đ”ïž NOIR CITY: CHICAGO 2023 at the Music Box Theatre
John Huston's KEY LARGO (US)
Friday, 7pm
Why 1948 for Noir City 2023? In a year of monkeys shot into orbit, the first televised HUAC hearing, and the beginning of the Berlin blockade, what could a contemporary audience relate to? '48 marks the third year after a global traumatic event; the world had time to assess the collective damage to its psyche and react politically and artistically. John Hustonâs fifth film, KEY LARGO, opens the festivities. Having broken into the industry as screenwriter (with the help of his film star father) almost two decades before, Huston opened the year with masterpiece THE TREASURE OF SIERRA MADRE; six months later, KEY LARGO would open in theaters across the country. Huston and co-writer Richard Brooks (who worked on Jules Dassinâs BRUTE FORCE the year before) shaped Maxwell Andersonâs stage play into a staple of film noir with the help of master cinematographer Karl Freund, who started his career in the mother of noir, German Expressionism (he worked on such essential pillars as THE GOLEM [1920], THE LAST LAUGH [1924] and METROPOLIS [1927]). Although loosely based on the play, KEY LARGO takes the best parts of the stage one can adapt for film. The story stays dynamic in its limited setting. Huston gives generously to his actors so the performances, especially Edward G. Robinsonâs, shine. Robinsonâs charisma makes the villainous Rocco a likable rogue, and Claire Trevorâs singing haunts and twists a knife in audiencesâ sympathy. But the film hinges on Bogart, who's almost impossible to separate from the genre, here playing opposite his wife Lauren Bacall in their fourth and final screen collaboration. A modern audience may feel uncomfortable with how much they relate to Bogart's character, Frank McCloud. A nihilistic, disenchanted veteran, McCloud is an everyman disillusioned on American values and faith in military objectives. He has seen the true face of man and lives tarnished and dulled by it, even when a gun is pointed at him. (1948, 100 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
---
Orson Wellesâ THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (US)
Friday, 9:15pm
Virtually every film that Orson Welles directed was compromised in some way, yet you couldnât mistake any of them for the work of someone else. In this regard, the funhouse climax of THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI might represent the essence of Wellesâ films: the ambitious camera angles, brilliant play with mirrors, and literary dialogue and narration combine to form a towering, wholly cinematic spectacle⊠that Welles intended as a twenty-minute piĂšce de la rĂ©sistance and that Columbia President Harry Cohn ordered to be cut down to three minutes. As with the third act of THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS (1942), the excised footage from Wellesâ two-and-a-half-hour cut of the LADY FROM SHANGHAI is forever gone, leaving us to imagine what could have been. Still, how many filmmakers have taken direct inspiration from the brilliance of just those three minutes (or, in the case of the filmâs celebrated aquarium sequence, just a handful of shots)? The rest of the extant version of LADY FROM SHANGHAI is nothing to sneeze at; for one thing, it features two of the greatest supporting performances in movie history, by Everett Sloane as lawyer Arthur Bannister and Glenn Anders as his partner George Grisby. Bannister is so monstrous that no less than Tobe Hooper paid tribute to his appearance in THE MANGLER (1995), and Sloane is appropriately grotesque in the part. Moreover, the scene where Bannister interrogates himself in court is a little masterpiece of acting; it also shows the influence of Bertolt Brecht, whom Welles greatly admired at the time. Anders was known principally for his stage work, though he fills a big screen as the maniacal Grisby, whose plan to murder himself is one of the maddest in the noir canon; he brings a memorable cackle to the role too. The leads are played by Welles (adopting a curious Irish brogue) and Rita Hayworth, who were married when Welles took on the project and divorced by the time it came out. One could read THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI as a portrait of their break-up as seen in a funhouse hall of mirrors. The sense of doomed romance, which is palpable from the start, may be a film noir staple, but the personal mystery that colors it is what makes the film distinctly Wellesian. (1947, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
---
Abraham Polonsky's FORCE OF EVIL (US)
Saturday, 2:15pm
Too often today's affection for film noir comes off like a fashionable shortcut to cynicism or an alibi for spouting sexist cant. Although noir is often credited with bringing a downbeat post-war skepticism to Production Code-constrained Hollywood, very few noirs nurtured their musky weariness into a genuine critique of American society. FORCE OF EVIL is the real dealâthe left-wing "business noir" that envisions the numbers racket as a representative species of predatory American capitalism. For a film that flopped upon its improbable Christmas 1948 release, FORCE OF EVIL became shockingly influentialâsuggesting the mafia-as-big-business synecdoche of MURDER BY CONTRACT and THE GODFATHER, laying out the first draft for the fraternal schism of ON THE WATERFRONT, and sparking the Lower East Side morality play showboating of so much early Scorsese. Allegedly fashioned from a blank verse script that Polonsky won the privilege of directing himself in the wake of the enormous box office success of BODY AND SOUL, FORCE OF EVIL applies an unexpectedly fierce Group Theatre intensity to its fastidiously melodramatic material. Strangely, its pretensions burnish its sui generis realism, which in turn supports its instinctively argumentative (and deeply Jewish) moral investigation. Even more than BODY AND SOUL and HE RAN ALL THE WAY, FORCE OF EVIL exploits the guilt-ridden magnetism of John Garfield, too long shoehorned in earlier pictures as a generic romantic lead. But even he pales next to Thomas Gomez, whose turn as Garfield's sweaty, fatally righteous older brother is simply the greatest supporting performance in American movies. Gomez's Leo Morse lurches forward with his whole anxious body, a highly technical performance that channels a consensual futility, a man unworthy of his own ideals. Marie Windsor's b-girl is largely decorative, but the penetrating plainness of Beatrice Pearson enlarges a thankless and underwritten role. The sharp, solid photography of George Barnes serves mainly to emphasize Polonsky's text; the fact that Polonsky subsequently complained that David Raksin's magnificent musical score crudely undermined his text demonstrates anew the fallibility of a great artist. Unfortunately, the blacklist soon silenced that artist, fallibility and all, and inadvertently elevated FORCE OF EVIL to a miracle production. We would not see its like again for a very long time. (1948, 78 min, DCP Digital) [K.A. Westphal]
---
Bernard Vorhausâ THE SPIRITUALIST (US)
Saturday, 4:15 pm
