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đ€ CHICAGO UNDERGROUND FILM FESTIVAL
The 29th annual Chicago Underground Film Festival begins on Wednesday and continues through Sunday, July 31. All film screenings will take place at the Logan Theatre (2646 N. Milwaukee Ave.); afterparties and non-film related events will take place elsewhere. Below is coverage of the first two days of the festival. We will have coverage of the programs screening July 29 - 31 on next weekâs list. More info here.
Emma Thatcherâs PROVO (US)
Wednesday, 8pm
In its unabashed punk-girl energy and sensitivity to bohemian types, PROVO may remind you a bit of Sarah Jacobsonâs legendary underground feature MARY JANEâS NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE (1996). The heroineâplayed by Chicago-based writer-director-editor Emma Thatcherâsometimes suggests what might have happened to the teenage protagonist of Jacobsonâs film if she kept hanging with the cool kids but spent her 20s otherwise making bad life choices. When the movie begins, Liz seems to be living from high to another; sheâs a regular in the north side party scene because of the easy access to alcohol and drugs, and she sees her dealer so often he thinks sheâs his friend. Thatcher doesnât hold off on revealing that Liz lives recklessly to cope with memories of childhood abuse, thereby avoiding the easy ambiguity that plagues too many contemporary dramas about self-destructive characters. At the same time, PROVO isnât a cautionary tale. Thatcher presents Lizâs bohemian lifestyle with knowing affectionâwatching the movie feels at times like going to a party with the characters. In a turn out of Bob Rafelsonâs FIVE EASY PIECES (1970), Liz learns from an estranged half-sister that their devout Mormon father is dying of a terminal illness back in Utah, and so she hits the road with her not-quite-boyfriend Geoffrey to confront her family. Much of the ensuing story concerns the growing intimacy between Geoffrey, who desires a more serious relationship, and Liz, who doesnât (not surprisingly, sheâs afraid of commitment); while some of the emotional developments may be predictable, Thatcher delivers them with commendable restraint. She tends to organize scenes around character insights rather than narrative complications, and this adds to the general feeling of hanging out. Yet the more Thatcherâs characters hang out, the more emotionally vulnerable they allow themselves to be; by the end, you may feel like giving the movie a hug. Preceded by Emilie Upczakâs 2022 short SILT (10 min, DCP Digital). (2022, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Shorts 1: Into My Own Thing
Thursday, 5pm
Itâs fitting that the first short in a program titled âInto My Own Thingâ is about vagina fingers. (Heh.) Diane Christiansenâs pithy animation, SPECK (2022, 3 min, DCP Digital) features the bizarre conceit, fingers between which there is a vagina rather than whatever that part of oneâs body is called (and with eyes on its knuckles, to boot), as it âexplores [a] universe gone mad.â A phantasmagoria of images comprise this absurd world, with little apparent logic as to what any of it means or what vagina fingers have to do with it. Alas, itâs a fleeting respite to think of the muscle tissue as being free to explore rather than as being controlled by treacherous forces. The cutesy talking rocks in EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE have nothing on the metaphysical colloquy in Michael Robinsonâs POLYCEPHALY IN D (2021, 23 min, DCP Digital). Polycephaly means the condition of having more than one head; one canât help but wonder if the conversation taking place here is between two men, as it appears, or between two divergent entities within one. Robinson is a steward of popular media, so to speak, finding in its relentless depths a connection to the contemporary moment. Even when that media itself is contemporaryâfor example, a provocative sequence melds scenes from a recent HUNGER GAMES movie with scenes from older films, such as a 1976 remake of KING KONG, Desmond Davisâ 1981 CLASH OF THE TITANS and the 1984 Robert Zemeckis adventure romcom ROMANCING THE STONEâRobinson manages to draw out its aftershocks to reverberate back into the past and out into the future. Here this serves a larger message of something at once timeless and timely, that of the impending apocalypse, ever a blip on the horizon. A scene of live monkeys reacting to the seeming death of a doll monkey vaguely recalls the classic opening sequence from 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, yet in this it serves as both a beginning and an end, with the prophetic dance party to end all prophetic dance parties. Where Robinson uses popular film footage to enlarge upon a hypothetical, Debi Cornwall uses approximately 500 clips from 200 Hollywood films to clarify a substantiality. Describing herself as a conceptual documentary artist, Cornwall worked 12 years as a civil-rights lawyer, a background which imbues her film PINELAND/HOLLYWOOD (2021, 11 min, DCP Digital) with a practicable logic. She uses the film clips to illustrate the circumstances of a 2002 incident during which one soldier was shot and another killed by a deputy who was unaware that the two men were participating in Robin Sage, a real-life war games exercise that prepares soldiers for Special Forces duty. The narrative films drawn upon are inherently fake, but so, too, are these games, which are nevertheless appreciated as if they were real. The line between the real and the not-real becomes so blurred as to no longer exist. In creating his new work, ABSTRACT ETERNALISM (2021, 22 min, DCP Digital), master avant-garde filmmaker Ken Jacobs had cause to ponder: âMore and more I feel I am allowing the computer to make the call,â he writes. âI sign the work and wonder if I am being presumptuous. A new world coming up fast and we egotists may have to settle for second place.â No less the case than with his other work, Iâm humbled in the presence of its enigma and can make no claims to being able to summarize either the film itself or the technique that forms its essence, that which Jacobs calls eternalism. See it to believe it but perhaps no better to understand it. Scott Starkâs 2022 film NIGHT OUT OF SONG (20 min, 16mm) is likewise abstract but with more identifiable imagery to anchor it. The potential for the multiplicity of images defines its approach; dual projection is utilized throughout, as is the superimposition of those two (or potentially more) 16mm images on top of one another. There are also images within images, seen in the windows of buildings, buses, and cars. Even when there appears to be just one image on screen, thereâs typically a call-and-response style shot/reverse shot structure, going between two or more images that are interrelated in myriad ways. Sometimes itâs silent; sometimes one hears diegetic sounds respective to any of its apparent locations; sometimes the sound is completely removed from the imagery, such as when a voiceover guides a Calm app-style meditation set against the implied hustle-and-bustle of urban tumult. Coming back to the programâs title, this reflective machination serves to make one aware of what theyâre âintoâ at that moment, that of cinemaâs fundamental and highly personal sense of immersion. [Kat Sachs]
