đœïž Crucial Viewing
Chicago Film Society presents Technicolor Weekend
Chicago Film Society at the Gene Siskel Film Center â See below for showtimes
Joseph Loseyâs THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR (US)
Friday, 6pm
Joseph Loseyâs career-long sympathy for misfits and outcasts found its most genial expression in his first feature film, THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR. A family-friendly fantasy with musical numbers and eye-popping color design, the film might be considered an outlier in the directorâs estimable if frequently dour filmography if it werenât about a 12-year-old boy whose parents are killed in an air raid. Dean Stockwell stars as Peter, who relates the story of his hardship to a sympathetic child psychologist played by Robert Ryan (in one of the earliest examples of psychology being presented as a positive force in a Hollywood film). Peter describes how, after his parents went to England to aid in the relief effort, he got passed around from one relative to another until he came to stay with an affectionate singing waiter called Gramp (Pat OâBrien). Things were going well until Peter got the bad news about his parents, which magically caused his hair to turn green; on top of his grief, he now had to deal with being seen as different by everyone around him. In the filmâs climax, Peter has a vision in which heâs visited by a group of war orphans from all over the world who tell him to take pride in his hair; it will make people notice you, they say, and remind them that war is not good for children. This intervention of didactic rhetoric into the drama shows the direct influence of Bertolt Brecht, with whom Losey worked during the great playwrightâs stay in Los Angeles (the year before this movie was made, the two men co-directed the world premiere of Brechtâs Galileo with Charles Laughton in the title role). The antiwar message was so explicit as to infuriate no less than Howard Hughes, who bought RKO Radio Pictures after theyâd finished making THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR, then immediately tried to have it suppressed. The film got released anyway, albeit with almost no fanfare; it ended up losing money for RKO. Today, it seems like a historical curiosity that Thomas Pynchon might have dreamed up: a card-carrying Communist filmmaker just barely got away with making a pacifist fantasy for kids, only for it to be buried amidst so much cultural detritus. This screening isnât a revivalâitâs a resurrection. (1948, 82 min, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Ben Sachs]
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Jack Starrettâs CLEOPATRA JONES (US)
Friday, 8:15pm
CLEOPATRA JONES was one of the most expensive productions of the original blaxploitation era. It was produced at Warner Bros for about $2.5 millionâmore than twice the budget of most blaxploitation moviesâand you can really see the money on screen. Compared with something like SWEET SWEETBACKâS BAADASSSSS SONG (made just two years earlier), CLEOPATRA JONES boasts bigger stunts, ritzier costumes, and slicker storytelling. This is very much a big studioâs idea of an exploitation film, down to the spectacle of Shelley Winters hamming it up as the title characterâs arch nemesis, a lesbian crime boss whom everyone calls Mommy. As for Cleopatra herself, sheâs 6 feet 2 inches, and all of it dynamite, a badass, karate-chopping federal agent who makes it her personal business to decimate the hard drug trade thatâs damaging Black communities all over America. At the start of the film, Cleopatra personally burns down the Turkish poppy field that provided the drug supply that Mommy distributes, inspiring the villainess to make life hell for our crimefighting heroine. Meanwhile, Mommyâs chief pusher, Doodlebug, is plotting a revolt against his brassy boss. Itâs a silly story, to be sure, but the filmmakers have a good time with it. Screenwriters Sheldon Keller and Max Julien (who starred in another blaxploitation classic, THE MACK, the same year as this) fill it out with lots of comic jive that might remind you of Nipsey Russell, and director Jack Starrett (who had a memorable character turn in BLAZING SADDLES the same year as this) keeps the tone bouncy. Fans of â70s fashions are sure to get a kick out of the star Tamara Dobsonâs outfits, which are often as loud as Wintersâ performance. (1973, 88 min, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Ben Sachs]
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Douglas Sirkâs HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY GAL (US)
Saturday, 4:15pm
Thereâs not much I like more than watching one of Douglas Sirkâs candy-colored, cheeky films of the 1950s. In his heyday, this devilishly clever German Ă©migrĂ© to Hollywood was a giant at the box office and, eventually, a criticâs darling for his subversive takes on American life. Iâve seen many of his famous melodramasâMAGNIFICENT OBSESSION (1954), ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS (1955), WRITTEN ON THE WIND (1956), IMITATION OF LIFE (1959)âbut HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY GAL had escaped my purview until now. As entertaining and sly as any of his looks at Eisenhower-era American life, this period piece set in the Roaring Twenties could just as easily have been set in the white, suburban enclaves of the 1950s. The barely middle-class Blaisdells could be any family emerging from World War II with a lot of economic and social catching up to do, and the rouged-kneed and raccoon-coated teenagers who dance to âFive Foot Two, Eyes of Blue [Has Anybody Seen My Gal?]â in the combination drugstore/soda fountain could just as easily be the poodle-skirted and letter-jacketed teens bopping around a jukebox playing âRock Around the Clock.â We even have James Dean in an uncredited cameo as one of the teenagers at the soda counter. Sirkâs critique of materialism and social climbing comes through most clearly in the person of Harriet Blaisdell (Lynn Bari), who epitomizes the saying that one can never be too rich or too thin and who goes off the rails spending the $100,000 check sent to them anonymously by their lodgerârich bachelor Samuel Fulton, brilliantly embodied by Charles Coburn, disguised as a humble soda jerker to see if he should leave his fortune to them when he dies. The script by Joseph Hoffman is uncommonly witty, with Coburn and Gigi Perreau, who plays the youngest Blaisdell child, getting the best lines. The pace is fast, the occasional Tin Pan Alley songs and dancing enjoyable, and the settings of the rich and snooty perfectly gauche. While I couldnât find a credit for the opening Jazz Age illustrations that deftly weave in characters from the film, they are highly reminiscent of the work of John Held Jr. He was still alive when this film was released, so itâs possible that the man himself rendered them. Part comedy, part musical, all observant and wise, HAS ANYBODY SEEN MY GAL is a must-see movie. And itâs showing on celluloid! (1952, 89 min, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
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Francis Ford Coppola's APOCALYPSE NOW REDUX (US) â SOLD OUT
Saturday, 7 pm
