Remember to check venue websites for information on safety protocols and other procedures put in place for COVID prevention. We recommend verifying those before every trip to the theater.
📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING
Larry Cohen’s Q: THE WINGED SERPENT (US)
Music Box Theatre – Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am
Though not as influential as George A. Romero or Tobe Hooper, Larry Cohen still created a provocative and frequently subversive body of work within the realm of exploitation horror. In his monster movie Q: THE WINGED SERPENT, Cohen builds upon the anti-religious sentiment of GOD TOLD ME TO (1976) and lays the groundwork for the anti-capitalist satire of THE STUFF (1985); he also undermines popular expectations for genre entertainment by making one of the film’s “heroes” a spiteful, conniving hoodlum who exploits tragedy for personal gain. At first glance, said hoodlum, Jimmy Quinn (Michael Moriarty), seems sympathetic enough—he’s a sad-sack ex-con who decides to drive the getaway car for a diamond robbery because he doesn’t know what other work he can get. Only later does it become clear that Jimmy isn’t really looking for other work, nor does he seem to be trying that hard to live a sober life after kicking heroin. (This information is relayed in a lengthy conversation between Jimmy and his girlfriend [Candy Clark] that’s surprisingly frank and downbeat for exploitation fare.) When he accidentally discovers the aerie of a giant, flying lizard from prehistoric times that’s been resurrected by Aztec-style human sacrifices and is now devouring people all over New York City, Jimmy goes the police with the aim of selling the information for the biggest payout he can get. His negotiation with the NYPD is the centerpiece of the film, and while it showcases a different monster than the titular one, the greed and exploitation on display are hideous all the same. Cohen and Moriarty achieve something exceptional with this scene; Jimmy may not be as smart as he thinks he is, yet one detects a native intelligence (and, ultimately, pathos) in how much he’s internalized the all-American, take-no-prisoners approach to success. His transformation is as impressive to watch as any of the stop-motion animation that brings the winged serpent to life and just as ugly as the human sacrifices that occur elsewhere in the film. The sacrifice scenes, incidentally, advance Cohen’s disparaging view of religion by presenting religious ritual as absurd and barbaric. In short, this is punk filmmaking of a high order. Screening as part of the Stop! Motion: Matinees & Midnights series. (1982, 93 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
Howard Hawks' THE CRIMINAL CODE (US/Silent)
Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E, 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) – Wednesday, 7:30pm
Howard Hawks directed the pre-Code Hollywood crime film THE CRIMINAL CODE as his tenth feature. It was the director's first assignment for Columbia Studios; before this, he had made his mark in the silent era with comedies and dramas over at Fox. Made at the start of the 1930s, an era of class consciousness and unity that hasn't been replicated since, THE CRIMINAL CODE is a critique of the prison system that remains entertaining and never too theoretical for a wide audience. The film opens with Robert (Philips Holmes) receiving the maximum sentence of ten years after murdering a man in defense of his lover. The story then jumps six years into Robert’s prison term, where the harsh, cramped conditions have taken their toll on him. Living behind bars may wither the individual, but it strengthens the bonds between criminals. Boris Karloff gives a magnetic performance as a cellmate looking to seek revenge on the officer who has wronged him; he would go on to star as Frankenstein’s Monster the next year. THE CRIMINAL CODE depicts prisoners in a sympathetic light, asking the audience to imagine how they would feel if they were cramped in a space with strangers for years on end. Prior to this film, Hollywood regularly depicted prisoners as two-dimensional caricatures. A master storyteller, Hawks gave his actors the room to give compelling performances, whether it’s Holmes with his humanity or Karloff with his gripping realization of a character seeking vengeance. The performances carry the film even when the plot slows down. The pre-Code era, a new studio, and the introduction of sound provided the conditions for Hawks to expand his repertoire. Pushing the soundtrack to new realms of possibility, the speedy dialogue anticipates some of the classics Hawks would direct later in his career, namely the screwball comedies BRINGING UP BABY (1938) and HIS GIRL FRIDAY (1940) and the hard-boiled mystery THE BIG SLEEP (1946). Preceded by William H. Terhune's 1936 short PAN HANDLERS (19 min, 16mm). (1930, 97 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