THE SPIRITUALIST (or as Iâve always known it, THE AMAZING MR. X) is a film noir filled with traditional horror imagery such as a raven in a gnarled tree â celebrated cinematographer John Alton uses this visual early on to frame characters in an improbable but striking way. A B-movie director, Bernard Vorhaus would be blacklisted by Hollywood a few years after THE SPIRITUALISTâs release. Despite its lowbrow status, THE SPIRITUALIST is remarkable both for its stunning cinematography and its blurring of genre. Christine (Lynn Bari) awakes one night to hear the voice of her dead husband, Paul (Donald Curtis), calling out over the ocean. When she walks to the shore to investigate, she finds Alexis (a charming Turhan Bey) who claims to be a psychic consultant. After experiencing more supernatural signs of Paul, Christine begins to rely further on his spiritual skills, pushing her skeptical fiancĂ© (Richard Carlson) away. Her younger sister Janet (Cathy OâDonnell in spellbindingly unhinged performance), meanwhile, begins to fall for the mysterious and scheming Alexis. The womenâs fascination with Alexis all culminates in an outstanding sĂ©ance scene. As demonstrated by the sĂ©ance in particular, Alton often expressively reflects the deceptions of Alexis, providing fantastic framing and imagery throughout. Initially noticeable is the constant presence of the ocean, seen from windows and characters are often walking along the shoreline; it adds a constant foreboding sense of movement. The ocean also persistently sparkles, a technique Alton uses to juxtapose the conventional shadows of noir, repetitively seen, too, in charactersâ eyes and their glittering jewelry, further mirroring the mesmerizing nature of Alexisâ artifices. THE SPIRITUALIST combines story and style in surprisingly commanding ways, proving itâs an exceptional example of B-movie noir. (1948, 78 min, 35mm) [Megan Fariello]
---
Henry Hathaway's CALL NORTHSIDE 777 (US)
Saturday, 6:45pm
This realist noir based on the true story of an unsolved murder that happened here in Chicago in 1932 is probably most interesting to audiences of today for its use of real locations. As Arnie Bernstein notes in his book Hollywood on Lake Michigan: 100 Years of Chicago and the Movies, the killing happened six months before the "Century of Progress" World's Fair was to take place, so mayor Anton Cermak wanted the mess to be cleaned up without delay and by any means necessary. Two guys of dubious guilt were quickly caught, tried, and sentenced to ninety-nine years in prison. This 1948 dramatization was shot all over Chicagoland, featuring many spots on the south side; downtown at a police station, the Chicago River, and the Wrigley Building; at the actual delicatessen where the murder took place at 4312 S. Ashland; in one of the participantsâ actual apartments at 725 S. Honore; Stateville Correction Center in Joliet, IL (later known as the setting of the prison scenes in NATURAL BORN KILLERS); the old State Capitol Building in Springfield; and at 3501 S. Lowe, the police station where the main characterâa reporter played by Jimmy Stewartâholds his investigation. Filmed in stark black and white and with a documentary feel by cinematographer Joseph MacDonald (BIGGER THAN LIFE, WILL SUCCESS SPOIL ROCK HUNTER?) and director Henry Hathaway (whose, "quiet, functional camera style suggests some of the classic simplicity of Hawks," according to Dave Kehr), CALL NORTHSIDE 777 is one of the definitive Chicago movies, using the city just as well as three of the cityâs best native productsâJohn Hughes's FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF, Michael Mann's THIEF, and Andrew Davis's ABOVE THE LAW. Keep an eye out for the man who operates the lie detector, Leonarde Keeler, the actual inventor of the polygraph device. (1948, 111 min, DCP Digital) [Kalvin Henley]
---
Jean Negulescoâs ROAD HOUSE (US)
Saturday, 9:15pm
The Romanian emigrĂ© Jean Negulesco started his directorial career in Hollywood at Warner Bros. making short subjects and B pictures, then spent the last two decades of his career helming glossy, relatively impersonal spectacles for Twentieth Century Fox. There are virtues to be found at both ends of Negulescoâs oeuvre, though his most fascinating work comes from the half-decade or so in the middle, when he made A-level dramas that were noteworthy for their rich atmospheres and nuanced lead performances. ROAD HOUSE, his first feature at Fox, continues the run of dark melodramas he started making at Warners just before his contract with them ended (NOBODY LIVES FOREVER, DEEP VALLEY, JOHNNY BELINDA), and it may be his best film overall. The scriptâcredited to Edward Chodorov, but worked on by numerous others, including Negulescoâwas brought to the director by Daryl Zanuck after at least three other people turned it down. That makes sense, as you can see how ROAD HOUSE would have been a dud in the hands of almost anyone else: very little happens for the first hour, and when the film turns into a full-on noir in the third act, it takes on the duties of suspense and catharsis almost begrudgingly, as if the story knew it owed the audience some traditional entertainment. Yet because of Negulescoâs strengths, ROAD HOUSE is a mesmerizing example of studio-era filmmaking. Ida Lupino plays a nightclub singer from Chicago who signs a six-week contract at a road house in a remote, woodsy area somewhere near the Canadian border. (That the film never makes clear whether it takes place in Montana or upstate New York actually heightens the air of romantic mysteryâthis is an American landscape from out of a dream.) Richard Widmark plays the clubâs owner, a lifelong spoiled brat who defers most of his managerial responsibilities to his best friend, a decent working-class fellow played by Cornel Wilde. Widmark has a history of hiring women to perform at the road house for short spells, seducing them, and sending them on their way; in one of many bits of backstory we have to glean from subtle interactions, Wilde has long enabled his friendâs bad behavior in exchange for a steady income. Lupino upsets the friendsâ dynamic with her sexy world-weariness, and anyone can see that a love triangle is in the works. While indeed that plays out, ROAD HOUSE takes its time getting there. Itâs really a movie about the meeting of three different kinds of desperate human beings on incredible studio sets. The titular location is at once glamorous and sad (perhaps because itâs the only glamorous location within hundreds of miles)âthe ideal setting for a great melodrama. When the simmering character study erupts into a thriller, Negulesco picks up the pace considerably, spinning out reversals of fortune with a rapidity that reflects well on his tenure as a B movie director. (1948, 95 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
---
Jack Gage's THE VELVET TOUCH (US)
Sunday, 4:15pm
Valerie Stanton (Rosalind Russell, cast against type and perhaps channeling Joan Crawford) is the toast of the town as the star of the latest in a long line of crowd-pleasing Broadway comedies, but she longs to be taken seriously and for a way out from under the domineering control of her producer and former flame. After accidentally killing him and not getting blamed, Stanton seems to have everything she dreamed of, but her conscienceâand Sidney Greenstreet, as a cheerfully poker-faced Alfred Hitchcock-like police inspectorâwon't let her enjoy her newfound freedom. The plot logic here is beyond creaky, but Russell's full investment to her ice queen portrayal, the convincing backstage theater setting, and the crackling screwball comedy-level repartee make this odd duck more than watchable. None of it is remotely believable but it's a good time seeing everyone involved try to sell it. (1948, 100 min, 35mm) [Dmitry Samarov]
