:: FRIDAY, AUGUST 30 - THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5 ::

📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING

Alfred Hitchcock's THE BIRDS (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Monday, 6pm

Slavoj Zizek wrote, "In order to unravel Hitchcock's THE BIRDS, one should first imagine the film without the birds, simply depicting the proverbial middle-class family in the midst of an Oedipal crisis—the attacks of the birds can only be accounted for as an outlet of the tension underlying this Oedipal constellation, i.e., they clearly materialize the destructive outburst of the maternal superego, one mother's jealousy toward the young woman who tries to snatch her son from her." That Hitchcock conceived of (and plotted) THE BIRDS as a comedy shows his gleeful perversity. It also goes a long way towards explaining the film's enduring fascination. Most disaster movies simply revolve around the spectacle of things blowing up; if they make any room at all for humor or interpersonal relationships it's usually of the throwaway or half-hearted variety. It's just window dressing for explosions. But in his own crafty way Hitchcock shows us that comedy, not tragedy, can be the best way to reveal the layers of a character while, crucially, misdirecting the audience's attention. Using a meticulously scored soundtrack of bird effects in lieu of traditional music cues, paired with George Tomasini's brilliant picture editing, heightens the feeling of disquiet. It all culminates in the stunning final shot: the superego has saturated the entire landscape. Screening as part of the Remembering David Bordwell series. (1963, 119 min, 35mm) [Rob Christopher]

Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s A LETTER TO THREE WIVES (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Sunday, 1pm

One of the myriad accomplishments of William Wyler’s THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES (1946) is that it managed to diagnose a range of anxieties associated with postwar American life so soon after WWII ended. A LETTER TO THREE WIVES, made just three years later, is no less insightful in this regard, and it delivers its diagnoses with remarkable grace. Like BEST YEARS, A LETTER takes place in a deliberately nameless suburb, which underscores the generalizability of its concerns—these issues of conformism, consumerism, and aggressive self-improvement exist all over the country, the two movies imply. The titular wives are three upper-middle-class friends whose lives are constantly undermined by their envy of another woman, Addie Ross, the toast of their community since she was a child. On a sunny spring day before they leave to volunteer with an annual picnic for underprivileged youth, the wives receive a letter from Addie saying that she’s run off with one of their husbands… but not which one. The movie then presents three flashbacks that illustrate each wife’s fears of why her husband may have left her. (As Quentin Tarantino would do in PULP FICTION some 45 years later, Mankiewicz presents the flashbacks out of chronological order, making the movie something of a puzzle.) First up, Deborah (Jeanne Crain) recalls her humiliating introduction to the community country club after moving to town with her husband after the war. She had grown up on a farm and never had to deal with the mores of suburban social life; her story hinges on her struggle to fit in, something Addie presumably never faced. In the second flashback, Rita (Ann Sothern) remembers a disastrous dinner party she’d recently thrown for her bosses. The most thematically complex story of the film, this episode touches on the strain in Rita’s marriage to her husband George (Kirk Douglas), a high school English teacher. Rita works in advertising and makes more money than her husband (a rarity in 1949), though what really bothers him is how she sacrifices her personal values for the sake of getting ahead in her industry. His eruption in front of her bosses, which makes great use of Douglas’ wound-up anger, is the film’s emotional highlight, a rejection of the superficial, keeping-up-with-Joneses mentality that is the film's biggest satirical target. Lastly, Lora Mae (Linda Darnell) revisits the events that brought her to marry her former boss, department store owner Porter Hollingsway (Paul Douglas), and rise up from her working-class roots. Like Deborah, Lora Mae is haunted by feelings of inadequacy in upper-middle-class surroundings, though she masks these feelings with a distinctly working-class sassiness. (Thelma Ritter, who appears uncredited as one of her family friends, is on-hand to deliver this quality in spades.) Yet her impertinence clashes with her husband’s social aspirations, which he reveals inadvertently in a scene when he speaks fondly in front of Lora Mae of Addie’s “class.” Joseph L. Mankiewicz is hypersensitive to offhand gestures like these even though the dialogue is riddled with his masterful staircase wit. (He would win the Academy Awards for Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay for his work here, as he would the following year for ALL ABOUT EVE.) His pointed observations make A LETTER TO THREE WIVES so much more than a drawing-room comedy. In recognizing how fragile their marriages are, the heroines discover, in Chekhovian fashion, that their suburban happiness is built on a house of cards. Screening as part of the Remembering David Bordwell series. (1949, 103 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

