—her sweet babies, as she refers to them—so riveting? What about this woman’s fascination with the phallus, specifically as attached to famous men, reveals something about music, art, life and love? None other than Camille Paglia appears to elucidate, framing Cynthia as a feminist icon whose irreverent practice enfranchised her role within the rock star/groupie dynamic (she wore the seeming perjorative label of “groupie” with pride) while simultaneously disempowering the men. Her affection for them is genuine, not born of a need for their attention but rather a legitimate expression of like recognizing like, genius appreciating genius, though the impact of that consideration has the dual effect of being deliciously emasculating. Most of her “models” are good sports; they confess to a frequent inability of being unable to achieve or maintain an erection for the casting process. Cynthia’s unintentional humbling of these towering figures is potent, and her hunger for their sex is virility reconfigured, a spreading not of the seed but of that from which the seed is too carelessly spilled, turned needless in ennoblment. Of course, reminiscences of her most famous (and infamous) encounters are a point of focus: Jimi Hendrix is her magnum opus, so to speak, though she recalls rebuffing his advances in favor of his band’s bassist, Noel Redding, who appears in the documentary to speak of their tryst pleasantly. While that mythologized era of rock and roll history makes for some of the most compelling stories, Cynthia’s desire for whom to cast reflects her eclectic passion for music. As well as her love of the music is her love of art-making, lest anyone dismiss the process of casting a penis using plaster as being easy. In her kitchen-cum-studio she reviews the meticulous technique like a witch summarizing the formulation of her brew; during a sequence toward the end wherein she actually makes a cast, she’s an alchemist enthralled with her power. She’s likewise dedicated to the exhibition of her pieces, the preparation of a New York City gallery show being a circumstance of action in the film. Remnants of her past, pre-plastering, and conditions of her then-present cast another mold, that of a sweetly fearless but chronically misunderstood non-conformist who knew no other way to live. Altogether it’s a lovely tribute to a lovely person who also just happens to be one of the most unique, transgressive artists of her time, for whom men were muses and music the motivation, a spirit ahead of her time who now belongs to all time. [Kat Sachs]
Busby Berkeley's THE GANG'S ALL HERE (US)
Music Box Theatre – Sunday, 11:30am
Dali's dream sequences in Hitchcock's SPELLBOUND seem to get all the notoriety, however there are fewer images in 1940s cinema more surreal than that which closes THE GANG'S ALL HERE. A field of disembodied heads (among them, Benny Goodman's!) floating in a vast sea of electric blue. All of them singing at full volume. It's only the capper in a movie full of deeply weird things. A forest of artificial palm trees, their fronds shimmery green satin, crowned with fake coconuts but real monkeys. Edward Everett Horton coated with bright red lipstick. And, of course, Carmen Miranda in her tutti-frutti hat. At one point in the movie a character cries, "We haven't got time to be sensible!" It's nothing less than the movie's manifesto. The filmmakers know that we don't care a fig about the plot, and so the "story" is little more than a collection of era-specific elements: a soldier, a chorus girl, mistaken identities, a benefit show. In the best tradition of surrealism, the story is just a device that lets the real movie in. Namely, the exhilaration of casting aside any pretense at naturalism—the wildest production design captured in the most hallucinogenic Technicolor this side of THE ADVENTURES OF ROBIN HOOD. They really don't make 'em like they used to. Screening as part of the weekend “Anchors Aweigh Matinees!” series. (1943, 103 min, 35mm) [Rob Christopher]
Jean-Luc Godard's GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE 3D (Switzerland/France)
Film Studies Center (at the Logan Center for the Arts, 915 E. 60th St., University of Chicago) – Monday, 7pm
In Jean-Luc Godard's 1996 film FOR EVER MOZART, the director poses the question, "In the 'I think, therefore I am,' is the 'I' of 'I am' no longer the same as the 'I' of 'I think' and why?" GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE 3D seeks to answer this Cartesian inquiry with a resounding "no" by offering a philosophical meditation on the fractured nature of identity in our era of mass communication. In his astonishing first feature in 3D, the 84-year-old Godard pointedly shows, through an almost impossibly rich tapestry of stereoscopic images and sounds, how language and technology have conspired to create barriers that separate humans not only from each other but also from themselves ("Soon everyone will need an interpreter to understand the words coming from their own mouths," is one characteristically epigrammatic line of dialogue.) The film is split into three parts: "Nature" (a section demarcated by a title card reading "1"), which focuses on Josette and Gedeon (Héloïse Godet and Kamel Abdelli); "Metaphor" (a section demarcated by a title card reading "2"), which focuses on Ivitch and Marcus (Zoé Bruneau and Richard Chevallier); and a short third part (beginning with a title card reading "3D"), which introduces a third couple—Godard and his longtime collaborator Anne-Marie Mieville, who are not seen but whose voices are heard on the soundtrack. The real "star" of GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE 3D, however, is not a human at all but rather Godard's mixed-breed dog Roxy, who is frequently depicted alone, frolicking in nature, commanding both the most screen time and serving as the subject of some of the film's most dazzling stereoscopic effects. The shots of Roxy's handsome snout in the maw of Godard and cinematographer Fabrice Aragno's homemade 3D-camera rig, which convey an overwhelming feeling of love for the animal on the part of his owner/director, are so rapturously beautiful they may make you want to cry. The film ends by juxtaposing the sounds of a dog barking with that of a baby wailing on the soundtrack, thus linking Roxy not only to nature but, implicitly, to a state of unspoiled innocence that humans possess only prior to learning to speak. Godard's poetic use of 3-D in GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE 3D, the best such use of the technology in any movie I've seen, puts this groundbreaking work in the class of his (and the cinema's) great achievements. Screening as part of the Open Classroom series, highlighting professor Daniel Morgan’s “Between Theory and Practice” course. (2014, 70 min, 3D DCP Digital) [Michael Glover Smith]