Every man has a breaking point. Many filmmakers have attempted to adapt Joseph Conradâs 1899 novel Heart of Darkness, most notably Orson Welles. APOCALYPSE NOW (1979) was the first to succeed as a war requiem and fireworks finale to 1970s New Hollywood. APOCALYPSE NOW REDUX (2001) is the second of three cuts made by the Don of American cinema, Francis Ford Coppola. Writing the script in collaboration with Coppola and Michael Herr, John Milius recalls, âThe screenplay started when I was in USCâs film school. Francis had the arrogance, the hubris, the ambition to make APOCALYPSE NOW. Francisâ personality is also the one most similar to Hitlerâs that I know: Hitler could convince anybody of anything, and so can Francis. Francis is my FĂŒhrer. Iâd follow him to hell.â The script followed a simple story: Captain Willard is given a top-secret mission to travel up the NĂčng River to locate the rogue commander, US Army Special Forces Colonel Walter Kurtz, and terminate him without prejudice. Kurtz's only crime was to have waged a war against the Vietcong in his own way, ignoring all orders from higher command. Willard and his crew float through the jungle, with each sequence feeling like a deeper circle of Danteâs inferno until they arrive at the leaderâs barbarous palace. In 1976, believing heâd only shoot for 6 months, Coppola moved his family to the Philippines to begin principal photography. As production started, the director requested that his wife Eleonor Coppola make a film about the production. Recording discussions without her husbandâs knowledge and filming on set, Eleonor created the infamous documentary, HEART OF DARKNESS: A FILMMAKERâS APOCALYPSE (1991), the story of an artist waging war against chaotic, overblown film budgets and battling Mother Nature herself. Shooting in the middle of typhoon season, sets and costumes were destroyed and the life of one crew member was taken. Initially, Coppola cast Harvey Keitel in the role of Willard but felt he had made a mistake after shooting a few scenes. Keitel was replaced by Martin Sheen. Sheen said of Coppola, âI donât think he realizes how tough he is to work for. God, is he tough, But I will sail with that son of a bitch anytime.â Brando agreed to play Colonel Kurtz, receiving $2 million for two weeks' work, only to show up severely overweight, self-conscious, and completely unprepared. For military equipment, Coppola requested helicopters and other machinery of warfare from the United States military but was denied by then-Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld. Instead, Coppola gained permission from Philippine dictator Ferdinand Marcos to use his armyâs helicopters. This request happened to coincide with a Communist uprising in parts of the country, resulting in the army taking back helicopters last second in the middle of filming to take part in actual battle. Under immense pressure, the then 37-year-old director wanted to abandon ship. Reflecting on his approach to the impossible challenge of filmmaking, the director said, âIf I didnât say it, believe me, someone else would have,â he said. âWhen I made THE GODFATHER, the first thing people said was, âOh, Coppolaâs just like Michael Corleone, cold and Machiavellian.' Or, 'Heâs just like Kurtz, a megalomaniac.' Regardless of all adversity, strain on crew, actors, budget, and family, Coppola pushed on, risking his ranch, house, and studio. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro was given full control over the image. He exclusively worked with an Italian color processing studio, with technicians he trusted to develop the Eastmancolor with his exact instructions. When an executive told the cameraman his prints for dailies would become processed in Los Angeles, Storaro forced the studio to continue his process and collaboration with fellow picture makers in Rome. Relishing in his large budget but physical constraints, Storaro created visionary scope. After 238 days and capturing over one and a half million feet of film, Coppola returned to the US in May 1977 to begin post production. Sound editor Walter Murch, designers Richard Beggs, Randy Thom and the rest of the team built their own Doby split sound system and had the task of cutting 236 miles of footage. Editor Walter Murch said, âIt was certainly the longest post production of any film I worked on, I was on it for two years, Richie Marx was on it even a year longer. It was a long period, and you have to also gage your own energy level and focus on something that lasts that long.â Finally, after unsuccessful private screenings and recuts, APOCALYPSE NOW released on August 15, 1979. In all its cost, misery, and mayhem, like the war itself, the psychic impact of the film would leave a dent in the American zeitgeist for decades to come. But then, the master decided his work was not done. In the late '90s, the director felt the urge to revisit the past. âWhen I was asked [by the distributor, Lionsgate] which version I wanted to show this time, I knew I didnât want to show the [147-minute] 1979 version,â Coppola said. âI felt that in my lust to make it shorter and less weird back then, I removed so many important things.â For a 2001 recutting, or REDUX; Walter Murch reluctantly agreed to recut the original camera negative for his great leader. At the time, Technicolor made a brief comeback with Storaro taking full advantage. use it again to restore his tropical masterpiece, he would use this stock to shoot Warren Beattyâs political satire BULWORTH (1998). APOCALYPSE NOW has reached the highest artistic achievement: an allegory of people facing reality and truth. A Homeric epic telling the secrets of life, nature, man, war, and violence. A timeless story, Heart of Darkness served as the perfect inspiration. Taking ten years to fit page to screen, the astonishment created by this film grows exponentially with each new cutting. Like collective memory, an event is not only remembered differently by each spectator but changes for the individual every time a moment is recalled. The same poetics should apply to the recutting of APOCALYPSE NOW, the same old nightmare made new again. At the will of one man, this great task continues to echo throughout the ages, insistent that even masterpieces experience rebirth. PLEASE NOTE THIS SCREENING IS SOLD OUT (1979/2001, 202 min, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Ray Ebarb]
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Jerry Lewisâ THE NUTTY PROFESSOR (US)
Sunday, 2pm
About halfway through THE NUTTY PROFESSOR, the realization may dawn on youâas it did during my viewingâthat both the adoration and vitriol consistently hurled at the works of Jerry Lewis are entirely justified. Lewis' comedy is grating, obnoxious, and idiotic, yet all of these qualities are delivered with such carefully crafted fervor and skill that you canât help but be astonished by what is undeniably a feat of stupidity telegraphed via supreme intellect. This particular case of opposing mindsets seems perfectly suited for a film about the duality of man, a comedic romp fashioned off of Robert Louis Stevensonâs Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde that tracks the social and emotional maturation of one Professor Julius Kelp (Jerry Lewis, of course) and his alter ego of chemical means, Buddy Love. Lewis' dual roles are triumphs of physical comedy; Kelp lurches through scenes, his voice piercing through dialogue as if Lewis' vocal cords had been elasticated, his body contorting in crooked angles, draped in earth-tone drabs of costuming alongside his buck-teeth, thick glasses, and helmet of hair. Love, on the other hand, slinks and sidles in Technicolor suits, his dimpled chin gliding Lewisâ jaw effortlessly through jazz standards and degrading pickup lines delivered with a suave demeanor that brings to mind a sped-up Dean Martin vinyl. The production design works to echo this transformation in style: the halls of Kelp's university trappings are flat and drab in appearance, with pops of pink, purple, green and red springing things to life in more vivid scenes like the ones in the night club or the student dance hall. No matter your opinion of the effectiveness of a pratfall, or the placement of a neurotic inflection, Lewis undeniably puts in the work to deliver his "nutty" film, his madcap oscillation of characters practically sledgehammering the audience into submission, willing to glide along whatever plot contrivances and lulls in pace we encounter along the way. In a final speech delivered to the student body, Kelp delivers a surprisingly earnest note of hope to his audience: "You might as well like yourself. Just think about all the time you're going to have to spend with you." Naturally, this moment of honesty and sincerity is followed soon after by Lewis crashing directly into the camera. Like I said, the duality of man. (1963, 103 mins, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Ben Kaye]
