New Episode! On episode #5 of the Cine-Cast, Cine-File associate editor Ben Sachs and contributor JB Mabe talk about the upcoming Ingmar Bergman series at the Gene Siskel Film Center; Ben and contributors Kyle Cubr, John Dickson and Dmitry Samarov discuss the Doc Films summer schedule; Mabe interviews Raul Benitez, film programmer for Comfort Film at Comfort Station Logan Square and lead programmer for the Chicagoland Shorts Volume 4 for Full Spectrum Features; and Ben and contributor Harrison Sherrod chat about the Bill Gunn films GANJA & HESS and PERSONAL PROBLEMS, as well as cult-classic LIQUID SKY, all of which played at the Film Center in June.
Listen here. As always, special thanks to our producer, Andy Miles, of Transistor Chicago.
Jane Campion’s TWO FRIENDS (Australian Revival)
Chicago Filmmakers (5720 N. Ridge Ave.) and Chicago Film Society – Saturday, 8pm
For me, the enchantment of auteurism is that it verifies, via cinema, the essence of personhood, that in perhaps the most highly industrialized art form a single person’s perspective is discernible amongst the din of both man and machine. “It is ambiguous, in any literary sense, because part of it is imbedded in the stuff of the cinema and cannot be rendered in non-cinematic terms,” Andrew Sarris wrote in his “Notes on the Auteur Theory” in 1962. After positing that it’s an “élan of the soul,” he clarifies that “all [he] means by ‘soul’ is that intangible difference between one personality and another, all other things being equal,” translated to the cinema via a director’s “[i]nterior meaning…extrapolated from the tension between [his] personality and his material.” Jane Campion’s sensibility embodies this mysterious brio, connecting such films as her 2003 thriller IN THE CUT—a violent, sometimes problematic entity that nonetheless teems with an unflappable impetuosity—and her 2009 John Keats/Fanny Brawne romance BRIGHT STAR—a sublimely unobtrusive masterpiece that, without due consideration, could be mistaken for merely a very good film by a lesser director. That some of her films could be helmed by the same person is at once their enigmatic allure and their uncommon beauty, and TWO FRIENDS, her first feature (made for Australian television), when viewed in comparison with her better-known work, arouses a similar sense of distinction and familiarity, like a house you’ve never visited but in which you immediately feel at home. Based on a script by famed Australian writer Helen Garner, who was inspired by her daughter's experiences, it’s one of the few of her own films that Campion didn’t at least co-write, providing the perfect litmus test with which to gauge the ubiety of her idiosyncratic style. (She was approached by producer Jan Chapman and accepted the project because she felt she could “get something out of it.”) Its title is a prospectus, as it follows two Australian teenage girls navigating adolescence during a critical juncture in their lives. Kelly and Louise (played by Kris Bidenko and Emma Coles, respectively, though they could be younger versions of Geneviève Lemon and Karen Colston, who play the title character and her sister in Campion’s first theatrical feature, SWEETIE) are best friends who get into a prestigious local high school. The plot develops backwards from the outcome of this event—fifteen years before MEMENTO, Campion was working in a similar narrative space (though she says she would not have chosen to script it thusly), except with a coming-of-age story rather than a psychological murder mystery. Via this machination, viewers learn about the girls’ lives through deliberations pertaining to their futures. Both are bright and musically inclined; Louise’s home life is the more stable of the two, while Kelly rails against a stepfather whose brocialist views are more sexist than subversive. Much ink has been spilled and images projected about the lives of teenage girls, but, harkening back to Sarris’ assertion of a director’s interior meaning, Campion handles the subject matter with an enunciated sense of objectivity, showing two people as they engage in a distinct interpersonal relationship that’s coming to its logical conclusion. The film is resolutely Campion’s in its compositions, quirky yet observant, conveying her background in anthropology; in an interview, she reveals that she butted heads with her cinematographer over the preciseness of the framing, though the result of such discord is evidence of commitment to a visual style that’s since come to define her work. Piercing the already unusual storytelling tactic is a brief, sped-up, partially animated sequence that reminds one of the seemingly removed opening bit from her 1996 film THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY, which features audio interviews with contemporary women as they discuss love and romance, and the