---
John Farrowâs THE BIG CLOCK (US)
Sunday, 6:45pm
THE BIG CLOCK is more than a rewarding cinematic experienceâit confirms that qualities such as being a bit of an eccentric, surrounding yourself with other eccentrics, and having an appreciation for the arts may come in handy should you ever need to defend yourself in a murder investigation. Ray Millandâreminiscent of Jimmy Stewart in more than just his physical similarities to the actor, evoking here the aw-shucks caprice that made Stewartâs turn as George Bailey two years prior more idiosyncratic than cutesy or sentimentalâstars as George Stroud, the overworked editor of Crimeways magazine. Crimeways, owned by Janoth Publications, is a true-crime periodical that has recently been integral in several high-profile criminal apprehensions, which continue to boost its circulation. Most interested in that prospect is owner Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton in a rather Wellesian performance); he mandates that George, whoâs been leading the investigations, postpone his long-delayed honeymoon to Wheeling, West Virginia (a quirky decision that hints at George's eccentricity) in order to follow up on a recent break. George refuses and Janoth fires him, and afterwards the journalist finds respite in a drunken evening with the ownerâs mistress, who hopes to convince George to blackmail the publishing magnate. The story, adapted faithfully by screenwriter and former Chicago journalist Jonathan Latimer from leftist Oak Park native Kenneth Fearingâs 1946 novelâwhich would be adapted two more times as POLICE PYTHON 357 in 1976 and NO WAY OUT in 1987âis quite the swirly caper, with George having to find out who murdered the mistress, lest he be implicated in the crime. Viewers will have already witnessed who did it, but they still might be hearing Janothâs beloved, $600,000 super-clock (which serves as the filmâs literal framing device; note also the inspiration on the Coen brothersâ THE HUDSUCKER PROXY) ticking away as George rushes to save his skin. Itâs details like these that make the film an exceptionally engaging noirâin a characteristic sequence, George and Janothâs mistress seek out a specialty bar where the bartender takes pride in having anything a customer might want, such as a green clock (which is really a sundial with a green ribbon attachedâoh, and the eventual murder weapon). Another scenario involves Georgeâs admiration of a certain eccentric avant-garde artist, played to perfection by Laughtonâs real-life wife Elsa Lanchester, who becomes involved when itâs revealed the supposed murderer bought a painting of hers while in the company of the victim on the night of the crime. The prop artwork is quite good, and Lanchester might be the real criminal here, scene stealer that she is as a proto-Helena Bonham Carter type oddball. Ultimately Georgeâs case is helped most by his affiliations with these fellow weirdos, who value non-conformity and modest ambition over professional fetters and profligate greed. THE BIG CLOCK is the best-known feature by Australian-born John Farrow (father of Mia), whoâs more mystery than man in the annals of Hollywood legend; a recent documentary on the journeyman director described him as âone of Hollywood's most prolific yet forgotten filmmakers,â the latter aspect being of note in light of his not inconsiderable contributions to cinema history. Itâs difficult to say what personal inflection Farrow may have inserted into this unassuming masterpiece of postwar cinema, though his long-suffering wife, Maureen OâSullivan (Jane from the TARZAN films), returned after a five-year break from acting to star as the protagonistâs own long-suffering wife. Overall the film is a melange of interesting elements that are decidedly more intriguing than the crime itself; it all just goes to show that itâs as much who you know as what you know. With both, things will run like clockwork. (1948, 95 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
---
Preston Sturges' UNFAITHFULLY YOURS (US)
Sunday, 8:45pm
In unusual fashion, murder fantasies and tender embraces are some of the comic motifs of Preston Sturgesâ UNFAITHFULLY YOURS. Released in 1948 during the heyday of film noir, this parodical farce utilizes both genuine tender moments and slapstick gags to draw the audience in and then drive home the punchline. The film follows Rex Harrison as renowned orchestra conductor Sir Alfred de Carter who plunges deeper and deeper into paranoia following an unwanted detective tail on his wife Daphne (Linda Darnell). As he slowly loses trust in his beloved and his mind races through nonsensical plots of revenge, forgiveness, and self-destruction, his absurd behavior only builds to hilarious results. UNFAITHFULLY YOURS serves as a great reminder in 2023 of the powerful effect of a good visual gag and goofy sound, a lost art in an age of superpowered quips and inevitably dated references. Jokes and parody aside, UNFAITHFULLY YOURS stands up on vision alone, as the centerpiece of the film utilizes a fantastic technique to stray away from linear narrative and into a realm of fantasies guided by grandiose classical music chosen by Sir Alfred himself. (1948, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
---
Jules Dassin's THE NAKED CITY (US)
Monday, 7pm
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, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
---
Byron Haskinâs I WALK ALONE (US)
Monday, 9:15pm
I WALK ALONE stars Burt Lancaster (which is enough for me to stop reading and buy a ticket, but in case you need convincingâŠ) as Frankie, a bootlegger recently released from prison after a 14-year murder stretch. Heâs eager to get back in with old partners Dave (Wendell Corey) and âDinkâ Turner (Kirk Douglas), whoâve gone legit in the intervening years with a nightclubâshutting Frankie out in the process. Hungry and radiating pent-up energy, Lancasterâs a perfect fit for the imposing but sentimental Frankie, baring his teeth in crackling scenes with Douglas and his soul in more inflated romantic interludes with Lizabeth Scottâs Kay, a nightclub performer whose infatuation with Dink starts to wane the moment Frankie shows up. Working with just a handful of sets, director Byron Haskin displays a good deal of visual imagination: through clever mobile framing and dynamic organizations of screen space the Regent Club appears alternately expansive and claustrophobic, bustling and intimate. In Dinkâs swanky office, Haskinâs blocking and staging construct a matrix of power relations complex enough to reward a shot-by-shot reading. Haskinâs incisive, lucid style lacks the murky atmosphere of noir, but itâs perfectly suited to a film that is itself all about forms of reading. The filmâs standout first third finds its characters all struggling to get a read on one another, often by proxy: Dink induces Kay to get a line on Frankieâs intentions, while Frankie gleans Dinkâs duplicity by seeing through Daveâs apparent unease. Though he lost his stake in the club because he failed to read the fine print, Frankieâs prison stint has sharpened an ability to read people; in the last act, Dinkâs blasĂ© attitude leads him to misread, after a fashion, a pen for a sword. More broadly, the filmâs emphasis on changing forms of literacy surely reflects the migration of criminal enterprise from the unsophisticated rackets of the pre-Prohibition era to the organized syndicates and incorporated shell companies of modern, corporate America. (Combining fierce intelligence and physical power, Lancaster was uniquely equipped to embody a devious, felonious vision of American success, from the same yearâs SORRY, WRONG NUMBER to later triumphs in SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS and ELMER GANTRY.) But the question of reading also concerns a transformation in the crime film genre: as Martin Scorsese noted in a âguilty pleasuresâ column for Film Comment, âI WALK ALONE is a very intelligent movie about a man totally perplexed by the new postwar world. And this world became the new world of filmmaking, too. The gangster of the Thirties became the gangster of the Forties.