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Richard Fleischerâs 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA (US)
Sunday, 5pm
As evidenced by VIOLENT SATURDAY, THE VIKINGS, and COMPULSION, the ever-underrated Richard Fleischer took to widescreen like a duck to water. He filled the broad frames dynamically and supplely, using the format to create expansive, awe-inspiring environments. The 1954 version of 20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA is of special interest to Fleischerites for being the director's first widescreen production. Made just one year after THE ROBE, the first CinemaScope feature, the film treats widescreen as a special effect in itself; practically every composition is something of a spectacle. (According to IMDB, producer Walt Disney insisted on getting the best value out of the âScope lens he rented from 20th Century-Fox, and as a result, the film contains virtually no close-ups.) The special effects (by John Hench and Josh Meador) and production design (by Harper Goff) are nothing to sneeze at, either, as they successfully convey the wonderment of Disneyâs animated features in live-action terms. And then thereâs the cast, one of the most esteemed in the Disney canon. James Mason plays Captain Nemo, inventor and master of a submarine called the Nautilus; Paul Lukas is the professor who joins the submarine crew after Nemo saves him from drowning; Peter Lorre plays the professorâs assistant; and Kirk Douglas is ace harpooner Ned Land, a fun-loving brawler who also sings a couple of songs. (Douglas and Mason would work with Fleischer again on THE VIKINGS [1958] and MANDINGO [1975], respectivelyâtwo very different films that reval the impressive range of both the stars and the director.) This captures the spirit of adventure and invention of Jules Verneâs novelâwhich famously anticipated the design of modern submarines by several decadesânot only in its rousing storytelling, but also in its use of state-of-the-art technology. The fake giant squid that appears at the climax is pretty silly, but at least itâs memorably so. (1954, 127 min, 35mm IB Technicolor print) [Ben Sachs]
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More info on Technicolor Weekend, including the full schedule, here.
John Carpenter's THEY LIVE (US) + Robert Altman's O.C. & STIGGS (US)
Highs & Lows at the Music Box Theatre â Tuesday, 7pm
Blatant in its critique of Ronald Reagan's proto-fascism, THEY LIVE also delivers an affectionate view of working-class Los Angeles that mirrors its sincere appreciation of disreputable pop culture. Casting pro wrestler "Rowdy" Roddy Piper as the leader of a working-class, anti-corporate insurgency is one of the most audacious choices of John Carpenter's long career. Carpenter's skepticism towards contemporary life is rooted less in ideology than in a loyalty to old-fashioned genre storytelling, whose handmade qualities have been endangered by the automated culture of the corporate age. THEY LIVE famously depicts the social network of banks, TV stations, and multinational businesses as a secret extraterrestrial plot; and while this makes for an effective sci-fi premise, it's executed too often as camp to make for effective political filmmaking. (Far more resonant are Carpenter's images of the shanty town full of laid-off factory workers, which evoke nothing less than Frank Borzageâs Depression-era classic MANâS CASTLE [1933], a welcome reminder of a popular cinema in tune with collective feeling, made during an era obsessed with individual success.) But then, Carpenter never wanted to be George Romero. His virtues lie elsewhere, in eccentric character touches, dynamic action sequences, and a consistently inventive use of the âScope frame. Itâs worth pointing out that Carpenter was one of the few Hollywood filmmakers who insisted on shooting in widescreen throughout the VHS era, when most mainstream movies were shot in narrower ratios to be ready, like lambs to the slaughter, for panning and scanning. (1988, 93 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
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The 1980s were not terribly kind to Robert Altman. Both HEALTH and POPEYE were panned critically and the rest of his oeuvre that decade didnât fare much better before his return to earlier form in the early 1990s. For Altman, the 80s found his filmmaking at its zaniest. Perhaps the zaniest of all that decade (and possibly of all his works), is O.C. & STIGGS. Altman adapted the film and its titular duo from a series of National Lampoon stories, fresh off the magazineâs successes with ANIMAL HOUSE and VACATION. This satirical take on middle class suburbia and 1980âs politics did not enjoy the same fortune as those films did; in fact, the film was shelved after poor test screenings in 1985 and quietly ushered into theaters two years later to little fanfare. O.C. (Daniel Jenkins) and Stiggs (Neil Barry) are two Arizonian teenage hooligans that are hell-bent on creating chaos for their fellow suburbanites, classmates, and, especially, their archenemiesâthe right-wing Schwab family (Paul Dooley, Jane Curtin, and Jon Cryer). The film is largely plotless, focused mainly on the pairâs shenanigans and hijinks. On the surface, one might be expecting to see Altman creating his own teenage âsexâ comedy, but instead, he subverts that notion in favor of parodying the genre. Ferris Bueller and Cameron Frye these boys are not. Theyâre obnoxious and homophobic neâer-do-wells, but thereâs a certain charm to their self-righteous acts that serve as social commentary to some of the vanities seen in the middle to middle-upper class of the Reagan Era. Incredibly bizarre and the most non-sequitur of all Robert Altmanâs works, O.C. & STIGGS isnât for everyone, but for those that do exist within the small slice of the pie that is the intended audience, thereâs something glorious about seeing one of the 20th centuryâs greatest auteurs deconstruct the 1980s' most iconic sub-genre. (1987, 109 min, 35mm) [Kyle Cubr]
Elisabeth Subrinâs MARIA SCHNEIDER, 1983 and SHULIE (France/US/Experimental)
Conversations at the Edge at the Gene Siskel Film Center â Thursday, 6pm