Lau Kar Leung’s TIGER ON BEAT (Hong Kong)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Sunday, 3:30pm

Never a fan of Hong Kong action films, I never saw Chow Yun-Fat in any movie until 2000, with the release of CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON. Based on this one performance, I came away with the impression of an actor of dignified bearing and sad romanticism. It thus came as a disorienting surprise to see him for only the second time in the comic action flick TIGER ON BEAT. His lazy, womanizing Sgt. Francis Li, teamed to fight crime with rookie cop Michael Tso (Conan Lee) by Li’s sycophantic uncle, Chief Inspector Jim Pak (James Wong), was a revelation. Here was an actor whose effortless comic timing and genial charisma fit almost seamlessly into a martial arts fighter of semi-noble purpose. TIGER ON BEAT falls squarely in the trends of the 1980s crime-fighting buddy films like BEVERLY HILLS COP (1984), LETHAL WEAPON (1987), and the “Miami Vice” TV series, as laidback Li and hothead Tso try to break up an international drug ring and save a beautiful woman from being swallowed up in it. Nina Li Chi is the sister of the colorfully named Poison Snake Ping (Ko Fai) who helps him score off a stolen shipment of cocaine hidden in some thick surfboards. Once Li and Tso get on her trail, they work to save her and her brother from the murderous American and Hong Kong drug smugglers who want their money back. Much of the humor is solidly adolescent, though I got a good laugh out of how many weird ways the smugglers hid the coke. Of course, the best parts of the film are the fight sequences. Lee is the kung fu master who is always ready to mix it up with anyone, include Li. There is a fair amount of shooting and death throughout the film, but little of it lands hard, and one plot twist is entirely predictable. Nonetheless, the film builds agreeably to the pièce de résistance of the film, the final warehouse battle between the cops and the criminals that ends in a massive cache of cocaine raining all over the scene. TIGER ON BEAT is a thoroughly enjoyable movie that is a fine example of 1980s filmmaking. Part of the Remembering David Bordwell series. (1988, 93 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Ernst Lubitsch's NINOTCHKA (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Tuesday, 6pm

In his interpretation of the phrase "the Lubitsch touch," Jonathan Rosenbaum opined that the effect is made up of three distinct qualities that both set the German director apart from his contemporaries and account for his being a significant source of inspiration to his successors. The first two parts of Rosenbaum’s definition refer to Ernst Lubitsch's "specifically Eastern European capacity to represent the cosmopolitan sophistication of continental Europeans to Americans" and "his way of regarding his characters that could be described as a critical affection for flawed individuals who operate according to double standards"; the third part refers to Lubitsch's incorporation of music in his films, but while Werner R. Heymann's score is certainly a compliment to the wonderfully funny and romantic story in NINOTCHKA, it is not as necessary to his distinct style in this film as it was in his acclaimed musicals from the late 20s and early 30s. Though Rosenbaum acknowledges that all three elements are not present in every one of Lubitsch's films, the first two most definitely account for the winning effect of "the Lubitsch touch" in this 1939 MGM production that is sometimes overlooked in lieu of his earlier and later successes. Similar to his 1942 film TO BE OR NOT TO BE, NINOTCHKA satirizes and even romanticizes a touchy but timely subject using Lubitsch's above-mentioned abilities. In the film a typically steely Greta Garbo plays a Russian envoy sent by the Soviet Union to Paris in order to broker the sale of the dissolved aristocracy's opulent jewels. They once belonged to the former Grand Duchess Swana, who now resides in Paris and has the charming Count Leon as her uncommitted romantic companion. Much to their own surprise, Ninotchka and Count Leon meet and fall in love; as a Communist from the Soviet Union and a capitalistic Count living lavishly in Paris, respectively, their coupledom is the base double-standard from which Lubitsch's 'touch' emanates. As with couples from other Lubitsch films, their romance is seemingly ill-fated, not so much against the odds as just odd, and insurmountable only in that, in a film by anyone else but Lubitsch, it wouldn't work at all. But above their romantic dynamic in terms of a double-standard is their political and cultural dynamic, which calls back to Rosenbaum's ideas about Lubitsch's sophistication. Film historian Jeremy Mindich declared NINOTCHKA "arguably the most complex American movie ever made about the Soviet Union," and while that is definitely arguable, it says a lot about Lubitsch's own cosmopolitan sophistication that his film both satirizes and humanizes Communist characters. Billy Wilder, who co-wrote the script, once described the Lubitsch touch as being the "elegant use of the Superjoke. You had a joke, and you felt satisfied, and then there was one more big joke on top of it. The joke you didn't expect." When asked by the three envoy-stooges who preceded her to Paris about the mass trials happening in their home country, Ninotchka replies that they were a great success, declaring, "There will be fewer but better Russians." But the big joke no one is expecting is Count Leon's response to Ninotchka's communist ideals. He reads Marx and even tries to convince his personal attendant that their professional dynamic is unfair. From there, the jokes get bigger and bigger until even Lenin is cracking a smile. In his essay for the Criterion Collection DVD release of TROUBLE IN PARADISE, critic Armond White observes that Lubitsch is "able to indulge carefree behavior because it is undergirded with his appreciation of life's hard facts." No less than such a sophisticated double standard is to be expected from Lubitsch, and NINOTCHKA is a prime example. Screening as part of the Propaganda and Counterculture Lecture series. (1939, 110 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]

📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED

Monica Sorelle’s MOUNTAINS (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – See Venue website for showtimes

Little Haiti, a bustling community just a little over five miles north of downtown Miami, is on the brink of destruction. You wouldn’t think so at first glance, with vibrant storefronts and eye-popping murals occupying the dizzying canvas alongside pastoral greenery, but this is matched by the ever-increasing number of buildings being torn down on a near-daily basis. Sitting at this intersection of order and chaos is Xavier (a stoic and commanding Atibon Nazaire), a Haitian immigrant working on a demolition crew, unwittingly contributing to the forces of devastating gentrification that are obliterating the very community he holds dear. Monica Sorelle’s confident and picturesque directorial debut tells a familiar story of immigrant assimilation into the harsh capitalist reality of the United States, but does so with a spellbinding specificity to the particular cultures of this community (practically half of the film is spoken in Haitian Creole), aided by eye-catching visuals of Little Haiti that balance domestic life, neighborhood scenery, and workplace demolition, with architectural detritus sitting within a canvas of lush, blooming Floridian flora. The narrative here—​Xavier trying to find and buy a better home for his seamstress wife, Esperance (Sheila Anozier), and stay-at-home son, Junior (Chris Renois)—​will ring true for anyone who has found themselves in a Sisyphean cycle of aspiring for more in a society that promises that possibility while presenting numerous obstacles at every turn (put simply by the Haitian proverb that opens the film: beyond mountains, there are mountains). The main narrative additionally gets interspersed with Junior’s struggles as a fledgling stand-up comedian who channels his parents' disappointment in his unorthodox career path into his own onstage act, working as a convenient vessel for channeling intergenerational anxieties across to the audience. These disparate elements add up to assemble a worthy structure displaying an exciting new directorial voice in Sorelle, who—​by the film’s end—​creates a work whose political, emotional, and visual strengths coalesce to form a mountain not so easily demolished. (2023, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

James Cameron’s THE TERMINATOR (US)