â The difference, one might argue, has to do with interiority: while 1930s crime pictures had their share of anti-heroes, the film noir gives us gangsters with memories, backstories, and complexes. Noir presents the antihero as rebus, challenging the viewerâs narrative and psychological literacy. From his first film, THE KILLERS (1946), at least until THE SWIMMER (1968), some of Lancasterâs most enduring performances trade on the questions of decipherability; an avid reader, he was also a fascinating text, an actor who played gracefully between his deceptively brawny exterior and his hidden depths. At its best, I WALK ALONE offers a compelling early gloss on this inherent quality of both Lancaster and of noir, and a transparently worthy addition to the filmography of one of Americaâs great screen actors. (1948, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Metzger]
---
Lewis Allen's CHICAGO DEADLINE (US)
Tuesday, 7pm
Chicago newspaper reporter Ed Adams (a perfectly cast Alan Ladd) happens upon the dead body of Rosita (Donna Reed) in a grubby rooming house and becomes completely obsessed. What follows is a more or less standard noir plotline of twists and false leads, enhanced by a memorable supporting cast, with a menacing Berry Kroger as the heavy and the brilliantly named June Havoc as a thankless love interestâno one can compete with a corpseâas standouts. As in all the best detective films, this is a case of characters and atmosphere eclipsing glaring lapses in logic and questionable psychological underpinnings. Why is Adamsâand everyone else who ever met herâso stuck on Rosita? Why does the police department let Adams do their work while flouting the law at every turn? You won't ask or care while watching Adams turn Chicago upside down seeking an answer that will never cure whatever truly ails him (and us). (1948, 86 min, 35mm) [Dmitry Samarov]
---
George Shermanâs LARCENY (US)
Tuesday, 9pm
Screenwriters Herb Margolis, Lou Morheim, and especially renowned script doctor William Bowers take the honors in this pallid noir that waits until nearly its end to bump off one of its characters and then lets decency triumph. John Payne plays handsome confidence man Rick Maxon who, working with a crew led by Dan Duryeaâs Silky Randall, sets out to fleece the inhabitants of Mission City, Calif., a virtue-signaling name if ever there was one. This Mayberry of the West Coast has a boys club run (perversely for noir fans) by Percy Helton as âjust Charlieâ Jordan, the proprietor of the hotel where Rick is staying. Rick is in town to romance Deb Clark (Joan Caulfield), a long-grieving and chaste war widow, and separate $100,000 from her and the townspeople to pay for a community center/war memorial that will never be built. The fly in the ointment is Tory, a good-time girl played with an abundance of sneer and sass by Shelley Winters. She wants Rick and will stop at nothing to get him. Things go pretty much as we expect them to, so forget about suspense, even though the writers insert a former victim of the gang at one point to throw us a loop. Aside from Caulfield, the actors seem to be sleepwalking. What distinguishes LARCENY is the vast number of snappy one-liners that add much amusement to the proceedings. Rick and Toryâs combative relationship gets some of the best lines. For example, Tory says, âDoes the back of my neck fascinate you, dear?â Rick replies, âYeah. Iâm just trying to work out where to break it.â In another exchange, he accusingly says to her, âIf you could buy a cheap horse, youâd rent your mother out as Lady Godiva.â A dishy secretary (Dorothy Hart) at a real estate firm tells Rick how she, a native New Yorker, ended up in Hicksville. She says, âI read a slogan in the subway onceââGo west, young manââso I went, but I havenât been able to find any young men who did.â LARCENY lacks the bite noir fans want, but there are enough verbal delights to justify a viewing, and Orry-Kellyâs gowns are an added treat. (1948, 89 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
---
Robert Wiseâs BLOOD ON THE MOON (US)
Wednesday, 7pm
As Noir City Chicago presenter Alan K. Rode writes in his Reel West monograph on the film, â[i]n addition to being a most formidable screen adaptation of the work of one of the most renowned writers of Western fiction, BLOOD ON THE MOON was the forerunner of a hybrid genre, a cinematic orchid created via the propagation of the American Western with film noir.â It makes senseâif their aesthetic similarities had theretofore been negligible, with the Western typically favoring a brighter, more natural ambience than noirâs dark shadows, the thematic concerns at play have long overlapped. Both contain such themes as the existential questioning of self and society; alienation from said society; an enhanced sense of moral ambiguity (Iâd argue that the Western is inherently ambiguous in this regard, given trenchant concerns around land ownership and violence toward Native Americans); attitudes toward women; and others. But with BLOOD ON THE MOON the noir aesthetic was also layered in, entwining the thematic elements with the visual ones. It also stars Robert Mitchum, the embodiment of both noir and Western protagonists, with his expressive/expressionless face, brooding stature, and deep, resonant voice. (Apparently when Mitchum arrived on set in costume, co-star and Western character actor extraordinaire Walter Brennan exclaimed, âThat is the realest goddamnest cowboy I've ever seen!") Mitchum plays Jim Garry, a hired gunman summoned to assist his friend Tate Riling (Robert Preston) in a dispute between a local rancher and various homesteaders over the latterâs property rights. Riling, however, is secretly trying to prevent the rancher from moving his herd so that heâs forced to sell his beef for cheap; Riling then plans to turn around and sell the cattle to an Indian agent who had previously rejected the rancherâs offer and who will help sell Rilingâs newfound gain to the government at considerable profit. Riling isnât just playing the homesteaders for support in his endeavor, as heâs also convinced the rancherâs daughter to betray her father in hopes he will eventually become solvent enough to wed. On the other hand, his sister, Amy (Barbara Bel Geddes, perhaps best known for her iconic role as Midge in