âMy compulsion to repeat is certainly not groundbreaking,â writes filmmaker Elisabeth Subrin in an essay for Alex Juhasz and Jesse Lernerâs F is for Phony: Fake Documentary. âYet I relate this impulse to an increased, perhaps even perverse, need within my generation to recreate struggles we did not physically experience.â She continues: âIf we are to create histories that recognize difference, we also need to preserve moments that don't look like history with a capital H. We need to record and analyze minor, awkward, multiply coded, and irreducible representations. Why should the life of a groundbreaking intellectual who sought to transform consciousness be presented with the mind-numbingly reductive and repetitive format of the Biography Channel (or other overly familiar hagiographic strategies)?â Written about her 1997 video SHULIE (37 min, DCP Digital), this sentiment applies also to MARIA SCHNEIDER, 1983 (2022, 25 min, DCP Digital), Subrinâs latest, in which a 1983 interview with the titular actress, conducted a decade after her role in Bernardo Bertolucciâs controversial LAST TANGO IN PARIS (1972), is duplicated by three actress-filmmakers, each of whom inserts elements of their respective identities into the text. The women are Manal Issa, Aissa Maiga, and Isabel Sandoval; technically speaking, the recreations are impressive, as Subrin duplicates everything from the location to Schneiderâs distinctive hair and outfit to its overall aesthetic as something made in the 1980s. The performers do their own recreating, mimicking Schneiderâs body language but still with their own personal gesticulations, be they intentional or not. In their variations on the text they reflect on ethnicity, sex, race, and gender, personalizing it to their respective identities. Of course LAST TANGO IN PARISâbut why of course? Why is that a foregone conclusion?âcomes up during the interview, infamous as it now is due to the rape scene, with Schneider clearly distressed by the query. In isolating this one incident of what was surely a lifelong confrontation with that traumatic experience, Subrin emphasizes the gradations of the overall toll something like that can take on a person. It also underlines the reduction of a woman to a harrowing memory over which she had no control. SHULIE is more opaque in its intention. A scene-by-scene reproduction of the original SHULIE, made in 1967 by Kartemquin cofounder Jerry Blumenthal, Sheppard Ferguson, James Leahy, and Allan Rettig, then students at Northwestern University, and in black-and-white where Subrinâs is in color, the original documentary and its filmic reverberation center on Shulamith Firestone. At the time a student at the School of the Art Institute (where Subrin also studied and later taught), both versionsâthough the latter one is technically a fiction, this being a documentation of the documentaryâshow Shulie (played in Subrinâs film by Kim Soss) in her practice as both a painter and photographer (including an especially painful scene where sheâs being critiqued by a panel of male professors), at work at the Post Office, and generally ruminating on a variety of subjects. In the aforementioned essay Subrin speaks to how she saw her own experiences and the experiences of other women in Shulieâs: âHer lack of belief in meaningful experiences other than creative achievement; her cynicism about men ever truly tolerating her as an equal, her hilarious observations about the limitations of motherhood; the classically patronizing thesis review in which her own desires and impulses are repeatedly dismissed; her sublimated depression: these were experiences most of my female students, classmates or colleagues could have shared.â The original film was meant to document the âNow Generationâ of the late â60s; this consideration brings history to the forefront in Subrinâs video, placing these considerations in a dual context. After art school Shulie moved to New York and made a name for herself as a radical feminist and early proponent of second-wave feminism, eventually going on to write The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution. In her recreation Subrin also recontextualizes the concept of documentary filmmaking and confronts the idea of truth in images. That she comments on all of this via replication, a rather simple idea in and of itself, is also a remark on the power of restaging, of seeing things the same but also differently. My conception of Shulie is now two-fold; thereâs the real Shulie and then Subrinâs Shulie, one a person, the other an idea. Even as such the personal is never obfuscated, the real real discernible among her visual and ideological twins. Ultimately Subrin says it best when she writes: âMy generation is utterly indebted to these women, even if we identify with them from radically different vantage points. In the compulsion to remake, to produce a fake document, to repeat a specific experience I never actually had, what I have offered up is the performance of a resonant, repetitive, emotional trauma that has yet to be healed.â Subrin in person. [Kat Sachs]
Brian De Palma's MISSION TO MARS (US)
Chicago Film Society at the Music Box Theatre â Thursday, 6:45pm
Placed at #4 on Cahiers du cinĂ©maâs list for 10 best films of 2000, MISSION TO MARS set Brian De Palma on a new exploration. A master of suspense and perspective, MISSION TO MARS would be an auteurâs conquest into computer generated images. The film opens with Mars I, an expedition to the desolate planet. When they land, the team discovers a subterranean oasis that would be crucial for future colonization. Attacked by a vortex, everyone dies except astronaut Luke Graham (Don Cheadle). Back on earth, a rescue mission is put together to save him. Facing adversityââa crew made up of actors such as Gary Sinise, Tim Robbins, Connie Nielsenââmake their way to the fourth planet. Although most critics like Ebert said âI canât recommend MISSION TO MARSâ, De Palma deserves credit for always working outside his comfort zone, always pushing with new technology and the possibilities of cinema. The only moment of the film that feels truly De Palma comes in the opening with a tracking shot of a party on Earth. Principal photography took place in Vancouver. Budgeted at $100 million, the film required the studio to put a tight production schedule on the director. When told by executives he had fewer days to finish filming, De Palma ripped the last twenty pages out of the script, scaring the young executives. Famously against shooting coverage, De Palma was now forced to compromise his process. For sake of time, the director would cover pages in a single take to meet production schedule. Due to the fast pace, most of the actors were forced to loop their dialogue in post-production. Despite all their incompetence, the studio did service to De Palma by hiring Ennio Morricone to score the film (after previously scoring De Palmaâs THE UNTOUCHABLES [1987]). In Noah Baumbachâs documentary, DE PALMA, the director claims this film made him realize he could no longer work in the system, even after surviving Hollywood in the '80s. Screening as part of the Cinema Morricone series. (2000, 114 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]
M. Woods' COMMODITY TRADING: DIES IRAE (US/Experimental)
Chicago Filmmakers â Friday, 7pm
