đœïž Crucial Viewing
James Whaleâs FRANKENSTEIN (US)
Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) â Wednesday, 7:30pm
When director Robert Florey left Universal Picturesâ FRANKENSTEIN two weeks before production started, the project was assigned to James Whale, who at that time had directed only a few films, none of them horror. That might seem like a rash decision on the part of Carl Laemmle Jr. (who, at 23, had already been producing movies for 8 years!), but Junior went one step further by giving Whale almost complete creative control. The new director went on to replace all but two scenes of Floreyâs script; his most impactful change was to make Frankensteinâs monster more of a âlost soulâ than a raging brute, yet his sensibility is all over the picture, with its wry humor, fine-chiseled performances, and theatrical blocking. (A successful theater director in England, Whale had been brought to Hollywood at the start of the sound age under the presumption that he would be a good director of dialogue, which he was.) Certain parts of the film are long since etched on the cultural memory: the fantastic castle, with its spires and lightning rods, where Frankenstein brings his monster to life; the villagers, all holding torches, chasing the monster to the windmill at the climax; and crucially the scene between the monster and the little girl, where the childâs innocence briefly brings out the sweetness in the monster. Whale doesnât deserve all the credit for the filmâs cultural impact (How many other films have been so influential for their make-up and production design alone?), but he does deserve a lot. It was his idea to approach FRANKENSTEIN as a fairy tale, and itâs this interpretation that now looms larger in the popular imagination than even Mary Shelleyâs, no matter how many more faithful adaptations have been made. Whaleâs personal success would not have so long a lifespan, however. After FRANKENSTEIN became a huge hit, Whale and Laemmle Jr. partnered on about ten more films over the next five years, a remarkable run of films that ranges from horror to screwball comedy to melodrama to the great musical SHOWBOAT (1936). When Junior was forced into retirement from movies (at the age of 28!) for his reckless spending, Whale lost his patron; after a few attempts at directing movies outside of Universal, he would retire from filmmaking too. Still, FRANKENSTEIN shows that when given creative control and the resources of a major studio, he could deliver one of the most memorable dreams of the 20th century. Preceded by Peter Tscherkasskyâs 2006 short film NOCTURNE (9 min, 35mm). (1931, 71 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
Clint Eastwoodâs THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY (US) & John Cassavetesâ GLORIA (US)
Highs & Lows at the Music Box Theatre â Monday, 7pm
Desire rests at the center of each of these flung-together features from Clint Eastwood and John Cassavetes, two directors often characterized by their brutish displays of cinematic machismo, yet they both succeed here in nimbly tackling matters of feminine introspection. Eastwoodâs THE BRIDGES OF MADISON COUNTY (1995, 134 mins, 35mm) finds its central matriarch bursting at the seams with a life unlived, passions unstirred, and true romance almost within reach. Alternately, Cassavetesâ GLORIA (1980, 122 mins, DCP Digital) isn't concerned with love in the carnal sense, but rather with maternal longing, its mafia caper inexplicably unlocking desires for parental fulfillment in the heroine that had been left otherwise untapped. These respective protagonists are similarly full of confidence and self-assuredness that become unmoored by the entry of a mysterious new masculine figure into their lives. For Meryl Streepâs Francesca, an Italian immigrant with a bustling domestic life, itâs the traveling photographer Robert Kincaid (Eastwood, serving double duty as director and performer), his blistering mop of gray hair and steely glare piercing right through Streepâs heart. For Gena Rowlands' titular Gloria Swenson, a brash Bronx broad who's seen it all and then some, itâs the precocious tyke Phil Dawn (a too-cute John Adames), all alone after his family is gunned down in a vicious act of mob payback. What's most enjoyable with the Highs & Lows series comes from seeing the myriad similarities between the two features and also the overt differences between them: GLORIA is all entertaining bombast, a blaring Bill Conti score piercing our ears from the get-go, providing a pulsating beat for Rowlands and her young companionâs journey through a sprawling metropolitan landscape. BRIDGES is rural where GLORIA is urban, its vast, open fields serving as calm environs, with Eastwoodâs patience and trust in his audience at such a height that he barely uses Lennie Niehausâ lush score until about an hour in. For all that might seem to differentiate Eastwoodâs yearning and Cassavetesâ madcap wild goose chase, both films provide emotionally fitting conclusions for their leading ladies, each getting their respective reunion with the man (or boy) who has changed her life forever. [Ben Kaye]
John Cassavetesâ OPENING NIGHT (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Wednesday, 7pm
After Myrtle Gordon (Gena Rowlands) watches an adoring young fan get hit by a car and die right outside the theater where sheâs performing in a new play, she experiences a sort of ego death. Rehearsals for and productions of the play, The Second Woman, written by playwright Sarah Goode (Joan Blondell), compose much of the action in John Cassavetesâ OPENING NIGHT, a self-reflexive examination of an artist contending with getting older and thus further and further away from the fervor of youth. âWhen I was 17, I could do anything,â Myrtle laments toward the beginning of the film. âIt was so easy, my emotions were so close to the surface. Iâm finding it harder and harder to stay in touch.â The play sheâs in mirrors her real life to an uncomfortable degree, though sheâs insistent that sheâs nothing like her character, Virginia, a resolutely middle-aged woman at a crossroads in both life and love. Her onstage partner and offstage ex is played by Cassavetes; Ben Gazarra is the playâs director, tasked with the herculean responsibility of making sure Myrtle appears on stage, on time, in the wake of an apparent breakdown. For the most part she does, though she begins with a series of minor disruptions during rehearsalsâsuch as balking when the script calls for Cassavetesâ Maurice to slap herâthat escalate, even as sheâs in front of an audience, into wholesale changes to the text, in an attempt to âdump it upside down and see if we canât find something human in it,â as she tells Maurice, trying to get him to let go with her. Earlier Maurice had told her sheâs not a woman to him anymore, sheâs a professional; Gazarraâs Manny tells her the same thing, discrediting the connection, even if Myrtle wonât quite admit it, she feels with Virginia, Myrtle wanting more for her character and by extension herself. She also has this dead girl, as she says at one point. The young woman who was killed at the beginning appears to her, at first a coy apparition and then a withering trickster, imbuing the films with a giallo-esque sensibility that complements the overall theme of a fractured self. The generally warm hues of the cinematography and the motif involving pops of bright redâfrom the walls, floors and decor at the theater and on the set in particular to the red bedspread and bar in Myrtleâs penthouse hotel room, which looks like something out of either an Argento or Fassbinder filmâlend the film to this comparison, as they add a sense of horror to the existential inquiry going on therein. The horror intensifies and then lets up at a critical point, when Myrtle has an epiphany vis-Ă -vis her performance, when she again reclaims her emotions and breaks the mold of aging star and complacent artist. It helps, too, that this occurs during a scene between Rowlands and Cassavetes, their chemistry dynamite. That Cassavetes might be considering his own ego death through a female character is interesting; itâs of course possible that itâs merely a technicality, as his co-auteur, Rowlands, just happened to be a woman, though I canât help but to wonder if there was safety to be had in expressing his feelings via a woman, for whom emotions are more accepted but also against whom accusations of so-called hysteria are often lobbed. The film didnât do too well when it opened in 1977, and it didnât get a distributor until 1991, two years after Cassavetes died. Much like Myrtle, the film had to suffer a spiritual death before being reborn. Screening as part of the Programmerâs Picks series. (1977, 144 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
Poetic Movements: Selected Films from Adele Friedman & Jean Sousa (US/Experimental)
Chicago Filmmakers â Friday, 7pm