expository interludes from IN THE CUT that show the protagonist’s parents falling in and out of love. The desire to disrupt traditional narrative in such fashion is indicative of her formal art training, undertaken immediately following her anthropological studies, and her fascination with contemporary art. One can map similarities any which way in Campion’s oeuvre, from tone to aesthetic: TWO FRIENDS feels informed by her earlier film-school shorts (specifically A GIRL'S OWN STORY), SWEETIE by all that came before it, etc, etc. Still, there’s something undefinable about that which connects her sprawling filmography. To again quote Sarris after he details a beat from Jean Renoir’s THE RULES OF THE GAME, “If I could describe the musical grace note of that momentary suspension, and I can't, I might be able to provide a more precise definition of the auteur theory... [a]s it is, all I can do is point at the specific beauties of interior meaning on the screen and, later, catalogue the moments of recognition.” Though I’d obviously like to be able to fully explain the wonderfully nuanced thing that is a Jane Campion film, I’m nevertheless content to bask in such moments of recognition, with which TWO FRIENDS is ripe. Preceded by Gus Van Sant’s 1983 short film MY FRIEND (4 min, 16mm). KS
Oscar Micheaux's WITHIN OUR GATES (Silent American Revival)
Doc Films (University of Chicago) – Friday, 7 and 9:30pm
During the Red Summer of 1919, the Chicago Race Riot awoke the nation from its foolish reverie; with 38 people dead and approximately 1,000 black families displaced, the riot in Chicago and others like it across the nation reflected the increased willingness amongst African Americans to fight back against institutionalized racial oppression. Made in 1919 and released in early 1920, WITHIN OUR GATES was appropriately timed against the conflict and also viewed as a direct response to D.W. Griffith's BIRTH OF A NATION (1915). Oscar Micheaux's second film tells the story of a black Southern school teacher, Sylvia, who goes North to seek funds for her school after the enrollment exceeds the money allotted per black child by the state. Along the way she falls in love with another idealist, and the story of her past is disclosed in a revelatory flashback: Sylvia was adopted by a black couple who are later lynched after her adoptive father is accused of killing his employer. Sylvia also escapes an attempted rape at the hands of her white birth father; between this and the lynching, the Board of Censors in Chicago and other cities initially rejected the film for fear that it would incite more racial violence. Shot mostly in Chicago, the film's sole print is the earliest surviving print of a feature film directed by an African American; it was discovered in Spain during the 1970s and restored by the Library of Congress is 1993. Micheaux's film is significant not only for its place within American film history, but also for the way it displays the complexity of race relations between people and regions. (1920, 79 min, 35mm Archival Print) KS
King Vidor's THE CROWD (Silent American Revival)
Doc Films (University of Chicago) – Saturday, 7 and 9:30pm
One of the masterpieces of the silent era, Vidor's epic vision of American success and failure is also one of the director's greatest achievements. Vidor combines location shooting and outsized sets to compose the film on a gigantic canvas: some of the photographic effects (such as the crowd of the film's final image, which suggests a sea of anonymous humanity stretching out to infinity) still astonish today. Ironically the film's hero is not an epic figure but an ordinary man. John Sims spends his youth boasting of the great things he'll achieve one day, but he ends up a nameless bureaucrat with a home life he resents: an archetype of the modern Everyman. In terms of narrative structure, the film represents a great fall, from ambition to resignation, from idealism to cynicism. Indeed, it's hard to think of another film outside of IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE that feels so cheated by the promise of the American Dream. But the film's artistry is so powerful—and its melodrama is so expressive—that it inspires a sense of awe strong enough to counter the despair. (1928, 98 min, 35mm Archival Print) BS
Hal Ashby’s THE LANDLORD (American Revival)
Chicago Film Society (at Northeastern Illinois University, The Auditorium, Building E, 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) – Wednesday at 7:30pm
