đœïž Crucial Viewing
The Films of Shirley Erbacher (US/Experimental)
Sweet Void Cinema (3036 W. Chicago Ave., #1W) â Sunday, 6pm
Shirley Erbacher was a Hyde Park resident for much of her adult life and was an active participant in the arts scene there. In 1965, she picked up a regular 8mm camera and documented her family and environs for the next seven years in a series of short experimental films. Thirteen of the fourteen known films she made are included in this program, showing in their original 8mm format. Their exhibition history is still largely unclearâmore research is neededââbut they had been available through the now long-defunct Chicago-based Center Cinema Coop and are currently available through the NYC-based Film-makersâ Coop, where theyâve sat, mostly unseen, for 50 years. Local experimental filmmaker, CPL librarian, programmer, and Cine-File contributor Josh Mabe is presenting them here in Chicago for the first time in decadesââa result of his ongoing research into Chicago experimental films and filmmakers. The films are worth the effort to show. While they are not major revelations (few things are), they are extremely good and are a valuable example of the breadth of experimental filmmaking in its heady heyday of the 1960s (and a little beyond). It wasnât just the select few who have been lionized; there were dozens, if not hundreds, of experimental filmmakers all across the country. Erbacherâs films are in a kind of lyrical âhome movieâ mode, and the influence of others working at the timeââStan Brakhage certainly and perhaps Bruce Baillie, in particularâis there. But Erbacherâs films donât feel imitative the way some other films doââvery quickly she seems to have found her own voice. The disappointment is that she stopped making films in 1972, so we donât get to see any continuance or development of her artistic sensibility. What we do have, though, is still rich and evocative in its imagery. Eight of the films are a named seriesââthe âDanceâ films, made between 1966 and 1972 (DANCE #1 through DANCE #8). Overall, these are the best of the thirteen films in the program; perhaps having the conceptual framework in mind of a dance helped give them more focus, more aesthetic shape. Erbacherâs hand-held camera work, in-camera superimpositions, and editing are more controlled and purposeful in the Dance films, even as they are also still loose and intuitive in feel. Itâs this tension between these two poles that is interesting, and keeps the viewer surprised. The other five films in the program are simpler in form, still demonstrating a strong eye for filming, but are more tentative or more casual in their treatment of their subjects. Still, these quieter, less visually busy films of a playground, a snowy landscape, or the filmmaker's children have some lovely moments, and if they are less aesthetically resonant, they are more emotionally so. Masks required. (1965-1972, approx. 60 min total, Regular 8mm) [Patrick Friel]
Nuri Bilge Ceylanâs ABOUT DRY GRASSES (Turkey)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
As Dave Kehr wrote of Douglas Sirkâs THE TARNISHED ANGELS (1957), this should be seen on a big screen or not at all. Nuri Bilge Ceylan is one of the fewer-than -ever working filmmakers who designs movies principally for theaters: for one thing, his imagery cries out for the largest exhibition possible; also, his rich, Dostoevskian characterizations (co-created with his wife and cowriter, Ebru Ceylan) were meant to be bigger than life. Epic in more ways than one, ABOUT DRY GRASSES marks the third Ceylan feature in a row to run over three hours, and like its two predecessors WINTER SLEEP (2014) and THE WILD PEAR TREE (2018), it happens to center on a self-regarding loser. Though frequently shameful in their actions, the protagonists of all three features come to embody a sort-of anti-everyman, displaying foibles we might see (if not experience ourselves) the world over. At the same time, could this concept of failure-as-everyman, and vice-versa, have anything to do with the fact that the government of Turkey, the setting of all of Ceylanâs features, has grown increasingly authoritarian over the past two decades? The filmmaker himself tends to shrug off political readings of his work, and Iâm hardly an expert in Turkish politics, but it remains a path worth exploring. One of the most frightening moments in ABOUT DRY GRASSES occurs when a middle school classroom is subjected to a surprise police inspection, and in another scene a principal character alludes to her experiences as a political activist. The key word here is alludesâany connections between the film and our fast-paced information age society remain hazy at best. Thatâs partly the result of the film being set in an isolated mountain village where the forbidding landscapes serve as constant reminders of the denizensâ vast remoteness from the rest of human society. Indeed, the filmâs everyman/failure is practically defined by his desire to be somewhere else; he spends the movie hoping heâll be transferred to Istanbul because he's taught intermediate grades in the middle of nowhere for over four years. Apart from leaving, he seems to have no other ambitionsâthat is, until he gets set up on a blind date with a quick-witted high school English teacher who surprises him by actually appealing to him. His repeated bungling of their relationship recalls classic Hong Sang-soo, and in fact, thereâs a scene relatively early in the film where Ceylan pays tribute to the great South Korean director with a long-take medium shot where two men and a woman drink tea together and a subtle game of one-upmanship unfolds between the two men. Late in ABOUT DRY GRASSES, Ceylan makes a bold narrative turn thatâs all the more jarring for never being discussed after it unfolds, a strategy that recalls the great twist in Cristi Puiuâs recent MALMKROG (2020). The film defamiliarizes these references by casting them on such a grand scale, yet another reason why this current run is a must-see. (2023, 198 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
George Butlerâs PUMPING IRON II: THE WOMEN (US/Documentary)
Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) â Wednesday, 7:30pm