This shorts program showcases two longtime Chicago-based experimental film artists who share a knack for portraiture and a poetic sense of timeâs passing. Adele Friedmanâs workâall of which will be presented on 16mmâspecifically considers the intersection between history and domestic space. In FRANĂOIS: A PLACE OF TIME (2015, 14 min), Friedman explores an apartment in western France where, in the filmmakerâs words, âobjects of family history are intertwined with antiques.â This work employs pans and sharp edits to convey what itâs like to move through the space and take in the various pieces on display. When François himself appears about halfway through to wind some old cocks, Friedman introduces the theme of stewardship, showing how human care is necessary to maintain this collection of fine objects. This theme is also contemplated in CHRISTIAN AND MICHAEL (2006, 9 min), which presents a Viennese museum curator, Christian, and his artist husband, Michael, at home in the apartment where Christian was raised. Here, Friedman alternates portraits of the art-bedecked space with aspects of the coupleâs domestic routine (playing solitaire, making coffee) to present how the subjectsâ present, day-to-day lives interact with their environment, with its complicated relationship to history. ROBERTâS PLACE (2004, 7 min) considers the apartment of art collector Robert Coale, who specializes in Victorian and Viennese artifacts. Friedmanâs camera slinks around the space, at one point even peering out at a room from behind a tall house plant, suggesting how fun it must be to live amongst such a collection. RED CLOUD (2016, 6 min) considers a historical personage as well as historical objects. Shot in the titular locationâthe Nebraska childhood home of author Willa Catherâthis short focuses on places in the town that have changed little since Cather was living there in the early 20th century. Devoid of people, the short makes time travel seem like a lonely experience. Loneliness also enters into some of the Jean Sousa shorts in this program (which will be presented digitally, with the exceptions of PATTERN IMPULSE and TODAY IS SUNDAY, which will screen from 16mm). ALVARO (2016, 6 min) realizes a poem by Alice Gonçalves Sousa about her deceased brother, to whom the poem is addressed. The delicate imagery, which includes snow, trees swaying in the wind, and a closed door, reflects a sense of vulnerability; the short achieves the difficult task of visualizing absence. Comparably, TODAY IS SUNDAY (1987, 18 min) conjures an atmosphere that is at once cozy and ominous. Shot in black-and-white 16mm, the work centers on impressions of a lazy day at the beach, with shots of water, sand, and a picnic on the grass. The cinematography renders these pleasant images shadowy and gray, hinting at unspoken, troubling feelings beneath the surface. The piece concludes with a chilling overhead shot of a woman walking alone on the sand, which conveys a sense of isolation that had been communicated more subtly previously. Sousaâs impressionistic approach is warmer in MEMENTO (2012, 5 min), a brisk montage of still images set to an Indian raga. Presenting a variety of domestic and outdoor locations, Sousa appeals to the pleasant emotions one experiences when reflecting on a vacation. When images of naked people and food enter into the mix, a sense of everyday intimacy begins to imbue the work. Some of Sousaâs collaborations with Chicago Film Archives are represented in the program: LIKE ATTRACTS LIKE (2020, 1 min), combines vintage imagery of dancing silhouettes with a Tom ZĂ© song to create a blast of positive energy, while THE MERMAID (2020, 8 min) places an Adrienne Rich poem over a striking melange of old footage that includes a local beauty pageant, women wrestlers, swimming, and burlesque dancers. Both of these pieces reflect a charmingly offbeat imagination and a vibrant sense of movement. Also in the program are Friedmanâs TONY (1979, 7 min) and UNTITLED II (1983, 7 min) and Sousaâs PATTERN IMPULSE (1979, 3 min) and THE LOSING BATTLE (2019, 5 min). [Ben Sachs]
Jon Jostâs WALKERVILLE (US/Experimental)
Chicago Filmmakers â Saturday, 7pm
The first title card of WALKERVILLE informs us that what weâre about to see is âa state of mind,â a clue that Jon Jost, Americaâs foremost underground filmmaker, is less interested in narrative than usual this time around. The film is a collection of vignettes, most of them concerning themes of failure, death, and decay, and most of them featuring a single actor, Gary Winterholler, who plays multiple characters, recites some poems, and also appears as himself. One of the characters introduces us to the movieâs setting of Walkerville, Montana. Itâs a town of about 700 people âup the hill from Butte,â he explains, before going on to mourn the loss of mining jobs in the region and subsequent exodus of much of the population. As the character is talking, Jost superimposes on one side of the frame another shot of Winterholler out of character, talking about his life as an actor. After he recounts his credentials, he sarcastically says, âAll of that for all of this,â as if to imply he doesnât have much to show for his career. Itâs a somber moment, and things donât get much brighter from there. âWhat makes a home is something else / a soulâs repose, a resting place / a calm respite from the worldâs endless angersâ is a key section from one of the poems that Winterholler recites, which points to one of the filmâs sub-themes (and a frequent subject of Jostâs work): the dark places of American life that people generally refuse to talk about, like the shots of Walkervilleâs ghostly residential district that recur throughout the movie. Near the end, Winterholler plays another character who delivers a monologue about his history of addiction, during which he admits to exploiting a child in heinous ways. Itâs chilling in the tradition of such Jost masterpieces as LAST CHANTS FOR A SLOW DANCE (1977) and THE BED YOU SLEEP IN (1993), in large part because itâs delivered in such a familiarly banal American idiom. The movie climaxes with a short documentary profile of Winterholler that shines a bit of light on the proceedings, suggesting that rebirth is always possible, even amidst depression and gloom. Jost in person. (2022, 70 min, Unconfirmed Format) [Ben Sachs]
Michael Glover Smith's RELATIVE (US)
Music Box Theatre â Wednesday, 7pm
In his writing on movies, both here at Cine-File and elsewhere, Michael Glover Smith has advanced an acute understanding of how the framing of performers in narrative cinema can underscore the emotions they express and how camera movement (or, put another way, the re-framing of performers in time) can develop viewersâ relationships to onscreen characters. Smithâs features as writer-director seem to grow directly out of his insights in this areaâdeceptively âdialogue-driven,â they express their greatest eloquence not with words but with mise-en-scĂšne. It matters in RELATIVE whether the principal characters are together in the same shot or whether theyâve been individuated by close ups; it matters whether we can distinguish whoâs in the background of a shot or whether those characters have been obscured. These things matter because the film is ultimately about the competing forces of community and individuality that shape our identities in 21st-century life and how we navigate between them almost constantly. The action in RELATIVE covers a few days before, during, and after a young manâs college graduation party on Chicagoâs far north side, a celebration that draws his two older sisters from out of state and his older brother (a divorced Iraq War veteran whoâs been slowly self-destructing for the past four years) out of seclusion in their parentsâ basement. Smith gracefully interweaves the lives of all four siblings, their liberal Baby Boomer parents, and a handful of other characters as they come together amiably and unhurriedly, employing the time-honored scenario of the big family gathering to consider how many of us live at the dawn of the 2020s. Not surprisingly, the internet factors into things (though thankfully not too much); so too do food co-ops, queer-straight alliances, and the social normalization of weed. Yet Smith has more on his mind than enumerating aspects of the zeitgeist; RELATIVE is also concerned with the legacy of the Baby Boom generation and, more generally, how each generation honors the previous one while taking a seemingly opposite approach to life. Yasujiro Ozu is an obvious reference point for this sort of laidback family portrait, though I was reminded more of critic-turned-filmmaker Bertrand Tavernierâs A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY (1984) in the low-key sociological thrust of the drama and of the first episode of Rainer Werner Fassbinderâs recently rediscovered miniseries EIGHT HOURS DONâT MAKE A DAY (1972-â73) in the polyphony of the extended graduation party sequence. For all its international flavor, however, RELATIVE is a local production first and foremost, reflecting its makerâs deep affection for the neighborhoods he calls home. Featuring a post-screening Q&A with Smith and cast members Wendy Robie, Melissa DuPrey and Emily Lape, moderated by Cine-File contributor Meg Fariello. (2022, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Luchino Visconti's ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS (Italy)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Saturday, 7pm
Even if he claimed to be a lifelong Communist, Count Luchino Visconti di Modrone remains cinema's definitive aristocrat. He co-invented neo-realism but abandoned it for the filmic equivalent of neoclassicism. His films about the poor are decorated with a baroque poverty (see: LE NOTTI BIANCHI): the attention to detail of someone trying to depict a culture they can't quite understand. Visconti's merits are the same as his flaws; these very tendencies could bring out the best and worst (DEATH IN VENICE) in him. What tended to do him in was tastefulness, and thankfully ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS is tasteless and the betterâand freerâfor it; it has neither the tastefulness of being short (it's almost three hours long), nor the tastefulness of being melancholic (its "ugly" unsentimentality is more aching than DEATH IN VENICE's longing), nor even the tastefulness to restrain Visconti's decadent fetishization of impoverished toughness. Cine-File contributor Ben Sachs once said that showing people at work was one of the most subversive things a film could do. Visconti's approach to indicating that his characters are poor is to show their threadbare clothes and harsh living conditions; he never understood that the worst thing about being working class isn't having few possessions, but the working itself. Still, what he sets out to do in ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS is subversive in its odd, aristocratic way: to create a beggar's opera. Screening as part of the Programmerâs Picks series. (1960, 177 min, 35mm) [Ignatiy Vishnevetsky]