Released in 1970, Hal Ashby’s first feature is unavailable online and rarely mentioned but it started one of the better runs in any American director’s career and remains a relevant statement on race relations and economic realities in this country. At the age of twenty-nine, Elgar (played as a confused, lovesick puppy dog of a man by Beau Bridges) decides to break free of his aristocratic family by buying a tenement building in Park Slope, Brooklyn (a ghetto slum then rather than the affluent enclave it is today). He dreams of kicking out the tenants and rehabbing the building into a tony bachelor pad, but the current occupants have other ideas. Scripted by Bill Gunn (GANJA AND HESS) the film presents the African-American point of view of Elgar’s proto-gentrification efforts with a crystal-clear eye and a biting wit. Elgar may be thought of by his openly racist family as a pinko radical, but his actions betray how far he is from even beginning to recognize the realities of his new neighborhood. What saves the film from becoming a mere harangue on injustice is a great cast—including Pearl Bailey and Louis Gossett Jr.—playing multi-dimensional characters, Gordon Willis’s tone poem cinematography, and a great soundtrack with songs by the Staple Singers. Forty-eight years after its release, this country is still not ready to address the plainspoken problems this film lays out. This is a shame and betrays how far we still have to go to live as a civilized community. This is a must-see film that deserves a place in the canon along with Ashby’s other great portraits of American life like SHAMPOO (1975) and BEING THERE (1980). Preceded by George Pal’s 1946 short JASPER IN A JAM (8 min, 16mm). (1970, 112 min, 35mm) DS
Michael Curtiz’s THE SEA HAWK (American Revival)
Music Box Theatre – Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am
Following the success of CAPTAIN BLOOD in 1935, Michael Curtiz reteamed with leading man Errol Flynn to again conquer the high seas, this time in the late 16th century under the prudent reign of the adamantine Queen Elizabeth I. Though it shares the same name and ostensibly the same source material as Frank Lloyd’s 1924 silent film, it’s an altogether different story: Flynn plays Geoffrey Thorpe, an English privateer and ship captain whose piratical sensibilities are born of loyalty rather than anarchy. After capturing a ship transporting a Spanish ambassador and his beautiful niece, he becomes embroiled in the conflict between Spain and England, centered on the former’s desire to conquer the world by first subduing the latter. Its plot is amusing, but its strengths lie largely in its clever production design and superb supporting cast; the main battle scene is comprised of footage from either the original THE SEA HAWK or CAPTAIN BLOOD, depending on which source you're referencing, and the elaborate castle set was repurposed from Curtiz’s 1939 film THE PRIVATE LIVES OF ELIZABETH AND ESSEX. Though Flynn and Brenda Marshall, substituting for Olivia de Havilland (who starred with Flynn in several films) as the ambassador’s niece, are sufficiently charming in their respective roles—Flynn is adept at navigating the graceful demarcation between boyish charm and swashbuckling finesse—the real scene stealer is one Flora Robson, an English actress whose performance as Queen Elizabeth I is truly something to behold. She plays the role—a difficult one, to be sure, as it conceives of Queen Elizabeth I as being a fierce but amiable monarch who’s especially fond of her buccaneer buddies—with an amused dignity that’s cognizant of its ridiculous conceit while elevating both the role and the film entirely. It’s unfortunate that the 109-minute edited version eliminates her final monologue, in which she laments that England must “prepare…for a war [with Spain] that none of us wants,” because “when the ruthless ambition of a man threatens to engulf the world, it becomes the solemn obligation of all free men to affirm that…freedom is the deed and title to the soil on which we exist.” Timely words for a historical character; per Dave Kehr’s capsule review of the film in the Chicago Reader, “[Warner Brothers] [s]tudio boss Harry Warner had the disconcerting habit of using his adventure films as vehicles for his opinions on foreign policy...here the Spanish Armada is standing in for the Nazi U-boats, and Flynn can hardly wait to get his hands on 'em, if only Good Queen Bess/FDR will give him the go-ahead.” (1940, 109 min, 35mm) KS
Ingmar Bergman’s SUMMER INTERLUDE (Swedish Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Saturday, 4:45pm and Monday, 6pm