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Ian F. Svenonius and Alexandra Cabralâs THE LOST RECORD (US)
Thursday, 7pm
Having fronted the beloved Washington DC hardcore band the Nation of Ulysses, Ian F. Svenonius will always be an underground hero, which makes CUFFâs inclusion of this feature he codirected (with Alexandra Cabral, who also scripted) pretty much a no-brainer. That the film provides a useful summary of the punk/hardcore ethos makes it even worthier of inclusion; the cameos by such other underground heroes as Calvin Johnson and Henry Rollins are icing on the cake. The film is a satirical sci-fi fantasy that takes place in an alternate universe where American society permits only one song to be popular at a time. When a young woman discovers and falls in love with a record containing a different song, she begins to question the cultural forces that have shaped her habits to date. THE LOST RECORD is refreshingly blunt in its critique of popular culture: the heroine works at a company called Creative Control, which boasts of turning artists into commodities; and the alternate reality where she lives openly encourages free love and political protests because they permit people to release pent-up energy and maintain their cultural capital. In addition to having supporting characters explain these methods of social control, the filmmakers also stage conversations between the heroine and the lost record (voiced, natch, by Svenonius), which engages her in Socratic dialogues about the nature of art and personal liberty. As with those classic Nation of Ulysses records, it can be hard to tell when the revolutionary rhetoric is meant to be sincere and when itâs meant to be sarcastic, yet this ambiguity doesnât diminish the filmâs impact, since the air of defiance is so consistent and winning. Preceded by dunt projectâs 2022 short THE GIANT BOWL (9 min, DCP Digital).(2021, 76 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Shorts 2: Somebody's Watching You
Thursday, 9pm
Love and death do their timeless dance in this program of short films. In her debut as a writer-director, Cameron Holly Dexter turns up the horror in THE RECIPE (2022, 15 min, DCP Digital), using the melodramatic plot of a middle-class wife taking revenge on her unfaithful husband and his mistress to cast a jaundiced eye on womenâs liberation. By setting the film in 1973, the year the decision in Roe v. Wade made abortion legal in the United States, Dexter highlights the underlying lack of camaraderie among women that the mad housewife craves. Director Shayna Connellyâs A PSYCHOGEOGRAPHY OF MOURNING [SO THAT I MIGHT FIND YOU AGAIN] (2022, 9 min, DCP Digital) begins with a techno-rattle that segues into a song by Chris Connelly about the loss of a loved one as images of tombstones, many broken and age-worn, testify with short phrases and touching statues the depth of grief those who erected them felt. This sometimes scary, sometimes pitiful tour through death connects us with our shared fate. Death is a background and turn-on in Jim Vendiolaâs PRETTY PICKLE (2022, 13 min, DCP Digital). A two-month-old relationship is tested when a young man becomes suspicious of his sexually voracious girlfriend and finds out more about her kinks than bargained for. Vendiola mines modern dating for all the horror and humor itâs worth. If, in your travels through social media and cable news, you havenât had your fill of conspiracy theories, Christopher Meerdoâs THE SEARCH (2019, 20 min, DCP Digital) is a must-see. Meerdo goes along as the official documentarian with a deep-sea diver and part-time lounge singer in search of the body of Osama bin Laden in the Arabian Sea. A combination of sound-only meetings with some fixers with âtop secretâ clearance, underwater diving scenes, and lounge singing take us down the all-too-familiar rabbit hole of beliefs that belie reality. Jenny Starkâs PRETTY IS AS PRETTY DOES (2022, 7 min, DCP Digital) interrogates the popular-culture view of the American South and the vagaries of nostalgia and memory through grainy black-and-white images and quick flashes of the Stars and Bars and the Klan. The film sharpens its focus on the landscape, particularly when a hurricane hits. The South remains murky in the telling. In MOMâS CAT (2021, 18 min, DCP Digital), Hungarian director Annabella Schnabel shows the lengths to which some people will go for love. A nerdy man living with his hypercritical mother escapes into a fantasy fursona, that is, the furry persona of a catbat. His mother gets him fired from the job of his dreams working parties and pet funerals in his costume, but he eventually finds someone who will understand him. Wacky, witty, and oddly sweet. [Marilyn Ferdinand]
đœïž CRUCIAL VIEWING
Jerry Lewisâ THE LADIES MAN (US)
Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E, 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) â Wednesday, 7:30pm
I donât think itâs still permissible to discuss the work of comedian and filmmaker Jerry Lewis without acknowledging Lewisâ off-camera history of sexual predation. So, without getting into the details of that historyâwhich was recounted at length in a Vanity Fair exposĂ© published in February 2022âlet it be said that Lewis was inarguably a monster who abused his celebrity status to dehumanize numerous women, including several of his costars. Each spectator is free to act on this knowledge as they will. For some, it may provide reason never to watch or discuss Lewisâ work again; for others, it may necessitate trying to separate the art from the artist and approach Lewisâ contributions to film comedy on formal terms alone. Yet a third position exists between these opposing viewsâthat is, we may continue to learn from Lewisâ films because of what they tell us, inadvertently or not, about comedy, celebrity, and male privilege. In THE LADIES MAN (the very title seems sinister now), Lewis plays Herbert Heebert, a variation on the infantile, maladroit comic persona he perfected during his ten-year partnership with Dean Martin. Lewis was in his mid-30s when he cowrote, directed, and starred in the film, and he had been one of the biggest stars in the world for more than a decade. In contrast, Herbert is a nobody in his early 20s whoâs been afraid of women since his fiancĂ©e jilted him at the altar; the central gag of the movie is that he winds up as the live-in servant at a boarding house for dozens of young women. As is often the case in the movies Lewis directed, THE LADIES