Lee Chang-dong: Redemption and Revelations
Gene Siskel Film Center â See below for showtimes
Lee Chang-dongâs PEPPERMINT CANDY (South Korea)
Saturday, 3pm
Not only is PEPPERMINT CANDY a searing character study; itâs also a useful introduction to South Korean history in the last two decades of the 20th century. Moreover, each aspect of the film reinforces the other, resulting in something of an Erich Fromm-like social-psychological assessment of the national character. Young-ho, played by Sol Kyung-gu in a relentlessly intense performance, represents all the worst qualities of the modern South Korean psyche. Shortly into his military service in 1980âthe year that South Koreaâs military staged a coup dâĂ©tat and declared martial lawâYoung-ho accidentally kills a college student as a result of wanting to look tough with a rifle. When he transitions out of the military to the police force during the height of the military dictatorship later in the decade, he begins to torture the suspects he picks up, seeming to take pleasure from inflicting pain. During South Asiaâs economic boom in the early 1990s, he becomes a businessman and abandons all morals in his pursuit of money; and when he loses his job at the end of the decade, he declares himself worthless and makes a pathetic spectacle of himself at a high school reunion before committing suicide by jumping in front of a train. One of the brilliant devices of Lee Chang-dongâs screenplay is to tell this story backward, beginning with Young-hoâs suicide, then presenting episodes that go further and further back in time, as if digging for clues to his self-destruction. Young-ho almost never emerges as likable in this journey: besides being a sadist, heâs also a reckless narcissist who cheats on his wife and hurts the only woman he ever loves. (His eternal feminine is played by the great actress Moon So-ri, seen here in her screen debut; her second film would be Leeâs even better OASIS [2002].) The visual style is unforgiving. Leeâs favorite approach to a scene is to film the whole thing from one position (pointed down from a slightly elevated position, if possible) so that everyone seems trapped in the shot. This analytical aesthetic, replete with depictions of cruelty, might bring to mind Michael Hanekeâs films, but Lee is ultimately a humanist. He wants to assess South Koreaâs psychological problems not to wallow in them, but in the hopes of solving them. PEPPERMINT CANDY ends, notably, with Young-ho as a naive idealist who wants nothing more than to take photographs and be nice to people. (1999, 130 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Lee Chang-dong's SECRET SUNSHINE (South Korea)
Sunday, 3pm
SECRET SUNSHINE begins with a shot of the sky and ends with a shot of the ground, and could therefore be described as a nearly 2 1/2-hour downward pan: from milieu to character, from ambitions to realities, from action to aftermath, and from a higher calling to its failure to its fitful application. This drawn-out movement isn't readily obvious, and a first impression of the film tends to be dominated by its unpredictability: where the story is going (and, considering Lee Chang-dong's elliptical matter-of-factness, how quickly it'll get there), and, by the second hour, what Jeon Do-yeon's character will do at any given moment. That the movie manages to be simultaneously sprawling (in terms of plot and characterization) and compact (in terms of pacing and setting) owes a lot to the strength of Lee's style, which seems off-the-cuff at first, but slowly reveals its rigor; it's a carefully-designed middle-ground that allows SECRET SUNSHINE to pass through numerous genre shifts (drama, comedy, thriller, tragedy) without ever seeming to over-extend itself. (2007, 142 min, DCP Digital) [Ignatiy Vishenvetsky]
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Lee Chang-dong's POETRY (South Korea)
Monday, 6:30pm
The evolution of Lee Chang-dong from storyteller to soothsayer has been one of the glories of contemporary movies. A former novelist (and high school teacher before that), Lee began his filmmaking career in the energetic, confrontational manner that's marked so much recent Korean cinema. His first films as director, GREEN FISH and PEPPERMINT CANDY, are cannily placed needles in the national nerve; but his third, OASIS, is a revelation, one of the watershed moments in South Korean cinema. A romance between disabled characters that's neither sentimental or schematic or flippantly unkind, it demonstrated how a curiosity about challenging social taboos (a near-constant in the Korean New Wave) could blossom into a study of humanity, period. It is one of the finest films ever made about the opposing forces of love and civic propriety. After a four-year stint as South Korea's Minister of Culture, Lee made SECRET SUNSHINE, a film about the inevitabilities of suffering and spiritual awakening that already seemed timeless shortly after its release. And then, POETRY. The main character, Mija (played by '60s Korean icon Yoon Jeong-hee, who came out of retirement for the role), is an elderly woman deprived, by circumstance, of companionship and anxious to rediscover life by learning to write poems. Like much of Lee's work, this sounds potentially maudlin, though the realization of the material is anything but. As in the case of Jeon Do-yeon's character in SECRET SUNSHINE, Lee reveals different facets of Mija's personality through impulsive, often furtive action without ever betraying an audience's initial impression of her. Combined with the narrative unpredictability that has defined the director's best work, the result is a multi-faceted film that is inseparableâformally as well as structurallyâfrom its central character. (2010, 139 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky]
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Lee Chang-dong's BURNING (South Korea)
Thursday, 6:30pm
âItâs a metaphor.â Spoken by the inexplicably wealthy, smugly superior Ben (Steven Yeun) after he equates cooking at home to making offerings to the Gods, this line, like so much of the teasingly elusive BURNING, hints that weâre in delicately self-reflexive territory in Lee Chang-dongâs latest. Itâs one of a tantalizing series of moments, mostly generated by Yeunâs perpetually smirking and vaguely otherworldly character, that draws us ever deeper into the filmâs porous reality, where our unreliable narrator Jongsuâs (Yoo Ah-in) confounded perspective makes us question the veracity of what weâre seeing. The mysteries start accruing early, when Jongsu, a barely employed, young aspiring writer, happens upon Haemi (Jeon Jong-seo), a girl from his childhood neighborhood whom he canât remember. Haemi is off to Africa, and sheâll need Jongsu to feed her cat while sheâs away, but like the phantom tangerine she pantomimes over dinner, there is no trace of the cat. For a while, anyway, Haemi seems to offer the romantic companionship Jongsu has been missing, but when she returns from Africa with Ben in tow, the rich, possibly sinister interloper unleashes in Jongsu a cascade of latent anxieties, desires, and resentments that are as socioeconomically based as they are libidinal. In the thorny, unmistakably homoerotic relationship between the sullen working-class Jongsu and the suave new-moneyed Ben, Lee articulates a dynamic underpinned equally by class antagonism and envy, by a disdain for a callous power elite as well as by the aspirations of a young generation, evident especially in eastern Asian countries such as South Korea, to assimilate the goals of global capitalism. Like Haemi, who oscillates (perhaps uneasily) between economically desperate millennial and male sexual fantasy projection, Ben is a slippery subject, a recognizable brand of entitled affluent hotshot who nevertheless appears like a kind of taunting phantasm. It is a mark of Steven Yeunâs sneaky performative prowess that he can make Ben feel like both a plausibly malicious person and a free-floating metaphor for modernity and toxic masculinity, every ingratiating grin and forced yawn an invitation to confront the banally seductive face of evil. BURNING refers, most denotatively, to Benâs avowed habit of burning down abandoned greenhouses, but what it really describes is the psychological unease that smolders in places both rural and urban, sparked by the conditions of a society pervaded by inequality and disaffection. We canât be sure if everything Jongsu thinks happens literally does. Then again: itâs a metaphor. (2018, 148 min, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
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Also playing are Leeâs first feature GREEN FISH (1997, 111 min, DCP Digital) on Friday at 8:15pm and his third feature OASIS (2002, 133 min, DCP Digital) on Saturday at 5:45pm. More information about the series here.