For those who know Ingmar Bergman solely through his films of the 1960s and beyond, the warmth and openness of his early work may come as a shock. SUMMER INTERLUDE, Bergman’s tenth directorial effort, is particularly rich in these qualities. Not only does it revel in the spectacle of young love, but a cute dog also factors prominently in the story and the film even contains a whimsical animated sequence. It begins in the brooding mode that one associates with later Bergman, as Marie, a successful ballerina, ruminates on her unhappiness and her lack of passion for David, her most recent suitor. But when Marie is presented with the diary that once belonged to Henrik, her first true love, the film switches gears. Bergman flashes back to 13 years earlier and traces the romance between Marie and Henrik, changing tone from somber to cheerful. Unfolding against idyllic rural locations, the love affair seems innocent and blissful, and the leads generate tremendous chemistry. Maj-Britt Nilsson is especially commanding as Marie—her transformation from the cynical depressive of the early scenes to the big-eyed romantic of the flashbacks is so thorough that it practically registers as a special effect. Playing David, Birger Malmsten compliments Nilsson perfectly; he conveys an optimism that reflects on her, making her seem even more beautiful as a result. Gunnar Fischer’s striking black-and-white cinematography enhances one’s appreciation of both characters, as his expert manipulation of light and shadow enables one to recognize the minutest changes of expression. Fischer’s work with Bergman has been eclipsed by Sven Nykvist’s later accomplishments with the director, but I would contend that it’s no less impressive. His close-up photography, which seems to penetrate straight to the characters’ psychologies, clearly laid the groundwork for what Bergman would achieve with Nykvist in his celebrated chamber dramas. But where those later films would present characters’ inner lives as sites of inescapable turmoil, SUMMER INTERLUDE sees psychological trauma as surmountable, ending, sublimely, with the promise of emotional rebirth. (1951, 96 min, DCP Digital) BS
Ingmar Bergman’s WILD STRAWBERRIES (Swedish Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Friday, 4pm, Saturday, 3pm, and Thursday, 6pm
On July 14th, 2018, Ingmar Bergman would have celebrated his 100th birthday. It feels just right for the Siskel Film Center’s centenary retrospective honoring the career of Sweden’s most important (even if resolutely unfashionable, according to contemporary academic film circles) auteur to be kicking off this July with five of his vibrant summertime features. Summer is a very special, brief time of the year in Sweden, known as the time of messy Midsummer rituals, joyful hedonism, and sexual spontaneity and abandon. How could it be otherwise in a country where the summers are so exquisitely balmy, fleeting, and intensely alive, compared to the harsh severity and darkness of the more famous Swedish winters? First up in the Siskel’s line-up of Bergman’s odes to summer is WILD STRAWBERRIES [SMULTRONSTÄLLET]. (It is worth noting that the smultron featured in the Swedish title is not the same fruit as the strawberry grown in the U.S., but a much sweeter, alpine variety that is an unofficial sort of symbol of national pride in Sweden, returned to by Bergman in several of his films as a recurring motif for personal fulfillment and the short-lived pleasures of life.) Bergman’s 18th directorial feature, WILD STRAWBERRIES is a film often singled-out for special praise as his most poignant and stirring cinematic achievement—and it is also surely the most beloved, enduring personal favorite of both classic European arthouse enthusiasts and more ironic, Nouvelle Vague-inclined, closeted Bergman fans alike (of which this reviewer humbly counts herself as one). Made during a significant personal, midlife crisis for the director—marked by the dissolution of both his marriage to his third wife Gun Grut, as well as the end of his affair with Bibi Andersson—WILD STRAWBERRIES is a film about the crucial importance of recognizing close familial relations and interpersonal warmth as the sustenance that will save you from the coldness of life’s crushing indifference (in fact, Bergman suggests, in a deadened world, it is the only thing that can). Starring the great Swedish silent film director and actor Victor Sjöström (THE PHANTOM CARRIAGE, HE WHO GETS SLAPPED) in his final screen appearance as Professor Isak Borg, the film’s main narrative innovation is its 24-hour frame during which the action consists of the professor’s journey with his daughter-in-law (Ingrid Thulin) by car from Stockholm to Lund to receive an honorary degree. This seemingly simple road-trip premise is strikingly intercepted by a series of flashbacks, memories, unexpected encounters, and hauntingly vivid and nightmarish dream sequences—the latter in particular reminding us of Bergman’s underappreciated surrealist genius (high-strung symbolism and Dutch angles galore!), and anticipating the grand guignol imagery still to come in THE MAGICIAN. Balanced admirably between representations of both the bleak realities as well as the unexpected joys of living, what Bergman gives us in WILD STRAWBERRIES is an unforgettable lesson that life—even when you don’t deserve it—hands you little gifts of camaraderie and friendship, little windows of opportunity for connection, reminders of all the ways that life and cinema can be beautiful. If you can, take some time to replenish yourself with a Bergman movie soon. During July, all of Sweden goes on holiday. (1957, 91 min, DCP Digital) TTJ