Kelly Reichardt's MEEK'S CUTOFF (US)
Music Box Theatre – Tuesday, 7pm
The story goes that cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa had taken a very long time to set up the shot. He carefully framed the furrows of the road and the mountains and the sky just so, with plenty of clouds in the shot to lend added texture. It was gorgeous. Finally, Luis Buñuel came on the set. He took a look through the viewfinder, then swung the camera around so it was pointing at just the road and an empty field of dirt. The point was that Buñuel was not interested in just creating pretty pictures for the actors to move through; to him, human beings were the most important things in any shot, and he wouldn't allow anything to distract from them. The importance of Kelly Reichardt's decision to shoot MEEK'S CUTOFF in the boxy Academy ratio instead of widescreen cannot be underestimated—it's a format that privileges the human face over the expansive scenery. As she explained during the Sundance screening's Q&A, "The square really helped keep me in the moment with them." For a perfect contrast, one would have to look to Raoul Walsh's 1930 film THE BIG TRAIL. In fact, they even share a few sequences (crossing a river, lowering the wagons, etc.), but where Walsh favors jaw-dropping spectacle, Reichardt hones in on intimacy. It's only one way in which she and screenwriter Jon Raymond take a hackneyed genre and strip away the clichés. There are no gunfights, no saloons, no cowboys, and no whorehouses in this Western. Just ordinary folks trying to make a new life for themselves, at the mercy of an indifferent environment and their own doubts. Screening as part of the “Hell on the Homestead: Surviving the Frontier” series. (2010, 104 min, 35mm) [Rob Christopher]
Wong Kar-wai’s ASHES OF TIME REDUX (Hong Kong)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, 7pm
Though often described as Wong Kar-wai’s tribute to the wuxia genre, ASHES OF TIME is no less personal or idiosyncratic than any of his established masterpieces. In fact, it may be the most elliptical thing he’s ever made. The film is an unofficial prequel to a beloved wuxia novel called The Legend of the Condor Heroes, which was adapted in the late 1970s by the Shaw Brothers Studio as THE BRAVE ARCHER. Wong incorporates his favorite motifs from that story and even such generic conventions as sword fights and magic wine; however, these things are generally overwhelmed by his long standing personal concerns (memory, unrequited love, the fleetingness of happiness) and his highly sensual aesthetic, which is capable of turning anything from fabrics to sand dunes into fetish objects. Much of ASHES OF TIME unfolds in Sternbergian medium shots in which glamorous faces compete for attention with some vividly realized texture of the ancient world; punctuating the drama are voluptuous slow-motion passages of sword fights or natural phenomena. As usual in Wong’s films, everyone seems to be consumed by romantic longing and suavely world-weary—the characters act more or less like the lovestruck urbanites of CHUNGKING EXPRESS even though they live long ago in the Gobi Desert. (The way Wong reimagines the past through the lens of his private obsessions recalls Martin Scorsese’s decision to have the characters in THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST [1988] talk like contemporary Manhattan hipsters.) The saturated color palette befits the characters’ bold emotions, which are legible even when the narrative is not; the storytelling moves so languidly between subplots that the film earns its title. Wong spent so long finding the unique shape of the movie that two ASHES OF TIME spin-offs were completed before this was released: CHUNGKING (which he famously made as a break from the grueling production of this film) and THE EAGLE SHOOTING HEROES (1993), a quickly made comedy with the same cast that was made to appease the impatient producers. Wong spent even more time on the film in the 2000s, when he re-edited it into the present REDUX version. A beautiful, opaque object, it reflects its maker’s hermetic obsessiveness. Screening as part of Doc’s Friday series: In the Mood for Wong Kar-wai. (1994/2008, 94 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
Elaine May's ISHTAR (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Wednesday, 7pm
Affectionate towards its idiot characters and vicious towards its political targets, Elaine May's improvisatory satire is one of the ultimate Hollywood film maudits—a massive critical and commercial flop that seems to get funnier and sharper the further its disastrous release recedes into film history. Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty play two absolutely awful songwriters who get booked to play in North Africa and then find themselves mixed up in a confusing political conflict; that the intrigues are almost painfully stupid is part of the point, as is the ease with which Hoffman and Beatty's bungling boobs stumble into international matters. This is both a wryly fond portrait of ugly Americanism and a bleak condemnation of American foreign policy. Screening as part of Doc’s Wednesday series: They Thought I Was a Nice Girl: The Films of Elaine May. (1987, 107 min, 35mm) [Ignatiy Vishnevetsky]
📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED
Paul Schrader's LIGHT SLEEPER (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Tuesday, 7pm