VERTIGO; after Howard Hughes bought RKO the same year as this filmâs release, he terminated her contract on account of being ânot sexy enoughâ), aims to defend her father and their herd at any cost, proving herself fearless against Riling and his posse. BLOOD ON THE MOON has a distinctly feminist element, not only in the strong presence of Amy but in her being so willfully involved in the story and amidst significant violence at that. Garry is initially somewhere in the middle of such attitudes, and his dilemma accounts for the filmâs central drama, as he contends with the egregious immorality of Rilingâs machinations. Adapted from Luke Shortâs 1941 novel Gunmanâs Chance by prolific screenwriter Lillie Hayward, the film benefits from Wiseâs interest in the material and his general competence as a director. Along with Mitchum, however, itâs cinematographer Nicholas Musuraca who inspires the filmâs noirish overtones, having previously shot whatâs considered by many to be the first film noir, Boris Ingsterâs STRANGER ON THE THIRD FLOOR (1940), as well as Jacque Tourneurâs OUT OF THE PAST, which also starred Mitchum, the year prior. Together, Wise, Musuraca and Mitchum prove not just to be a melding of the minds but facilitators of the successful melding of genres, those rare cinematic alchemists who succeed in creating something new from other elements entirely. (1948, 88 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
---
Frank Borzage's MOONRISE (US)
Wednesday, 9pm
The noir romance MOONRISE is one of the stranger works in Frank Borzage's filmography, though the sensitivity of the characterizations and closeup photography shines through the foreboding mood. Danny Hawkins (Dane Clark, a bland supporting actor who would spend most of the next fifty years playing walk-on roles on television) has been an outcast all his life because his father was sentenced to death for murder; fueling his neurosis as an adult is the fear that he will succumb to violent behavior himself. Like many Borzage heroes, Danny finds pure, renewing love in a beautiful woman (Gail Russell), but his attempt to act on it draws him into the sort of danger he's spent his life avoiding. The combination of stark fatalism and dreamy night photography is all but one of a kind; that the director wrests the tawdry material to fit his personal theme of transcendence is even more special. Here's what Kent Jones had to say about the film, in his essential piece on Borzage, "The Sanctum Sanctorum": "MOONRISE, marking the end of Borzage's unhappy tenure at Republic [Pictures], may be a throwback, but to what? The film's neo-primitive expressionism anticipates THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER in some ways, but it also seems designed to pay lip service to the paranoia that had crept into modern cinema (something that Borzage later professed to despise). Although MOONRISE is finally just as romantic as the rest of his work, the disembodied visual scheme of its first half, designed as an illustration of psychological trauma is a singular event in Borzageâan interesting choice of material that probably marked a sly compromise between the director's own concerns and the more fashionable notions of the day." (1948, 90 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
---
Robert Siodmak's CRY OF THE CITY (US)
Thursday, 7pm
Itâs impossible to separate film noir from Robert Siodmak. Having more films in the genre than any other director, itâs only fitting that the German Jewish filmmaker be part of the Noir City lineup. Siodmak began his career stage director and banker in Dresden. By his mid '20s, he edited films at UFA for directors such as Edgar G. Ulmer, holding Fritz Lang as his idol. He co-directed his first silent film hit, PEOPLE ON SUNDAY in 1929, writing the script with his roommate, a young Billy Wilder. His rise in the German film industry coincided with the rise of Nazism, which led him to flee Dresden for Paris, where he made low-budget genre films. When Hitler invaded, Siodmak emigrated to America, where he directed B movies through the early '40s; he would go on to direct 23 American films overall. CRY OF THE CITY follows two former childhood friends who grow into natural enemies as cop and robber. Martin Rome, a thief and murderer, escapes from prison. Itâs Lt. Candellaâs job to track him down in their mean gutter of squalor in Little Italy. Within the directorâs filmography, CRY is something of an anomaly. Creatively gestating in the glory days of UFA, Siodmak used lighting and set pieces to extend the psychology of characters, a task much more difficult when shooting on location. The film was released two months before Jules Dassinâs THE NAKED CITY, whose makers prided themselves on their location shooting. The directorâs theater chops show, as he balances sensitive attention to design and letting the performances bring the piece home. The handsome charm of Richard Conte serves his performance as a sensitive, misunderstood wise guy. He makes the audience root for the character despite the pain he causes others, including those he loves. The cold, stern performance of Victor Mature highlights a man treating the heroic duty like a mundane job one punches in and out for at a barely livable wage. Cinephiles often give Siodmak the short end of the stick, because he excelled "only" in noir while other cinematic forefathers such as Hawks and Huston worked in a variety of genres. Regardless, the work is brilliant and the genre wouldnât exist without him. (1948, 95 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
---
Anthony Mannâs RAW DEAL (US)
Thursday, 9:15pm
There isnât another director who had such a streak of first-rate noir films as Anthony Mann did in the post-World War II 1940s. The eight noirs he released in 1947, 1948, and 1949, including the masterful BORDER INCIDENT (1949) that presaged his 1950s foray into Westerns, make Mann the ultimate chronicler of mid-twentieth-century malaise. Working with his regular collaborators, screenwriter John C. Higgins and king of noir DP John Alton, Mann crafted a first-rate tale of crime, love, and despair in RAW DEAL. A whispered voiceover scored by a creepy theremin gives us the inner thoughts of Pat Regan (Claire Trevor) as she anxiously awaits the end of a day in which the love of her life, Joe Sullivan (Dennis OâKeefe), is going to escape from prison with the help of the crime boss he took the rap for, Rick Coyle (Raymond Burr). Her excitement is tempered when she learns that social worker Anne Martin (Marsha Hunt) is talking to Rick in the visitorâs room of the prison. Soon, all three are on the run from the police and from Rickâs lackey (John Ireland), who has been sent to ensure that Joe meets an untimely end before he can wreak revenge on Rick. RAW DEAL, aptly named for the many raw deals its characters endure, has quite a few plot twists, though all make sense and are carried out with ingenuity. For example, Joe manages to elude a dragnet by ensuring the driver of a car he stole is the one who is stopped by the police; both he and Pat hit on the idea simultaneously with nothing but a âyeahâ between them. An ambush in the middle of a forest at the improbably located Oscarâs Tavern gives Alton wonderful opportunities for nighttime vistas of melancholy and menace. His low-angle shots of a gargantuan, raging Burr offer a full-frame prototype image for Godzilla, but his railroad-apartment shots provide depth through the number of characters and scenes he captures. Alton also signals a love triangle early in the film by creating a gleam in the left eyes of both Anne and Pat when they see Joe for the first time in the film. Mann introduces sex, a Production Code taboo in 1948, when Joe breaks into Anneâs bedroom when he needs a place to hide, awakens her with a kiss on the lips, and then threatens to dress her when she attempts to call the police from another roomâ itâs understood heâd have to remove her nightgown first. The cast digs into their roles, creating both tragic sympathy (why canât Claire Trevor ever catch a break!) and genuine loathing, particularly for Burrâs sadistic criminal. RAW DEAL is the real deal. (1948, 79 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