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
Alain Kassandaâs COCONUT HEAD GENERATION (Nigeria/France/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
Nigerian writer and activist Oluwatosin Faith Kolawole supplied the phrase director Alain Kassanda used to title his look at the Gen Z college students of their country: âWe have been called the phone-pressing generation, lazy youths, irresponsible, jobless, the stubborn generation with âcoconut heads.â But what do you say when we take these insults, own them, and throw them back at the older generation to let them know that we can be all of these and fabulous regardless? Only a stubborn generation will not be comfortable with mediocrity and wonât stop fighting until they get what they want.â COCONUT HEAD GENERATION focuses primarily on students attending the University of Ibadan (UI) in Oyo State, particularly a film club that aims to do more than just show movies. The students are shown discussing progressive issues and program choices (we hear and see Angela Davis in THE BLACK POWER MIX-TAPE 1967-1975 [2011] in one sequence) with the aim of stimulating dialogue after the screenings. But Kassanda goes much further than a look at a film club to explore UIâs exploitation of the students through their housing policies and complaints over the mediocre education they provide and the lack of job opportunities for most of their graduates. The students hold heated debates over feminism, colonialism, and tactics to reform the ineffectual, oppressive government. Many of them are involved in the #EndSARS movement, calling for the disbanding of the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), a brutal, corrupt police unit. Things come to a tragic head on October 20, 2020, when the Nigerian Army kill 11 anti-SARS protesters and wound many more in what the students call the Lekki Massacre, an event unacknowledged by the government to this day. Kassanda makes it clear that these studentsâ concerns are shared by young people throughout the country, a notion brilliantly evoked by a prose poem one of the students recites to a rapt audience. Jazzy music by the multinational collective Apkass and evocative photos by Obayomi Anthony Ayodele provide a rhythm for and window onto the daily lives of the Nigerian people. Given the current protests on campuses across the United States, COCONUT HEAD GENERATION is a timely reminder that the liberalism of todayâs younger generation may be challenged, sometimes with deadly force, but it will not be denied. (2023, 89 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
George A. Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD (US)
Music Box Theatre â Tuesday and Wednesday, 7pm
Writing about DAWN OF THE DEAD on first release, Dave Kehr likened George A. Romero to Jonathan Swift, highlighting the fierce moral vision behind the writer-directorâs grisly social satire. This comparison isnât inaptâthe bluntness with which characters in DAWN confront matters of life and death might remind you of âA Modest Proposalââbut I think Mark Twain is a closer point of reference. Like Twain, Romero worked in a wholly American idiom; his best films are independent, tough, and colloquial. Theyâre also bracingly democratic: DAWN OF THE DEAD, for instance, provides one of cinemaâs greatest capitalist fantasies (the heroes get to enjoy an entire shopping mall to themselves) as well as one of its greatest anticapitalist jokes (pace Kehr, the film equates wholesale shopping with wholesale slaughter). It would be short-sighted to claim the film endorses a particular stance toward capitalism, as what makes DAWN endure as art is the gracefulness with which Romero moves between different philosophical positions based on what the situations necessitate. Indeed, few films render so palpable the challenge of maintaining your morality when youâre struggling to survive. Romeroâs ability to juggle complex moral issues with deftly executed violence and off-the-cuff humor is never less than exhilarating; moreover, he imagines the filmâs apocalyptic American landscape so vividly that DAWN would be a masterpiece for the immersive storytelling alone. Thanks to Romeroâs Twain-like feel for all-American faces and spaces, the environment is eerily, funnily similar to the one we already inhabit. In addition to the shopping mall, the memorable settings include a housing project and a small-time TV news studio; the cast, bereft of movie stars, resembles people youâd see on the street. The filmâs anonymous qualities are thrown into relief by Tom Saviniâs highly imaginative makeup and gore effects, which remain the gold standard for the genre. Ken Foree in person for a post-screening Q&A and in the Music Box Lounge before and after the screening to sell merchandise and sign autographs. Note: the Wednesday screening is in 3D. (1979, 127 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Kinuyo Tanakaâs LOVE UNDER THE CRUCIFIX (Japan)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Thursday, 7pm
The last film that Kinuyo Tanaka got to direct conveys a bold, fatalistic sensibility comparable to that of Kenji Mizoguchi, for whom Tanaka acted on multiple occasions. (In a sad irony, Mizoguchi was one of the people in the Japanese film industry who tried to prevent Tanaka from directing.) Itâs a historical tragedy set primarily indoors but shot in widescreen and vibrant color. Tanaka uses these formal elements to underscore how limited and dour the charactersâ lives are, though she also creates a charged atmosphere that seems primed for the characters to reach some kind of catharsis. Set in the late 16th century, LOVE UNDER THE CRUCIFIX unfolds against the backdrop of feudal war and a shifting political climate. Ogin (Ineko Arima), a tea masterâs daughter, falls madly in love with the married daimyo (feudal lord) who introduced her to Christianity when she was a teenager. At her parentsâ insistence, she marries another man whom she doesnât love; her agony increases when Christianity is outlawed and the man she does love is sent into exile. Ogin experiences more suffering after that, but the film never becomes monotonous; Tanakaâs direction of actors is superb, eliciting rich drama from small and grand gestures alike. Her approach to the story on the whole is probing, considering the theme of doomed love on emotional, historical, and religious terms. Those terms tend to shift from scene to scene, making this an intellectually provocative experience as well as a deeply moving one. Screening as part of the Kinuyo Tanaka, Actress and Auteur series. (1962, 102 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
John Watersâ SERIAL MOM (US)
Alamo Drafthouse â Saturday, 3:30pm
Perhaps not the best John Waters film, and definitely not the most influential, but without a doubt the movie he was working toward his entire career. The trajectory of his transgressive â60s and â70s Warhol meets Wishman, arthouse for the grindhouse films was always aiming toward the mainstream. Waters looked to subvert and knew that the more mainstream you are, the more subversive you can be. Plus, he's a populist at heart and has never been shy about his love of Big Hollywood. So, after the surprise breakout success of HAIRSPRAY (1988) and critical love for CRY BABY (1990), he decided to leave the world of â50s subgenres like dance films and J.D. films behind and go for the least âJohn Watersâ type of story possible, a family comedy. But of course, he couldn't possibly have it be totally normal. Presented as a true crime biopic, SERIAL MOM follows the story of Beverly Sutphin, a seemingly perfectly average suburban homemaker. A dutiful and loving wife and mother, Sutphin is actually completely deranged when alone. Played to perfection by Kathleen Turner, we see that she secretly gets perverse joy from making obscene phone calls to her neighbors and that she scrapbooks news clippings about serial killers. When a teacher insults one of her kids at a parent teacher conference, she gets revenge by running them over in the parking lot. Now