đœïž Crucial Viewing
Festival of Films from Iran
Gene Siskel Film Center â See below for showtimes
Dariush Mehrjuiâs THE COW (Iran)
Friday, 5:30pm
Sadly, Dariush Mehrjui and his wife were brutally murdered late last year; of his many achievements, the one for which heâll likely be most remembered is as a founding member of the Iranian New Wave, one of the richest movements in world cinema. His second film, THE COW, is his most acclaimed, with some even considering it to be the first film of that New Wave. Based on short stories by psychiatrist and writer Gholam-Hossein Saâedi, the narrative is simple enough: Hassan (played by famed Iranian actor Ezzatollah Entezami, in his first role), living in an impoverished village, values his pregnant cow above all else. Scenes at the beginning of the film show Hassan frolicking with the cow, his affection for and pride in the townâs lone such creature obvious. When Hassan is away, his wife finds the cow has died, or possibly been killedâitâs unclear, but the threat of neighboring bandits looms large; the villagers come together to pretend as if the cow had run away, seeming to hope that this will be less of a blow for its devoted owner. The logic of this idea is never made clear. But it doesnât prevent him from breaking down, eventually coming to believe that heâs the cow and eating everything in the animalâs shed. Despite the filmâs simple nature, its themes are complex, yielding a variety of interpretations; for instance, it may be the case that Hassanâs love for the cow is as much owing to how it elevates his status within the villageâs insulated economic landscape. Some reads are more sentimental, speaking to a universality thatâs often prized in popular world cinema. Itâs especially interesting how the film subtly oscillates between folkish humor (thereâs even a village idiot) and terror wrought by a descent into madness. Mehrjui had studied under Jean Renoir at UCLA and was heavily influenced by Italian neorealism (one might note similarities to Vittorio De Sicaâs BICYCLE THIEVES), perhaps explaining the dual evocation of both poetic realism and neorealism. What makes it distinctly Iranian is that censorship plagued the filmâs release; it was funded by the same government department that later banned it due to the depiction of rural poverty. The film had an admirer in Ayatollah Khomeini, however, who considered it such an important work that he decided not to ban film as a medium following the Iranian Revolution. Quite a legacy, indeed. Bahman Maghsoudlouâs 2022 documentary DARIUSH MEHRJUI: MAKING OF THE COW (85 min, DCP Digital) screens afterward at 7:30pm, with Maghsoudlou in person. (1969, 104 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]
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Abbas Aminiâs ENDLESS BORDERS (Iran/Germany/Czech Republic)
Saturday, 1pm
ENDLESS BORDERS provides numerous insights into life in Iran and Afghanistan, providing a good explanation for why so many people want to leave both of these countries. It centers on Ahmad, a schoolteacher from Tehran whoâs been exiled (for crimes that are never explicitly discussed) to a small border town in Afghanistan. When the movie begins, he has already established himself as the sole teacher in his community, but as much as gives himself to his work (heâs one of those noble souls who aspires to act on their sense of obligation to their fellow human beings), he still feels disconnected from the Afghans he lives among; plus, he misses his fiancĂ©e, who remains back in Tehran. Ahmadâs life changes when he meets a doctor who stops in the town on his way to fleeing Afghanistan and the two bond over the difficulty theyâve had in practicing their respective vocations in their home countries. Ahmad also gets involved in the life of a teenage girl living in a nearly impossible home situation; she too wishes to flee the country and is working on a plan with the one boy whoâs ever cared about her. Iranâs surveillance culture and moral policing start to seem tolerable when compared with the horror of life under the Taliban, which casts a pall over almost every scene of ENDLESS BORDERS, yet the reports Ahmad gets from his fiancĂ©e arenât too encouraging. Indeed, even the filmâs title speaks to the charactersâ hopelessness, making it a sobering experience from the start. At the same time, itâs always valuable to understand refugees (or people trying to flee their native countries) as individuals rather than statistics, and Abbas Amini, with his understated but humane approach, helps viewers to do just that. (2023, 112 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Ali Asgari & Alireza Khatamiâs TERRESTRIAL VERSES (Iran)
Monday, 8:15pm