Bill Sherwood’s PARTING GLANCES (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Tuesday, 7pm
About a week before the 78th Academy Awards in 2006, when Ang Lee’s BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN would famously lose its anticipated Best Picture sweep to not-David Cronenberg’s CRASH, The Advocate budgeted its cover space to “The Brokeback Phenomenon.” But in his letter from the editor, Bruce C. Steele dedicated a little over half the allotted space to writing about another film, Bill Sherwood’s PARTING GLANCES, which, he proclaimed, “for those of us living in New York City in the mid 1980s… was revolutionary,” continuing that “[f]or the first time we saw on film gay men like us. We saw the ravages of AIDS—and the painful humor we squeezed out to help us cope. We saw young people coming out without the baggage of the older generation. We saw gay men in love and in bed and in turmoil.” Steele also noted that he’d frequently go so far as to recommend Sherwood’s modest independent endeavor “as the movie that best conveys the emotional truths of gay life.” While I’m not qualified to confirm or deny that particular claim, there’s certainly no denying its place in the queer film cannon as one of the first movies to convey gay life as the completely normal existence it is and to consider the AIDs epidemic (all during the Reagan years no less). Michael (Richard Ganoung) is an editor in his late 20s living with his boyfriend, Robert (John Bolger), in New York City, the latter of whom is leaving the next day for a two-year work assignment in Africa. Taking place over 24 hours, the film centers on Michael’s conflicting feelings about his boyfriend’s departure and the feelings he has for his best friend, Nick (Steve Buscemi, in an early turn as an unlikely heartthrob), a new-wave rocker with AIDS. He’s thus preoccupied with his eventual demise, albeit in a quippy, self-aware kind of way. Over the course of the night, the couple attends a bizarre dinner with Robert’s boss and a farewell party for Robert at their artist friend’s apartment (the friend is played superbly by Kathy Kinney in her first film role, years before she starred as Mimi on The Drew Carey Show), with sporadic visits to and from Nick. Sherwood started out studying composition at Juilliard, so it follows that his script and direction are nicely cadenced, compacting into a relatively short runtime various considerations of queer and day-to-day life, as well as nuances respective to the plot. (In his book The Celluloid Closet, Vito Russo said about the film that in it, “nothing happens and everything happens,” a phenomenon that often occurs in a piece of music.) Buscemi’s performance is striking, in large part for the humor and pathos he brings to a character grappling with what was then a death sentence. This is sometimes referred to as the first theatrical feature to address the AIDS epidemic, though it came out after the TV movie AN EARLY FROST and Arthur J. Bressan, Jr.’s BUDDIES (both 1985). Still, it advances a uniquely buoyant viewpoint in this realm; the film eschews the militancy of David Wojnarowicz’s output or something like Gregg Araki’s THE LIVING END (1992) in its approach to the AIDS crisis, yet there’s something equivalently radical about showing people living their lives, reveling in love and attempting to find happiness in a world dead set against them having it. This was Sherwood’s first and only film; he died from AIDS-related complications in 1990. The film itself is a parting glance, an unfortunate goodbye that should have been an auspicious greeting, an eventuality that in retrospect tinges the otherwise temperate probe with a sadness of what was lost. Preceded by Nikolai Ursin’s 1967 short BEHIND EVERY GOOD MAN (8 min, Digital Projection) and Todd Haynes’ 1993 short DOTTIE GETS SPANKED (30 min, Digital Projection). Screening as part of the Pioneers of Queer Cinema series. (1986, 90 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
Anita Rocha da Silveira’s MEDUSA (Brazil)
Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes
With a stylish soundtrack and neon cinematography, Anita Rocha da Silveira’s MEDUSA is certainly paying homage to Dario Argento’s horror films. Yet with a larger commentary on obsession with social media—especially focusing on female relationships and sexuality - the film is simultaneously reminiscent of Sofia Coppola. This makes for a unique thematic and visual combination as MEDUSA draws on dreamy, fairytale qualities of both directors. By day, Mariana (Mari Oliveira) sings with an extremely conversative, Christian all-girls choir. By night, she and the singers act as vigilantes, donning white masks and assaulting women they deem morally sinful, their violent acts inspired by a story of an actress whose face was deliberately burned by a woman in a white mask. The actress, Melissa (Bruna Linzmeyer), has since disappeared, though the girl gang, led by the enthusiastic Michele (a standout Lara Tremoroux), is desperate to revel in what horrors happened to Melissa. When Mariana’s own face is slashed by one of the group's victims, she risks the safety of her position in both the group and the larger society, which is dominated by an aggressive, misogynistic religious hysteria. Lacking options, she takes a job at a clinic for long-term comatose patients. From its striking first few scenes until its tenacious final moments, MEDUSA is consistently arresting. While it tackles many socio-political themes, it balances the thematic overload with hauntingly evocative visuals. Rocha da Silveira brilliantly juxtaposes close-ups of character’s faces with intense examinations of bodies, both in motion and in stillness, in joy and in pain; a few of these images I expect to stay with me for quite a while. (2021, 127 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Oscar Micheaux's WITHIN OUR GATES (US/Silent)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, 8:30pm
During the Red Summer of 1919, the Chicago Race Riot awoke the nation from its foolish reverie; with 38 people dead and approximately 1,000 black families displaced, the riot in Chicago and others like it across the nation reflected the increased willingness amongst African Americans to fight back against institutionalized racial oppression. Made in 1919 and released in early 1920, WITHIN OUR GATES was appropriately timed against the conflict and also viewed as a direct response to D.W. Griffith's BIRTH OF A NATION (1915). Oscar Micheaux's second film tells the story of a black Southern school teacher, Sylvia, who goes North to seek funds for her school after the enrollment exceeds the money allotted per black child by the state. Along the way she falls in love with another idealist, and the story of her past is disclosed in a revelatory flashback: Sylvia was adopted by a black couple who are later lynched after her adoptive father is accused of killing his employer. Sylvia also escapes an attempted rape at the hands of her white birth father; between this and the lynching, the Board of Censors in Chicago and other cities initially rejected the film for fear that it would incite more racial violence. Shot mostly in Chicago, the film's sole print is the earliest surviving print of a feature film directed by an African American; it was discovered in Spain during the 1970s and restored by the Library of Congress in 1993. Micheaux's film is significant not only for its place within American film history, but also for the way it displays the complexity of race relations between people and regions. (1920, 79 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
Rob Epstein's THE TIMES OF HARVEY MILK (US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Wednesday, 7pm
Rob Epstein (WORD IS OUT) didn't even know Harvey Milk when he shot the first footage that would later compose the rising action of this 1984 Best Documentary Feature Oscar winner. Epstein intended to make a documentary about California's Proposition 6, an ordinance designed to eliminate gay teachers from the state's public schools, but switched course upon seeing Harvey Milk in action. One of the most inspired (and inspiring) documentaries ever made, this telling of Harvey Milk's rise to city government amidst a burgeoning gay rights movement in San Francisco, cut short by his tragic assassination, is one of the touchstone episodes of queer acceptance in America. With frank and fond interviews from those associated with Milk, gorgeous, candid footage of the late '70s Castro, and an unforgettable original score by then emerging composer Mark Isham (recorded in his garage), this doc does everything right. The infectious nature of Harvey's personality shines through the memories of his friends and colleagues, and the city of San Francisco, one of the movie's most important characters, does too. Preceded by Pat Rocco's 1970 short CHANGES (17 min, DCP Digital) and Arthur J. Bressan Jr.'s 1972 short COMING OUT (10 min, DCP Digital). Screening as part of the Pioneers of Queer Cinema series. (1984, 88 min, 35mm) [Christy LeMaster]
📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED
Sofia Coppola's LOST IN TRANSLATION (US/Japan)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Monday, 6pm
LOST IN TRANSLATION is to some early-2000s indie film aficionados what certain Yo La Tengo and Wilco albums are to record store clerks and Gen Z vinyl collectors: a piece of art which exemplifies the era in which it was made, advancing an aesthetic that can be appreciated by viewers who were college-aged at the time of its release and younger cinephiles obsessively posting screen grabs of Scarlett Johansson in a wig with Bill Murray. If the film’s beautiful photography of scenic Tokyo isn't enough of a selling point, then Sofia Coppola’s expertise in crafting emotionally driven narratives makes this essential viewing. Coppola is uninterested in her characters' everyday activities; she opts instead to explore their shortcomings, their unattainable expectations, and other disappointments that have bubbled to the surface of their lives. For Johansson fans, the film contains one of her earliest and most impressive leading roles as Charlotte, an unemployed graduate of Yale’s philosophy program who aimlessly wanders Tokyo, trying to develop a better understanding of her mixed feelings about her marriage and career. For Murray fans, this delivers another classic character of his: former movie star Bob Harris, who spends his trip drowning both familial problems and dissatisfaction with successes in Suntory, the alcohol that he's promoting in Japan. Coppola’s writing really excels in the unspoken, awkward chemistry that fills each scene. The platonic nature of the film’s central relationship seems like it could tip at any time; one wonders how things could have been different for the characters had they met under different circumstances, in a different place, or in a different time. As this relationship unfolds, Coppola invites us to explore our own feelings of self-doubt and regret through the lens of two hyperspecific, yet endlessly relatable characterizations--a technique which earlier melancholic filmmakers passed down to her and which younger filmmakers she's influenced have tried with mixed results to borrow. Screening as part of 50/50, the Siskel’s year-long series including a film from each year the theater has been open. (2003, 120 min, 35mm) [Michael Bates]
John Patton Ford’s EMILY THE CRIMINAL (US)
Music Box Theatre, Landmark Century Centre Cinema, AMC River East 21, et al. – See Venue websites for showtimes
Emily (Aubrey Plaza) is a transplant to Los Angeles, an art school graduate carrying $70,000 in tuition debt, a hothead with a DUI and a criminal assault conviction on her record, and virtually no prospects for landing a decent job in her chosen field. Welcome to American capitalism in the 21st century and the devaluation of the arts, higher education, and people who work for a living. In his feature film debut as director and screenwriter, John Patton Ford has taken the contemporary social landscape in the United States and used its inequities to turn out a boots-on-the-ground crime thriller that does an admirable job of keeping the audience on the edge of their seats. We understand Emily’s righteous indignation at being sandbagged by job interviewers, her contracting employer at a food catering company who denies her the rights of a full-time employee, and a friend who has “made it” and dangles prospects of a job in front of her without being able to deliver. No wonder she gets involved in credit card fraud—it’s a better living than the straight world will ever offer her. Plaza is incredibly good as she climbs carefully, then recklessly down the stairs to the underworld. But then who wouldn’t follow the handsome, charismatic leader of this criminal enterprise, Youcef (Theo Rossi), who praises her and mentors her for the advantages her young, pretty, white face can offer. Emily may have thought she was an artist when she started out, but there’s no question that her real life’s work is as a criminal. If you start rooting for her because you can relate to her story, remember that little fact. (2022, 93 min, Digital Projection) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Gregg Araki’s THE LIVING END (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Saturday, 2pm