Built around a bodybuilding contest explicitly created for the film, PUMPING IRON II: THE WOMEN often feels constructed. Thatâs not necessarily a bad thing, especially in the way the film revolves around filmed conversations the women have about their own reasons for doing it and their feelings about the sport. Tracking preparation for the Caesars World Cup 1983, the film follows multiple women on their journeys: lovestruck newcomer Lori Bowen, former synchronized swimmer Carla Dunlap, two-time Ms. Olympia Rachel McLish, and Australian powerlifter Bev Francis. The original PUMPING IRON didnât just launch Arnold Schwarzenegger as a star but was also an influence and reflection on the growing exercise craze, which seems to solidify in this moment when PUMPING IRON II is released in 1985. This is boldly demonstrated in the parade of colorful outfits and time spent in the gym, both underlined by the electronic score; the Vegas setting also adds to the '80s excess of it all. The best moments, however, come during self-aware and thoughtful discussions from the women concerning the struggles they face as othersânamely from conservative-thinking officials in charge of the sportâtry to define their femininity for them; they are determined to define this for themselves, each in their own way but all focused on the power and beauty they find in building physical strength. They fully understand that a certain kind of culturally constructed femininity is being forced upon them and are consciously pushing back against that in a way that still feels wholly radical and relevant. Preceded by a Catherine Deneuve Chanel commercial reel (5 min, 35mm). (1985, 107 min, 35mm) [Megan Fariello]
The Chicago European Union Film Festival: Spotlight on Belgium
Gene Siskel Film Center â See below for showtimes
Balojiâs OMEN (International)
Friday, 7pm
In his feature film debut, Belgian-Congolese rapper, musician and filmmaker Baloji, (whose name, ironically, means sorcerer in Swahili), considers four people targeted with accusations of witchcraft in his native Congo. The first, Koffi (Marc Zinga), is going back to Kinshasa, the capital city of Democratic Republic of the Congo, from Brussels, where he lives with his girlfriend, a white woman whoâs pregnant with their twins and whom he plans to marry. Heâs making the visit to get the approval of his family, though we soon learn heâs practically estranged from them as a result of a large birthmark on his face that they say is a zaboloâthe mark of the devil. His father seems to be avoiding Koffi in his work at the mines, while his mother refuses to let him in her house. At an outdoor get-together his nose begins to bleed on the newborn baby of one of his sisters, the outsized reaction to which sets into motion the filmâs events. Centered in addition to Koffi, his sister and another of his family members whom I wonât divulge here as those targeted for witchcraft, Baloj also includes a young boy who lives on the street and uses the accusations to his advantage as the leader of a small wrestling gang. The boy is mourning the loss of his sister, which seems to fuel the conflict they have with another such group. As the film follows Koffi during his short trip, Tshala (Eliane Umuhire, who appeared in the 2021 film NEPTUNE FROST), also emerges as a central figure. Though not marked by the devil, sheâs distanced from her family as the result of her being in a polyamorous relationship with a younger man; theyâre moving to South Africa, like Koffi moved to Belgium, to disconnect further from familial and cultural repression. Baloji fragments the narrative to disorienting effect, perhaps mimicking the way one might feel to be so removed from people and beliefs once so close to them. The occasional magic realist elements reinforce the pother, bringing into perspective the idea of sorcery in relation to the natural, so-called ârealâ world. (2023, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
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Bas Devosâ HERE (Belgium)
See Venue website for showtimes
A lithe and hushed film, HERE is refreshing to watch and bittersweet to think about. Plot generally takes a back seat to mood, though that isnât to say the film is plotlessâin fact, itâs quite sophisticated in how it interweaves two distinct narrative threads. In the first, a construction worker from Romania visits various friends and family members around Brussels as he prepares to make a visit home between assignments; in the second, a Chinese botanist, also living in Brussels, navigates her daily life as she studies mosses, teaches college classes, and hangs out at her aunt and uncleâs restaurant. The principal characters donât cross paths until halfway into HERE, and their one meaningful interaction doesnât occur until 20 minutes before it ends. You may leave the film wondering (as the characters might) what could have been if they had met each other sooner, what they could have done with more time together. You may also start thinking about the transient nature of contemporary life or the international makeup of European cities today. Writer-director Bas Devos doesnât force these concerns; heâs more interested in observing how they play out in individual moments and shape the atmosphere of Brussels. That atmosphere is rendered vividly, thanks to an immersive sound design and 16mm images with a pronounced sense of height and depth. In its patience and tactility, HERE is often redolent of Apichatpong Weerasethakulâs work (the fact that one of the main characters is a botanist specifically evokes MEMORIA [2021]), though Devosâ concerns are more social than spiritual. He also advances a strong romantic sensibility in addition to beatific quietude. (2023, 84 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Chantal Akermanâs JEANNE DIELMAN, 23, QUAI DU COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES (Belgium)
Saturday, 6:15pm
I used to think that Chantal Akermanâs films had more in common with YasujirĆ Ozuâs than even those of his most devout disciples. Her use of still, waist-level medium shots (similar to Ozuâs signature âtatami shots,â said to mimic the perspective of someone kneeling on a tatami mat), stylized settings hyper-respective to her cultural background, and a seemingly detached tone that cloaks rich subtext all recall Ozuâs invariant oeuvre. After rewatching her seminal 1975 film JEANNE DIELMAN, 23, QUAI DU COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES, which she made when she was just 25 years old, I still believe that her work exhibits these aspects, but to antithetical effect. Where Ozu reveals the calm within chaos, Akerman inveigles chaos out of the calm, and thereâs perhaps no better example of this than her 201-minute tour de force that depicts three days in the life of its title character, a middle-aged mother played to perfection by the solemn, red-haired Delphine Seyrig. Most of the film is composed of superlative long takes in which Jeanne does her daily chores, intercut by brief expositional conversations with her 16-year-old son and oblique references to her âjobâ as a rather apathetic prostitute. Though it evokes experimental cinema in how it ingeniously uses a simple concept to confront the illusion of that simplicity, itâs also a brilliant depiction of real life as narrative; in a 2009 interview with the New York Times, Akerman observed that â[i]n most movies you have crashes or accidents or things out of the ordinary, so the viewer is distracted from his own lifeâŠ[T]his film is about his own life.