having a taste for blood, she starts killing people whom she feels are breaking the rules of polite society. Even when Waters wants to make a film about a loving family who sticks together no matter what, he can't help but be John Waters. But what really makes SERIAL MOM the high-water mark of his career is its cultural context. This is the exact moment the culture met John Waters where he was at. The saturation of the 24-hour news cycle. Tabloid journalism as news. News as entertainment. When infamy became interchangeable with fame. This was the first time you could make a family comedy about serial killing and not have it be taken as being purely in bad taste. It's so prescient of where American society was heading that it's now almost quaint. It's no surprise that this seems to be the last Waters film that people have a visceral love for. It was the last time John Waters could possibly be seen as being more distasteful than the news and the daily media being presented to the average American. It's the movie Waters was always trying to, hoping to, working to makeâa fully accessible film based on an utterly trashy conceit. Utterly distasteful but with a veneer of family friendliness, the satire of SERIAL MOM reveals how morally disgusting Americans really are. That our moral fabric is threadbare at best. This is a high camp j'accuse in the vernacular of populist low art. A dumb movie for smart people. Undeniable proof that John Waters is America's Only Director. (1994, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
Charles Burnettâs MY BROTHERâS WEDDING (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Monday, 7pm
One of the elder statesmen of U.S. independent film is Charles Burnett. Burnett has created some of the most original portrayals of the lives and culture of the Black American community available today. The second feature he made after his stunning feature film debut, KILLER OF SHEEP (1978), is an energetic family dramedy made mainly with first-time actors and family members called MY BROTHERâS WEDDING, a 1983 film rescued and restored in 2007 by Dennis Doros and Amy Heller of the invaluable Milestone Films. For days now, Iâve confused the name of this film in my head, calling it âMy Brotherâs Keeper.â This isnât just a susceptibility error. It goes pretty much to the heart of this filmâs central dilemma. Pierce Mundy (Everett Silas) is 30 years old, lives at home with his parents, and works at their dry-cleaning business in Los Angelesâ Watts neighborhood. His failure to launch stems from his difficulty finding work as a heavy equipment operator and his own immaturity. He doesnât have a girlfriend and looks forward to the day he can knock around with his neâer-do-well best friend Soldier (Ronnie Bell), due to be released from prison in a couple of weeks. Pierceâs mother (Jessie Holmes) is a no-nonsense matriarch who, nonetheless, puts very little pressure on Pierce to get out and make something of his life. Her older son Wendell (Dennis Kemper) is her prideâa lawyer engaged to marry Sonia (Gaye-Shannon Burnett, the directorâs wife), a lawyer from a well-to-do family. Pierce despises and regularly insults Sonia and her family, but it is apparent that Pierceâs sense of aimlessness, inferiority when compared with Wendell and Soniaâs social standing, and loyalty to the âhood are affecting his behavior rather than any strong social convictions. When Soldier does return, he and Pierce wrestle and run through the streets like 10-year-old boys playing hooky from school, boding ill for Soldierâs promises to straighten up and fly right. The film is shot through with humorous situations, incorporating minor characters who add a great deal to the proceedings. I particularly liked Angela (Angela Burnett, the directorâs daughter), a teenage girl who hangs out at the dry cleaners talking to Pierce about her âstomachâ (menstrual) pains and asking Pierce to go with her to the prom in two years, when sheâs old enough to have a prom. Burnett fille is a real natural in her awkward flirtation and bald-faced resentment at not being taken seriously. In an unexpected twist, Pierce is put in the position of choosing between Soldier and his brother. His choice, like his life, is muddled. In trying to be both brothersâ keeper, he fails them both. This film clearly was made on location with a shoestring budget. Burnettâs first-time actors donât so much give a performance as use their deep understanding of his chosen milieu to imbue his scenario with a sense of lived experience. Silas and Holmes, in particular, anchor this film with their son/mother relationship. The director has a very different take on similar territory that Spike Lee explores, one that is largely apolitical and more interested in culture than outright polemics. Nonetheless, in his simply complex tales, Burnett makes his points about the place of Black Americans in the larger society. Screening as part of the Apparitions: An Assemblage of Black Independent Films series. (1983/2007, 81 min, Digital Projection) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Alejandro Jodorowsky's THE HOLY MOUNTAIN (Mexico)
Music Box Theatre â Friday and Saturday, Midnight
Two sects of toads, garbed as Aztecs and Conquistadors, wage war across a model recreation of Tenochtitlan in a bloody and explosive show staged for a gathering crowd. This early scene in THE HOLY MOUNTAIN recalls another celebrated surrealist text, Antonin Artaud's theoretical Theatre of Cruelty, which similarly maps the infamous Mesoamerican massacre onto the destruction and rebirth of an artistic medium. Of course, Artaud's scope encompassed a radical overhaul of the stagnating state of theater, while the change Jodorowsky's film seeks to affect comes from within the viewer, but much in the spirit of The Theatre and its Double, THE HOLY MOUNTAIN strands the spectator as the very center of the objet d'art, and in a kind of out-of-body experience, immerses them wholly in the spectacle. Powered by meditation, LSD, and a bankroll from John and Yoko, the film tells the story of a humble thief, repeatedly depicted as a Christ-like figure, who one day ascends a tower and falls under the tutelage of the enigmatic alchemist residing therein. The allegory amps up as they acquire the assistance of the seven most powerful individuals under the sun, and together they embark on a journey to the titular sacred mountain. But all this is filtered through Jodorowsky's kaleidoscope, complete with disorienting aerial shots and eerily elegant mirror images, hallucination fuel for those not already under the influence. It's the stuff midnight movies are made of, and wouldn't you know, that's exactly when you can catch it this Friday and Saturday. (1973, 114 min, 35mm) [Tristan Johnson]
Rose Glassâ LOVE LIES BLEEDING (US)
FACETS Cinema â See Venue website for showtimes
Director Rose Glassâ acclaimed first feature SAINT MAUD told a story about a woman navigating crushing loneliness, combining body horror with a shocking, yet powerful, disturbing ending. Her follow-up film, LOVE LIES BLEEDING, is similarly surprising in its scenes of intense violence and distinctive body horror; the film is, however, focused on staving off loneliness, focusing on the extremes of love and fixation, what one will or wonât do to protect the person they most care about. Lou (Kristen Stewart), a withdrawn manager at a local gym in New Mexico, meets Jackie (Katy OâBrian), a drifter whoâs on her way to Vegas to participate in a bodybuilding competition. Thereâs an instant, intense, romantic connection and Jackie moves in with Lou, who also introduces her to steroids. Jackie quickly becomes addicted, with violent outbursts and hallucinations that threaten their newfound relationship. Louâs situation is also complicated by her family: sheâs estranged from her local crime leader father (Ed Harris) and constantly concerned about the safety of her sister (Jenna Malone), whose husband (Dave Franco) is physically abusive. This collision of love and family leads to intense violence. The body horror in particular feels unexpected in its strangenessâmuch of the visuals are connected to Jackieâs transformation on steroids. The southwestern setting is depicted as vast and emptyâGlass renders the space quite alien. She also uses a pulsating sound design to emphasize the eccentricity of the world she presents, grounding it in real life while disorienting the audience; as it's set in the late 80s, LOVE LIES BLEEDING also includes an incredible synth pop soundtrack. The film is also humorous, taking its subject matter seriously while acknowledging how extreme and bizarre is the situation in which Lou and Jackie find themselves. Ultimately, theyâre striving for a love-story finale regardless of what might follow them. (2024, 104 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Archie Mayoâs THE DOORWAY TO HELL (US)