John Letour, a man in his late 30s, is about to take on a major lifestyle change. He’s going to lose his friends he made in the business as he makes a career change from drug dealer to elite New York society. LIGHT SLEEPER returns us once again to Schrader’s lonely underworld as a man, played by Willem Dafoe, navigates life as his supplier (Susan Sarandon) leaves the business to start fresh. First shattering the world of cinema with the screenplay TAXI DRIVER (1976), Schrader established himself as a filmmaker with films such as BLUE COLLAR (1978), AMERICAN GIGOLO (1980) and MISHIMA: A LIFE IN 4 CHAPTERS (1985). The lonely dark horse is familiar territory for the legendary screenwriter/director. “A man alone in a room waiting for something to happen” is a trademark for Schrader, an original archetype he openly boasts of in interviews even with his most recent film THE CARD COUNTER (2021). This trademark, “transcendental style” filmmaking, seeks to spiritually move the viewer by having no comment on the action within the story. As Schrader puts it, “Most films today will grab you by the throat to maintain your attention; transcendental style film leans away from the viewer, inviting them to lean in." He even wrote a book on this style, Transcendental Style in Film (1972), having first been exposed to the practice after a screening of Robert Bresson’s PICKPOCKET (1959) in his early 20s. (This film even mirrors the ending of the Bresson.) Schrader’s protagonist journaling alone in his apartment waiting for something to happen never feels formulaic. Each of his films that share this similarity always feel personal and raw, a trait to which this film is no exception. In many ways, LIGHT SLEEPER is Schrader at his most vulnerable and optimistic. Dafoe, having associations with the director through his breakout role in THE LAST TEMPTATION OF CHRIST (1988), gives an effectively hollow and reserved performance. Leads in each of Schrader’s transcendental films always receive direction to not emote; Dafoe glides from scene to scene, melting into the style and carrying the film. Other notable performances come from cameos of young David Spade, Sam Rockwell, and the versatile Victor Garber. Screening as part of Doc’s Tuesday series: Neo-Noir ‘92. (1992, 103 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
Ninja Thyberg’s PLEASURE (Sweden)
Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes
Centered around an excellent main performance, PLEASURE is most striking for its bluntness about its subject matter. It’s essentially a familiar Hollywood story about reinventing yourself and finding stardom. But mapped onto the adult film industry, that story develops a lot of thematic nuances about power dynamics, not just in relation to a woman’s precarious position in a predominantly male-run industry, but also an industry grounded in capitalism—and how those two things are intricately connected. Landing in LA from Sweden with an alias at the ready, Bella Cherry (Sofia Kappel) is keen to become a famous porn star. She jumps right into the industry but quickly realizes she has a lot to learn, especially about the extreme misogyny she faces. She’s ambitious, though, and shifts her expectations, finding ways to stand up for herself, even if that means breaking with her personal limitations. While it isn’t a documentary, PLEASURE often feels like one—it even features real-life porn stars in the cast. Shot with bright reality show lighting, it reflects the cinematography of the adult film industry—even using those camera styles in explicit scenes featuring porn shoots. This documentary feel is also baked into the narrative, which follows Bella’s journey in vignettes that gradually build on one another, complicating the film’s themes right up until the final moment. Director Ninja Thyberg does an amazing job balancing a deceptively straightforward plot with compelling undertones. Sofia Kappel is a revelation, effortlessly shifting emotions as Bella Cherry experiences empowering moments as well as horrifyingly abusive ones; it’s a subtle performance, but it’s never unclear how the character is feeling at any given point. She’s rarely not onscreen and, especially for a first performance, impressively carries the film. (2021, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Francis Ford Coppola's THE CONVERSATION (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Wednesday, 7pm
If Francis Ford Coppola only made films between 1972 and 1979, he would still be considered one of the greatest American directors of the second half of the twentieth century. And THE CONVERSATION would still be (arguably) his crown jewel. Made in between his landmark first two GODFATHER films, THE CONVERSATION still stands as Coppola's most fully realized project of his heroic era. Conceived in the ‘60s but not realized until the richly paranoid Watergate era, there’s a prescience to this film that made it hit harder on its release than Coppola could have imagined. THE CONVERSATION, loosely inspired by Michelangelo Antonioni’s BLOW-UP (1966), is about San Francisco surveillance expert Harry Caul. An incredibly taught, genuinely terrifying paranoid thriller, it revolves around a job Caul takes on to record a couple’s mid-day conversation in a busy public downtown square. Caul is the kind of guy who takes a job but doesn't ask questions. He’s into the work, the technology, how to get the job done, not who's hiring him and why. Unfortunately, the realities of wiretapping and surveillance don't lend themselves to such clean-cut separations; also, Caul’s Catholic guilt begins to eat away at him and affect his work. This is a masterful mystery thriller that goes deep into the American psyche of paranoia that was so prevalent at the time it was made. But it holds an even more interesting view on privacy and surveillance culture in our present times, when we live in a world with no expectation of privacy. Once there was a time when a man like Caul, who made sound recordings of people who never expected it, was a rarefied expert. Now, we happily turn the cameras on ourselves, and everyone behind us is collateral surveillance damage. The irony of THE CONVERSATION lies in the fact that, while its main character snoops on people for a living, he tries to maintain as private a life as possible. He goes so far as to not even have a phone in his house, using only public payphones to communicate when not face-to-face. This makes the ending of the film ever more delicious. Just as Caul inadvertently captured a conversation with implications beyond what he expected, the film itself inadvertently anticipated the zeitgeist of 1974. It was released just a few months before President Richard Nixon’s resignation, an event bound up in wiretaps and surveillance. To Coppola’s shock, some of the actual equipment and techniques used in the film were used by the Nixon administration. Because of this, Coppola had to deny any real-world influence by pointing out that the film had been written before Nixon was in office and completed before his paranoid transgressions were