If "Dies irae" in the title of M. Woods's fourth experimental feature COMMODITY TRADING: DIES IRAE refers to the medieval Latin poem "The Day of Wrath" that describes the Last Judgement, in this film, any sense of grandeur of such an apocalyptic event is collapsing into a state of zombie consumption and hurtful pleasure-seekingâcapitalism in a nutshell. COMMODITY TRADING is a strange autofictional thriller that loosely interweaves the hypnotic journeys of two protagonists, M. Woods and Joshua, attempting to enter what is called "The Numb Spiral" through different entry points as they are haunted by Trump's America. The Numb Spiral, which in the film is neither heaven nor hell but what akin to a virtual insatiable void that devours authentic experience and meaningâa nauseous simulacrum, if you will, is also representative of M. Woods's painful research into our contemporary sub-human existence twisted and twirled by capitalism, corporate superpowers, socio-political atrocities, overflown information, internet intimacy, and surveillance. M. Woods calls their work "media drugs," which is hardly an exaggeration given the amount of extremely psychedelic images and hallucinatory scenes there are to ingest from this film. The apt use of a GoPro camera's wide lens makes mundane life bulge with surrealness. Meshing togethers analog photography, screen recordings of FPS games, TV news, and some years of footage recorded on various mediums that have then gone through some outrageous editing, COMMODITY TRADING is political, personal, visceral, almost gory. Disturbing? Maybe, but you see, you sometimes learn more from a bad trip. Preceded by Sonnie Wooden's 2020 short film GUILLOTINE (22 min, Digital Projection). M. Woods in person with Sonnie Wooden for a post-screening conversation moderated by Grace K. Schuler. (2024, 80 min, Digital Projection) [Nicky Ni]
John Waters' PINK FLAMINGOS (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Thursday, 9:30pm
Even by todayâs more desensitized standards, PINK FLAMINGOS retains its shock value. Babs Johnson (Divine) wears her tabloid-branded moniker âFilthiest Person Aliveâ with great pride. Living in a trailer park with her toddler-like mother Edie (Edith Massey), son Crackers (Danny Mills), and roommate Cotton (Mary Vivian Pearce) somewhere in the sticks just outside Baltimore, Babs is hiding from society and authorities due to her countless crimes, which includes murder. Meanwhile, perverted couple Connie and Raymond Marble (Mink Stole and David Lochary) are outraged by Babsâ titleâdeeming themselves to be the filthiestâand set out to usurp her dubious designation. In a series of ever-escalating scenes more revolting than the last, the Marbles and Babs and her cohorts engage in a battle of one-upmanship. Watersâ film subverts damn near all societal norms and employs an almost cinĂ©ma vĂ©ritĂ© style of filmmaking, particularly in shots of Babs/Divine walking around town with onlookers gawking. No topic is too taboo here. Besides the infamous dog-poo scene, scenes featuring cannibalism, fetishes of all varieties, and rape also feature. This is a film not for the faint of heartâlike a pig rolling around in its own filth and loving every second of it, PINK FLAMINGOS knows that it is trash, but glorious, artful trash. Itâs not surprising that this is the film that brought John Waters (and Divine) out of underground cinema obscurity and into a broader collective consciousness. Preceded by Pat Rocco's 1968 short STRIP STRIP (5 min, Digital Projection). Screening as part of Inside Outsider Cinema. (1972, 93 min, 35mm) [Kyle Cubr]
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
Julie Dash's DAUGHTERS OF THE DUST (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Monday, 7pm
The narrator of Julie Dash's DAUGHTERS OF THE DUST is more than just a character in the film, but a symbolic representation of the film's message. The unborn child who tells the story of the Peazant family in their last days before migrating north is as much a reflection of the past as she is of the future; all that has come before her is as inherent to the family as the very blood within their veins, and it's that history which will propel them along the trying and changing times. The Peazant family are inhabitants of the southern Sea Islands and members of its Gullah culture, having preserved the identity of their African heritage in the face of slavery and post-war oppression. Before the move, the matriarch of the Peazant family contemplates her native beliefs while the family's younger members overcome their personal struggles. Rape and prostitution have afflicted several female members of the family, and the scorn from both society and their own clan present the unique obstacle of African American women within an already disparaged race. Dash uses magical realism not only in the story, but also as a filmmaking device that is reflective of the characters' culture. It was the first feature-length film by an African-American woman to receive theatrical release, and its historical context and female-oriented storyline set it apart from both other films of the time and other films put out by fellow members of the L.A. Rebellion. Screening as part of Apparitions: An Assemblage of Black Independent Films. (1991, 112 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
William Lustigâs MANIAC COP 2 (US)
Music Box Theatre â Sunday, 8:45 pm
Undead police officer Matt Cordell (Chicagoâs own Robert ZâDar) returns for further slaughter and revenge in this enhanced sequel to the original 1988 MANIAC COP. Both B-movie horror and action screenwriter Larry Cohen and director William Lustig are also back for MANIAC COP 2, which focuses on thrilling action sequences and set pieces rather than following the first filmâs more traditional slasher format. Set in New York City during Christmastime, MANIAC COP 2 also highlights the atmospheric grit and sleaze of the metropolitan-B-movie location. The tinsel adorned spaces provide melancholy backdrops to the impressive car chases, bodega fights, and strip club scenes. MANIAC COP 2 begins right where the first ends and quickly does away with the heroes of the first film (Bruce Campbell and Laurene Landon), making way for a new duo: police department psychologist (Claudia Christian) and the skeptical lieutenant (Robert Davi). The two are on the case to find serial killer zombie Cordell whose new plan involves using criminals to help him along his murder spree. It all culminates in the impressive final set piece at Sing Sing, foreshadowed by a memorable flashback scene to Cordellâs originâthis sequel is much more interested in Cordell as a character which also adds to its improvement over the original. Worth noting, too, amongst the violent chaos is some grounding gravitas to be found, specifically from character actor Michael Lerner in a supporting performance as the gruff police commissioner. Co-presented by The Brewed in celebration of their second anniversary. (1990, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Michael Patrick Jann's DROP DEAD GORGEOUS (US)
Music Box Theatre â Thursday, 9:45pm
Imagine my surprise when I went to research the film and discovered that not only was DROP DEAD GORGEOUS a commercial flop, but that it was also panned by critics at the time of its release. Surely, I thought, everyone loved the film as much as I did when I was a preteen, wearing out the hot pink-sheathed VHS on a small TV in my bedroom, relishing the filmâs perverse takedown of people and places eerily similar to those of my own Midwestern upbringing. But they didnât. âBroad, obvious and thuddingly unfunny!â wrote John Hartl for the Seattle Times. âAs mean-spirited as movies come!