A paradigm of New Queer Cinema and oft described as the “gay THELMA AND LOUISE” (the feminist road movie having come out the year prior), Gregg Araki’s THE LIVING END is that and more—a thrilling challenge to cinema’s heteronormative mores and a demystifying, Godardian, post-BONNIE AND CLYDE provocation. Jon (Craig Gilmore) is a film critic—working on an essay about the death of cinema, because aren’t we all?—who’s just learned he has HIV. Luke (Mike Dytri) isn’t so much a ne'er-do-well as an always-do-well, in the sense that he cares for nothing and no one, their opinions on his actions so meaningless as to be nonexistent; he, too, is HIV positive. The two meet after Luke is attacked by three men wielding iron pipes and wearing promotional movie t-shirts. Luke kills the attackers in self-defense, but this isn’t the first violent incident to take place in the film’s uncanny valley; Luke is shown earlier being targeted by a lesbian serial killer couple (Johanna Went and Warhol superstar Mary Woronov) who are thwarted only by the unexpected presence of large snakes in nearby grass (pun intended, I’m sure). The influence of John Waters looms large, specifically in these kooky moments that cause one to question what universe the film takes place in. It’s seemingly alternate to our own, similar in most respects but with junctures of incandescent lawlessness that are hard even to imagine in our repressed society. The two go on the road after Luke kills a cop, making the characters partners in crime as well as sex. Araki’s audacious approach to the AIDS crisis of the era is decisively bold in that he doesn’t present it as a crisis at all, at least not for long. By way of a James Dean-style insouciance toward his illness, Luke inspires Jon to disregard his status and embrace so-called risky behavior, like having unprotected sex. Hence why Araki—who, working on a shoestring budget, wrote, directed, shot and edited the film—signs it from the onset as being an “irresponsible film.” (As much in how it was made, too; Araki didn’t obtain any location permits, shooting guerilla-style with a small, unobtrusive crew.) But it’s in this simple, almost obvious refutal of the moment’s brazen recriminations against queer people that the film becomes alight with fleeting joy and barely constrained rage, which glints the fugitives’ sun-kissed skin and the scorched metal of their omnipresent weapon, the gun that shoots back at a society rejoicing in their demise. It’s a nihilistic romance not for the ages but for its age, a postcard from the past still being sent, an irresponsible film fulfilling its ultimate responsibility. Preceded by Sadie Benning’s 1990 short IF EVERY GIRL HAD A DIARY (8 min, DCP Digital) and Tom Chomont’s 1969 short OBLIVION (6 min, DCP Digital). Screening as part of the Pioneers of Queer Cinema series. (1992, 84 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
Yuen Woo-Ping's DRUNKEN MASTER (Hong Kong)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, 5pm and Saturday, 8:30pm
DRUNKEN MASTER, one of Yuen Woo-Ping’s first directorial efforts, is essentially a showcase for his breathtaking martial arts choreography, with very little narrative filler in between the rousing fight sequences. Jackie Chan stars as Fei-Hung, the spoiled son of a martial arts schoolmaster. When the story begins, Fei-Hung is already an impressive kung-fu fighter—he can even beat up some of the teachers at the school—but he lacks the discipline required of a master. Enter the itinerant Beggar So (the drunken master of the title), who arrives to train Fei-Hung for a year. What follows is a formulaic kung-fu comedy, with Fei-Hung learning concentration, inner strength, and the secret moves that comprise So’s kung-fu of the Eight Drunken Gods. It would be passable if not for the choreography—of which there is plenty—and for Chan’s joyful performance. Like Buster Keaton or Fred Astaire, Chan in his best vehicles uses his body and the world around him to create an ongoing physical music; even when he loses a fight, it’s entertaining to watch him put up the effort, engage with his partner, and take the hits like a pro. The world of DRUNKEN MASTER is tailored perfectly to Chan’s screen persona; everyone is irritable and skilled at kung-fu, and everyone uses fighting to resolve any imaginable issue. The wacky sound effects and score make it feel even more like an old Popeye cartoon, as do character names like Stick King and Iron Head. (1978, 111 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Hong Sang-soo's IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE (South Korea)