đœïž Crucial Viewing
P.J. Hoganâs MURIELâS WEDDING (Australia)
Music Box Theatre â Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am
There is something uniquely appropriate about viewing MURIELâS WEDDING in 2023 America. The titular character starts as a 14-karat-gold loser who is obsessed with getting married and eventually lies her way into one of the most unlikely marriages in the history of Porpoise Spit, Queensland. Unlike another famous liar, however, Muriel decides to go straight and live her life with authenticity. In between, her feelings of entitlement to steal money from her parents and leave their home without a word about where sheâs going seem like the moves of a self-involved narcissist. I know Iâm painting a bleak picture that might encourage people to avoid MURIELâS WEDDING like the plague, but fortunately, the winning performances of Toni Collette as Muriel and Rachel Griffiths as Rhonda, her best buddy, win our sympathy and keep the film from being as sour as many of its characters. The film offers a damning portrait of life in the small coastal towns that have been turning themselves into tourist traps since time immemorialâespecially their corruptible local leaders and the very limited prospects for young people, particularly the women who can only dream of getting married and becoming housewives. Bullying and bad luck plague Muriel and Rhonda, but their exuberant grasp for joy is at its best when the pair lip sync to ABBAâs âWaterlooâ at a cheesy island resort. For this ABBA fan, the soundtrack featuring some of their greatest hits was pure heaven. Presented by Gaudy God. (1994, 106 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Jennifer Reeder's THE PERPETRATOR (US)
Music Box Theatre â See Venue website for showtimes
For her third collaboration with Shudder, Jennifer Reeder expands the possibilities for stories in the horror genre with THE PERPETRATOR. The story follows rambunctious teen Jonny Bapiste (Kiah McKirnan), who gets sent to live with her estranged aunt (Alicia Silverstone). She informs the heroine of a supernatural gift passed down through the women in her family and activated upon their eighteenth birthday. While Jonny grows comfortable with her new abilities, the girls at her school face the threat of abduction as classmates go missing. Using her new talent, Jonny must find the culprit. Reeder has stated this is a significant moment for women working in genre filmmaking, a chance to redefine norms set long ago. Borrowing from femme horror queens of the past, PERPETRATOR calls back to JENNIFER'S BODY (2009) and HEATHERS (1988), to name a few; the presence of Silverstone reminds one of teen-centered thrillers such as THE CRUSH (1993). Casting the '90s heartthrob as the cold mother figure opposite high school rebels highlights a unique moment in the forty-six-year-old actorâs career. Silverstone now has the opportunity to play more idiosyncratic roles, having aged out of teen roles; it's comparable to Paul Schrader casting Ethan Hawke in FIRST REFORMED (2017). Thereâs a yearning in Reederâs work. Like Silverstone, the writer-director came of age in the late '80s and early '90s; PERPETRATORâs juvenile characters reflect that time in their mannerisms and behaviors, yet they live with a contemporary American anxiety (mistrust of law enforcement, mistrust of masculine figures, and school shootings). That's not to say that POC, women, and queer folks werenât previously facing these problems; they simply werenât addressed in genre film as much before now. The mixture of classic and contemporary gives the work its surrealist tone, a fitting atmosphere for Reeder, whose previous work takes inspiration from Lynch. Kosovan director of photography Sevdije Kastrati creates color temperatures that make the image uncomfortable in all the right waysâa good collaborator for a director who likes to experiment. (2023, 100 min, DCP Digital) [Ray Ebarb]
Karlheinz Martin's FROM MORNING TO MIDNIGHT (Germany/Silent)
Comfort Film at Comfort Station (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.) â Wednesday, 8pm
Karlheinz Martinâs expressionist film FROM MORNING TO MIDNIGHT was made hot on the heels of Robert Wieneâs THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI. Martin, a theater director who had produced a stage version of the story in 1912, and his set designer Robert Neppach, push the flatness and artifice of Wieneâs (and set designer Hermann Warmâs) aesthetic to even greater extremes. Sets and props exist as crude and barely realized line-drawings and constructions; they have a more ephemeral and fleeting quality than those in CALIGARI, where the angular geometries and distorted sense of space mirrors the insanity, criminality, and horror of the filmâs characterâs psychological states. In MIDNIGHT, the set design also serves as more than simple functionality or decorativeness, but itâs one that reflects an exteriority, a sense of the tenuous and insubstantial state of the world. The downfall of the protagonist, a bank cashier with a bland domestic life and comfortably unremarkable job, is the result of base and superficial temptations, a sudden recognition of mediocrity, rather than of a consuming obsession. When heâs rebuffed by the woman he steals for, he moves on to other shallow pursuits. Heâs after âpassionâ but doesnât seem to know how or where to find itâor even what it means. MIDNIGHT hinges on its design elements (setting, props, makeup); their strangeness grounds the film and provides its main interest. Otherwise, itâs quite static and stagebound in its style. It was Martinâs first film as a director and it contains little use of filmic techniques, apart from a few close-ups. Still, itâs a fascinating work that is lucky to have survived. Screening in partnership with the Goethe-Institut Chicago as part of the Silent Films on the Lawn Series, with a live musical score by Kassi Cork. (1920, 69 min, Digital Projection) [Patrick Friel]
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
JirĂ Havelkaâs THE OWNERS (Czech Republic)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