FACETS Cinema â Saturday, 7:30pm
THE DOORWAY TO HELL is part of a cadre of early pre-code gangster films, perhaps the most auspicious, that walked so subsequent Warner Bros. gangster films LITTLE CAESAR, THE PUBLIC ENEMY and SCARFACEâthe holy trinity, now fully ensconced in the canonâcould run; sound cinema, which was just then emerging, clearly lent itself to a subgenre that would become synonymous with parades of gunshots and fast-talking mobsters. Lew Ayres, fresh off his star-making turn in Lewis Milestoneâs ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (1930) and hired despite looking too young and too clean-cut to play a mob boss, is Louis Ricarno, the so-called âNapoleon of the Underworld,â a young Chicago gangster who makes waves as he brings together the cityâs disparate criminal factions into one smooth-running racketeering operation. Just as quickly as he commands order, he falls in love with aspiring gangster moll Doris (Dorothy Mathews) and gets out of the game, heading down to Florida to live in peace while the world he left behind again descends into turmoil. His cronies back home in Chicagoâand even his own wife, whoâs revealed to be a gold digger in love with Louisâ right-hand man, Mileaway (James Cagney, in his second film)âwant him back in Chicago to again bring order to the syndicate. Prompted by personal tragedy, Louis does go back, though the return becomes his Waterloo. Based on a story by Rowland Brown, who was nominated for an Oscar for Writing (Original Story), and directed by Archie Mayo, THE DOORWAY TO HELL is a compact little number thatâs unmerciful in both its cynicism and bloodshed. Iâve read claims that the film also originated such tropes as hiding weapons in music cases and is said to be the first inspired by Chicagoâs own Al Capone. While Ayres doesnât completely sell it, Cagneyâs talent for this particular kind of role is evident, portending his rise to being one of the best. Screening as part of Speakeasy Cinema. This cabaret-style screening treats Chicago film fans to Prohibition-era films, craft cocktails, and live jazz vibes. Programmed by Raul Benitez with live jazz tunes by Alchemist Connections. Seating is very limited, tickets include 1 drink token, and non-alcoholic options are available for audience members under 21. (1930, 78 min, Unconfirmed Format) [Kat Sachs]
Rainer Werner Fassbinder's THE BITTER TEARS OF PETRA VON KANT (West Germany)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Friday, 7pm and 9:30pm
Rainer Werner Fassbinder was not yet 28 when he released the film adaptation of THE BITTER TEARS OF PETRA VON KANT, yet he had already written and directed a dozen features. This set of factors helps explain why the movie feels at once youthful and mature. On the one hand, PETRA VON KANT (which Fassbinder originally staged as a play in 1971) exudes a brash defiance of conformism; itâs a profoundly angry work about how we internalize the oppressive order of capitalist society and replicate it in our personal affairs. On the other hand, the film reflects the confidence of a master artist: the eloquent camera movements, bold visual compositions, and astute manipulation of melodramatic conventions combine to make the cynical message feel like the stuff of earned wisdom. The action takes place exclusively in the apartment of the titular fashion designer (played by Margin Carstensen) and charts the rise and fall of her romance with a younger model, Karin (Fassbinderâs supreme muse Hanna Schygulla). The narcissistic Petra thinks sheâs flaunting convention with her lesbian affair, and in the tradition of classical tragedy, her pride signals a fallâblinded by her infatuation with the younger, flightier Karin, Petra fails to recognize that her beloved does not love her back. Fassbinder embraced melodrama, in part, because he saw in the highly theatrical form a means of critiquing the unnatural conventions of society at large, in this case competition, oneupmanship, and exploitation. (Fassbinder took flak for showing that these conventions could be replicated even in a historically marginalized community, yet in hindsight, this decision underscores the universality of his concerns.) Yet he also loved melodrama for its ability to stir viewersâ emotions, and indeed, PETRA VON KANT is a heartbreaking experience in spite of (or perhaps because of) its cynicism. The film may be as crammed with movie referencesâthe all-female cast recalls George Cukorâs THE WOMEN (1939), the central relationship recalls Joseph L. Mankiewiczâs ALL ABOUT EVE (1950), and the sinuous tracking shots and ostentatious mise-en-scĂšne evokes the work of Josef von Sternbergâbut the force of Fassbinderâs anger cuts through the distancing devices. Screening as part of the Board Picks series. (1972, 124 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Radu Jude's DO NOT EXPECT TOO MUCH FROM THE END OF THE WORLD (Romania)
FACETS Cinema â See Venue website for showtimes
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Saturday, 3pm
DO NOT EXPECT TOO MUCH FROM THE END OF THE WORLD is completely unhinged with an overwhelming sense of immediacy; it also feels impressively controlled in its chaos. Itâs humorous, in large part due to its main performance, but also wholly serious. Itâs generally a biting political satire of the current state of things, but it focuses on the struggle of everyday people, the horrors of modern technology, and the damaging effects of work culture. Overworked and suffering from lack of sleep, Angela (a compelling Ilinca Manolache) is a PA working on a multinational corporationâs video about work safety; her task is to drive around Bucharest interviewing potential participants. She spends most of her time in her carâshe also works for Uber on the sideâand Jude parallels this with moments from ANGELA MOVES ON, a 1981 film by Romanian director Lucian Bratu. The earlier film is about a taxi driver also named Angela (Dorina Lazar), also driving the streets of Bucharest. Itâs an interesting internal comparison, but it becomes profound when Bratuâs Angela, played by the same actress, shows up as a relative of one of the current Angelaâs participants; their interaction makes for the sincerest and most illuminating moments of the film. It's also the most striking example of how DO NOT EXPECT travels across time, challenging the audienceâs ideas about fiction, non-fiction, and the filmmaking processes in general. Current Angela also creates TikToks as an Andrew Tate-inspired persona using an AI filter, streaming the crudest of material from her phone; the streams are presented in full color, while our dystopian present is in black and white. Sheâs also not afraid to question the state of things around her, shining a light on how those in power place the blame for any injustices on the workers, leaving them to deal with the fallout of unsafe work conditions. DO NOT EXPECT ends with a nearly 40-minute uninterrupted shot of the filming of the work safety promotional video. Itâs impossible to fully flesh out everything this film presents, just as it contains so many instances of screens within screens, stories within stories, reflected and refracted, asking âto what end?â (2023, 163 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Park Chan-wook's THE HANDMAIDEN (South Korea)