MAN isnât concerned with story so much as with creating a framework for comic set pieces that often play on the fact that what weâre watching is a movie and therefore not real. Lewisâ facility with filmmaking conventions is remarkable; the scenarios âworkâ as jokes (whether theyâre genuinely funny will forever be subject to debate) and also function as commentaries on the plasticity of the cinematic form. Itâs no wonder that Lewis titled his book on cinema The Total Filmmakerâwhat he innovated was a uniquely serious approach to movie comedy. Yet one canât neglect the notions of control inherent in that title, along with the dangerous attending myth that with âtotalâ artistry comes the total power to do whatever one wants. This myth receives one of its most classic invocations in the final shot of THE LADIES MAN (a major reference point for Godard and Gorinâs TOUT VA BIEN [1972] and Wes Andersonâs THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU [2004]), in which the camera pulls back to reveal that all the action has occurred on a set with no fourth wall. What once seemed like a celebration of artifice now seems like a chilling confession: Of course Lewis regarded the world of a film as a giant dollhouse, as he regarded the people in it as his personal playthings. Surely, this worldview was nurtured and long excused by Lewisâ celebrity (as is the case with many high-profile abusers), but I wonder if it was also nurtured and excused by his distinctive comic persona. Lewis could get away with anything in his pictures (wrecking a set, making a buffoon out of a stuffed-shirt, etc.) because he acted like an innocent little boy; his sweet-natured character was also terminally intimidated by other people in general and women in particular, thus deflecting any sense of aggression away from himself. Lewisâ films often feel like fairy tales because they involve the Lewis character getting everything he wants; in THE LADIES MAN, Herbert overcomes his fears, hangs out with movie stars like George Raft, and gets to escape to a world of fantasy with a mere cut to another scene. What an apt metaphor for a man who thought himself entitled to a life of impunity. Preceded by Jerry Fairbanksâ 1960 short film THE BIG BOUNCE (15 min, 35mm). (1961, 95 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
Paul Verhoeven's ROBOCOP (US)
Music Box Theatre â Friday and Saturday, Midnight
One of the most uncomfortable films ever released by a major Hollywood studio, ROBOCOP features a dead man, partially resurrected by capitalist interests as a cyborg badge-wearing mass murderer, on a quest of meaningless revenge. In an urban hellhole tellingly derived from the economically undead metropolis of 1980s Detroit, a police officer named Murphy is brutally killed by a group of giggling and moronic thugs who, inexplicably, rule the local underworld. Brought back by the ominously named Omni Consumer Products, Murphy is set on a quest to eliminate all crime in the city, seemingly through the most violent of possible means. In Verhoeven's realization, the film is a litany of intricate and graceful violations, filled with bodies slamming through shattering glass, blood smearing on lenses, obscenities hurled one after another in machine-gun-like abandon. Murphy himself, in his undead form, is a walking obscenity and is called such by major characters: he is an affront to the tasteful and easy morality that ROBOCOP is dedicated to demolishing, refusing any compartmentalization, whether the literal (he breaks free of his OCP bonds) or the figurative (is he or is he not the police officer who was killed?). Verhoeven collapses these fields of discomfort and ruptureâthe metaphorical, the visual, the verbalâinto a series of brilliant set pieces that demonstrate the inherent internal contradictions that lie at the heart of American society as Murphy, the gun-wielding zombie of capital, journeys from the pettiest of street crimes to the heights of corporate evil. Each cut a slap in the face, each shape out of place, ROBOCOP is one of the major achievements of Verhoeven's Sirk-like mastery of the politics of design, composition, and rhythm. Screening as part of the Stop! Motion: Matinees & Midnights series. (1987, 103 min, 35mm) [Kian Bergstrom]
Gordon Parks' SHAFT (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Friday, 5pm and Saturday, 8:30pm
Released in 1971, SHAFT is best remembered now for introducing the first Black action heroâswaggering, leather-clad private detective John Shaft (Richard Roundtree)âbut its rich New York tapestry was woven by an even bigger hero, director Gordon Parks. A poor boy who escaped the ghetto to become the first Black photojournalist for LIFE magazine, Parks crossed from skid row to Park Avenue and all points between without breaking stride, and as filmmaker Nelson George remarks in the new HBO documentary A CHOICE OF WEAPONS: INSPIRED BY GORDON PARKS, the photographer found a kindred spirit in Shaft, whose job also draws on his powers of observation and ingratiation and who moves among the police, local gangsters, mafiosi, and an array of vivid incidental characters as easily as he snakes through moving traffic in the filmâs pulsing credit sequence. In the finest tradition of gumshoe noir, Shaft knows the blind newspaper vendor, the shoeshine shop proprietor, the pretzel vendor working his cart, all of whom feed him intelligence. After a Harlem gang lord (played with grand dignity by Moses Gunn) hires Shaft to rescue his college-age daughter, whoâs been kidnapped by an invading mafia outfit, Shaft draws on a network that includes his stoned hippie neighbor, who agrees to turn on the lights in Shaftâs apartment; the gay bartender at the neighboring tavern, who lets Shaft wait on the clueless mafia thugs surveilling his place; and Dr. Sam, who, arriving at the apartment of Shaftâs lady friend to remove a bullet from the detectiveâs shoulder, looks as if he just rolled out of a Bowery dive. Parks acquits himself admirably as an action director, his shoot-outs expertly framed and cut, but the cameo portraiture is what makes this box office sensation and cultural milestone a personal work.(1971, 100 min, 35mm) [J.R. Jones]
Henry Selickâs JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH (UK/US)
Music Box Theatre â Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am