â A friend once remarked to me that their standard response when asked by a filmmaker to provide feedback about a film they didnât like was to say that it gave them space to think about that very subject. Ironically, the same is true about the masterwork that is JEANNE DIELMAN. The long takes are simultaneously hypnotic and freeing, producing a sensation thatâs almost as mindless as the tasks themselves. Akermanâs depiction of these chores, which are certainly banal even if rendered extraordinary by Babette Mangolteâs lens, is often regarded as a feminist interpretation, a label that Akerman rejects. Indeed, sheâs said in several interviews that the seemingly monotonous routines were lovingly inspired by both childhood memories of her mother and Jewish ritual; in the aforementioned interview, she also said that âJeanne has to organize her life, to not have any space, any time, so she wonât be depressed or anxiousâŠ[s]he didnât want to have one free hour because she didnât know how to fill that hour,â which speaks less to the mundanity of the tasks at hand and more to Jeanneâs general discontent. At the risk of spoiling the film for anyone still unfamiliar with its abrupt ending, the duration doesnât so much emphasize the monotony as it provides context around the downturn of both character and tone. It doesnât show three days in a life, but rather the day before the day that cracks start to appear in the foundation, and then the day that it finally crumbles to the ground, out of which something altogether new and different is formed. (On a tangential note, the ending reminds me of these lines from Sylvia Plathâs Holocaust-adjacent poem âLady Lazarusâ: âOut of the ash/I rise with my red hair/And I eat men like air.â In 1986, Akerman directed an adaptation of Rose Leiman Goldembergâs off-Broadway play Letters Home, based on Plathâs letters to her mother. So much to unpack there.) Only the late filmmakerâs second feature, JEANNE DIELMAN is almost daunting in its command of the mediumâperhaps the only label that can rightfully be attached to it is masterpiece. (1975, 201 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
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Rosine Mbakamâs MAMBAR PIERRETTE (Belgium/Cameroon)
Monday, 8:30pm and Thursday, 6:15pm
The patterns of the fabric Pierrette works with are colorful and intricate, simultaneously antithetical to and representative of the Cameroonian seamstressâ daily life. Antithetical in the sense that, while ârichly eventful or picturesque,â the technical definition of the word colorful, that which is those things are so owing to misfortune outside her control. An elaborate theft and a menacing rainstorm certainly add color to this slice-of-life evocation, as do more literally the colorful wares that Cameroonian men and women don and that Pierrette meticulously crafts at her modest yet hard-won workshop; the adversity she faces, seemingly a continual aspect of her hardscrabble life with an ailing mother, three kids and a deadbeat, common-law husband gives form to her days like the pattern of one of her dresses, complicated but ultimately all the more beautiful for it. As the school season nears, Pierrette (portrayed by Pierrette Aboheu Njeuthat, filmmaker Rosine Mbakamâs real-life cousin; much of the cast is played by her family and friends) throws herself into her work so that she may buy her school-age son his supplies. Further exhibiting how necessity is the mother of not just invention but also community, Pierretteâs customers come to her with their own exigencies, from a woman whose kids need school uniforms to another looking to impress her Canadian boyfriend soon coming into Douala, the largest city in Cameroon, where they live. All her clients are women, though thatâs not to say there are no male characters or that none of them are sympathetic. In the second half of the film, when it would seem Pierretteâs troubles have resolved, her situation still precarious but once again more balanced than not, she crosses paths with a neighbor as heâs dressed like a clown and entertaining the local children. An accomplished dancer, the man laments his lot in life, having studied and practiced hard only to be summarily forgotten once injured. âArt doesnât exist here,â he says to Pierrette of their country, seeming also to include her in his defense of those with a creative vocation. âArt is dead here.â The first narrative feature by writer-director Mbakam, a Cameroonian filmmaker based in Belgium, this follows a spate of potent documentaries about her native country. Mbakam has transitioned to narrative flawlessly, although MAMBAR PIERETTE is nevertheless reminiscent of her earlier nonfiction work. Mbakamâs is a decidedly authentic mise-en-scene, steeped in the aesthetic nuances of her (and, by extension, her charactersâ) lived reality, of which clothing is a deceptively insignificant but undoubtedly crucial signifier. Pierette is a woman, a daughter, a mother, a business owner, and an artist; sheâs also more than just her struggles, and Mbakam handles this balance delicately and assuredly, embodying nuance as naturally as it manifests in real life. (This is why, perhaps ironically, Mbakam turned to fiction. âI needed a narrative approach to help me make visible what was invisible in [Pierretteâs] life,â she said. âFiction filmmaking here has a specific purpose. That is, fiction can add to the story I want to tell and give weight to it. Itâs not only Pierrette that we see. We see a generation of Cameroonians working under the same difficult conditions. We also see the legacy of what the generation before was thinking. Fiction helped me to give density to the story.â) Outside Pierretteâs workshop thereâs a tall, white mannequin with an opaquely menacing gaze. Visitors and neighbors often reference herâan allusion, Iâm sure, to the panopticon of whiteness and colonialismâas the outsider she is (âWe strip bandits naked like that,â says Pierretteâs dancer-clown friend, another veiled reference to contemporary attitudes toward the countryâs colonialist history); Pierrette doesnât acquiesce to the mannequinâs intimidation, nor does she attempt to dismantle her. She simply ignores that which lacks the color that infuses her life. (2023, 93 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