Gilbert Cates’ I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER (American Revival)
Northbrook Public Library (1201 Cedar Lane, Northbrook) – Wednesday, 1 and 7pm (Free Admission)
Based on Robert Anderson’s 1968 play, this story of a son, Gene (Gene Hackman) trying, as a middle-aged man, to stand up to his father, Tom (Melvyn Douglas), is a devastating portrait of familial dynamics and aging in America. Mourning the premature death of his wife, Gene wants to start a new life in California with a new love but is stymied by his aging parents back East. When his mother passes away, he must confront the father he has cowered before his entire life. Douglas gives a galvanic performance as a domineering patriarch aware of his powers slipping away and fighting like hell to hold on. While this is an atypical role for Hackman in that it is odd to see him as such a petulant, entitled, and humorless character, the simmering rage, which is the wellspring of much of his best work, is on full display here, albeit channeled toward different ends. What these two men can’t or won’t say to one another is as powerful as what they manage to. And for anyone with aging parents, the montage of Gene’s tour of retirement facilities is bound to cause many a sleepless night. Ultimately, this is a story of people wanting to love one another, not knowing how, and suffering the consequences. (1970, 92 min, 35mm) DS
Karel Zeman’s A JOURNEY TO THE BEGINNING OF TIME (Czech Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Friday, 8pm and Sunday, 5pm
After discovering a trilobite fossil while exploring a river leading into a cave, a group of four boyhood friends ponder what it would be like to see such a thing living in its natural environment millennia ago. Utilizing their knowledge of Jules Verne novels as a guide, they decide to follow the river through the cave in the hopes that it will lead them back through time, which it does. As the four boys travel backwards through the major epochs of natural history, they log their adventures as they come face to face with the fauna of the day, including wooly mammoths, saber-toothed tigers, dinosaurs, and more. Karel Zeman’s use of various animation techniques blends seamlessly with the live-action kids, particularly when compared to the more jerky animation found in earlier films like THE LOST WORLD (1925) and KING KONG. The stop-motion in scenes requiring animal close-ups or featuring significant movement by said creatures is effectively cross-cut with the boys’ dumbfounded reactions to what they are witnessing, capturing their sense of awe and wonder. Functioning as much as an educational film as it does an adventure film, A JOURNEY TO THE BEGINNING OF TIME forgoes many opportunities to create a sense of danger in lieu of creating teaching moments for the viewer. This dual function, and the narrative conceit of the boat, reminds one of being on a Disney World ride; one that is a taut trip through the pre-history of the world. (1955, 83 min, DCP Digital) KC
Tim Wardle’s THREE IDENTICAL STRANGERS (New Documentary)
Music Box Theatre — Check Venue website for showtimes
Note: Spoilers! Playing like an unholy amalgam of THE TRUMAN SHOW, a human-interest puff-piece, and the Stanford Prison Experiment, this documentary about three identical twins separated at birth is a fascinating tale in an imperfect package. When three 19-year-old New Yorkers in 1980 accidentally discover each other they become instant celebrities, making appearances on the Phil Donahue Show and the like, and living it up at hotspots like Studio 54. But when their three sets of adoptive parents go searching for answers this feel-good fairytale quickly goes very dark. The Jewish adoption agency that placed the triplets with three families of different classes seemed to be using them and other twins to run a study to determine the effects of nature versus nurture. After one of the brothers commits suicide, his survivors are even more intent on learning the circumstances of their adoption but their efforts are frustrated by bureaucratic red-tape. The brothers and the only families they’ve ever known are justifiably outraged to have been treated like lab rats. The study they were part of was never published and most of those who ran it are dead or keeping mum about their intentions. The fact that a Jewish organization sponsored a program such as this less than twenty years after the Nazis’ eugenics experiments is equal parts baffling and horrifying. One junior staffer, now a distinguished elderly woman with sparkling eyes, insists they didn’t know they were doing anything wrong. At times, Wardle needlessly inserts reenactments and slo-mo cinematography to tart up his movie; this has become de rigueur since Errol Morris revolutionized the look and feel of documentaries, but these flourishes can’t obscure the power of the story Wardle is telling. More questions are raised than answered, as is often the case in actual life rather than fairytales. (2017, 96 min, DCP Digital) DS