Music Box Theatre â Thursday, 9:45pm
Widely known for his Revenge Trilogy, which includes the seminal OLDBOY, Park Chan-wook's films have frequently employed the use of retribution. His latest work, although less violent than some of his previous outings, finds the Korean director swimming in familiar waters. In THE HANDMAIDEN, a swindler is hired by a Japanese heiress (set to inherit an exorbitant amount of priceless books) to be her handmaiden; but she is secretly planning to steal her employerâs fortune by having the heiress committed to an insane asylum through the help of her partner, who plans to marry her. The film is divided into three parts, with each part building upon the previous as new twists and wrinkles are exposed through perspective shifts. The resulting web is complex and mischievous. The love story is equal parts passionate and perverted. Love of all kinds is explored and Park does not shy away from sensual moments. From gorgeous cherry blossom trees to rolling fog over a river, the cinematography captures everything in a large depth of field. This added clarity helps to show off what's at stake (such as the heiress's gigantic estate) as well as to provide the audience with more screen real estate in which to catch clues. THE HANDMAIDEN finds Park in peak creative form thanks to its captivating source material, dynamic cast, and beautiful undertones. Presented by Ramona Slick and Rated Q - A Celebration of Queer, Camp, & Cult Cinema. Enjoy pre-show drinks and a DJ set in the Music Box Lounge starting at 9pm. (2016, 144 min, DCP Digital) [Kyle Cubr]
Elizabeth Coffman and Mark Boscoâs FLANNERY (US/Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center ââ Sunday, 12:30pm, 3:15pm and 6pm
Elizabeth Coffman and Mark Boscoâs documentary FLANNERY animatedlyâin some instances literallyâtells of the work and life of influential and controversial mid 20th-century southern writer Flannery OâConnor. The film follows OâConnorâs Catholic upbringing in Georgia, focusing on her early creativity as a cartoonist in college and her stints studying writing at the University of Iowa and at Yaddo in Saratoga Springs to her first, enigmatic novel, Wise Blood, and finally her popular success. Diagnosed with lupus, OâConnor passed away before turning forty. The documentary provides a solid introduction to OâConnorâs work, interviewing those that knew her, fans, and literary critics, and emphasizing how her Catholicism, southern background, and health all profoundly shaped her writing. FLANNERY also directly speaks to the racist language she used and her engagement with racism throughout her work. Dishearteninglyâthough it somewhat addresses the subjectâthe documentary fails to wholly grapple with the racism that appears in her personal writings, even excusing it. Just as the documentary dodges a complete and honest examination of the complex and problematic aspects of OâConnorâs thoughts on race, neither does it fully capture the described grotesque darkness found in her work despite the filmâs dynamic bricolage of talking heads, archive footage, photographs, audio, and animation. The best parts of FLANNERY are those which analyze the deeper meaning of her work, using a variety of footage to bring the stories to life while critics interpret. Particularly perceptive is an anecdote about John Huston, director of the 1979 WISE BLOOD: the filmmaker noted that, in adapting the novel, the film he ended up making was not what he initially intended and concludes that the mystifying story is more about Flannery OâConnor herself than anything else. Bosco and Coffman and director of photography Ted Hardin in person at all screenings. (2020, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Alfred Hitchcock's PSYCHO (US)
Alamo Drafthouse â Saturday, 11am and Sunday, 12:30pm
So much ink has been spilled over PSYCHO that it might have been best if nothing had been written about it at all. More than any other Hitchcock film it deserves a fresh pair of eyes (perhaps the kind we'd find in a kid with hands that barely reach the ticket window and then cling to the armrest as he loses the main character less than half way in, as a lucky few recount). Even if the infamous shower scene has lost its surprise and shock value (but watch it closely anyway), there's still a great deal to enjoy: a black and white pallet fine-tuned down to Vera Miles' bra; Hitchcock's bizarre infatuation with the Oedipus Complex; Bernard Herrmann's superb score. From the outside it's a film we've become accustomed to, but in a dark theater it becomes hauntingly unfamiliar again. (1960, 109 min, DCP Digital) [Julian Antos]
Justine Triet's SIBYL (France)
Alliance Francaise â Thursday, 6:30pm
SIBYL is going to infuriate viewers who go to films to gain insight into the reasoning behind peopleâs behavior, and delight viewers who get off on puzzling out the logic that guides the construction of a work of art. The interplay between these two processesâthe bad judgment that promises to tear lives and careers apart, the erratic impulses that improbably guide artists towards successful creationâis vividly, even ludicrously dramatized in Justine Trietâs film, which follows an established psychotherapist, Sibyl (Virginie Efira), as she abandons her practice to return to creative writing. Unable to extricate herself from Margot (AdĂšle Exarchopoulos), one of her needier clients, Sibyl begins surreptitiously recording their sessions, drawing on her patientâs drama for her own writing. Trietâs go-for-baroque plotting finds room to explore her heroineâs fraught relationships with her underemployed sister, AA group, son, partner, her other patients, and her own therapist, while multiple flashbacks peer into Sibylâs reawakened memories of a passionate love affair gone sour. And thatâs before things go fully meta, as Margotâs crisisâsheâs an actress, pregnant from an affair with her co-star, and unable to decide whether to keep or terminate the pregnancyâgradually ensnares Sibyl as well. Once the therapist is called to help her patient make it through a tense film shoot onâget thisâthe volcanic island of Stromboli, the filmâs lower-key comic elements erupt, thanks especially to the welcome midway addition of TONI ERDMANNâs Sandra HĂŒller as the disconcertingly pragmatic film director whose partner has been fooling around with Margot. The willful improbability of the second act will throw viewers for a loop, but itâs entirely in keeping with a film about the pleasures of breaking rules and taking license as a woman and as an artist. In this, I was reminded of two other recent films which contemplate female empowerment by dramatizing the pitfalls of the creative process, Greta Gerwigâs LITTLE WOMEN and CĂ©line Sciammaâs PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN ON FIRE; like those films, SIBYL proposes that the social boundaries of acceptable behavior for women are inextricably linked to the boundaries of how art should or shouldnât be composed. In all three films, narrative unfolds towards the fulfillment of creative desire, defiantly leaving a trail of broken rules behindâSIBYL just breaks more than the rest. (2019, 100 min, Digital Projection) [Michael Metzger]
Joanna Arnowâs THE FEELING THAT THE TIME FOR DOING SOMETHING HAS PASSED (US)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