James is an orphan who lives on top of a dark hill with no signs of any life, just dead trees and mud as far as the eye can see. His legal guardians, aunts Sponge and Spiker, order him around like butler. After a mysterious man in the woods gives him a magical bag of crocodile tongues, everything changes for James. A peach sprouts from the tree near his house and grows to a massive size. James takes a bite and gets whisked into a world of giant talking bugs, robotic sharks, and pirate skeletons lurking in an underwater shipwreck. Like Henry Selick's classic first film, THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS (1993), this is mostly stop-motion animation, though Selick also experiments by incorporating live-action scenes as well. It's curious that this film doesnât have the same reputation as Selickâs debut, as every Halloween and Christmas Jack Skellington decorates plenty of store fronts. JAMES AND GIANT PEACH possesses a similar charm and hits all the beats youâd expect from a Disney film, so perhaps the music lacks catchiness or parents were put off by the giant creepy crawlies. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to pass this film if you are into animation. The good news is it looks like Selick has a new project on the way, so now is a perfect time for a refresher on his work. (1996, 79 min, 35mm) [Drew Van Weelden]
Maureen Fazendeiro and Miguel Gomesâ THE TSUGUA DIARIES (Portugal)
Facets Cinema â See Venue website for showtimes
THE TSUGUA DIARIES is a thoughtful examination of pandemic lockdown: its repetitiveness and disruptions, the ways in which we keep ourselves preoccupied, and, perhaps most significantly, how we react to and make the best of an ever-changing situation. The film follows three friends (Crista Alfaiate, Carloto Cotta, and JoĂŁo Nunes Monteiro) as they while away the month of August. They work on house projects, play with animals, argue and flirt, and sometimes just laze about doing nothing whatsoever. THE TSUGUA DIARIES, however, presents the narrative in reverse order, starting with day 22 and moving to day one; the result is that married co-directors Maureen Fazendeiro and Miguel Gomes create a self-aware and very personal cinematic experience, where fiction gradually bleeds into reality to illuminate the filmmaking process during the pandemic. As the film progresses, the curtain is pulled back to reveal a fully metatextual, at times humorous, contemplation on creativity. Gorgeously shot in 16mm, the film emphasizes the verdant colors of nature, blurring indoor and outdoor spaces. It also adds to the haziness of the summer-set film in which both the characters and audience are perplexed by unclear circumstances: the former dealing with the effects of the pandemic in real-time and the latter watching events both fictional and about the film itself unfold out of order. The backwards chronology is not just a gimmick in THE TSUGUA DIARIES, but an exploration of improvisation and a celebration of the resourcefulness and ingenuity of filmmaking at even the strangest of times. (2021, 102 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Jules Dassinâs THE NAKED CITY (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Friday, 8:30pm
When I was a kid, I was a fan of the first version of the TV crime show Naked City. An important element of that show was its narrator, who took viewers through the procedures of a compelling crime case each week and closed the show with this tagline: âThere are eight million stories in the Naked City. This has been one of them.â The template for that popular series was THE NAKED CITY, a policier directed by Jules Dassin, perhaps best known for the cracking noirs he made in Europe after he was blacklisted in the United States, including NIGHT AND THE CITY (1950) and RIFIFI (1955). Influenced by Italian neorealism, Mark Hellinger, the filmâs producer and a former journalist, was convinced that a movie filmed entirely on location in New York City would thrill audiences unlike any they had yet experiencedâand as the filmâs voiceover narrator, he comes right out and says so. In its opening shot, an airplane flies the length of Manhattan. Cameras at ground level show people going about their daily activities as Hellinger describes their doings. They eventually land on the money shotâa blonde named Jean Dexter being murdered in her apartment. In classic fashion, a veteran cop is matched with a new member of the detective squad to solve the crime. Barry Fitzgerald as Detective Lieutenant Dan Muldoon, the man whoâs seen it all but hasnât quite gotten used to it, shows the actory colors buried under the sentimental Irish priest he played in GOING MY WAY (1944); even the few Irish ditties he sings while heâs washing up at home seem part of his character, not a page out of the Irish caricature manual. His young partner, Detective Jim Halloran (Don Taylor), is smart, good-looking, and happy pounding the pavement for leads throughout Manhattan. A short scene of character building shows him coming home to his wife (Anne Sargent), who has donned a sexy summer outfit to coax him into giving their son a whipping for crossing a busy street alone. Itâs a good sparring match, entertaining, and in keeping with the day-in-the-life style of the film. As the homicide squad works the case, they turn up Dr. Stoneman (House Jameson), who wrote a prescription for the dead woman; Ruth Morrison (Dorothy Hart), a friend with whom she modeled at a dress shop; and Frank Niles (Howard Duff), a man her maid (Virginia Mullen) said came by frequently to visit Miss Dexter. They also are searching for a Mr. Henderson, described as a tall, thin, older man, possibly from Baltimore, who called on Miss Dexter and, according to the maid, gave her expensive jewelry. All of the interviewed people say theyâd do anything to help capture Dexterâs killer. Eventually, it all comes down to a neat conspiracy and a man who plays the harmonica, capped by one of cinemaâs most exciting chase sequencesâone that may have inspired James Cagneyâs run up a gas tower in WHITE HEAT just a year later. All along the way, Hellinger interjects comments about what someone might be thinking, what theyâre doing, and why theyâre doing it, as though he were sitting in our heads and narrating our thoughts. While his narrative grounds this film solidly in the work-a-day world, it is the location shooting that really gives this film its vitalityâthe vitality of New York itself. This is a feature film that makes us believe that of the 8 million stories in the Naked City, this was one of them. (1948, 96 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Mervyn LeRoy and Busby Berkeleyâs GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933 (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Thursday, 7pm