Facets Cinema – Saturday and Sunday; see Venue website for showtimes
Hong Sang-soo's work ethic is certainly one to aspire to, and his need to create always proves fruitful. IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE is a minimalist film, like much of Hong's work, but that doesn't mean the film lacks complexity or substance. To those unfamiliar with Hong’s oeuvre, it may appear that there isn't a lot going on here. It focuses on a former actress’ visit to her native country of South Korea, and unfolds mainly in two major parts. In the first, the actress visits with her sister to catch up; in the second, she meets with a director who is interested in casting her in a project. It sounds simple enough, but there's in fact a lot at play here. Hong's strength as a filmmaker lies in his ability to elevate everyday occurrences—for example, spilling soup on your pink blouse. This type of sequence could easily occur in any number of films; perhaps a giant, heaping pot of chili gets dumped on a person's chest or someone feels the horror of a stain before the first date. Where Hong excels is in bringing gravity to mundanity, finding a certain joy in the everyday, even in a goofy accident like spilt soup. If there is one blessing I gained from the pandemic, it’s the reminder to appreciate these immensely graceful mundanities, because now that the world has started spinning again it will be hard to stop it. (2021, 85 min, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
Ivan Reitman's GHOSTBUSTERS (US)
Music Box Theatre – Saturday, 2pm
Upon its original release, the 1984 summer blockbuster GHOSTBUSTERS wittily inscribed a bourgeois, rationalist ideology onto an inestimable cross-section of Generation X. Amateur occultist Dan Aykroyd's screenplay, a contemporary updating of the corny Abbott & Costello and Bob Hope comedy-horror features of his youth, is sustained by an ingeniously savvy understanding of Reaganomic mythology that makes Frederic Jameson look like Dave Barry. The titular expelled Columbia University parapsychology postdocs get in on the ground floor of an emerging urban economy: the containment of the psychic energy of investment capital, sublimated into ludic, phantasmic form. Manifesting in historic arenas of the old-money upper class (Ivy League libraries, Upper West Side apartments, posh turn-of-the-century hotels), these gilded ghouls rise from the grave to celebrate industrial deregulation and income-tax cuts (Slimer in particular representing a ravenous and futile hyperconsumption), but unsurprisingly bring chaos to the liberal, environmentalist enclave of Manhattan. As the protagonists' success ushers in an era of celebrity entrepreneurship, the infantile collective Ghostbusters id repeatedly transgresses the demands of a variety of old-fashioned academic, bureaucratic, or municipal-juridical superegos to now-classic comic effect. GHOSTBUSTERS is suffused with a particular heteronormative, ascetic intellectual machismo from start to finish. Feminine promiscuity, for example, is definitively linked here to demonic possession, and the absurd Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man (unleashed by the secular unconscious as a direct result of the Ghostbusters' attempt to physically mediate between an empirical positivism and occult theology) is defeated only through the violation of a puerile "stream-crossing" taboo, with our heroes simultaneously jizzing nuclear-powered laser beams into the glammy, gender-ambiguous Gozer's icy ziggurat. A very serious diversion. Presented by Ronan’s Reel, a nonprofit organization committed to combating the addiction epidemic so that more loved ones will not be lost. (1984, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Castelle]
🎞️ PHYSICAL SCREENINGS/EVENTS – ALSO SCREENING
âš« Chicago Filmmakers
The Cinema-Luz Collective presents The Short Night, Vol. 2, a program of eight short movies all shot on film, on Saturday at 6pm. Followed by a Q&A with the filmmakers. More info here. ⚫ Cinema/Chicago Hirota Yûsuke’s 2020 Japanese film POUPELLE OF CHIMNEY TOWN (100 min, Digital Projection) screens on Wednesday, 6:30pm, at the Chicago Cultural Center (78 E. Washington St.). Free admission with online registration. More info here.