Apart from the first and last, each of the ten vignettes in TERRESTRIAL VERSES unfolds in a single-take, static medium shot in which one character addresses another who never enters the frame. The offscreen characters are all figures of authority (school administrators, job interviewers, police officers, etc.) while the onscreen subjects are all in positions of subjugation; each sequence develops tension from the question of whether the visible protagonist can trust their unseen counterpart. In most cases, the interrogator abuses his authority or at least stretches it to assert power and make the other person uncomfortable. Some scenes end with the protagonist refusing to be a victim and walking away; others are not so triumphant. Based on this description, you might expect TERRESTRIAL VOICES to be repetitive or obvious, yet each scene feels distinctive and nuanced (the extraordinary cast is a great asset). More importantly, the cumulative effect reveals a damning portrait of systemic dehumanization in contemporary Iran. The vignettes provide a litany of daily humiliations, with an emphasis on the misogyny of the national moral code: one man must detail how religious he is for a potential boss to consider him for a job; a teenage girl is chewed out by her school principal because a blurry surveillance video might show that she accepted a motorcycle ride from a boy; a filmmaker is forced to make cuts to an autobiographical screenplay about how his father abused his mother; another job interview, this one with a female applicant, hinges on implied requests for sexual favors. The most visually dynamic sequence comes near the beginning, when a little girl, taken to a clothing store to get an outfit for an upcoming school ceremony, is made to put on more and more articles of concealing attire until sheâs practically unrecognizable. One of the more optimistic scenes, it ends with the girl taking off her chador and dancing. Both of these things would get her arrested if she were an adult, though as TERRESTRIAL VERSES passionately argues, living in contemporary Iran is like being in jail to begin with. (2023, 77 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Behrooz Karamizadeâs EMPTY NETS (Iran/Germany)
Wednesday, 6:15pm
In his feature debut as writer-director, Behrooz Karamizade makes explicit the link between capitalism and crime that underlies so much classic film noir when the main character, Amir, turns off a TV news report about how US sanctions on Iran have caused massive inflation just as heâs thinking about all the money heâs making on the black market. EMPTY NETS may suffer a little from what Cine-File contributor Ignatiy Vishnevetsky used to call âtheme-itis,â but on the whole itâs an engaging suspense film with social realist elements nicely worked in. When the story begins, Amir is broke, living with his mother, and desperately searching for work so he can impress the parents of the middle-class girl he hopes to marry. He gets a job at a fishery (the film takes place on the Caspian Sea) where the owners employ shady practices like having the workers bet on and take part in violent sports after hours and poaching squid to illegally sell their roe as caviar. Amir becomes a top employee when his bosses learn he can hold his breath underwater for an uncommonly long time; within weeks of his hire, heâs part of the select group that goes out on poaching expeditions and making extra money as a combatant in the organizationâs weird aqua fight club. The hero justifies his moral lapses by telling himself heâs doing them for his fiancĂ©e and his single mother and by taking emotional refuge in the camaraderie of his all-male coworkers; the movie builds to the moment when he has to face the truth about his own behavior. (At times, this plays like a very wet version of MEAN STREETS.) EMPTY NETS is distinguished by the fascinating operational detail of the fishery sequences and by Ashkan Ashkaniâs gorgeous cinematography. The DP on Mohammad Rasoulofâs THERE IS NO EVIL (2020), Ashkani has already demonstrated his ability to create stunning landscape shots in widescreen, but he works wonders here with the northern Iranian locations. The scenes on the sea are especially good; the water really looks menacing in the dark. (2023, 102 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Ashgar Yousefinejadâs THE DOLL (Iran)
Wednesday, 8:15pm