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Alix Delaporte's ON THE PULSE (Belgium/France)
Thursday, 8:15pm
Gabrielle (Alice Isaaz), a young woman interested in getting into journalism, leaves her hometown of Grenoble and travels to Paris to interview for an internship with a producer (Pascale Arbillot) of a venerable hard-news program. The handsome, older executive producer of the show (Roschdy Zem) says to give her a chance, and she is suddenly thrust into the frenetic work environment of an investigative television newsroom. ON THE PULSE is based on the experiences of the director, who worked as a reporter and cameraperson at a journalism production company in France and who collaborated on a number of television shows. She captures the enthusiasm of the team for breaking scandals and covering conflicts around the world, as well as the troubles they face, from broken marriages and alcoholism to near-death experiences and the ratings-chasing ministrations of a network executive. The short running time of the film does not allow for more than a sketchy look at the inner workings of a TV newsroom, but Isaaz, as our wide-eyed guide, communicates some of the adrenaline rush of the work that led the French producers of this film to name it VIVANTS (LIVING). (2023, 86 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
Agnieszka SmoczyĆska's THE LURE (Poland)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Sunday, 7pm
As with most fairy tales, it is easy to go back to the source material to envision a more terrifying adaptation than the Disney-fied ones to which weâve become accustomed. THE LURE does just that with Hans Christian Andersonâs The Little Mermaid, drawing on the original taleâs darkness and turning sweet mermaids into vampiric sirens. Set in the 1980s in the colorful club-scene of Warsaw, this isnât just a horror, but a full-blown musical. Two mermaid sisters, Golden (Michalina OlszaĆska) and Silver (Marta Mazurek) join up with a rock band, eventually starting their own singing act. It gets messy, however, when Silver falls for the bass player and, oh yes, the sisters have a thirst for blood. It is as bizarre as it sounds, as the film contains scenes like a musical number set at a shopping mall but also obsessive shots of the sistersâ tails, which are not beautiful emerald fins, but fleshy, realistic fish appendages. The film also doesnât shy away from engaging directly with the constant sexual objectification the young mermaids face as they become a part of the club scene. OlszaĆska and Mazurek expertly navigate the emotional themes of this dark coming-of-age story, primarily through their singing. It doesnât hurt, either, that some of the musical performances featured throughout are genuinely great. Director Agnieszka SmoczyĆska marries outwardly disjointed styles together seamlessly; the whole film is an ingenious work of imagination, that leans into both the delight of an '80s mermaid club act, and the melancholy reality of life beyond the safety of the water, especially referencing the chilling tragedy of Andersonâs original story. THE LURE would make a fantastic double-feature with Nobuhiko Obayashiâs 1977 cult-classic HOUSEâboth genre-distorting horrors about adolescence, bursting with unabashed girlish-whimsy while still delivering on the terror. Screening as part of the Revising the Musical Series. (2015, 92 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Kristoffer Borgli's DREAM SCENARIO (US)
FACETS Cinema â See Venue website for showtimes
This is a wonderfully fantastical bit of magical realism. A playful yet harrowing take on internet fame and virality made flesh. It's URL as IRL that feels more simile than metaphor. Nicolas Cage plays Paul Matthews, a college professor who for some unexplained reason starts appearing in strangers' dreams. In all the dreams, there's some kind of disaster or action occurring while Matthews remains unnervingly stoic and detached. This benevolent Matthews becomes a celebrity of sorts. But when his academic colleague publishes a paper on a subject that he was pursuing, his actions in the dreams become violentâand the people who made him a celebrity turn on him. Though perhaps a bit obvious and heavy handed, the metaphor of viral popularity on the dreamlike, non-tangible space that is the internet as actual dream virality works really well here. It's playful, thoughtful, and really does show the unintended consequences of sudden, undeserved, random popularity and cult/niche celebrity. The magical realism of the film allows Nic Cage to be over the top without his infamous "Nic Cage-ness" taking center stage, which when achieved, is one of the sweetest spots in all of film. This is definitely another strong entry in the Nic Cage renaissance of the past half-decade. Screening as part of the If We Picked the Oscars series. (2023, 102 min, DCP Digital) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Jim O'Connelly's THE VALLEY OF GWANGI (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Saturday, 1pm
From stop motion film producer Charles Schneer, THE VALLEY OF GWANGI is not your typical Technicolor monster movie Warner Bros. distributed at the tail end of the Sixties. Legendary stop motion animator Willis OâBrien (best known for his work on KING KONG) conceived the project decades earlier but died before the film could become realized. His mentee, Raymond Frederick Harryhausen, inherited the project as his final dinosaur stop-motion film. GWANGI feels like two separate movies: the first half is like a one-act western with two old lovers rekindling their romance at a Buffalo Bill Wild West show. Carried surprisingly well through thoughtful editing and composition, the flow of images pushes the story forward more effectively than one would expect from a creature feature. While a small stop-motion tiny horse from âthe forbidden valleyâ makes its entrance during this portion, it's hard to imagine how dinosaurs would ever fit into this movie. When thieves take the creature back to the valley, our heroes chase after them. The transition ending the âfirst movieâ into the âsecond movieâ begins when the wild bunch are led into what can only be described as part of the Lost World, where dinosaurs continue to compete for survival of the fittest. The second half of the movie clearly begins with rough and tough dudes from the rodeo fist fighting prehistoric animals. Once our villainous allosaurus makes his way on screen, it fully takes off. As the second and third act progress, Gwangi