made public. But besides the strange real-world coincidences and the weaving, mysterious plot, THE CONVERSATION is one of the most technically inspired films ever made. The sound editing here is beyond brilliant. In our age of YouTube clickbait-oriented “film criticism,” the term masterclass gets thrown about to the point of it being near meaningless. But when confronted with what may be the pinnacle of sound design in film, I’d say it's actually appropriate in this case. The sound was created by Walter Murch, who would later be the first person ever to be credited as sound designer on a film (for APOCALYPSE NOW). It is no exaggeration to say that sound itself not only plays a key role in this film; it's actually a character. Perhaps the main character. Seeing this film on a new 35mm print will only show off how insanely ahead of its time and, yes, masterful it really is. In our world of doorbell cameras, red light cameras, ATM cameras, ShotSpotter, and those super creepy Facebook recommendations that seem to come just minutes after you mentioned to a friend how you were thinking of maybe getting some Thai food later, THE CONVERSATION distills our still deep-seated paranoia of being watched (even if now we know we are) into a powerful, timeless, piece of art. Screening as part of the Haskell Wexler Centennial series. (1974, 113 min, 35mm) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Joel and Ethan Coen's BURN AFTER READING (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Thursday, 7pm
Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich) has recently lost his job as an analyst for the CIA. To distract himself from his failing marriage to Katie (Tilda Swinton), he writes a memoir, but his work ends up in the hands of two buffoonish fitness trainers (Frances McDormand and Brad Pitt). Convinced they've come upon highly classified information, they seek a capital reward for their findings, and chaos ensues as only modern masters of filmmaking can create. As one of the Coen brothers’ blackest comedies to date, BURN AFTER READING functions as the quintessential postmodern farce. Our protagonists make much ado about nothing amidst American involvement in foreign affairs, leaked classified documents, and mistrust of government agencies. It's a character-driven piece with a platinum ensemble and not a single weak performance in the bunch. Pitt and McDormand push the bounds of their typical onscreen personas, as does George Clooney in one of the few comedies where he doesn't play the straight man. As Harry Pfarrer, Clooney exhibits mannerisms and tics never seen before or since in his career. Clooney, an actor with facial nerve paralysis, typically plays the cool and collected hero in films such as MICHAEL CLAYTON (2007) or earlier in his career with FROM DUSK TILL DAWN (1996). Here, he's paranoid, manic, and lactose intolerant. It isn’t very often that a masculine star is willing to stretch for roles, but his performance jolts the screen. There are few filmmakers who put their actors center stage and let them shine like the Coens. The characters were written with each actor in mind; the Coens catered to each their performers' strengths while challenging them in idiosyncratic ways. BURN AFTER READING was also the first script the Coens wrote 2001, and it's hard to imagine it being made before the events of September 11th—it reflects an all-American cynicism that was central to the zeitgeist circa 2008. In addition to providing a glimpse into the end of the George W. Bush years, the film might shed light on conspiracy theorists running rampant today. In our current climate, the Linda Litzkes and Chad Feldheimers of the world await posts from Qanon and follow the battle the Republican party wages against the pizza-loving pedophilic deep state Democratic Establishment. (2008, 96 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
John Woo's HARD BOILED (Hong Kong)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Monday, 6pm
Somewhere between silly and sublime, the pièce de résistance of John Woo's Hong Kong career turns pulp cheese into pop ballet—fluid, extravagant, and totally enamored with its own sense of cool. Chow Yun-Fat stars as Tequila (a name that only John Woo—or a ten-year-old boy—could love), a clarinet-playing cop who teams up with an undercover loner (Tony Leung Chiu-Wai) to take down a triad boss (Anthony Wong), shoot a lot of people, and rescue some adorable babies. Woo's worldview—overwrought, slightly homoerotic, with some entry-level metaphysics and psychology thrown in for good measure—may be reductive, but damn if it doesn't have a certain brutal grace to it; the way he turns the characters into bodies in motion—charging at one another, leaping through space, getting showered with shards of glass—is engrossing and often just plain beautiful. Screening as part of 50/50, the Film Center’s year-long series including a film from each year the theater has been open. (1992, 126 min, 35mm) [Ignatiy Vishnevetsky]
Valie Export's INVISIBLE ADVERSARIES (Austria)
Facets Cinema – Thursday, 9:30pm
At once haunting, hilarious, and heady, Valie Export's kaleidoscopic tour de force INVISIBLE ADVERSARIES rivals Lizzie Borden's BORN IN FLAMES as the best feminist sci-fi movie in the history of the cosmos. The film centers on a Viennese photographer named Anna who descends deeper and deeper into a spiral of delirium and paranoia as she becomes increasingly convinced that an alien race called the Hyksos (Egyptian for "foreign rulers") are inhabiting people's bodies to wreak havoc and terror. Anna's fragmented sense of self is mirrored by Export's loose narrative structure and mélange of video, performance art, and surrealist influences (think Vera Chytilova's DAISIES crossed with INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS). As this film progresses, the viewer becomes equally disoriented—has the image also become possessed by a hostile, disruptive force that refuses us our traditional trance-like alignment with the screen? A highly theoretical meditation on the cinema's ability to copy, INVISIBLE ADVERSARIES also plays with the familiar theme of the shadow/doppelganger, underscoring the literal object(ification) of women on film. (1976, 112 min, Digital Projection) [Harrison Sherrod]---
Preceded by Facets Trivia at 7pm, hosted by critic, programmer and Cine-File contributor Raphael Jose Martinez and local programmer Mike Vanderbilt. More info here.