âš« Comfort Film at Comfort Station (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.)
As part of the Silent Films and Loud Music series, Dan Bitney, LeRoy Bach, and Michael Hilger will perform a live score to Maurice Tourneur’s 1918 silent film THE BLUE BIRD (75 min, Digital Projection), on Wednesday at 8pm. Screening will be out on the Comfort Station lawn, weather permitting. Free admission. More info here.
âš« Elevated Films
As part of Elevated Films’ programming, Pete Ohs’ 2022 film JETHICA (72 min, Digital Projection) screens on Sunday at the Music Box Garden. Door opens at 7:45pm, and the film starts at 8:15pm. The event is free; more info and tickets here.
âš« Gene Siskel Film Center
Kevin Shaw’s 2022 documentary LET THE LITTLE LIGHT SHINE (86 min, DCP Digital) and Alli Haapasalo’s 2022 Finnish film GIRL PICTURE (100 min, DCP Digital) both begin this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
Tom Joslin’s 1977 experimental feature BLACKSTAR: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CLOSE FRIEND (85 min, DCP Digital) screens with Debra Chasnoff, Kim Klausner and Margaret Lazarus’ 1985 documentary CHOOSING CHILDREN (45 min, 35mm) and Jim Hubbard’s 1985 short MEMENTO MORI (16 min, 16mm) on Sunday at 2pm. All screen as part of the Pioneers of Queer Cinema series. More info on all screenings here.
âš« Music Box Theatre
The Music Box Garden Movies continue. See Venue website for films and showtimes.Dean Fleischer-Camp’s 2022 animated feature MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON (89 min, DCP Digital) continues this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
Tommy Wiseau’s THE ROOM (2003, 99 min, 35mm) screens on Friday at midnight, and Jim Sharman’s ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (1975, 100 min, 35mm) screens on Saturday at midnight. April Wright’s 2022 documentary BACK TO THE DRIVE-IN (105 min, DCP Digital) screens on Saturday and Sunday at 11:45am.
Brad Bird and Jan Pinkava’s 2007 animated film RATATOUILLE (111 min, DCP Digital) screens on Tuesday at 7pm as part of the Good Taste Tastes Good series. Note that the movie ticket and food package is sold out.
Danny Cohen’s 2021 documentary ANONYMOUS CLUB (83 min, DCP Digital) screens on Wednesday at 7pm, followed by a Q&A with the film’s subject, musician Courtney Barnett.
Friends with Films: Volume 3, showcasing the short works of Chicago filmmakers and Chicago alumni, spanning genres, modes, and communities, screens on Wednesday at 7:15pm and Thursday at 9:30pm. More info on all screenings here.
🎞️ LOCAL ONLINE SCREENINGS –
ALSO SCREENING/STREAMING
âš« Video Data Bank
“This Must Be the Space: A Video Conversation on Artist-Run and Artist-Inhabited Spaces,” curated by Emily Eddy, is available to stream for free on VDB TV. The program includes Videofreex’s ME’S AND YOUSE (1971, 4 min) and LAINESVILLE TV NEWS BUGGY (1972, 16 min); Nazli Dinçel’s UNTITLED (2016, 12 min); Glenn Belverio’s BAD GRRRLS (1993, 29 min); George Kuchar’s VERMIN OF THE VORTEX (1996, 22 min); Anne McGuire’s ALL SMILES AND SADNESS (1999, 7 min); and Tom Rubnitz’s FROM THE FILES OF THE PYRAMID COCKTAIL LOUNGE (1983, 6 min). More info here.
CINE-LIST: August 12 - August 18, 2022
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Michael Bates, Michael Castelle, Ray Ebarb, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Christy LeMaster, Drew Van Weelden