Following the success of director Alan Croslandâs Vitaphone classic THE JAZZ SINGER (1927), the writing was on the wall for silent film production. Over the next three years, every Hollywood studio leaned into talkies, especially musicals. There were so many musicals produced in 1929 and 1930 that audiences lost interest in them; thus, like the rest of the country, the film industry was in dire financial straits. Enter a Broadway showman and transplant to Hollywood who came to save not only Warner Bros., but also the movie musicalâBusby Berkeley. In 1933, Berkeley hit the trifecta as choreographer and dance director of three enormously successful musicalsâ42ND STREET, GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933, and FOOTLIGHT PARADEâthat channeled his experiences as dance director for the Ziegfeld Follies and tapped into the moviemaking skills he acquired during the previous three years working on such films as WHOOPEE! (1930) and GIRL CRAZY (1932). Of the aforementioned three showbiz-themed films, only GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933 dared to make a political statement about the misery caused in the aftermath of World War I and the ensuing Great Depression ten years later. The film follows the misadventures of four actors (Ruby Keeler, Joan Blondell, Ginger Rogers, and Aline MacMahon) and the Broadway producer (Ned Sparks) who simply want to put on a show but lack the money to do so. The very opening of the film, a close-up of Rogersâ moon face as she sings âWeâre in the Money,â sounds an ironic note from the start. The close-ups of the chorines in the number reflect the Ziegfeld philosophy on which Berkeley cut his teeth (âA Pretty Girl Is Like a Melodyâ), but the coins the girls wear like G-strings over their crotches tell us weâre squarely in pre-Code Hollywood; for emphasis, when creditors close the show down before it even opens, a repossessor brutally rips the coin off Rogersâ skimpy show pants. The unemployed women, who share an apartment, steal milk from an adjacent apartment until Rogers shows up and says Sparks is casting a new musical about the Depression (âsomething we know all aboutâ). He agrees to hire a young songwriter (Dick Powell) Keeler fancies who, unbeknownst to his new friends, is a member of a wealthy Boston family who mysteriously agrees to finance the show. The attempts of his family to stop him from going into show business result in romantic entanglements for the women Powellâs older brother (William Warren) and the family lawyer (Guy Kibbee) have labeled âgold diggers.â The writing is funny and sharp in the long middle section of dramatic action between the musical numbers, but I personally can never wait for âPetting in the Parkâ and the powerful âRemember My Forgotten Manâ numbers. âPettingâ revels in its naughtiness as a nine-year-old Billy Barty plays a baby who crawls around between the bare legs of the chorus girls and starts to lift a scrim behind which the women, seen in silhouette, are baring all to change costume. The finale of the film, âForgotten Man,â is a bluesy torch song that Joan Blondell first recites and then sings as we see proud doughboys go off to war and return, bloody and broken, to stand their turn in a bread line. A cop who pesters a vagrant on the street is stopped by Blondell, who shows him the man is a veteran; this is a reminder of the cruelty of the Hoover Administration, which in 1932, sent police to clear the war veterans demanding early cash redemption of their service bonus certificates. The so-called bonus marchers were fired upon by police and later forcibly removed from their encampments by the U.S. Army. The Art Deco style of the scenery used in âForgotten Manâ coordinates with the geometric designs Berkeley incorporates into his choreography. He also introduces technical innovation with the neon-lit violin dance âShadow Waltz.â The music by Harry Warren and lyrics by Al Dubin are little masterpieces from Tin Pan Alley. Ginger Rogersâ â30s vocal stylings have to be heard to be believed, and the pairing of high tenor Dick Powell with low alto Ruby Keeler is bizarre but somehow works. (1933, 97 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Michael Glover Smith's RELATIVE (US)
The New 400 Theatre â Sunday, 3pm
In his writing on movies, both here at Cine-File and elsewhere, Michael Glover Smith has advanced an acute understanding of how the framing of performers in narrative cinema can underscore the emotions they express and how camera movement (or, put another way, the re-framing of performers in time) can develop viewersâ relationships to onscreen characters. Smithâs features as writer-director seem to grow directly out of his insights in this areaâdeceptively âdialogue-driven,â they express their greatest eloquence not with words but with mise-en-scĂšne. It matters in RELATIVE whether the principal characters are together in the same shot or whether theyâve been individuated by close ups; it matters whether we can distinguish whoâs in the background of a shot or whether those characters have been obscured. These things matter because the film is ultimately about the competing forces of community and individuality that shape our identities in 21st-century life and how we navigate between them almost constantly. The action in RELATIVE covers a few days before, during, and after a young manâs college graduation party on Chicagoâs far north side, a celebration that draws his two older sisters from out of state and his older brother (a divorced Iraq War veteran whoâs been slowly self-destructing for the past four years) out of seclusion in their parentsâ basement. Smith gracefully interweaves the lives of all four siblings, their liberal Baby Boomer parents, and a handful of other characters as they come together amiably and unhurriedly, employing the time-honored scenario of the big family gathering to consider how many of us live at the dawn of the 2020s. Not surprisingly, the internet factors into things (though thankfully not too much); so too do food co-ops, queer-straight alliances, and the social normalization of weed. Yet Smith has more on his mind than enumerating aspects of the zeitgeist; RELATIVE is also concerned with the legacy of the Baby Boom generation and, more generally, how each generation honors the previous one while taking a seemingly opposite approach to life. Yasujiro Ozu is an obvious reference point for this sort of laidback family portrait, though I was reminded more of critic-turned-filmmaker Bertrand Tavernierâs A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY (1984) in the low-key sociological thrust of the drama and of the first episode of Rainer Werner Fassbinderâs recently rediscovered miniseries EIGHT HOURS DONâT MAKE A DAY (1972-â73) in the polyphony of the extended graduation party sequence. For all its international flavor, however, RELATIVE is a local production first and foremost, reflecting its makerâs deep affection for the neighborhoods he calls home. Encore screening after last weekâs sold-out event! A portion of the proceeds will be donated to the PO Box Collective. Preceded by a brief introduction by PO Box Collective's Salome Chasnoff. The screening will be followed by a Q&A with Smith and actress Elizabeth Stam. At 5pm, Smith will lead interested audience members on a walking tour of some of the film's most prominent Rogers Park locations. (2022, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Tia Lessin and Emma Pildesâ THE JANES (US/Documentary)
PO Box Collective (6900 N. Glenwood Ave.) â Friday, 7pm