continues to wreak havoc until he's defeated in an overwhelming ball of fire. Containing visuals so strikingly unsettling to the point of overstimulation, the final sequence in the church feels like it was directed by Ken Russell. The violence of stop motion is so gruesome in Technicolor, it causes an almost physical reaction to the viewer. With all praise to the stop motion artists who worked on this film, GWANGI has its goofy moments; the audio mixing for stop-motion creatures sounds like a man paid to do his best elephant impersonation or what he thinks an allosaurus might have sounded like. Most of the film maintains a palette of earth tones, whether animal hide, cowboy clothes, set pieces or location. When the color of blood appears, the violence feels heightened. Whether viewed as a student of the medium or monster movie fan, all will experience the joy that only comes from watching a cowboy wrestle a pteranodon. Screening as part of the Dinosaurs Plus! on Film series. (1969, 96 min, Digital Projection) [Ray Ebarb]
Nancy Meyersâ THE PARENT TRAP (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Friday 9:30pm
An updated remake of the 1961 Disney film starring Haley Mills, the 1998 THE PARENT TRAP has overtaken the original and stands alone as a nostalgic '90s classic. A breakout film for Lindsay Lohan, she plays twins Hallie and Annie, who were separated as babies when their parents had a horrible breakupâHallie living in Napa Valley with her father, Nick (Dennis Quaid) and Annie moving to London with her mother, Elizabeth (Natasha Richardson). When fate brings them together at the same summer camp, they discover this terrible family secret and decide to switch places to rekindle their parents' broken relationship. Dark as it is, Meyersâ focus on affluence and stunning houses and scenery turns a questionable plot into a complete comfort watch, with winning performances driving THE PARENT TRAP. While Lohan plays two roles, itâs truly Natasha Richardsonâs film. Sheâs an absolutely effervescent presence and the solid heart of the film. The twins fight over her, while Quaidâs Nick is throwing a wrench into the scheme with a young, unashamed gold-digging fiancĂ© (Elaine Hendrix as Meredith gives an evil stepmother-inspired camp performance). A montage of Haley in London basking in the extravagant lifestyle of her bridal gown designer mum is classic Meyers, reveling in upper-class finery, mixed perfectly with Richardsonâs earnest warmth. Perhaps the most stand-out scene of the film is when teetotaling Elizabeth, nervous to see her ex, gets drunk on the plane, arriving in San Francisco to reunite the girls. A slapstick farce of confusions, miscommunications, and twin tomfoolery leads to a delightful reunion, highlighting that the ridiculousness and murky implications of the premise is excused with such enjoyable performances. Screening as part of the Mommy Issues: Freudian Relationships in Film series. (1998, 128 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Wim Wenders' PERFECT DAYS (Japan/Germany)
Music Box Theatre â See Venue website for showtimes
There is peace to be found in routine. Thatâs what Hirayamaâand perhaps director Wim Wendersâwould have you believe. Exquisitely brought to life by Koji Yakusho, Hirayama, an employee of the "Tokyo Toilet," guides us day by day through Wendersâ latest fiction endeavor, a leisurely diary of a film. The world of PERFECT DAYS follows its own internalized rhythms, lulling the audience into a network of patterns in navigating Hirayamaâs days, perfect or otherwise, that unwind before us. The sun will always rise in a purple-orange sky, a can of coffee will always pop out of the vending machine, the plants will always get their morning mists of water, the leaves will always be brushed to the side, the public toilets spread throughout Tokyo will always receive Hirayamaâs careful and rigorous cleaning, and the day will always end with dreams. Hirayamaâs dreamsâat least as Wenders shares them with usâare always in black-and-white, layered fragments of the day, coated in leaves and shadows, an abstracted reset of the filmâs internal clock. Days blend into each other in a way that feels intricate yet inevitable, with the most glaring piece of conflict arising more than halfway through the runtime, Hirayamaâs niece having run away from a life of affluence and loneliness. She prefers her uncle's life, which she sees as simple and noble. But unbeknown to most around him, Hirayamaâs life is an iceberg, the solid routine of the day hiding depths of passion and loneliness underneath. There is constant reflection on his past, especially upon the mass of cassette tapes he has collected over the years and refuses to part with, there is the yearning towards the future with his voracious consumption of literature. But where does that leave the Hirayama of the present? In one moment of conversation (one of the few times Hirayama feigns to utter dialogue in the entire film), he offers up that "the world is made up of many worlds. Some are connected, some are not." In a moment of potent vulnerability near the filmâs end, Yakusho offers up a rare moment of the bottom of the iceberg peeking out, the tough exterior of Hirayama breaking apart ever so briefly, as the sun rises on yet another day. Just like every other day, and still brand new. (2023, 123 mins, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
2024 Oscar Nominated Live Action Shorts
Music Box Theatre â See Venue websites for showtimes
In this yearâs theatrical package of Academy Award-nominated shorts, itâs perhaps disappointing (or unsurprising, depending on your vantage point) that the most exciting film in the bunch is the one helmed by an already established director. That would be Wes Andersonâs stunning cinematic adaptation of Roald Dahlâs THE WONDERFUL STORY OF HENRY SUGAR (37 min), a triumph of visual splendor, pathos, and boundary-pushing experimentation. Anderson retells the cheeky tale of a selfish gambling addict who attains transcendental powers that allow him to cheat at poker before steering his life towards altruism and charity, bringing it all to life through his now-signature style of theatrically realized artifice and storybook-like production design and presentation. Dahlâs text is read almost entirely verbatim to the camera, as if the actors (a star-studded bunch including Benedict Cumberbatch, Dev Patel, Richard Ayoade, and Sir Ben Kingsley) were in the room with us, telling us this story first-hand. Itâs perhaps the most presentational work in Andersonâs filmography, but no less emotionally rich, plumbing the depths of the lives of men striving to achieve