Haskell Wexler's MEDIUM COOL (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Sunday, 12:30pm
How many times have you gone somewhere expecting a massive riot? And if you did go, did you also expect to come away with cinematic gold? That's pretty much what Chicago native Haskell Wexler did in 1968 when he decided to shoot footage of protesters outside the Democratic National Convention. Already an Oscar-winning cinematographer for his work on WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?, he set a fictional film about the ethics of a TV news cameraman amongst the actual chaos in the city. In MEDIUM COOL he used what was essentially a documentary crew (operating the camera himself), and had the actors intermingle with real protesters and police as all hell broke loose in Chicago. Other documentary footage was repurposed and additional narrative scenes were shot to fill in the gaps of the superficial plot, and Wexler used these elements to walk the line between fact and fiction while addressing the political climate of the times. Perhaps more than any other filmmaker, Wexler is responsible for the shooting style used in films by directors like John Cassavetes, John Sayles, and Kelly Reichardt, who all seem to have taken his advice: "If your film can reflect areas of life where people feel passion, then it will have genuine drama." Screening as part of the Haskell Wexler Centennial series. (1969, 111 min, DCP Digital) [Jason Halprin]
Terrence Malick's THE TREE OF LIFE (US)
Facets Cinema – Friday, 7pm
At the beginning of Terrence Malick's THE TREE OF LIFE, a mother says, "The nuns taught us there are two ways through life—the way of nature and the way of grace." Shortly after, her son, a middle-aged architect named Jack O'Brien, remembers the death of his younger brother, R.L., at the age of nineteen. Jack then travels back to his idyllic childhood in 1950s Waco, Texas to find this brother that he lost. In a larger sense, THE TREE OF LIFE explores the nature of being, including those aspects of it neither children nor adults understand. It questions birth and death throughout the history of time, beginning with the origin of the universe, continuing through the evolution of the species, and finally to the untimely death of this one young man. Malick renders the small family at the center of the story as grand as the life of the universe itself. Why do we not see the world this way? What prevents our sense of wonder? We no longer experience life, so we turn to cinema. TREE OF LIFE appears to be a collection of memories and imaginings. It is a film of images more than of words. Malick focuses on imagery of the family and, in particular, the three boys, capturing them in close-up and only natural light. The audience often views the spontaneous unfolding of life from a child's eyes, which look up to encounter the world. Malick's camera behaves like a human being in its own right, expressing a variety of emotions in its movement. He films the world, both great and small, with such reverence that every image of it is truly beautiful. To return to the film's beginning, the mother continues, "You have to choose which one you'll follow. Grace doesn't try to please itself. It accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. It accepts insults and injuries. Nature only wants to please itself, get others to please it, too. Likes to lord it over them, to have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy and all the world is shining around it and love is smiling through all things. They taught us that no one who loves the way of grace ever comes to a bad end. I will be true to you whatever comes." THE TREE OF LIFE is a man's testament to Spirit that captures the phenomenon of being in its glory. Screening as part of the Milos’s Picks series in conjunction with Facets’ 47th anniversary celebration. (2011, 139 min, DCP Digital) [Candace Wirt]
Bing Liu’s MINDING THE GAP (US/Documentary)
Facets Cinema – Saturday, 5pm
Above and beyond a prescience toward current events that made his first documentary one of that year’s most crucial, Bing Liu also has the distinction of being what one might call a natural filmmaker. The consummate visual aesthetic of MINDING THE GAP often seems wane in light of the film's sociopolitical urgency, but it's a perfect example of how these components can work in concert. Produced by Kartemquin Films and shot over several years, the film follows a group of boys (now men) from Rockford, Illinois, through various obstacles in their respective lives. Though heralded as a skateboarding doc, the enduring burnout sport is really a narrative device by which the story glides, grinds, and even crashes. Liu himself is one of the young men in question, along with Zack Mulligan and Keire Johnson—contrary to what the film would have you believe, only Mulligan and Johnson are childhood friends, with Liu an acquaintance who met both at different points in late adolescence and early adulthood. The men have more than skateboarding and their hometown in common: All three are intimately familiar with domestic violence, a theme that not only coheres the subjects, but the film itself. It’s perhaps as apt an exploration into toxic masculinity as I’ve seen of late, with firsthand insight into the hows and whys of the epidemic. The most difficult element of the film is Zach’s alleged abuse of his on-and-off again girlfriend, Nina, who’s also the mother of his child; Liu interviews both about the abuse and even plays a recording of Nina’s alleged retaliation. It’s comparable to a similar, but more graphic, sequence in Wang Bing’s BITTER MONEY, viewers watching these incidents unfold in real life rather than behind closed doors. As in the work of fellow documentary filmmakers Wang and Frederick Wiseman, Liu’s diplomatic observation of problematic circumstances seems necessary to one’s overall understanding of them—he presents domestic violence not as an incurable illness, but rather a treatable symptom, part of a larger societal framework in which almost everyone is a victim. His images, near masterful, do as much to