â declared Susan Stark for Detroit News. âThe ideas are funnier than the images,â demurred Robert Ebert, no exclamation point. I wondered how my understanding of the filmâs reception could have been so distorted, but then I remembered: it was 1999, and people learned about films through large-scale advertising campaigns and half-page reviews in the newspapers that still hit their doorsteps every morning, neither of which I cared much about at the ripe old age of 11. And we didnât have the Internet as we now know it, with digital advertising and social media and the like, to inform our opinions, or, should those be unshakeable, at the very least our awareness of a filmâs success or failure. Back then, movies like DROP DEAD GORGEOUS seemed to exist in a silo, or better yet, seemed to belong only to us, the kids sitting in our rooms alive with the delight of discovery, wishy-washy moviegoers and curmudgeonly critics be damned. (Oh, the irony.) I almost canât imagine what itâll be like watching it in a theater with a crowd, though I can say that, a few egregiously off-color jokes aside, it holds up. To Ebertâs point, DROP DEAD GORGEOUS, directed by Michael Patrick Jann and written by Lona Williams (herself a beauty pageant survivor), isnât filled to the brim with laugh-out-loud moments. Really, itâs more clever than anything, exaggerated enough to be amusing and infinitely quotable, but still disconcerting in its credibility. (Kudos to production designer Ruth Ammon for capturing the existential malaise that is a small-town parade⊠or a small-town anything.) For those not cool enough to have watched it a million times throughout the early aughts, the film is a mockumentary Ă la Christopher Guest about a teen beauty pageant in Mount Rose, Minnesota. Quaint though it may seem, the competition is fierce: Becky Leeman (Denise Richards), daughter of the townâs richest family, is a shoe-in to win, figuring that her mom (Kirstie Alley) is head of the pageant organizing committee. The crowd favorite, however, is Amber (Kirsten Dunst), whose origins are decidedly more humble; her mom (Ellen Barkin) does hair out of their trailer, and family friend Loretta (Allison Janney) is around to curse people out as needed. Still, Amber dreams of being a beauty queen like her idol, Diane Sawyer. Things go awry after a contestant is killed in a freak farming accident. From there, people start dropping like flies, and itâs obvious whoâs behind the calamityâbut the show must go on. At the risk of intellectualizing a movie that perhaps doesnât warrant it, itâs among a handful of films that makes tangible the emotional violence of being a young woman. Yes, beauty pageants are dumb and hardly worth the drama, but try telling that to a 17-year-old girl whoâs been taught that beauty and popularity are synonymous with success and respect. Itâs a film that makes you take it seriously, even as youâre sniggering to yourself over its wry cuts and quippy one-liners. The performances are superb; itâs Michael Patrick Jannâs only feature-length film (he was a cast member on MTVâs The State and directed the majority of its sketchesâhe now directs television), but he proves himself adept as a director of actors in a more ambitious, larger-scale project. No talent goes wasted, from Dunstâs girl-next-door charm to the unbridled je ne sais quoi of the late Brittany Murphy, who plays another contestant along with a young Amy Adams. The standouts, though, are the moms and their unruly friends: Alley is truly horrifying as a god-fearing helicopter parent, and Barkin delivers as a down-on-her-luck hairdresser who literally becomes one with her ever-present beer can. But, of course, Janney is the real scene-stealer; if I cared about the Oscars, Iâd say her win for I, TONYA was influenced by the greater of the two outstanding performances. (Janney says she's approached more about this film than she is about The West Wing.) Whether you're revisiting DROP DEAD GORGEOUS or seeing it for the first time, itâll be the âmost smartestâ decision youâve made in a while. Presented by Ramona Slick and Rated Q - A Celebration of Queer, Camp, & Cult Cinema, with themed pre-show drinks and a DJ set in the Music Box Lounge at 9pm. The drag show performance begins in the Main Theater at 9:45pm with the screening to follow. (1999, 98 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
Terry Gilliam's BRAZIL (UK)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Wednesday, 7pm
Terry Gilliam and Sam Lowryâtwo impossible dreamers haplessly lashing out against the powers that beâare the twin heroes of BRAZIL, one behind the camera and the other before it. The behind-the-scenes narrative of this dystopian masterpiece has attained mythic status, with Gilliam locked in heated battle against Universal over their insistence on a more audience-friendly cut of the film, all while the fate of put-upon office drone Lowry (played with beleaguered bafflement by Jonathan Pryce) hangs in the balance. In fairness, it's not hard to see how a studio would look askance at the film before them. Gilliam takes his budget and constructs what is essentially just a child's blanket fort on the largest scale imaginable; a bureaucratic quagmire built of tubes and cardboard, at times dangerously close to coming apart at the seams. It's a world where instability is constantly threatening to undermine the tightly wound internal logic that governs everything, where loose cogs in the machine like Sam Lowry become threats simply because the system isn't wired to accommodate them. Under these conditions, there's a very thin line between getting imaginative and getting mad, so it's little wonder Gilliam followed a similar path to his protagonist. BRAZIL, among the most fantastically dark and detail-rich science fiction flicks ever, wasâand remainsâa visionary work worth fighting for. Screening as part of the Programmerâs Picks series. (1985, 131 min, 35mm) [Tristan Johnson]
Daniel Goldhaberâs HOW TO BLOW UP A PIPELINE (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Tuesday, 6pm
Inspired by Andreas Malmâs nonfiction credo of the same name, Daniel Goldhaberâs HOW TO BLOW UP A PIPELINE may not prove satisfying for those looking for a literal instruction manual on eco-terrorism, but it certainly makes the case for itself as a successful case study in creating a film with leftist political leanings that never feels didactic or pandering. Its arguments are more cinematic than Socratic, translating rhetoric and theory into dialogue and action, trafficking in environmental justice messaging through the guise of a Soderberghian heist film. Goldhaber builds this structure around an escalating series of acts of vandalism, starting with the opening shot of a seemingly random carâs tires getting slashed. A pamphlet is left in the windshield of the vehicle, explaining to the absent driver why this act of supposedly minor property damage has occurred. It's but a precursor to the titular act of damage the full-blown destruction of an oil pipeline in Texas, instigated by a ragtag team of college radicals, mid-20s burnouts, and "ordinary" citizens at the end of their rope in an ever-increasing capitalist isolationist society. Keeping with its spirit of community organizing and fighting against individualism, Goldhaberâs film is a true ensemble effort, with each member of the "heist" team given extensive flashback sequences explaining how they got involved in the scheme, be it personal illness, disappoint in pacifist activism, or just genuine concern about fighting ever-rampant climate doomerism. Editor Daniel Garber is one of the most noteworthy players at hand, ratcheting up the tension of the eponymous plan with the clockwork precision of any great heist film, while finding the perfect potent moments to shine a light on the backstories, instilling humane empathetic stakes into this act of rebellion against corporate environmental toxicity. That HOW TO BLOW UP A PIPELINE succeeds as a fun and thrilling caper is a delight. That it does so while also embodying and relaying compelling arguments for ramping up the fight to save our planet, itâs enough to make your heart go boom. Screening as part of Shawn Michelle Smith and Oliver Sannâs Cli-Fi lecture series. (2022, 100 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
Tom Gustafsonâs GLITTER & DOOM (US)
Music Box Theatre â See Venue website for showtimes