âThatâs the beauty of Chicago, I think,â exclaims one interviewee early in THE JANES. âItâs a town where people did stuff.â Tia Lessin and Emma Pildes' lamentably very timely documentary tracks the history of the underground collective, known as Jane, which in the 60s and early 70s (pre-Roe v. Wade America) helped those in need secure safe and affordable abortions (eventually going so far as to perform the procedure themselves). Itâs also a film about Chicago and how itâs a particularly befitting site for radical political activism. Archival shots of various women around the city open the film and are interweaved throughout, signaling both that abortion rights are something that affects so many and that THE JANES is a very Chicago story. Told directly by those involved, the film is focused on those stories: the larger one about the groupâs clandestine activities, ones told by the Janes themselves about their own abortions, and the stories of those they helped, which motivated and still haunt them. Itâs a documentary that is historically detailed and thorough but also extremely personal and self-aware. It goes without saying that this is an essential story for the contemporary moment. Itâs terrifying to think about moving backwards, about future generations having less rights and autonomy, and about having to do this work again. By all rights THE JANES should be an educational and uplifting look at a turning point in history; instead, itâs a forewarning for those of us in the current moment, to not stop the fight for rights and to get stuff done. (2022, 101 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
Amy Heckerlingâs FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH (US)
Music Box Theatre â Thursday, 9:15pm
FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH is often remembered for its beyond-iconic imagery and early performances from future movie starsâSean Penn, Forest Whitaker, and Nicolas Cage, just to name a few. But director Amy Heckerling and writer Cameron Croweâs first feature is, at heart, an honest and sweet portrayal of sex-obsessed teens just trying to figure it all out. Set to a classic early 80s soundtrack, the film takes place during a year at a San Fernando Valley high school, following a group of teens as they experience lots of firsts. These aren't just sexual firsts, but also first jobs, first loves, first heartbreaks. At the center of the circling narratives is serious Brad (Judge Reinhold), whoâs hilariously struggling through his final year of high school, and his younger sister, Linda (a standout Jennifer Jason Leigh) whoâs navigating dating and sex for the first time. FAST TIMES stands out among '80s teen comedies through its earnest and unprejudiced representation of a teenage girlâs interest in and experiences with sex. This is grounded by the relationship between Stacy and her best friend, the more worldly Linda (Phoebe Cates), who openly share their experiences with each other; in these scenes the film establishes their interest in sex is as strong and as normal as that of their horny guy counterparts. This continues to be a refreshing take on the coming-of-age film, and still extremely relevant. FAST TIMESâ nonjudgmental depiction of legal abortion was the first I had ever seen portrayed in pop culture. Thatâs stuck with me more than the music, iconic scenes, and 80s fashions; way beyond its archetypal influence, FAST TIMES remains essential 40 years after its original release. 40th anniversary screening featuring a pre-recorded post-film Q&A with Heckerling and director Paul Thomas Anderson. (1982, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Wong Kar-wai's IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE (Hong Kong)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Monday, 6pm
Taking place in 1960s Hong Kong or in the memory of 1960s Hong Kongâthat city deemed too modern, many of the film's exteriors were shot in Bangkok, after allâWong Kar Wai's film is a beautiful rumination on its title. Much has been made of IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE's restraint, and there is that: a couple, married to other people who are themselves having affairs, become intimate in every way but physicalâsave for slight, loaded gestures and tight spaces. The film is pregnant with the overwhelming feeling of infatuation, executed in a lusciousness that recalls something from a dream. But for every restraint there is a counterpoint in excess: Maggie Cheung's many gorgeous dresses are as flamboyant as they are confining; the musical score is both pitch-perfect and overwhelming, familiar and foreign; the cinematography is so rich and meticulous that its multitude of color is evocative of Douglas Sirk's melodramas. IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE has hit upon such acclaim because of its local particularityâa commemoration of sorts for Hong Kong's transfer of sovereignty that had not yet happenedâas well as its thematic universality as a transnational melodrama. As characters move through Hong Kong, Singapore, the Philippines, Cambodia, and the film shifts forward and backward in time, we are reminded of the fluidity of borders, time, and memory. Screening as part of 50/50, the Siskelâs year-long series including a film from each year the theater has been open. (2000, 98 min, 35mm) [Brian Welesko]
Murray Lernerâs FESTIVAL: FOLK MUSIC AT NEWPORT 1963â1966 (US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Friday, 8pm
In 1958, George Wein, cofounder of the Newport Jazz Festival, invited several folk musicians to appear at his four-year-old festival to accommodate the growing interest in roots music that had been developing during the 1950s. Complaints from jazz fans and greater demand from the folk community led to the establishment of a separate Newport Folk Festival in 1959. Just as Bert Stern and Aram Avakian had done for the â59 jazz festival by filming JAZZ ON A SUMMERâS DAY (1959), Murray Lerner created FESTIVAL: FOLK MUSIC AT NEWPORT 1963â1966, which samples performances from four years of the Newport Folk Festival. Shot in black and white, FESTIVAL captures that folk revival period at its most vibrant. At the height of their popularity, Peter (Yarrow), Paul (Stookey), and Mary (Travers) are heard singing âCome and Go with Meâ as the crowd of mostly young, white fans rush into the festival grounds. Peter, Paul and Mary get a fair amount of screen time, as do other icons of folk music like Pete Seeger and Judy Collins, whose rendition of the haunting âAnatheaâ is memorable. Joan Baez, the 18-year-old singer/songwriter who made a sensational debut at the first festival, returns the favor by introducing a very young Bob Dylan to the stage in 1963. Called out as the voice of his generation, one of those young people comments that he hopes Dylan will learn to enunciateâbut it is said more affectionately than critically. That is not exactly the case when his