King Hu’s DRAGON INN (Taiwanese Revival)
ArcLight Chicago – Tuesday, 7:30pm
After the popular success of his second feature, COME DRINK WITH ME, King Hu left Hong Kong and the Shaw Brothers studio, went to Taiwan, and directed an even bigger wuxia hit, DRAGON INN. The film has much in common with its predecessor: as in DRINK, the action is largely confined to a lodge-and-tavern, the drama concerns the life-and-death struggle between authoritarian forces and rebel fighters, the tone moves confidently between rousing comedy and nail-biting suspense, and a strong (and decidedly not sexualized) female fighter figures prominently among the heroes. Formally speaking, DRAGON INN is even more accomplished than DRINK. One could argue that it was with this film that Hu fully realized his potential as a master of the widescreen frame. No matter whether the shot is long or close, the viewer feels overwhelmed with a sense of spectacle; Hu sets action against sweeping mountain ranges, employs crafty low-angle shots to make interior spaces seem cavernous, and lines the playing space with players. The montage is no less impressive. Hu is widely credited with introducing western-style editing to Asian cinema, and DRAGON INN showcases this style at its finest. You get sucked into the action, the cutting communicating a rhythm so subtle that it’s barely noticeable. (The more ostentatious editing effects—like the shock cuts that punctuate certain action sequences—are plenty satisfying too.) These formal strategies wouldn’t be worth scrutinizing, however, if DRAGON INN weren’t one of the most entertaining films of all time. Even before the action takes off, Hu gets you rooting for the good guys and jeering the baddies, setting up the characters and their rivalries with an expert knack for building tension. The story is fairly simple: Sometime during the Ming dynasty, a wicked warlord sends troops to the remote title outpost to assassinate the exiled grown children of his political opponent, whom we see executed at the start of the film. But unbeknownst to the warlord, a goodhearted martial arts expert, Xiao, is already at the inn, ready to protect the targets. (It also turns out that the targets are pretty adept at defending themselves.) Once all the characters are in place, DRAGON INN becomes a martial arts extravaganza; the second half of the film is defined by almost constant fighting, all of it beautifully choreographed and impossible to look away from. (1967, 111 min, DCP Digital) BS
Claire Denis’ LET THE SUNSHINE IN (New French)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Check Venue website for showtimes
Claire Denis follows up her darkest and most disturbing feature, 2013’s BASTARDS—a gut-wrenching journey into the heart of a prostitution ring that was loosely inspired by William Faulkner—with LET THE SUNSHINE IN, undoubtedly her lightest and funniest work, which was loosely inspired by Roland Barthes. A delight from start to finish, Denis’ first collaboration with the iconic Juliette Binoche is probably the closest we’ll ever come to seeing the Gallic master’s take on the rom-com. Binoche, looking more radiant than ever at 53, plays Isabelle, a divorced mother living in Paris whose career as a painter is as successful as her love life is a mess. The neurotic Isabelle plunges headfirst into a series of affairs with dubious men, some of whom are married and one of whom is her ex-husband, all the while hoping to find “true love at last.” Isabelle’s best prospect seems to be the only man who wants to take things slow (Alex Descas) but a witty coda involving a fortune-teller played by Gerard Depardieu suggests that Isabelle is doomed to repeat the same mistakes even while remaining a hopelessly optimistic romantic. Bolstered by Agnes Godard’s tactile cinematography and Stuart Staples’ fine jazz score, LET THE SUNSHINE IN is funny, wise, sexy—and essential viewing. (2017, 94 min, DCP Digital) MGS
MORE SCREENINGS AND EVENTS
The Nightingale (1084 N. Milwaukee Ave.) presents Chicagoland Shorts Vol. 4 on Thursday at 7:30pm. Screening are: THE LINGERIE SHOW (Laura Harrison), THE MAGIC HEDGE (Frédéric Moffet), SOLAR PULSE (Dena Springer), 4 THINGS TO REMEMBER (Hannah Kim), EVERY GHOST HAS AN ORCHESTRA (Shayna Connelly), AND YOU THE BELL (Elisabeth Hogeman), SOMETHING TO MOVE IN (Latham Zearfoss), VERACITY (Seith Mann), and ON THE RINK (Benjamin Buxton).