Alamo Drafthouse - Saturday, 7pm, Tuesday 9:30pm & Wednesday 10pm

During the release of his feature debut PIRANHA II: THE SPAWNING (1982), James Cameron fell ill and dreamt of a metallic torso with knives escaping an explosion. Inspired by John Carpenter's low-budget HALLOWEEN (1978), Cameron decided to write a slasher film. While THE TERMINATOR resembles Michael Crichton’s WESTWORLD more than FRIDAY THE 13TH, it includes classic slasher elements: a relentless killer, high-tension pursuit, an isolated victim, a significant body count, horny young adults murdered after sex, jump scares, vehicles not starting, and the final girl trope. Adam Greenberg’s gritty cinematography, following his work on 10 TO MIDNIGHT, and composer Brad Fiedel’s iconic synth-laden military dirge enhance the film's foreboding atmosphere. Cameron wrote the script while staying with his friend, sci-fi writer Randall Frakes, who later wrote the novelizations for THE TERMINATOR and TERMINATOR 2: JUDGEMENT DAY (1991). Cameron and Frakes first collaborated on the 1978 short film XENOGENESIS, which led Roger Corman to hire Cameron as an art director for BATTLE BEYOND THE STARS (1980) and to complete the directorial duties on the partially filmed PIRANHA II. During this period, Cameron also worked on special effects for John Carpenter’s ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK (1981). Cameron sold THE TERMINATOR script for one dollar with the condition that he could direct the film. This decision was pivotal, leading to sequels, TV adaptations, and extensive merchandising. THE TERMINATOR was Cameron's first feature as director with complete control. The film is an early showcase of his future motifs: technological innovations, strong female leads, comprehensive world-building, effects-driven sequences, and the themes of humanity versus technology, environmentalism, resilience, and redemption. The film’s inventive effects, distinctive visual style, and integration of character development with action established the film as a seminal work in both the science fiction and action genres; it was added to the Library of Congress in 2008. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s portrayal of the Terminator solidified his status as a leading actor, while Linda Hamilton’s role boosted her prominence. The time-travel narrative, integrated into a slasher framework, involves Skynet—​not to be confused with Elon Musk’s Starlink—​a future AI aiming to destroy humanity. The only resistance is John Connor, who leads the human fight against Skynet. To eliminate this threat, Skynet sends a T-800 back in time to kill Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) before she can give birth to John. In response, John Connor sends soldier Kyle Reese (Michael Biehn) to protect Sarah. The film chronicles the individual trajectories of Reese, the T-800, and Sarah, converging aptly at the Tech Noir nightclub. As Kyle and Sarah grow closer, they engage in a brief sexual encounter which results in Kyle becoming the father of John Connor. This creates a closed causal loop within THE TERMINATOR universe. Without the T-800's mission, John Connor would not exist, and Skynet would not be constructed from the remnants of a destroyed machine. By blending sci-fi with slasher horror, THE TERMINATOR cemented James Cameron's reputation as a visionary director and set the stage for a decades-long career focused on technology and human resilience. Screening as part of Alamo Time Capsule 1984 film series (1984, 108 min, New 4K DCP Digital Restoration) [Shaun Huhn]

Victor Erice’s CLOSE YOUR EYES (Spain/Argentina)

Wilmette Theater (1122 Central Ave., Wilmette) – See Venue website for showtimes

Victor Erice’s first feature in over three decades, CLOSE YOUR EYES, is an epic eulogy for cinema as it was originally produced, exhibited, and preserved. Set in 2012—the year most theaters converted from 35mm to DCP projection—it frames the death of cinema as already a thing of the past; the pervading tone, though frequently enlivened by moments of levity and beauty, is extremely melancholic. The plot is reminiscent of such Paul Auster novels as Leviathan and The Book of Illusions: Miguel Garay, a reclusive writer and one-time filmmaker, embarks on a journey to track down the actor who walked off the set of his movie in 1990 and disappeared. It’s a decidedly laidback journey, though, which allows the hero plenty of time to reminisce with old friends and colleagues and reflect on whether the work he’s produced will leave any impression after he’s gone. The film might be best summed up in the moment when Miguel wanders upon a used book stand in a town he hasn’t visited in decades and finds a collection of stories he wrote that he inscribed for an old lover—every scene has this bittersweet sense of loss. Sometimes that loss is personal: Miguel never finished his second feature, his lead actor (who was also his best friend) vanished, and he’s very conscious of the fact that he’s living alone in his 60s. But more often, CLOSE YOUR EYES is concerned with the universal loss of cinema as it was experienced in the 20th century, which is to say as a world discrete from our own. Yes, it’s sad that analog film is no longer the norm in terms of exhibition (and the movie certainly touches on this), but the greater deprivation is that general audiences no longer grant images the magic power they used to. “Miracles haven’t existed in movies since Dreyer stopped making them,” a character says at another critical moment, and while he may be speaking hyperbolically, he gets at the spiritual crisis that CLOSE YOUR EYES is addressing. What does it mean to live in a world where not only are there no more miracles, but nobody even seems to want them? There are few filmmakers better equipped to tackle this question than Victor Erice, arguably Spain’s most important director after Luis Buñuel. Though Erice directed just three features prior to CLOSE YOUR EYES, they are three of the greatest Spanish films. Every shot of THE SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE (1973), EL SUR (1983), and THE QUINCE TREE SUN (1992) exhibits the utmost care and refinement, drawing viewers into the delicate private words of their central subjects. These movies are testaments to the cinema’s ability to render even the tiniest moments larger than life; compared to them, CLOSE YOUR EYES can feel at times disappointingly life-sized. But I suspect the film’s casualness is merely deceptive and that it will give way to many riches over time—making the film a descendant of Howard Hawks’ RIO BRAVO (1959), a movie that Erice quotes at length here. The quotation is significant, as it reminds us of how films can take root in our memories, their power carrying over into our real lives. CLOSE YOUR EYES may end on a sad, anticlimactic note, but not before Erice has exhorted his viewers to keep this film—and the spirit of cinephilia—alive within us. (2023, 169 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