electrified set in 1965 divides audiences, many of whom feel betrayed by his abandonment of acoustic roots music. After hearing many unforgettable examples of traditional folk music from the likes of Horton Barker, Cousin Emmy, Ronnie Gilbert, and Mimi and Richard Fariña, itâs easy to mourn the simple troubadour legacy from Europe they were carrying forward. Equally revealing are the direct associations to African music represented by Black musicians Odetta, the Georgia Sea Island Singers, the Swan Silvertones, and especially the Young Fife and Drum Corps, not to mention an actual performer from South Africa, Spokes Mashiyane. Delta blues from Son House and Mississippi John Hurt, who treats us to the infectious tune âCandy Man,â mix with the city blues of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, and a wide array of protest music that defined the counterculture forming in the early â60s issues from future teen idol Donovan, the Freedom Singers, and Buffy Sainte-Marie. I have never considered that there was really something called white culture in the United States, but the white roots musicians previously mentioned, Johnny Cash, the Osborne Brothers, and the Blue Ridge Mountain Dancers had me rethinking my position. I started getting nostalgic for my own youthful excursions to Chicago blues clubs when Chicago-born blues musician Mike Bloomfield, who played at the 1965 festival with Dylan and with the Butterfield Band, talked about his experiences at the many blues venues on the cityâs South Side. Bloomfield is dismissive of the controversy over Dylanâs electrified performance, aware that music and musicians evolve to fit the times. Folk music and its variations had traditionally been at the forefront of protest movements, but where have all the anthems gone? More than rock music, the bombast of the 1980s splintered the audiences for punk, rap, and perhaps some other possible musical options that could have provided the unifying soundtrack to express our hopes and demands in this challenging time. Hereâs hoping we get up and sing together again one day. Screening as part of the In Concert series. (1967, 98 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Claire Denis's BOTH SIDES OF THE BLADE (France)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Check Venue website for showtimes
BOTH SIDES OF THE BLADE is lots of things at once, many of them contradictory: it's a quintessential Claire Denis film that doesn't look much like her previous work, a romantic melodrama that unfolds like a thriller, and a singularly upsetting experience that stands as one of the finest movies of 2022. It's also a potent examination of the theme of "the past coming back," which makes it a kissing cousin of such otherwise disparate films as Jacques Tourneur's OUT OF THE PAST (1947) and David Cronenberg's A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE (2005). In all three movies, the protagonists' lives are turned upside down by the unexpected re-appearance of someone they used to know, whose return forces them not just to deal with unresolved issues but to regress into the people they used to be, whether they like it or not. In Denis's film, Sara (Juliette Binoche) is a radio host in a seemingly idyllic nine-year relationship with her live-in boyfriend, Jean (Vincent Lindon), an unemployed ex-rugby player and ex-con. A wordless six-minute introductory scene shows the lovers frolicking at the beach before returning home and making love, a bravura sequence that recalls the wordless montage that begins Eric Rohmer's A TALE OF WINTER (1992). This picturesque depiction of blissful couplehood, however, is undercut by the ominous rumble of low strings on the soundtrack, which give way to the haunting sound of minor chords being plucked on an acoustic guitar (the superb score is, of course, by the Tindersticks). Shortly afterwards, Sara spies her ex-loverâand Jean's old friendâFrancois (Gregoire Colin), in the street for the first time in years, and the very sight of him causes her to convulse with emotion. As Sara and Francois resume their affair, Denis and co-screenwriter Christine Angot (on whose novel the film is based) gradually, masterfully dole out information that fleshes out the backstories of the three main characters while some narrative details remain tantalizingly vague (e.g. the reason Jean went to prison is never explained). For long stretches, the cinematic language of BOTH SIDES OF THE BLADE feels more conventional than in Denis's other films, probably so she can put the focus squarely on the anguished emotionsâespecially in two extended verbal arguments between Sara and Jean, the Cassavettesian emotional rawness of which gives two of the world's greatest actors some of their most indelible onscreen moments. This makes all the more effective the few "poetic" touches more typical of Denis that are shrewdly sprinkled throughout the movie: the first reunion scene between Sara and Francois, for instance, is full of dreamy close-ups and sensual camera moves reminiscent of FRIDAY NIGHT (2002), although here they are fittingly played in a more sinister register. The earlier film celebrates a guilt-free one-night stand between two strangers who come together by chance; the newer one shows how desire, when intertwined with guilt and lies, can tear apart two people who ostensibly know each other well. BOTH SIDES OF THE BLADE is a searing portrait of middle-aged intimacy made by a woman old and wise enough to know that love can sometimes be a motherfucker. (2022, 116 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Glover Smith]
Sara Dosa's FIRE OF LOVE (Canada/US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center and Music Box Theatre â See Venue websites for showtimes
Volcanoes are some of earthâs most majestic featuresâtheyâre its literal ends, wrestling with themselves until they spew out molten rock. Theyâre almost impossible to photograph not-beautifully. Sara Dosaâs FIRE OF LOVE, which follows the careers of married French volcanologists Katia and Maurice Krafft, features a litany of volcano footage; itâs 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. Itâs a paean to people whose drive to experience the worldâs 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 pitâthey 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. Itâs 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 âredâ 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. Itâs 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 volcanoesâand that one can live as relentlessly in pursuit of that passion. (2022, 93 min, DCP Digital) [Maxwell Courtright]
đïž PHYSICAL SCREENINGS/EVENTS â
ALSO SCREENING
â« Chicago Filmmakers
Alberto Lattuadaâs 1948 Italian film WITHOUT PITY (90 min, Digital Projection) screens on Saturday, 7pm, as part of the Black Actors in Foreign Cinema series presented by the Blacknuss Network. More info here.