convey this as the words forthrightly spoken by his subjects. Medium and regular close-ups delve into the subjects’ souls and heedful compositions express more than words; consider the pivotal scenes where Liu interviews his mother, herself a victim of domestic violence, about his abuse at the hands of his stepfather. He isn’t filming these scenes, but Liu's exceptional direction, likely borne of his early career as a camera operator and cinematographer, is evident in the set-up, the camera equipment a noticeable divide between him and his mother, revealing both connection and artifice. Maybe less emotionally affecting, but still superlative, is the delightfully frenetic skateboarding footage and snowy shots of Rockford à la Pieter Bruegel the Elder's “Hunters in the Snow," all of which compounds one’s reception of Liu as a veritable aesthete. He's certainly one to watch—hopefully we’ll do so him as thoughtfully as he does others. Preceded by Lindsey Martin and Julia Fuller’s 2010 short EVERY SPEED (10 min, Digital Projection). (2018, 93 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
Nobuhiko Obayashi's HOUSE (HAUSU) (Japan)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, Midnight
It's a film like HOUSE, a film so manic, so bewildering and so singular, that makes one become obsessed with its genesis. The film's abrupt stylistic shifts and bizarre visual effects fill one's mind with but one question: "who the hell made this movie?" It would surprise no one then to learn that Nobuhiko Obayashi was an experimental filmmaker—nor would it surprise anyone that he made TV ads—previous to HOUSE. What is surprising is that his forays into experimental films were that of the lyrical psychodrama, more akin to Gregory Markopoulos than, say, Pat O'Neill. CONFESSION (1968) is Obayashi's most visually complex experimental work, and even that only uses creative editing between shots and the occasional unorthodox camera angle. HOUSE's genius lies in its veritable catalogue of optical effects, displaying a virtuosity previously unseen from its maker. And yet, the film is more than just a sum of its traveling matte parts. True, its paper-thin plot does serve only to move from one novel death to the next, but this is the essence of all horror films. Like some giddy, crazed, superior version of THE ABOMINABLE DR PHIBES (1971), HOUSE provides a fat-trimmed index of inventive ways to die, all with tongue placed firmly in cheek. (1977, 88 min, Digital Projection) [Doug McLaren]
Robert Eggers’ THE NORTHMAN (US)
Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes
Vikings are having a moment in pop culture, but Robert Eggers is less than thrilled. Saying that "recent television, film, and video game representations of Viking mythology and Old Norse culture are romanticized and made to look flashy and cool," he decided to make the ultimate Viking film, aiming for historical accuracy. But THE NORTHMAN plays more like an '80s action movie, full of macho masochism à la Mel Gibson and sporting a revenge-driven plot influenced by HAMLET that could be set in the present day—of course, with some major details changed. Prince Amleth (played by Alexander Skarsgard as an adult) watches his father (Ethan Hawke) murdered by his uncle Fjolnir (Claes Bang), leading to a lifelong vow of revenge. Years later, he disguises himself as a slave and arranges to be sold into servitude in Iceland, where Fjolnir rules. Toiling on Fjolnir’s farm, he bides his time till he can enact his revenge. But that conflict takes place in a world where reality and fantasy blend together and the worlds of humans and animals seem very close. For all the period research that went into it, THE NORTHMAN, like Eggers’ THE LIGHTHOUSE (2019), boils down to a conflict between two men; and like the earlier film, it risks succumbing to making the extensive world-building a background for that struggle. Yet THE NORTHMAN has a far more seductive look, embracing blatant artifice—if the crows in the first scene aren't CGI, they're giving the film's best performances—and monochrome tones through which a fire’s golden glow bursts. (Tinted silent cinema is a touchstone for this film's cinematography.) Like Eggers’ first two films, both period pieces, THE NORTHMAN combines a trippy tone with extremely detailed production design. It’s most intriguing when Eggers’ direction hints at a world where reality and fantasy blend together, with the style rejecting the rationalist tendencies of contemporary Europe. THE NORTHMAN tries to embody Viking culture instead of merely depicting it. The sound design is purposefully overwhelming, with music blending into foley effects. Eggers still hasn’t topped his debut, THE WITCH (2015), but he’s made the leap from A24 folk horror to a $90 million studio project without watering down or changing his aesthetic. (2022, 136 min, DCP Digital) [Steve Erickson]
🎞️ PHYSICAL SCREENINGS/EVENTS –
ALSO SCREENING
⚫ Block Cinema (at Northwestern University)
“Teasers of Empire: 1930s Action-Adventure Trailers and the Spectacle of Imperialism” (1931-1940; 35mm and Digital Projection), a selection of fifteen 35mm trailers from the Academy Film Archive with commentary by guest scholars examining the connections between the action-adventure genre and the history of imperialism, per the event description, screens on Thursday at 7pm. Free admission. More info here.
⚫ Cinema/Chicago
Caroline Link’s 2019 German film WHEN HITLER STOLE PINK RABBIT (119 min, Digital Projection) screens on Tuesday at 6:30pm, at the Chicago History Museum (1601 N. Clark St.). Free admission with online registration. More info here.
⚫ Comfort Film at Comfort Station
Alexander Cassini’s 1992 film STAR TIME (84 min, Digital Projection) screens on Wednesday at 8pm as part of the monthly “Released and Abandoned: Forgotten Oddities of the Home Video Era” series. Free admission. More info here.
⚫ Doc Films (at the University of Chicago)
George Tillman Jr.’s 1997 film SOUL FOOD (115 min, 35mm) screens on Sunday at 7pm as part of the “Food, the Common Tongue: Loves, Rages, and Delights of Gastro-Cinema” series.