Tom Gustafson, a director forever gunning for the title of âThe Baz Luhrmann of Independent Cinema,â has returned after his previous musical outingâthe neon-infused, time-traveling sex epic that was his screen adaptation of Michael John LaChiusaâs HELLO AGAIN (2017)âto craft another piece of visually overstimulating, queer-as-hell, earnest-to-the-high-heavens musical fantasia. Using the catalog of the Indigo Girls, Gustafson and creative collaborator Cory Krueckeberg have put together a cinematic jukebox musical telling a simple story of two men falling in love while they struggle with their respective artistic processes. Glitter (Alex Diaz) is a clown trying to get into a prestigious French clown school, even though his mother (Ming-Na Wen) wishes he had a real job. Doom (Alan Cammish) is an aspiring musician who canât write happy songs to save his life; he's also haunted by the demons left behind by his ex-con mother (Missi Pyle). Thereâs no attempt at subtlety in GLITTER & DOOM, which goes so far as to have these eponymous lovers carry names intrinsically tied to their character traits. The art of music and performance pervades every frame, with lyrics popping up onscreen from Doomâs notebook scribblings, and audition tapes for Glitterâs clowning become musical sequences in and of themselves. It all flows together like a series of loosely connected music videos that happen to be peppered with cameos from such varied performers as Lea DeLaria, Beth Malone, Peppermint, and Tig Notaro. It all leads to, what else, a performance of "Closer to Fine" that, if not as memorable as when it was deployed in the more mainstream BARBIE, is certainly a tad more emotionally resonant. (2023, 114 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
Spike Lee's CROOKLYN (US)
Alamo Drafthouse (3519 N. Clark St., Suite C301) â Saturday, 3:15pm
CROOKLYN is Spike Leeâs contribution to a rich cinematic subgenre, the autobiographical memory film. Like Tarkovskyâs THE MIRROR, Felliniâs AMARCORD, and Daviesâ DISTANT VOICES, STILL LIVES, the film is based on the directorâs childhood, and, like them, itâs designed to feel less like a story than a series of memories. It takes place in Brooklyn over the spring and summer of 1973, and for the first half-hour or so, Lee (who collaborated with siblings CinquĂ© and Joie Lee on the script) just rejoices in recreating this time and place. The weather is nice, kids play in the street, the music on the radio is killer, and people of all races more or less get along (the white neighbor played memorably by David Patrick Kelly is at worst an uptight weirdo). Leeâs filmmaking is as exuberant here as it was in SCHOOL DAZE, with the director trying out all sorts of cinematic devices as though he were a kid first discovering the medium. At the same time, CROOKLYN is as vivid a depiction of poverty as youâll find in mainstream American cinema of the 1990sâone memorable episode revolves around the main character (a nine-year-old girl presumably based on Joie) experiencing embarrassment over having to pay for groceries with food stamps. Alfre Woodard and Delroy Lindo play the parents of five children, and they do a good job of playing parents as children see themâtheir performances are warm and a little larger than life. Critics writing about this are all but forced to mention that Lee shot one scene in widescreen without anamorphically adjusting the image to create a disorienting effect. Used to convey the young heroineâs feelings of disorientation when she visits her religious, socially aspirational cousins in suburban Virginia, the device isâat least from this writerâs perspectiveâone of the more successful formal experiments in the directorâs accomplished body of work. (1995, 115 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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]
Denis Villeneuve's DUNE: PART TWO (US)
Music Box Theatre â See Venue website for showtimes
Denis Villeneuveâs colossal 190-million-dollar cosmic magnum opus, DUNE: PART TWO, has been released in 70mm. With returning collaborators, he continues to demonstrate skills accumulated over his career thus far. Originally set for release in October 2023, the studio stalled the opening of the film until November due to the 2023 Hollywood labor strikes, then pushing further to March 1, 2024. Following the success of OPPENHEIMER's touring prints in 70mm, DUNE followed a similar marketing campaign. At first, I felt skeptical viewing the movie in this format. I assumed it was a marketing ploy, following the heels of OPPENHEIMER and an excuse to sell a higher priced ticket for a film shot digitally. After walking out of the theater as the credits rolled, I realized I was wrong. 70mm always beautifully compliments the light exposed on the subjects in the frame. The celluloid experience adds a dreamlike element to a film full of visions, nightmares, monsters, and magic. Cinematographer Greig Fraser proves his powers behind the lens and proves comfortable with the ballet between film scans and digital exposures. His work is elevated through the work of editor Joe Walker, a former musical artist who has cut for heavy hitters like Steve McQueen and Michael Mann. A frequent collaborator of Villeneuve from SICARIO on, Walker finds a smooth rhythm, making a lengthy runtime fly by. Hans Zimmerâs captivating score, pulling sounds across time and cultures has become an aural signature for this director. The creative team assembles stunning intergalactic set pieces and fills each frame with vibrant color and light to ground the viewer in each world. It is rare to have an A-list cast work so well together. Everyone gives a strong performance in this space opera. Each recognizable face in DUNE: PART TWO supplements the story like a true ensemble. As counterparts, TimothĂ©e Chalamet and Zendaya continue to prove their status, hypnotizing the theater with their charming pathos. Entering in a nightmare-like sequence, Austin Butler disappears into his role as the psychotic Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Javier Bardemâs charisma as Stilgar adds life to each scene, with the audience anticipating his every moment of screentime. The first film of this series, DUNE (2021) remains faithful to Frank Herbertâs 1965 novel, a promise to Herbert fundamentalists that theyâre in good hands for the rest of Paul Atriedesâ story. As David Cronenberg has stated, "You must be unfaithful to be faithful to the source material." For this second film, Villeneuveâs script strays, showing epic battles only discussed passively by Herbertâs words. While some may take issue with these modifications to the story, I agree with Cronenbergâs assertion. For any literary work switching to screen, changes must be made to adjust to the medium of communication: the written word is a different experience than the image. Audiences should praise the directorâs achievement of translating page to screen. Although this sequel does not have the slow world building of its predecessor, it has its own gravitational pull, drawing the viewer in with its immense scale, stomach dropping in all aspects. Regardless of the box office numbers, itâs important to remember the voice behind the camera, providing justice to a literary phenomenon and maintaining their own unique style of cinematic storyteller. Although the film doesnât follow Herbertâs text religiously, anyone can experience the overwhelming potential of science fiction storytelling. (2024, 166 min, 70mm) [Ray Ebarb]
Noora Niasariâs SHAYDA (Australia)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