greatness, yet wondering what their true legacies will be once theyâre gone. Consider Andersonâs short (no doubt more wondrous on the big screen than trapped within the confines of Netflix) a forty-ish-minute confection waiting for you at the end of this carousel of miniature movies, most of them more concerned with thematic messaging than with creating fully realized cinematic realms. There are works on either side of the emotional spectrum exploring grief; with THE AFTER (18 min), a father (David Oyelowo) grapples with how to keep living in the aftermath of losing his wife and daughter in a vicious act of violence. For those seeking a film carrying similar themes but perhaps with a bit more levity, KNIGHT OF FORTUNE (25 min) is a welcome jolt of dark comedy, finding a man mourning the death of his wife somehow entangled with a fellow widower traveling the labyrinth of a local morgue. There are also films centering political urgency like RED, WHITE AND BLUE (23 min), where a mother (Brittany Snow) travels with her young daughter across state lines to an abortion center, the horrors of contemporary American life roaring to the forefront in a work that often sacrifices character and atmosphere for more didactic goals. The struggles of youth spring to life in INVINCIBLE (30 min), one of the more artful shorts on display, inspired by a true story of a young boyâs too-short life within the walls of a juvenile detention center, yearning to be heard in a world of adults refusing to listen. Director Vincent RenĂ©-Lortieâs poetic imagery (an early match cut involving a character diving into water practically made my jaw drop) leaves a charming and memorable impression in a short practically begging to be expanded to feature length; it's one of the only shorts on display that trusts the audience to wrestle with artful visual language. In the realm of short-form filmmaking, these five films proveâin one way or anotherâthat less is certainly more. [Ben Kaye]
2024 Oscar Nominated Animated Shorts
Music Box Theatre â See Venue websites for showtimes
More than the other shorts categories, the Academy-Award nominated animated shorts are often where you find the greatest variety of storytelling, in content and especially in form. Make no mistake; each work in this quintet of nominees is each its own singular world, waiting to be explored intensely and allowing their visual vocabularies to explore themes vast and unknowable, intimate and familiar. Yet the unintended connective tissue between films is always intriguing to seek out. War is certainly on the mind of a lot of artists, no more evident than in Dave Mullinsâ WAR IS OVER! INSPIRED BY THE MUSIC OF JOHN AND YOKO (11 min), taking the Lennon/Ono song and crafting a narrative around two enemy combatants in the throes of war who are unknowingly playing chess against each other with the aid of a carrier pigeon. The short is perhaps the most âtraditionallyâ animated of the bunchâin contemporary terms, at leastâwith CGI realism shaping the aesthetic, albeit with slight squiggle lines around characters to connote the illusion of pencil lines, all the better to convey its simple but meaningful âWar is Badâ message. A more impressionistic response to the atrocities of war comes in LETTER TO A PIG (17 min), Tal Kantorâs exploration of grief, revenge, and memory told through the eyes of a Holocaust survivor sharing the story of how a pig saved him from being captured by Nazis. Kantorâs short exists in ink strokes, with characters' faces and arms extending from negative space, their empathy towards others the only thing to aid them in extending further and further as they begin to question how their concept of revenge might strip them of their own humanity. A young girl questions the systems around her in OUR UNIFORM (7 min), which brilliantly crafts a conceit around the characters and narrative taking place on and around various items of clothing. The topography of shirts and dresses and hijabs provides the architecture of scenes, the shape of characters and motion, the emotional barriers for a young girl who wants nothing more than the freedom to express herself and her personality in the ways she sees fit. The intimate PACHYDERME (11 min), another slice-of-life story of a young girl, finds the protagonist staying with her grandparents and learning to face her fears during her visit, from the utterly mundane (noises that go bump in the night) to the deathly existential (the loss of a loved one). Itâs a slight short, filled with lush storybook-esque two-dimensional images that take on an uncanny nature when set in motion, but it finds beauty in small, still moments. For a more humorous and lush take on the inevitability of death, look no further than the incisive NINETY-FIVE SENSE (13 min) a wonderfully adventurous short directed by Jared Hess and Jerusha Hess of NAPOLEON DYNAMITE (2004) fame. Here, an elderly man (voiced by Tim Blake Nelson) on death row examines each of his five senses, and how they guided the choices he made through life. Each sense is animated by a different team, providing singular textures for each segment; sight morphs from shape to shape, drooping down absorbing new environments. Hearing feels like a newspaper comic come to life, flat colorful shapes enveloping the frame as the camera zooms further inwards, examining how his senses let him down at a crossroad in life where he needed them the most. Of the five Oscar-nominated entries on display, itâs perhaps the one that finds the best marriage between story and expression, displaying what it is about the animated arts that can be so breathtaking when stretching a story past the confines of reality. Also included in this presentation are two short films that were âhighly recommendedâ from the Oscars shortlist: WILD SUMMONS (14 min), which examines the life of salmon through a humanizing twist, and the short but charming IâM HIP (4 min), directed and animated by veteran Disney animation director John Musker. Itâs a perfect cap to this eclectic collection of animated films, filling the screen with noise and color and vibrancy, a testament to the power of what animation can do with such limited time. [Ben Kaye]
Wong Kar-wai's CHUNGKING EXPRESS (Hong Kong)
Alamo Drafthouse (3519 N. Clark St., Suite C301) â Saturday and Monday, 10:30pm