In my estimation writer-director Joanna Arnow is a contender for being a contemporary equivalent to Buster Keaton. Her face is made for cinema, a landscape unto itself even if itâs distinguished by a lack of clear, unequivocal emotion. Her body, including said visage, is the source of the wry humor that makes her work as discomfiting as it is endearing. Arnowâs characters, modeled after and played by Arnow herself, are painfully average and yet bewilderingly unique, both representative of modern society but still at odds with it. Arnowâs second feature, THE FEELING THAT THE TIME FOR DOING SOMETHING HAS PASSEDâher first since her 2013 documentary i hate myself :)âmade me wonder if the Keaton archetype would have been a submissive as Arnowâs character, Ann, is in the film. Annâs a thirty-something Brooklynite who works a meaningless office job (media e-learning specialist?) and pursues sub-dom relationships with men who subjugate her with varying levels of intensity. The film is divided into chapters, each one named after the man or men currently dominating her. The first and perhaps most significant is Allen (Scott Cohen, recognizable as Max from the fucking Gilmore Girls, which adds something to the film that I canât quite articulate), an older man to whom weâre introduced as Ann dry humps his clothed body, telling him in her monotone delivery that his lack of concern for her pleasure turns her on. Itâs a scenario ripe for comic exploration and in theory a provocative statement on power dynamics in society, sex and relationships, specifically from a womanâs point of view. But neither Arnow nor Ann is letting herself be degraded even if intentionally degrading herself; Annâs submissiveness is just a natural part of who she is, like having gone to Wesleyan, liking cheesy showtuns, being an employee, a daughter, a sister, and simply a person. All this comes through in vignettes that could be self-contained but nevertheless come together nicely to establish character development. (A Letterboxd review of the film exclaims that itâs âkind of like a collection of Garfield comic strips where Garfield is in a series of submissive relationships,â and, you know, thatâs not too far off. I might again compare Arnow to Keaton in this latitudinous mode of compartmentalization that establishes a cohesive character via a vignette-like approach, Keatonâs having been established first through a collection of shorts.) In terms of Annâs fetish for humiliationâone suitor goes so far as to provide a âfuck pigâ costumeâwhen put into the context of daily life it becomes clearer as a type of self-awareness, an understanding that, more often than not, simply to be alive is to be humiliated, things being cringe more often than they are not. Filmmaking-wise, as Richard Brody points out in his review of it for the New Yorker, its âdistinctive aesthetic involves a finely calibrated relationship of body and image, and it is achieved by two kinds of distance: the physical distance of the camera from the actors and a canny use of lensesâ focal lengths to evoke the spaces the characters inhabit. The movie has relatively few closeups.â To echo Keaton, âTragedy is a close-up; comedy, a long shot.â And as in Keatonâs films this acceptance of self and the world begets at least the prospect of fulfillment, even if the credits sequence here teases an emblematic return to form. (2023, 87 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
đïž ALSO SCREENING
â« Alamo Drafthouse
Harmony Korineâs AGGRO DR1FT (2023, 80 min, DCP Digital) begins screening this week; all showtimes for this week are sold out, but there are tickets available for additional screenings starting Sunday, May 19. More info here.
â« Block Cinema (at Northwestern University)
Program 2 of Film Talks: A Touring Program of Experimental Cinema, featuring a selection of short digital and 16mm films by Lynn Loo, Guy Sherwin, Malcolm Le Grice, Chris Welsby, Vicky Smith, Jennifer Nightingale, Alia Sayed, Jayne Parker, Simon Payne, William Raban, and John Smith, screens Friday at 7pm. Screening in conjunction with the release of the new book Film Talks: 15 Conversations on Experimental Cinema, with book editors and program curators Andrew Vallance and Simon Payne in attendance.
âTo Abolish and Defend,â a screening of Sasha Tyckoâs 2023 film DWELLING: A MEASURE OF LIFE IN THE ATLANTA FOREST (40 min, Video), takes place Thursday, 7pm, followed by an in-person Q&A with Tycko. More info here.
â« Chicago Film Archives
The Chicago Transit Authority, in partnership with the Chicago Film Archives (CFA), presents a new, one-of-a-kind temporary art installation 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 Public Library
View all screenings taking place at Chicago Public Library branches here.
â« Comfort Film at Comfort Station (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.)
Joseph Cornelisonâs 2024 horror film WULVERâS STANE (77 min, Digital Projection) screens Wednesday at 8pm. More info here.
â« Doc Films (at the University of Chicago)
Horace OvĂ©âs 1968 documentary BALDWINâS N------ (46 min, DCP Digital) and Maureen Blackwoodâs 1988 documentary PERFECT IMAGE? (31 min, Digital Projection) screen Sunday, 4pm, as part of the Black Britain series.
James Benningâs 1997 film FOUR CORNERS (80 min, 16mm) screens Sunday, 8pm, as part of the series, An Artist of Intimate Intent: James Benning.
Jean-Luc Godard and Jean-Pierre Gorinâs 1972 film TOUT VA BIEN (96 min, DCP Digital) screens Tuesday, 7pm, as part of the Americans in Paris: After the Dance series.
The Thursday II screening at 9:30pm is TBA. More info on all screenings here.
â« Film Studies Center (at the Logan Center for the Arts, 915 E. 60th St., University of Chicago)
The Speculative Archive: Kevin Jerome Everson and Ephraim Asili takes place Friday, 7pm, in the Logan Center Screening Room with Everson and Asili in person for a post-screening conversation with Michael Gillespie, Christopher Harris, and Allyson Nadia Field.
Expanded Cinema: An Outdoor Site-Specific Projection takes place Thursday from 8pm to 10pm in the Logan Center Courtyard, with projections on the Logan Center Tower. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Marija Kavtaradzeâs 2023 film SLOW begins screening this week and the SAIC Film, Video, New Media, Animation, And Sound Festival takes place through Saturday. See Venue website for showtimes.
Mystery Movie Monday takes place Monday at 6pm. More info on all screenings here.
â« Landmarkâs Century Centre Cinema
Ryusuke Hamaguchiâs 2023 film EVIL DOES NOT EXIST (106 min, DCP Digital) begins screening this week. See Venue website for showtimes. More info here.
â« Music Box Theatre
Chandler Levackâs 2024 film I LIKE MOVIES (100 min, DCP Digital) begins and the 4K restoration of Jean-Pierre Melvilleâs 1967 film LE SAMOURAI (105 min, DCP Digital) continues and screening this week. Levack in attendance for a post-screening Q&A following the 7pm screenings on Saturday and Sunday. See Venue website for showtimes.
The 2024 HUMP! Film Festival screens Friday and Saturday at 7pm and 9:30pm.
Maurice Tourneurâs 1929 silent film THE SHIP OF LOST MEN (122 min, 35mm) screens Saturday at 11:30am. Presented by the Chicago Film Society with live musical accompaniment by Jay Warren.
Ron Howardâs 1995 film APOLLO 13 (140 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday at 3pm. Programmed and presented by Ronanâs Reel, with net proceeds from this fundraiser go to Shatterproof, a nonprofit advocating for policy change and combating the stigma associated with addiction.
William Wylerâs 1953 film ROMAN HOLIDAY (118 min, 35mm) screens Sunday at 2pm. Presented by Filmspotting, with a podcast recording and an opportunity to meet hosts Adam Kempenaar and Josh Larsen plus Chicago Tribune film critic Michael Phillips.
Darren Aronofskyâs 2017 film MOTHER! (121 min DCP Digital) screens Sunday, 6pm, as part of the Who Gives an âFâ series.
Ethan Hawkeâs 2023 film WILDCAT (108 min, DCP Digital) screens Thursday, 6:30pm, with Hawke in attendance for a post-screening Q&A. Please note this screening is SOLD OUT. More info on all screenings and events 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
Filmmaker-choreographer Sarah Friedland's feature-length trilogy Movement Exercises, presented in conjunction with Friedland's participation in the Visual Studies Workshop (VSW) Project Space Residency, screens for free on VDB TV. More info here.
CINE-LIST: May 3 - May 9, 2024
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Alex Ensign, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Tristan Johnson, Ben Kaye, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, Raphael Jose Martinez, Ignatiy Vishnevetsky