â« Cinema/Chicago
B.J. Novakâs 2022 black comedy VENGEANCE (107 min, DCP Digital) screens on Tuesday, 7pm, at AMC River East 21 (322 E. Illinois St.) for Cinema/Chicago members only.
Lea Purcellâs 2021 Australian film THE LEGEND OF MOLLY JOHNSON (108 min, Digital Projection) screens on Wednesday, 6:30pm, at the Chicago Cultural Center (78 E. Washington St.). Followed by a post-screening discussion with Consul-General Chris Elstoft, Australian Consulate-General Chicago and Starla Thompson, Indigenous Consultant. Free admission with online registration. More info on all screenings here.
â« Comfort Film at Comfort Station (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.)
âThe Unicorn Tales of Nick De Noia,â which includes eight musical short films for young audiences created and directed by De Noia in association with NBC, as well as 16mm educational films, screens on Wednesday at 8pm. Free admission. More info here.
â« Elevated Films (2814 N. Leavitt St.)
Addison Heimannâs 2022 horror film HYPOCHONDRIAC (96 min, Digital Projection) screens on Tuesday at 8:30pm; a cocktail hour with live music starts beforehand at 7pm. The event takes place on the lawn, so bring your own blankets and/or chairs. Following the screening will be a Q&A with Heimann moderated by local filmmaker Jennifer Reeder. More info here.
â« Facets Cinema
âFree Yr Dick,â a 75-minute program of shorts that âcelebrate so-called deviant sexualities with humor and warmth,â per the event description, screens on Saturday at 7pm and 10pm.
Alessio Rigo and Matteo Zopisâ 2021 Argentine-Italian film THE TALE OF KING CRAB (106 min, DCP Digital) screens on Thursday at 7pm and 9:30pm. More info on all screenings here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Stanley Kramerâs 1961 film JUDGMENT AT NUREMBERG (179 min, 35mm) screens on Saturday at 2pm and Victor Flemingâs 1939 classic THE WIZARD OF OZ (102 min, 35mm) screens on Wednesday at 6pm, both as part of the Judy Garland Summer Centennial series.
As part of the In Concert series, the Maysles Brothers and Charlotte Zwerinâs 1970 rock documentary GIMME SHELTER (91 min, 35mm) screens on Saturday at 8pm; Michael Wadleighâs 1970 concert documentary WOODSTOCK: THE DIRECTORâS CUT (216 min, 35mm) screens on Sunday at 2:30pm; and Bill and Turner Rossâ 2016 documentary CONTEMPORARY COLOR (97 min, DCP Digital) screens on Thursday at 8pm. More info on all screenings here.
â« The Logan Theatre
The Japanese Horror Film Festival takes place on Friday and Saturday. More info here.
â« Music Box Theatre
The Music Box Garden Movies series continues. See Venue website for films and showtimes.
Paul Jensenâs 2021 documentary short IRA (23 min, DCP Digital) screens several times this week. See Venue website for showtimes. Dean Fleischer-Campâs 2022 film MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON (89 min, DCP Digital) and Dan Geller and Dayna Goldfineâs 2022 documentary HALLELUJAH: LEONARD COHEN, A JOURNEY, A SONG (115 min, DCP Digital) both continue this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
CatVideoFest 2022 screens on Saturday at 1:30pm; Sunday at 1:30pm; and Tuesday at 7:15pm. 10% of all ticket proceeds will be donated to Red Door Animal Shelter. More info on all screenings here.
â« Solidarity Cinema
Solidarity Cinema presents Sierra Pettengillâs 2022 documentary RIOTSVILLE, U.S.A. (91 min, Digital Projection) at the Chicago Park Districtâs Iowa Building (Jackson Park, southwest of the intersection of 56th Street and S. South Shore Drive) on Saturday at dusk. Sponsored by Rising Tide Chicago and screening as part of Abolitionist Climate Justice: From ATL to CHI, âan afternoon and evening of political action, community building, art-making, and conversation on climate justice and abolition.â More info here.
đïž LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS â
ALSO SCREENING/STREAMING
â« Video Data Bank
âThis Must Be the Space: A Video Conversation on Artist-Run and Artist-Inhabited Spaces,â curated by Emily Eddy, is available to stream for free on VDB TV. The program includes Videofreexâs MEâS AND YOUSE (1971, 4 min) and LAINESVILLE TV NEWS BUGGY (1972, 16 min); Nazli Dinçelâs UNTITLED (2016, 12 min); Glenn Belverioâs BAD GRRRLS (1993, 29 min); George Kucharâs VERMIN OF THE VORTEX (1996, 22 min); Anne McGuireâs ALL SMILES AND SADNESS (1999, 7 min); and Tom Rubnitzâs FROM THE FILES OF THE PYRAMID COCKTAIL LOUNGE (1983, 6 min). More info here.
CINE-LIST: July 22 - July 28, 2022
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Kian Bergstrom, Maxwell Courtright, Steve Erickson, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, J.R. Jones, Michael Glover Smith, Drew Van Weelden, Brian Welesko