Black Cinema House (at the Stony Island Arts Bank, 6760 S. Stony Island Ave.) screens Dennis Dortch’s 2008 film A GOOD DAY TO BE BLACK & SEXY (92 min, Video Projection) on Friday at 7:30pm. Free admission.
The Goethe-Institut Chicago (150 N. Michigan Ave., Ste. 200) screens Fatih Akin’s 2005 German/Turkish music documentary CROSSING THE BRIDGE: THE SOUND OF ISTANBUL (90 min, Video Projection) on Thursday at 6pm. Free admission.
Also at the Gene Siskel Film Center this week: Lisa Immordino Vreeland’s 2017 documentary LOVE, CECIL (99 min, DCP Digital) and Peter Livosi’s 2017 film THE HOUSE OF TOMORROW (85 min, DCP Digital) both play for a week; Ingmar Bergman’s 1957 Swedish film WILD STRAWBERRIES (91 min, DCP Digital) is on Friday at 4pm, Saturday at 3pm and Thursday at 6pm; Jan Svěrák’s 2017 Czech/Slovakian film BAREFOOT (111 min, DCP Digital) is on Saturday at 7:45pm and Wednesday at 8pm; and Three Short Films by Dani Gal (2011-18, 75 min total, DCP Digital), featuring three films by the Germany-based Israeli video artist, is on Tuesday at 8pm, with Gal in person.
Also at Doc Films (University of Chicago) this week: Rudolph Maté’s 1949 film D.O.A. (84 min, 16mm) is on Thursday at 7pm.
Also at the Music Box Theatre this week: David and Nathan Zellner’s 2018 film DAMSEL (113 min, DCP Digital) and Bart Layton’s 2018 film AMERICAN ANIMALS (91 min, DCP Digital) both continue; George Miller’s 2015 film MAD MAX: FURY ROAD (120 min, 35mm) is on Friday and Saturday at Midnight; Marina Zenovich’s 2018 documentary ROBIN WILLIAMS: COME INSIDE MY MIND (116 min, DCP Digital) is on Monday at 7:15pm [this is a free screening for Music Box members only; check their website for information on becoming a member]; and Chris Columbus’ 1993 film MRS. DOUBTFIRE (125 min, DCP Digital) is on Tuesday at 7pm.
Facets Cinémathèque screens Canadian filmmaker Bruce LaBruce’s 2017 German-made film THE MISANDRISTS (91 min, Video Projection) and Andrew Dosunmu’s 2017 UK/US film WHERE IS KYRA? (98 min, Video Projection) for week-long runs; and Scott Baker’s 2018 film 5TH PASSENGER (88 min, Video Projection) has a single showing on Saturday at 11pm.
The Chicago Cultural Center hosts the Cinema/Chicago screening of David André’s 2013 French music documentary WE DID IT ON A SONG (82 min, Video Projection) on Wednesday at 6:30pm. Free admission.
Comfort Film at Comfort Station Logan Square (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.) presents an outdoor screening of Tod Browning's 1928 silent film WEST OF ZANZIBAR (65 min, Video Projection), with live musical accompaniment by Side Hug, on Wednesday at 8:30pm. Free admission.
ONGOING FILM/VIDEO INSTALLATIONS
Currently on view at the Art Institute of Chicago: Cauleen Smith's single-channel video SPACE IS THE PLACE (A MARCH FOR SUN RA) (2001) is in the Stone Gallery; Gretchen Bender's eight-channel video installation TOTAL RECALL (1987) is in Gallery 289; Joan Jonas’ MIRROR PIECES INSTALLATION II (1969/2014) is in Gallery 293B; Frances Stark’s 2010 video installation NOTHING IS ENOUGH (14 min loop) in Gallery 295C; and Nam June Paik’s 1986 video sculpture FAMILY OF ROBOT: BABY in Gallery 288.
CINE-LIST: July 6 - July 12, 2018
MANAGING EDITOR // Patrick Friel
ASSOCIATE EDITORS // Ben Sachs, Kathleen Sachs, Kyle A. Westphal
CONTRIBUTORS // Kyle Cubr, Tien-Tien Jong, Dmitry Samarov, Michael G. Smith