Love is a beautiful thing. Film is a beautiful thing. To create something that celebrates not only love but also film requires the craftsmanship of a master and none are better equipped for this than Wong Kar-wai, as demonstrated in CHUNGKING EXPRESS. Centered on two separate tales of two different, lovelorn Hong Kong policemen, the movie explores what heartache and love can mean on a person-to-person basis. Is it about physical proximity, as in the case of the young policeman who tries nightly to reclaim his ex-girlfriend by phone while simultaneously trying to find a new lover, only to come â0.01 cm apartââthe closest he will get? Or perhaps itâs about the older policeman whose daily trip to a food stand and his subsequent flirtations with the young woman who works the counter; can this form the basis for a different kind of relationship? Beyond Wongâs thematic concerns, what truly makes CHUNGKING EXPRESS stand out is the aesthetic juxtaposition of the two storylines; the first story takes on a French New Wave vibe, both in its cinematography and its pacing, while the other has a more calculated pace, with patient shot composition and deliberate camera movement. The biggest question Wong asks is whether intimacy is defined as physical proximity in space to another or is it sharing of the same space while not in proximity? While the two plots are distinctly separate from one another, eagle-eyed viewers will appreciate the minute crossovers that can occasionally be seen in the background, Ă la THE RULES OF THE GAME. The filmâs dreamy shot composition and well-curated soundtrack allows one to bask in the movieâs marvels and float downstream in tandem with its characters. A masterfully poetic musing on love, loss, memory, and the many forms they can take, CHUNGKING EXPRESS is the perfect entry point to the esteemed auteurâs filmography. (1994, 102 min, DCP Digital) [Kyle Cubr]
Tran Anh Hungâs THE TASTE OF THINGS (France/Belgium)
Various Cinemas â See Venue websites for showtimes
Tran Anh Hungâs seventh feature, THE TASTE OF THINGS, has a lot in common with his first, THE SCENT OF GREEN PAPAYA (1993), despite the fact that the newer film takes place in late 19th-century France and the earlier one took place in 1950s Vietnam. Both are hermetic movies (sometimes even comfortingly so), with most of the action restricted to the main characterâs home/workplace; this walled-in quality makes the drama feel insulated from any larger historical forces that exist beyond the frame. In GREEN PAPAYA, the Vietnam War provides an obvious structuring absence (the film ends just a few years before the United States started sending âmilitary advisorsâ to the country), while in TASTE the looming threat seems to be the entire range of political, social, and industrial upheavals that came with the dawn of the 20th century. In neither film, however, does the exterior threat eclipse the onscreen narrative, as Tranâs exquisite mise-en-scĂšne (which was already superb in GREEN PAPAYA and has gotten lovelier over time) lures you further and further inward. Though these are quiet films, theyâre rarely still; when there isnât movement within the frame, Tran creates it through subtle pans and tracking shots. His style is most rapturous when heâs depicting domestic rituals, particularly cooking, as he presents seemingly routine activities as whirlpools of little events. Most of the first act of TASTE OF THINGS concerns the creation of a gourmet meal, and Tran renders the process so enveloping that you may wish the entire movie was about the characters preparing food. Yet these early scenesâwhich, like those of GREEN PAPAYA, feature a tween girl as an audience identification figureâexhibit a progressively rich sense of character; through cooking rituals, stray lines of dialogue, and impeccable body language, the principal characters come into focus. Dodin (BenoĂźt Magimel) is a renowned restaurateur, and EugĂ©nie (Juliette Binoche) is his head chef of 20 years. Their relationship is warm and mutually supportive, but it is chiefly professional. Only when the film leaves the kitchen does Tran slowly reveal that Dodin has pined for EugĂ©nie for years and wishes for her to marry him⊠but to frame things that way runs the risk of making TASTE OF THINGS sound like a genteel love story when it most definitely is not. Often Tran seems less interested in telling a story than in achieving a Zen-like state through recreating the atmosphere around a gourmandâs kitchen 140 years ago. However soothing it is to watch the film, thereâs something a little unnerving about how Tran deploys movie magic to resurrect a dead way of life; but then, the filmmaker acknowledges this, lets it shadow the movieâs sense of mystery throughout. The final passages are no less elusive than the opening ones, presenting the characters as they go through multiple changes of heart while severely downplaying (if not completely eliding) the internal developments that make these changes possible. Tranâs faith in images over explanations points to why heâs a great filmmaker, and TASTE OF THINGS finds him at the height of his powers. (2023, 135 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Jonathan Glazerâs THE ZONE OF INTEREST (UK/US/Poland)
Various Cinemas â See Venue websites for showtimes
The term âthe zone of interest,â the designation the Nazis applied to the Auschwitz extermination camp and adjacent areas, might as well apply to the robust activity surrounding this ultimate human evil by artists and the larger cultural community. The late British writer Martin Amis used the term for his 2014 novel, and now we have director/screenwriter Jonathan Glazerâs very loose adaptation of Amisâ book as a major motion picture. Whereas Amis focused on personal relationships between pseudonymous and fictional versions of Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss, his wife Hedwig, and an SS officer, Glazer chose an observational approach to the historical Höss family, imagining what living in a villa directly abutting Auschwitz might have been like for them and those who worked for them. Filmed at Auschwitz primarily in an accurate reconstruction of the villa the Höss family occupied, Glazer and cinematographer Ćukasz Ć»al eschewed conventional shooting techniques. They instead operated static, hidden cameras that could be manipulated remotely, and used natural light whenever possible. They also had no interest in giving us the usual horror show. Instead, Glazer leaned on Johnnie Burnâs sound design of gunfire, screams, and dogs, and only what camp structures could be seen from the Höss villa, to evoke the Holocaust. For example, the Höss family is hosting a childrenâs party in the vast garden of which Hedwig is so proud. As the children play, a cloud of steam moves in a line across the top of the camp wallâyet another train transporting victims to the slaughter. What Glazer concentrated on what he thought mattered to Rudolf (Christian Friedel) and Hedwig (Sandra HĂŒller)âcareer