Madeline Anderson’s 1970 documentary I AM SOMEBODY (28 min, DCP Digital)—for which we included a short review in a larger program round-up here—and Pearl Bowser’s 1985 documentary NAMIBIA: INDEPENDENCE NOW! (55 min, Digital Projection) screen on Monday at 7pm as part of the “An Open Window: Black Female Directors Across the Diaspora” series.
The 9:30pm screening on Thursday, which has thus far been the time slot of the as part of the “Punks Behind the Camera” series, is currently listed as TBA (to be announced). Check for updates and see more info on all screenings here.
⚫ Facets Cinema
Ashley O’Shay’s 2020 documentary UNAPOLOGETIC (86 min, DCP Digital), preceded by Latham Zearfross’ 2014 short film SOMETHING TO MOVE IN (5 min, Digital Projection) screens on Sunday at 5pm as part of the Kartemquin Films X Full Spectrum Features series.
Three films by Tom Palazzolo—LABOR DAY, EAST CHICAGO (1979, 32 min, Digital Projection), I MARRIED A MUNCHKIN (1994, 44 min, Digital Projection), and DOWN CLARK STREET (2000, 25 min, Digital Projection)—screen on a loop during business hours through Sunday. More info on all screenings here.
⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
Simon Curtis’ 2022 film DOWNTON ABBEY: A NEW ERA (124 min, DCP Digital) begins this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
Stefan Forbes’ 2021 documentary HOLD YOUR FIRE (93 min, DCP Digital) also begins this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
A work-in-progress screening of Ziad Foty’s 2022 film RETURN TO RAMALLAH (76 min, Digital Projection) screens on Friday at 8pm, followed by Q&A with Foty, producer and editor Ahmed Mansour, and producer Dina Emam. Limited seats available, with special preference given to students, film industry professionals and CPFF partners. Darin J. Sallam’s 2021 film FARHA (92 min, DCP Digital) screens on Saturday at 6:30pm. Both screen as part of the Chicago Palestine Film Festival, which ends Saturday, and are preceded by one or more short films.
The Chicago Japan Film Collective presents Tsutsumi Yukihiko’s 2021 film TRUTH: 1 NIGHT, 1 ROOM, 3 BADDEST BITCHES (72 min, DCP Digital) on Tuesday at 7pm with a virtual Q&A with Yukihiko following the screening.
Chicagoland Shorts Vol. 8 screens on Thursday at 7pm with featured filmmakers in-person for a post-screening Q&A. More info on all screenings here.
⚫ Music Box Theatre
Alex Garland’s 2022 horror film MEN (100 min, DCP Digital) begins this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
Andrew Adamson and Vicky Jenson’s 2001 animated comedy SHREK (90 min, DCP Digital) screens on Friday and Saturday at midnight; hosted by Midnight Madness.
As part of Silent Cinema at the Music Box, programmed and co-presented by the Chicago Film Society, William Beaudine’s 1926 film THE CANADIAN (88 min, 35mm) screens on Saturday at 11:30am, with organ accompaniment by Dennis Scott.
SOMM TV presents Jason Wise’s 2022 documentary THE WHOLE ANIMAL (72 min, Digital Projection) on Thursday at 7:15pm, with Wise, producer-cinematographer Jackson Myers, and cast member Bryan Flannery in attendance for a post-screening Q&A. GA and VIP tickets are available. More info on all screenings here.
⚫ South Side Home Movie Project
The South Side Home Movie Project is participating in the Key/Change exhibition at the Weinberg/Newton Gallery (688 N. Milwaukee Ave.), ongoing through July 16. The exhibition centers on housing; per the event description, “silent home movies and idiosyncratic sculpture subsequently suggest that housing is a productive place in which intimate moments, lifelong memories, and nurturing meals are made and shared.” More info here.
⚫ South Side Projections
Co-presented with the Bronzeville Historical Society, “Memories in Motion: An Introduction to the South Side Home Movie Project,” which includes a screening of South Side home movies, featuring newly preserved films of Bronzeville nightlife in the 1950s (including footage from the Parkway Ballroom), followed by conversation with families who have donated their home movies to South Side Home Movie Project, per the event description, takes place on Saturday at 2pm, at the Parkway Ballroom ( 4455 S. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.). More info here.
🎞️ LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS
Sergei Loznitsa’s DONBASS (Ukraine)
Available to rent through the Gene Siskel Film Center here
DONBASS is acutely aware of its existence as a thoroughly partial, mediated depiction of war in the east of Ukraine. The opening scene shows a woman having makeup applied, followed by another woman directing a cast of extras to run outside as a fake explosion goes off. The director’s commands have a military ring; like a drill sergeant, she shouts, “Follow my orders! Get a move on!” Is this a vision of the making of DONBASS itself? Only when the film’s final scenes return to the makeup trailer does the audience get a firm grip on the level of reality at work. DONBASS looks upon journalism as the most insidious version of fiction, showing camera crews shoot repeated takes and change camera angles to get traumatized people to play the most convincing versions of themselves. Since DONBASS is a narrative film, it feels freer than Loznitsa's documentaries to engage with our “post-truth” world. It's composed of 13 segments, sometimes connected by recurring characters, each introduced by an onscreen title relating the location. A woman accused of taking bribes barges into a meeting to dump a bucket of shit over a politician’s head. In the next scene, nurses protest the hoarding of food, medicine, and diapers in the hospital where they work while a slimy suit lies to them. Loznitsa risks caricaturing the separatists: for example, a scene where a helpless old man is crowded and beaten by young men would play quite differently if he were a macho soldier capable of fighting back or if we saw the graphic effects of the landmines he’s accused of planting. (The film features a great deal of onscreen cruelty but no gore.) Even in scenes with no physical threats, bullying is constant, as are people on opposing sides speaking at cross purposes. The fact that almost no characters are given names enhances the mood of dehumanization. Loznitsa mixes long takes (with the final scene taking this style to its limit) with cramped widescreen framings of crowds. DONBASS feels rooted in the dark satire and pissed-off mood of Vera Chytilova or Kira Muratova’s late films. The end offers no respite, just a withdrawal into a bird’s eye view of the media’s exploitation of terror that hints at an indictment of DONBASS itself. (2018, 121 min) [Steve Erickson]
🎞️ LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS –
ALSO SCREENING/STREAMING
⚫ Video Data Bank
“Spring with Mike Kuchar” is available to stream for free on VDB TV. The program includes Kuchar’s SUNLIT SORCERY (2022, 34 min), composed of his works ECHO’S GARDEN (2010), A MIDSUMMER’S NIGHTMARE (2008) and THE VERNAL ZONE (2008), and Oscar Oldershaw’s AN AFTERNOON WITH MIKE KUCHAR (2014, 32 min). More info here.