This Czech satire, which came out in 2019, anticipates the third section of Radu Judeâs BAD LUCK BANGING (2021) in its depiction of a civic gathering descending into chaos. The setting is a homeowners meeting at an apartment building in Prague. None of the owners can agree on anything, and what begins as a series of disagreements devolves into shouting, insults, and threats. Like Judeâs film, THE OWNERS considers the state of contemporary political discourse and ends up with nothing positive to say. All the characters are blinded by their prejudices and personal interests; not only are they unable to listen to each other, but they lack the self-awareness to recognize what caricatures they are. Writer-director JirĂ Havelka likely took inspiration from the current situation in the Czech Republic (one running gag involves an old-timer in the group complaining about how none of this would have happened under Communism), though anyone with access to the internet or cable news should be familiar with the general obnoxiousness that passes for debate here. Given that it takes place almost entirely in one room, THE OWNERS sometimes feels stagey, but Havelka compensates for the claustrophobic setting with imaginative widescreen framing. (2019, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Gregg Araki's THE LIVING END (US)
FACETS Cinema â Thursday, 9pm
A paradigm of New Queer Cinema and often described as the "gay THELMA AND LOUISE," Gregg Arakiâs THE LIVING END is that and moreâa thrilling challenge to cinemaâs heteronormative mores and a demystifying, Godardian, post-BONNIE AND CLYDE provocation. Jon (Craig Gilmore) is a film criticâworking on an essay about the death of cinema, because arenât we all?âwhoâs just learned he has HIV. Luke (Mike Dytri) isnât 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 isnât the first violent incident to take place in the filmâs 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, Iâm 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. Itâs 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. Arakiâs audacious approach to the AIDS crisis of the era is decisively bold in that he doesnât 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 Arakiâwho, working on a shoestring budget, wrote, directed, shot and edited the filmâsigns it from the onset as being an âirresponsible film.â (As much in how it was made, too; Araki didnât obtain any location permits, shooting guerilla-style with a small, unobtrusive crew.) But itâs in this simple, almost obvious refutal of the momentâs brazen recriminations against queer people that the film becomes alight with fleeting joy and barely constrained rage, which glints the fugitivesâ sun-kissed skin and the scorched metal of their omnipresent weapon, the gun that shoots back at a society rejoicing in their demise. Itâs 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 Gillian Horvat's 2015 short KISS KISS FINGERBANG (11 min, Digital Projection). (1992, 84 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
---
Preceded by FACETS Film Trivia at 7pm, hosted by critic, programmer and Cine-File contributor Raphael Jose Martinez. More info here.
Ira Sachsâ PASSAGES (France)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
Befitting the filmâs plotâsomething of a love triangle between two men, husbands Tomas (Franz Rogowski) and Martin (Ben Whishaw), and a young woman, Agethe (AdĂšle Exarchopoulos)âthe compositions in Ira Sachsâ PASSAGES are angular, the charactersâ bodies individual lines that connect and disconnect seemingly at random. Much like Jacques Tati elicits comedy from architecture, Sachs, in collaboration with cinematographer JosĂ©e Deshaies, here evokes love and all its contours from the relationship between these bodies and their surroundings (which, like Tatiâs film, are also in Paris). The filmâs opening scene shows Tomas at work as a director; itâs the last day of shooting, and heâs directing a scene during which an actor descends from some stairs into a crowd of people in a bar. The set is almost Fassbinderian, with dark red lighting, arched entryways and decadent detailing. (As weâll later see, this isnât the only element of the film that recalls the great, iconoclastic German director. In general Sachsâ films are infused with his own rapt cinephilia.) Tomas gives direction to an actor on how to walk down the stairwell, instructing him how to use his body within that particular space. When I spoke with Sachs, he noted how he and Deschaies aspired to make each sequence seem almost like a diorama, with the actors situated purposefully so that the arrangements and movement within them conveyed the charactersâ emotions as much as the dialogue. The lines become tangled when the cast and crew go to celebrate at the end of the shoot; when his husband, Martin, declines to dance with him at the bar, Tomas instead dances with the beautiful, young school teacher Agathe. They converge first through dance, then through sex, and eventually through love, with Tomasâ marriage to Martin falling completely by the wayside. Tomas leaves Martin and moves in with Agathe, whoâs soon pregnant; he becomes bored with this newfound domesticity and also jealous of Martinâs relationship with a handsome writer, sucking his ex-husband back into his orbit as a result. The three attempt a quasi-polyamorous relationship, the outcome of which I wonât reveal here but leaves not everyone satisfied. (DESIGN FOR LIVING, this is not. Rather, as Sachs tells me, itâs more akin to Pialatâs LOULOU.) Thatâs because Tomas is a classic enfant terrible, the embodiment of an artist completely absorbed in his own pathos. Rogowski is vibrant as usual but also kind of treacherous; Whishaw again plays a delicate martyr, quietly absorbing his husbandâs emotional brutality. Exarchopoulos, meanwhile, conveys a quiet strength that mirrors the vigor of her desire. But, even though the filmâs marketing hinges on just that quality, it isnât so much sexy as it is sexual, depicting moments of passion in a realistic manner. A lengthy sex scene between Tomas and Martin is the cause of the filmâs controversial NC-17 rating, for which thereâs truly no justificationâIâve seen more graphic sex scenes on television. And the most interesting thing about that scene isnât the sex itself, but the way itâs shot, entirely from behind with no access granted to the actorsâ (and thus the charactersâ) faces during this intimate, complicated moment. It recalls another, earlier scene where the two have a difficult conversation at their country house, with Tomas in the foreground almost completely obscuring Martin who sits behind him on the bed. The composition gives meaning to their respective sequences in a way that either complements or supercedes the dialogue (or lack thereof). Another appreciable visual element of the film are the charactersâ clothing, which reflect the personality of the person whoâs wearing it. Thus Tomasâ clothes are particularly flamboyant, such as when he wears a sheer crop top to dinner with Agatheâs parents, a conveyal of both his general nonconformity and the disrespect he feels toward their bourgeois attitudes. The characterizing impact of everything outside what the actors are saying adds a certain dynamism that elevates the rather simple concept (give or take a few subversions regarding sexuality, which is never explicitly broached) of whoâs sleeping with whom to instead focus on why theyâre doing so. Sex is the triangle, but love is the void, a mystery among absolutes; a passage into which we enter. (2023, 91 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
---
Listen to Cine-File co-managing editor Kat Sachsâ interview with filmmaker Ira Sachs here.