success and the good lifeâand if they had to live near and work in a human abattoir, well, that was the price of admission. Höss was reportedly a cold-blooded, hands-on killer early in his career, but Christian Friedel didnât play this side of his character. Here, Rudolf seems like a loving father who reads to his daughters at night, is a good companion to his wife, and is well regarded by his fellow SS officers. His deeper depravity comes though chillingly during a late-night phone call with Hedwig. He eagerly shares his excitement that the deportation of up to 700,000 Hungarian Jews for extermination and slave selection will bear the name Operation Höss. Sandra HĂŒller as Hedwig projects a prosaic personality motivated by greed and social position. She seems like a Mother Courage pushing heedlessly through every circumstance to get what she wants, and is convinced that their living arrangement is doing nothing to harm her âstrong, healthy, happyâ children, despite the filmâs ample evidence to the contrary. Little is known about the real Hedwig Höss, so this depiction seems like another example of demonizing mothers for fun and profit and the only questionable choice in an almost flawless movie. The remarkable score by Mica Levi is a haunting mĂ©lange of electronic and choral music. Glazer uses her score sparingly, however, in attempts to foreground the murdered at moments when we may be lulled by the mundane screen action. (I highly recommend you watch through the credits to listen to her audaciously beautiful score in its fullness.) In the end, a final, puzzling scene takes place largely in the present. Iâll leave its meaning to your own interpretation, but the familiar bourgeois lives Glazer has shown offers us a chance to reflect on our own unknowing callousness in the face of the suffering others endure for our convenience. (2023, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Hayao Miyazakiâs THE BOY AND THE HERON (Japan/Animation)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Sunday, 11am
The anticipation of seeing a new film directed by Hayao Miyazaki is two-fold: there is a set expectation of whimsy, magic, and complex thematic exploration inherent in his work, but this is tied to the mystery of not knowing how specifically these traits will play themselves out. So it is with his (seemingly) final film, THE BOY AND THE HERON, a film rooted in familiar themes that Miyazaki has been dwelling on for decades of artistry. As with many of his works, Miyazaki provides another story of a youthful protagonist; here, the teenage Mahitoâburied within heavy emotional armor to navigate the grief of losing his mother in a hospital fire the year beforeâfinds himself navigating an unknown mystical world that sits somewhere between the afterlife and his own subconscious, after he's lured there by a deliriously antagonistic gray heron. The fantastical elements of Miyazaki immediately float to the surface, from new imaginative creatures like the Warawaraâadorable floating balls that ascend to the heavens to be born as humansâto the bizarre amass of pelicans and parakeets that threaten to swallow up any frame they inhabit. Mahitoâs quest to find closure for his motherâs death results in a journey, ever joyous and sumptuous to watch, that ponders the nature of a world built upon loss, destruction, and chaos. Without spoiling too much, the film leaves us on something of an abrupt note, left to ponder the work of an undisputed master of cinema who was unafraid to bare his mortality before us, letting us sit in the knowledge that to live with the chaos of grief is still a beautiful life in and of itself; to know that there is no escaping pain, and there is something beautiful to carry on towards. Maybe a book your mother left behind for you, maybe a new, unknown journey waiting on the other side of a doorway. (2023, 124 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
đïž ALSO SCREENING
â« Big Shoulders International Student Film Festival
The Big Shoulders International Student Film Festival takes place starting Saturday, 10am, at DePaulâs Loop Campus (247 S. State St., Room LL105). Includes the Groveâs speed pitching event and two short film programs. More info here.
â« Block Cinema (at Northwestern University)
âDreams of Passion: The Short Films of Aarin Burch,â including 16mm presentations of Burchâs DREAMS OF PASSION (1989) and SPIN CYCLE (1991), along with resurfaced video work CLUB Q (1991), and accompanied by Marlon Riggsâ 1991 short ANTHEM, screens Friday at 7pm. Followed by a post-screening conversation between Burch and Tayler Scriber (PhD in Screen Cultures).
Jessica Oreckâs 2019 film ONE MAN DIES A MILLION TIMES (93 min, DCP Digital) screens Thursday, 7pm, with an introduction by Sarah Hollis (Dixon National Tallgrass Prairie Seedbank and Northwestern University). Screening as part of the SEED TIME film series. More info on all screenings 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 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 will be projected onto a wall in the mezzanine area of the station and will run day and night through March 15. More info here.
â« Chicago Public Library
View all screenings taking place at Chicago Public Library branches here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Kristina Buozyte and Bruno Samperâs 2022 film VESPER (112 min, DCP Digital) screens Tuesday, 6pm, as part of Shawn Michelle Smith and Oliver Sannâs Cli-Fi lecture series.
An advance screening of Pablo Bergerâs 2023 animated film ROBOT DREAMS (102 min, DCP Digital) takes place Wednesday at 8:30pm. More info on all screenings here.
â« Music Box Theatre
Denis Villeneuveâs 2024 sci-fi fantasy DUNE: PART TWO (166 min, 70mm) begins its run on Thursday.
The short film program âLife Within the Lensâ screens Wednesday, 7pm, as part of the Melanin, Roots and Culture series, followed by a post-screening Q&A with the filmmakers. More info on all screenings here.
â« Sweet Void Cinema (3036 W. Chicago Ave.)
Find more information on the Humboldt Park microcinema, including its larger screening and workshop schedule, here.
đïž ONLINE SCREENINGS/EVENTS
â« VDB TV
Beyond the Dust: Colonial Legacy in the Desert, programmed by MartĂ Madaula Esquirol, 2023 - 2024 Graduate Curatorial Fellow at the Video Data Bank, and School of the Art Institute of Chicago MFA candidate in Film, Video, New Media, and Animation, screens for free on VDB TV. Includes short works by More info here.
CINE-LIST: March 1 - March 7, 2024
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Kyle Cubr, Ray Ebarb, Megan Fariello, Patrick Friel, Marilyn Ferdinand, Ben Kaye, Raphael Jose Martinez