🎞️ ADDITIONAL ONLINE SCREENINGS
Evgeny Afineevsky’s WINTER ON FIRE: UKRAINE’S FIGHT FOR FREEDOM (UK/Ukraine/US/Documentary)
Available to stream on Netflix here (Subscription required)
A couple of months ago, when the Gene Siskel Film Center was featuring films from and about Ukraine, I reviewed a 2020 documentary by Iryna Tsilyk called THE EARTH IS BLUE AS AN ORANGE. I admitted my ignorance of Ukrainian history in that review, specifically, how the eastern part of the country had been subject to Russian shelling since 2014, the year Russia annexed Crimea with barely a peep from the West. What I didn’t realize even in that acknowledgment was that the use of the word “orange” in the title—something that confused me—probably referred to the Orange Revolution of 2004–05, a series of protests and political actions that forced the reversal of the rigged election of Viktor Yanukovych to the presidency. That latter bit of information came from Evgeny Afineevsky’s searingly immediate documentary about Euromaidan, a protest movement that began in November 2013 in Kyiv’s Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square) when Yanukovych, who eventually was legitimately elected as president, decided not to sign a free trade agreement with the European Union and chose instead to ally with Russian markets. The protest lasted for three months and ended in a bloody confrontation with police, Urkainian security forces known as Berkut, and paid thugs called Titushky that cost 125 lives, mainly of unarmed protesters, in less than 48 hours. Afineevsky does a fine job of recounting the events from 2003 that led up to Euromaidan using intertitles and maps. This groundwork is necessary for uninformed viewers like me to understand the players and the basic issues—a fight between the Ukrainian people who wanted to join a democratic Europe and improve their economic prospects and the old guard who hoped to reestablish a dictatorship under Russian control. Once we have been briefed, we become flies on the wall via a 30-person camera crew who fanned out to record every aspect of Euromaidan and interview participants, from pop singer Ruslana Lyzhicko and Muslim spiritual leader Said Ismagilov to charismatic 12-year-old Roma Saveliyev, an uneducated Romy from a village just outside of Kyiv who, unsurprisingly, is assigned to the tech tent to help people with their internet connections and hardware. To put a point on just how important this protest is, a cleric at Kyiv’s Mykhalvys’kyi Monastery gets permission to ring all of the church bells in support of the protesters; he says the last time all the bells were rung was in 1240, when the Mongol-Tatars invaded the city. Despite the spontaneity of the demonstrations, the protesters quickly learn to organize, forming Maidan Defense Units, building barricades, activating AutoMaidan (the car “cavalry”), and setting up kitchens, clothes drop-offs, and medical facilities. There is a bit of a party atmosphere at times and frequent mocking of the ridiculous edicts issued by the government, but the stakes couldn’t be higher once suppression of the protesters becomes deadly serious. Rubber bullets are somehow replaced by real ammunition, machine guns and percussion bombs loaded with shrapnel are turned on the unarmed civilians, and a march toward the Parliament becomes a trap not too different from that which befell the Light Brigade immortalized by Lord Tennyson. One moving scene involves a fighter giving a tearful interview about the death of a friend who was shot trying to get a stretcher to an injured man; the scene shifts to the death of this would-be rescuer caught on camera. What is clear is that these Ukrainian men (women were present, but not in combat) were willing to fight to the death to prevent backsliding into the bad old days of Soviet domination. Although Kyiv citizens formed the bulk of the protesters, people from all over Ukraine joined the fight. With the shock of so much carnage and unflagging determination, it comes as little surprise to see footage of Yanukovych slipping away under cover of night to seek asylum with Vladimir Putin. It is entirely possible that he has had a hand in what is happening in Ukraine today, and it is no surprise that Ukraine is fighting back with all that it has for the right to determine its own future. WINTER ON FIRE stands with the best combat documentaries ever made, and one that is all the more urgent for us to watch and absorb as we contemplate the need to defend ourselves against the rise of fascism in the world. (2015, 102 min) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
CINE-LIST: May 20 - May 26, 2022
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Rob Christopher, Maxwell Courtright, Ray Ebarb, Steve Erickson, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Jason Halprin, Raphael Jose Martinez, Doug McLaren, Harrison Sherrod, Michael Glover Smith, Ignatiy Vishnevetsky, Candace Wirt