Nathan Silver’s BETWEEN THE TEMPLES (US)

Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes

The very first sound you hear in Nathan Silver’s BETWEEN THE TEMPLES is a shofar, the ram’s horn traditionally used during Jewish high holidays, blaring underneath production company logos popping up on screen to shake us alert before we even get to the first frame; the distraught face of one Benjamin Gottlieb (a tremendous Jason Schwartzman). As the spiritually and emotionally lost cantor at the local synagogue, Schwartzman is at the height of his powers as a performer, expertly navigating high-stakes comic set pieces with appropriate dramatic stakes, his religious and emotional states in equal modes of distress. The one thing that can potentially shake Ben loose is the sudden reemergence of his grade school music teacher, Carla Kessler (the divine Carol Kane), here seeking a late-in-life bat mitzvah (traditionally reserved for those in their early teen years) as a means of spiritual and personal realignment. To support the naturally comedic oddball circumstances of the premise, Silver and cinematographer Sean Price Williams create a frenetic visual vocabulary, iris shots honing in on important details, horrifically close-up faces and hands cluttering up the frame, and even moments of narrative and visual mysticism to terrify us even more. The film is undeniably a successful comic tale, most notably in its specificity of Jewish lore and minutiae: Ben accidentally eating a non-kosher burger, him kissing his yarmulke after it has fallen on the floor, the sense memory of hearing the tunes of davening (prayer) sung at synagogue. To speak frankly here, part of what I’ve found so wonderful about my own Judaism is the ways in which the quest for a “correct” answer about anything ultimately becomes futile, the very act of questioning and not-knowing of life being a reward in itself. To this end, the hand grenade of an emotional truth that eventually detonates in the final third of Silver’s feature may read as either false or unmotivated or perhaps even just plain wrong for many viewers, but for me it came off as nothing short of that very same eager spirit of not having the answers to solve one’s life, and here, desperately clutching to the only joyful things in your life through the only means you know how. In its best moments, Silver’s work is altogether beautiful and messy in concurrence—​as Jewish a descriptor as I can come up with—​and a loving reminder that no matter where we are in life, it’s never too late to have your own coming-of-age story. (2024, 111 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
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Select showtimes on Saturday and Sunday are free as part of the Pluto TV Summer of Cinema: Free Movie Weekend. Also screening are Michael Duignan’s 2023 comedy THE PARAGON (83 min, DCP Digital) and Ted Kotcheff’s 1989 comedy WEEKEND AT BERNIE’S (97 min, DCP Digital), the latter in the Music Box Theatre Garden. See Venue website for showtimes. More info.