Violence against women is one of the most common plot devices in the entertainment industry, a situation that always strikes me as being as perverse as it is entrenched. Now, Iranian-born, Australian-bred Noora Niasari has chosen the topic for her debut feature film, SHAYDA. She comes by her interest honestly, having based the screenplay on her motherâs memoir and her own memories of living in a womenâs shelter while her mother sought a divorce from her abusive Iranian husband. What others peddle for cheap thrills, Niasari recalls with such truthful understanding that SHAYDA is a little bit of a miracle. We feel the edge on which Shayda (Zar Amir Ebrahimi) lives with her young daughter, Mona (Selina Zahednia), in the small oasis in Brisbane where the shelter âmother,â Joyce (Leah Purcell), keeps them safe until Shaydaâs divorce from Hossein (Osamah Sami) can be finalized. Shayda and Monaâs sense of displacement, fear, and lack of control come through even as they try to make the best of their circumstances and hang onto their culture. Farsi, not English, is the first language of SHAYDA, and we get an unexpectedly deep dive into Iranian culture not only through Shaydaâs celebration of Nowruz, the Persian New Year, but also through the disapproval of the Iranian community of which Shayda is a part. There are several harrowing scenes, but also ones of joy and hope that complicate the stereotypical view of abuse victims. SHAYDA is a deeply affecting film that benefits greatly from the chemistry between and stellar work of Amir Ebrahimi and Zahednia, the latter giving the best performance by a child actor that I have seen in many a year. By marrying the personal with the societal, SHAYDA underscores the widespread tragedy of violence against women that is deforming so many civilizations of the world. (2023, 117 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Abbas Kiarostamiâs TASTE OF CHERRY (Iran)
The Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures (1155 E. 58th St.) â Friday, 7pm
This is one of the great big-screen experiences, comparable in its effect to L'ECLISSE or 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. Like those films, Abbas Kiarostami's Palme d'Or winner confronts some of the essential questions of existence; while Kiarostami's approach may be more modest than Antonioni's or Kubrick's, the poetic simplicity of TASTE OF CHERRY assumes a monumental quality when projected. The plot is structured like a fable: A calm middle-aged man of apparently good economic standing drives around the outskirts of Tehran. Over the course of a day, he gives a ride to three separate hitchhikers; after engaging each in conversation, he asks if the stranger will assist him in committing suicide. That the succession of hitchhikers (young, older, oldest) suggests the course of the life cycle is the only schematic aspect of the film. Each encounter contains enough digressions to illuminate the magic unpredictability of life itselfânot only in the conversation, but also in the formal playfulness of Kiarostami's direction. The film is rife with the two shots that, paradoxically, form Kiarostami's artistic signature: the screen-commanding close-up of a face in conversation, eerily separated in space from the person he's talking to; and the cosmic long-shot of a single car driving quixotically across a landscape. Here, both images evoke feelings of isolation that are inextricable from human consciousness, yet the overall tone of the film is light, even bemused. The final sequence, one of the finest games conjured by a movie, sparked countless philosophical bull-sessions when TASTE OF CHERRY was first released, and it remains plenty mind-blowing today. With an introduction by ISAC Research Associate Professor Abbas Alizadeh. (1997, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Hayao Miyazakiâs THE BOY AND THE HERON (Japan/Animation)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
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]
Jonathan Glazer's THE ZONE OF INTEREST (US/UK/Poland)
FACETS Cinema â See Venue website 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]
đïž ALSO SCREENING
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, 2026. More info here.
â« Chicago Humanities
A preview of John Ridleyâs 2024 biopic SHIRLEY (116 min, DCP Digital) screens Monday, 6:30pm, at the Davis Theater as part of Chicago Humanities. Followed by a post-screening conversation with one of the filmâs stars, Christina Jackson, moderated by WBEZ reporter, Natalie Moore. More info here.
â« Chicago Public Library
View all screenings taking place at Chicago Public Library branches here.
â« Doc Films (at the University of Chicago)
Stanley Donenâs 1963 film CHARADE (113 min, 35mm) screens Tuesday, 7pm, as part of the series Americans in Paris: After the Dance.
Kinuyo Tanakaâs 1955 film FOREVER A WOMAN (110 min, DCP Digital) screens Thursday, 7pm, as part of the series Kinuyo Tanaka, Actress and Auteur. More info on all screenings here.
â« FACETS Cinema
As part of the SUPER-HORROR-RAMA! â CATS VS EVIL on Friday, John Gillingâs 1961 film THE SHADOW OF A CAT (79 min, Blu-ray Projection) screens at 7pm and Lewis Teagueâs 1985 Stephen King anthology film CATâS EYE (94 min, Blu-ray Projection) at 9pm. Purchase a double-feature ticket and get two limited-edition pinback buttons for free. Sponsored by The House of Monsters and presented in partnership with PAWS Chicago.
Cord Jeffersonâs 2023 film AMERICAN FICTION (117 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday at 1pm and 6pm. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« Film Studies Center (at the University of Chicago)
As part of the SUPER-HORROR-RAMA! â CATS VS EVIL on Friday, John Gillingâs 1961 film THE SHADOW OF A CAT (79 min, Blu-ray Projection) screens at 7pm and Lewis Teagueâs 1985 Stephen King anthology film CATâS EYE (94 min, Blu-ray Projection) at 9pm. Purchase a double-feature ticket and get two limited-edition pinback buttons for free. Sponsored by The House of Monsters and presented in partnership with PAWS Chicago.
Cord Jeffersonâs 2023 film AMERICAN FICTION (117 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday at 1pm and 6pm. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Anthony Chenâs 2024 film THE BREAKING ICE (97 min, DCP Digital) and Kevin Macdonaldâs 2024 documentary HIGH & LOW â JOHN GALLIANO (116 min, DCP Digital) screen this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
A Film Center Volunteer Interest Meeting takes place Wednesday at 7pm. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« Leather Archives & Museum (6418 N. Greenview Ave.)
The shorts program Geographies of Public Sex screens Saturday, 7pm, as part of the Fetish Film Forum. More info here.
â« Music Box Theatre
Roger Watkinsâ 1983 film CORRUPTION (79 min, DCP Digital) screens Friday at midnight. Programmed and presented by The Front Row and Olivia Hunter Wilke.
Tommy Wiseauâs 2003 film THE ROOM (99 min, DCP Digital) screens Friday at midnight. Wiseauâs 2023 film BIG SHARK (99 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday at midnight.
Hideaki Anno and Kazuya Tsurumakiâs 1997 anime THE END OF EVANGELION (87 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday at 11:30am and Thursday at 9:30pm.
Joel and Ethan Coenâs 1998 film THE BIG LEBOWSKI (120 min, DCP Digital) screens Monday at 7pm. Co-presented by the Second City Film School. 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 15 - March 21, 2024
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Kyle Cubr, Ray Ebarb, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Tristan Johnson, Ben Kaye, Nicky Ni