Christopher Nolan's OPPENHEIMER (US)
Music Box Theatre, AMC River East 21 and ShowPlace ICON Theatre, et al. â See Venue websites for showtimes
Christopher Nolanâs mid-career masterpiece OPPENHEIMER embodies not just a welcome return to form but new possibilities for the filmmaker. After an unceremonious divorce from Warner Bros., Nolan's first picture with Universal Studios leapfrogs through various settings in 20th-century history as he traces the life and legacy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the director of Los Alamos Laboratory and chief scientist of the Manhattan Project. Frequent Nolan collaborators Cillian Murphy, Kenneth Branagh, and Gary Oldman (in a surprise appearance) return with an entourage of A-list talent too long to list (but standouts include Emily Blunt, Florence Pugh, Matt Damon, and Robert Downey, Jr.). Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema, fresh off Jordan Peeleâs NOPE (2022), returns for his fourth Nolan collaboration and finds himself at home among grand vistas of the American Southwest, the idyllic campuses of Princeton and Berkeley, and claustrophobic Washington Senate hearings. Ludwig Göransson recorded the filmâs score in a mere and frankly unbelievable five days. If thereâs one reason to see OPPENHEIMER in 70mm, the score is reason enough. Nolan, for his part, turns in a career-best film that leans heavily on the style that has made him such a prominent contemporary filmmaker. To say heâs has always been obsessed with time and nonlinear narrative would be to understate the matter; even in OPPENHEIMER, based on Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwinâs exhaustive biography, Nolan manages to shed the trappings of linear narrative in favor of an achronological structure that maintains tension throughout the filmâs three-hour runtime. And tense it is. We all know what happens when the Trinity test goes off, but itâs this scene thatâs perhaps the filmâs most nerve-racking. Nolan follows Oppenheimer from young adulthood to his twilight years, highlighting some of the more well-known events of his life as well as events that have gone under the radar in pop culture. You know the âdestroyer of worldsâ line had to be in the film, but youâll be hard-pressed to guess where it makes its first appearance, and you might even have a chuckle. As miasmic as the film is, itâs lit up with moments of levity, sometimes unexpected, which often come as a welcome respiteâthe film rarely leaves the chance to breathe or catch up until the credits roll. Nolan brings justice to the story of âthe most important man who ever lived,â in his own words. The only question now is, where does he go from here? (2023, 180 min, 70mm and DCP Digital [at the Music Box Theatre) [George Iskander]
đïž PHYSICAL SCREENINGS/EVENTS â
ALSO SCREENING
â« Bedsheet Cinema
Disneyâs 1940 film FANTASIA (126 min, Digital Projection) screens Sunday at dusk. See Instagram stories for venue address. More info here.
â« Chicago Film Archives
The Chicago Transit Authority, in partnership with the Chicago Film Archives (CFA), presents a new, one-of-a-kind temporary art installation now playing at the Cicero Green Line station (4800 W. Lake St.). The installation, called we love, is a filmic exhibition of home movies and amateur films selected from collections housed and preserved at CFA. The video, which has a runtime of approximately 48 minutes, will be projected onto a wall in the mezzanine area of the station. The video will run day and night through mid-March next year. More info here.
â« Chicago Filmmakers
The Group 312 Films 2023 Annual Report screens Saturday at 7pm. Featuring work by Kevin B. Chatham, Johnny Lange, Kelly McGowan, Richard Syska, David Purdie, Brian Klein and Kevin Ortinau. More info here.
â« Cinema/Chicago
JonĂĄs Truebaâs 2022 Spanish film YOU HAVE TO COME AND SEE IT (64 min, Digital Projection) screens Wednesday, 6:30pm, at the Chicago Cultural Center (78 E. Washington St.). Free admission; advance tickets are no longer available. Pick up a Rush Card when doors open (5:45pm) to reserve your place for a last minute ticket. Open seats will be made available to Rush Card holders 15 minutes prior to showtime on a first-come, first-served basis. Admission is not guaranteed. More info here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Maite Alberdiâs 2023 documentary THE ETERNAL MEMORY (84 min, DCP Digital) begins and Morrisa Maltzâs 2023 film THE UNKNOWN COUNTRY (85 min, DCP Digital) continues. See Venue website for showtimes.
The Midwest Film Festivalâs Women and Gender Non-Conforming Night takes place on Monday at 7pm. The event will start at 6:30pm with a networking reception, followed by a special panel conversation, âAll Access: Inclusivity in the Industry,â at 7pm. The screening is scheduled to begin at 7:30pm, with films by Grecia Aguilar, Allison Torem, Michelle Joy Jardine, Morgan Daugherty, Maura Kidwell and David Less, Peaches Wilczak, Laney Naling, Kyle Anne Grendys and Zohra and Isaias PĂ©rez, followed by a filmmaker Q&A and an afterparty at Emerald Loop Bar & Grill. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« Music Box Theatre
Itâs officially Music Box Garden Movies season! See Venue website for films and showtimes.
Darren Aronofskyâs 2010 film BLACK SWAN (108 min, DCP Digital) screens on Friday and Saturday at midnight. More info on all screenings here.
â« Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts
Calueen Smithâs 1998 film DRYLONGSO (86 min, Digital Projection) screens Sunday, 1pm, as part of the Screening Freedom: Film + Discussion Series. Followed by a catered discussion. More info here.
â« Sideshow Gelato (4819 N. Western Ave.)
The Sideshow Gelato shop presents Sideshow Sinema!, during which they will screen films connected to the shop theme, every Thursday. More info here.
â« Sweet Void Cinema (3036 W. Chicago Ave.)
Find information on the Humboldt Park microcinema, including its screening and workshop schedule, here.
CINE-LIST: August 25 - August 31, 2023
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Ray Ebarb, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Patrick Friel, Kalvin Henley, George Iskander, Michael Metzger, Dmitry Samarov, Drew Van Weelden, K.A. Westphal