India Donaldson’s GOOD ONE (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – See Venue website for showtimes

It would be incredibly easy, and painfully reductive, to label India Donaldson’s debut feature GOOD ONE as a movie where "nothing happens." In the traditional sense, one could concede that, sure, not a lot "happens"; a father and daughter—accompanied by the father’s oldest friend—go on a hiking trip, have awkward conversations, gaze at nature, and then complete said hiking trip. No grand revelations are unveiled, no lengthy monologues are delivered, and the surface-level stakes remain at a particularly modest level. But visually, emotionally, and atmospherically, worlds are uncovered and scavenged throughout, as relationships between this central trio are tested in tiny but momentous ways. As our center, Sam (Lily Collias) is an ecstatically confident teenager, but moments of disbelief poke through her self-assured visage, finding herself shaken by the frequent childishness of her middle-age companions. Her father, Chris (James Le Gros), and his friend, Matt (Danny McCarthy), bicker and banter like siblings—or perhaps more appropriately, an old married couple—as they each contend with shattered hopes, loves lost, and futures that remain painfully unclear. It’s a film of glances between father and daughter, deep sighs between friends, dumb jokes and painfully creepy asides, of humans simply living within the bounty of nature. GOOD ONE thrives in its pastoral environment (aided by Celia Hollander’s earworm of a score), the rocks and trees painting the frame, the rivers flooding our eardrums with calm, instilling a whole world into the lives of these wandering lost souls. In one of the final moments, Chris presents a rock to Sam, slamming it on the dashboard. A gift, a peace offering, a token of his appreciation; whatever this may be, in this moment, everything happens. (2024, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

Wes Anderson's THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Wednesday, 8:30pm

Contrary to his reputation for being insular and self-regarding, Wes Anderson has looked to other artists and cultural figures for inspiration throughout his career. RUSHMORE (1998) and THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS (2001) would be inconceivable without the influence of J.D. Salinger; THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU (2004) is a fantasy based on the life of Jacques Cousteau; THE DARJEELING LIMITED (2007) incorporates elements from multiple Satyajit Ray films; MOONRISE KINGDOM (2012) marks an eccentric dialogue with the music of Benjamin Britten; THE FRENCH DISPATCH (2021) reflects an imagination informed by a lifetime of reading The New Yorker; and ASTEROID CITY (2023) considers such midcentury theater artists as Tennessee Williams, Elia Kazan, and Sanford Meisner as they might appear in a dream. The richest of Anderson’s tributes, THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL, is an extended riff on the life and fiction of Stefan Zweig, an Austrian Jew who was one of the most popular writers in the world in the 1920s and ‘30s, and Ernst Lubitsch, a German-born Jew who, from the 1920s to the early ‘40s, directed some of the most sophisticated film comedies of all time. The ingenious plotting of GRAND BUDAPEST—which features a story within a story within a story (each with its own aspect ratio)—owes a lot to Zweig’s novella Chess Story (aka The Royal Game), though Anderson has also cited Zweig’s sole novel Beware of Pity as a point of reference. Lubitsch exerts a broader influence on the film, informing its romanticized, wholly cinematic depiction of eastern European high society; its accepting, matter-of-fact attitude toward duplicitous behavior and offbeat sexual habits; and its deceptively light tone that distracts from considerations of loneliness and death. (There’s also a lengthy homage to Alfred Hitchcock’s TORN CURTAIN [1966] that does pretty well by the original in terms of developing suspense.) Just as Lubitsch famously said he preferred Paris, Paramount, to Paris, France, Anderson only seems interested in exotic places insofar as they exist in the popular imagination—his movies exult in the cinema’s separation from reality. At the same time, there’s always a very real sense of morality in Anderson’s films, and in GRAND BUDAPEST, it comes through in the value the characters place on love and camaraderie. The central friendship between Zero (played as a teenager by Tony Revolori and as an old man by F. Murray Abraham) and his mentor M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes, who delivers the best performance to date of any Anderson film) exemplifies this theme, which also plays out in the professional respect between Gustave and Edward Norton’s Henckels, the brothers-in-arms quality that forms between the prisoners who help Gustave break out of jail, the wonderful “Secret Society of the Crossed Keys” sequence, and of course, the innocent romance between Zero and his true love Agatha. If Anderson weren’t such an intricate visual stylist, his moral sensibility, like his literary sensibility, might be more readily discernible; but, as usual for the director, GRAND BUDAPEST teems with visual detail, inviting one to venture around the mise-en-scène in every shot. That’s appropriate, given that the movie, like much of Zweig’s writing, is about worlds within worlds (even Agatha’s confections look like buildings you can enter). Because it’s so easy to lose yourself in the worlds of GRAND BUDAPEST, it’s all the more shocking when you’re suddenly forced out of them all at the end, a devastating reminder of Zweig’s abrupt, tragic death. Screening as part of the Remembering David Bordwell series. (2014, 99 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

Alex Cox's REPO MAN (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Friday, 9:30pm

Before he made Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen into the punk rock Romeo and Juliet (and incurred Johnny Rotten's lasting wrath in the process), British director Alex Cox directed this cult classic comedy about an LA punk turned car repossessor. Emilio Estevez is convincingly apathetic as the title character in his first starring role, but it's the other repo men who steal the show (particularly Harry Dean Stanton and Sy Richardson) with their grizzled looks, erratic behavior, and desperation to impart wisdom. The first half of the film has some really authentic moments, some nice surreal touches, and great music (including a hilarious cameo by The Circle Jerks as the washed-up nightclub band). The second half devolves into a more typical everything-but-the-kitchen-sink '80s romp which either is your thing or isn't, complete with the paranormal HAZMAT team from E.T. and dull-witted, machine gun-toting, mohawk-sporting bad guys in the Bebop and Rocksteady mold. Screening as part of the Alamo Time Capsule 1984 film series. (1984, 92 min, DCP Digital) [Mojo Lorwin]

🎞️ ALSO SCREENING

⚫ Chicago Film Archives
The Chicago Transit Authority, in partnership with 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.

⚫ Chicago Filmmakers
AUTONOMOUS ARCHIVING: A Special Event with the ​​Filipino American Historical Society of Chicago, a watch party of 16mm films by Nicholas Viernes, the unofficial cameraman of the Filipino American community of Greater Chicago in the early-mid 20th Century, takes place Friday at 7pm. Filipino American Historical Society of Chicago collections manager and archivist Ashley Dequilla will give a short presentation on her journey in restoring these films and their overall historical context. More info here.

⚫ Chicago Public Library
View all screenings taking place at Chicago Public Library branches here.

⚫ Cinema/Chicago
Sights and Sounds: Australian Short Films screens Wednesday, 6:30pm, at the Chicago Cultural Center (78 E. Washington St.). Free admission. More info here.

⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
Stephen Soucy’s 2023 documentary MERCHANT IVORY (112 min, DCP Digital), about the filmmakers  James Ivory and Ismail Merchant, begins screening this week. See Venue website for showtimes.

The Independent Film Alliance (IFA) Chicago screens Minhal Baig’s 2023 film WE GROWN NOW (93 min, DCP Digital) on Wednesday, 6pm, followed by a discussion with Baig. More info on all screenings and events here. 

⚫ Music Box Theatre
***The main theater is currently closed for renovations. All in-theater screenings will take place in theater 2.*** Music Box Garden Movies continue. See Venue website for films and showtimes.

⚫ Northbrook Public Library (1201 Cedar Ln., Northbrook; Auditorium - First Floor)
Harry A. Pollard’s 1926 silent film POKER FACES (83 min, DCP Digital) screens Wednesday, 7pm, as part of the Silent Film Series, with live musical accompaniment by David Drazin. More info here.

⚫ Sideshow Gelato (4819 W. Western Ave.)
SUPER-HORROR-RAMA! presents John Brahm’s 1954 slasher film THE MAD MAGICIAN (73 min, Digital Projection) on Wednesday, 7pm, as part of a weekly horror gathering and screening series, with a social hour starting at 6pm. More info here. 

⚫ Sweet Void Cinema (3036 W. Chicago Ave.)
Find more information on the Humboldt Park microcinema, including its screening and workshop schedule, here.

🎞️ ONLINE SCREENINGS/EVENTS

⚫ VDB TV
Saif Alsaegh: Bittersweet Landscape, a program of three short films by Alsaegh, screens for free on VDB TV. More info here.

CINE-LIST: August 30 - September 5, 2024

MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs

CONTRIBUTORS // Rob Christopher, Marilyn Ferdinand, Shaun Huhn, Ben Kaye, Mojo Lorwin