At least in the West, Iranian cinema isnât famous for broad, satirical farces, so that should make THE DOLL a novel discovery even for Iranian film aficionados. It should also be a novel discovery for fans of broad, satirical farces, as the film displays greater formal ambition than most works in this genre. THE DOLL unfolds in real time and very few shots, and while digital filmmaking has made this approach more feasible and thus more commonplace than it was before the 21st century, writer-director Asghar Yousefinejad utilizes the long-take aesthetic purposefully, ensuring that it doesnât feel like a gimmick. In fact, the approach benefits the story; Yousefinjejad uses duration and real time to make you feel trapped in the same space as the characters, and as their frustration mounts, the filmâs feverish tone becomes almost palpable. The story takes place just before the wedding of a vain old man named Ayoub and his much younger bride, who had been in his employ for years as the one-on-one care provider for his developmentally disabled son. Sheâs also the daughter of his decades-long mistressâthough, in classic farcical tradition, the bride isnât aware of this other relationship, forcing nearly all the other guests (who have known about it for ages) to keep it a secret in her presence. Also looming over the scene are Ayoubâs sister, who wants to stop the marriage so the bride doesnât inherit the family property, and the specter of Ayoubâs first wife, who mysteriously disappeared not long ago and who may or may not be dead. Much of the comedy of THE DOLL stems from how the characters exploit Iranâs moral code to justify their selfish and antagonistic behavior, with the central joke being that Ayoub, for all his immorality, still regards himself as a respectable patriarch. Heâs a wonderful caricature who elicits big, genial laughs even when Yousefinejad draws on more discomforting (and decidedly politically incorrect) humor in his other characterizations. (2023, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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More information on all screenings in this series is available on the Film Center website. Please note that Sundayâs 1pm screening of Parviz Shahbaziâs ROXANA (2023, 119 min, DCP Digital) is sold out.
Josef von Sternbergâs AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY (US)
Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E, 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) â Wednesday, 7:30pm
By the time he made AN AMERICAN TRAGEDY, Josef von Sternberg had made three films with Marlene Dietrich, each rife with the appreciable mise-en-scĂšne that singularizes the Austrian-born filmmakerâs lush visual style. This feels rather spare by comparison, based in a puny realism where the others languish in a glamorous shadow world bedazzled with vice. Moral depravity does play a part here, however, as the film is based on Theodore Dreiserâs 1925 novel of the same name, which was inspired by the 1906 murder of Grace Brown by her boyfriend, Chester Gillette, after he impregnated her out of wedlock. Dreiserâs style was antithetical to Sternbergâs; he was part of the naturalism movement, which favored observant realism over impractical and indulgent romanticism (Sternbergâs bread and butter). Before Sternberg was recruited for the task by Paramount producer Adolph Zukor, Soviet filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein, whoâd been brought to Hollywood by producer Jesse L. Lasky on behalf of the studio, had been assigned the project, the sociological aspect appealing to his radical sensibility. Dreiser liked his script, but Paramount did not; David O. Selznick wrote in a memo that it was âthe most moving script [he] had ever read. It was so effective it was positively torturing. When I had finished it, I was so depressed I wanted to reach for the bourbon bottle. As entertainment, I donât think it has one chance in a hundred.â But Dreiser wasnât so fond of Sternbergâs version, written by Samuel Hoffenstein, to the point that he sued Paramount (unsuccessfully so) to stop the release of an iteration he felt had turned the material into a routine potboiler. Really, Sternbergâs film is none of the things for which the producers hoped or the writer bemoaned. Itâs not entertaining in the traditional sense of the word, nor is it a potboiler. Sternberg didnât much care for it, either, which may have contributed to the sense of flatness that pervades it, especially in comparison to Sternbergâs other, more personal projects. But the film is nevertheless a compelling artifact, even if it doesnât reflect the filmmaker at the height of his craft. Phillips Holmes stars as the Gillette character, Clyde Griffiths, portraying him with perfect contemptibility, and Sylvia Sidney, personifying innocence, as the woman, Roberta, he seduces. Raised by evangelists, Clyde seeks a more opulent lifestyle outside of his familyâs modest mission; after heâs involved in a fatal accident, he leaves town and seeks work in his wealthy uncleâs garment factory in upstate New York. Itâs there he and Roberta start their love affair, during which Clyde begins integrating himself in local high society and falls in love with a beautiful young heiress. So when he finds out Robertaâs pregnant, Clyde begins conspiring a plan to rid himself of the burden, which ultimatelyâeven if accidentally-ish, after a weak change of heart and an ironic mishap that Clyde fails to rectifyâresults in her death. The remainder of the film is largely composed of the murder trial, during which Clyde is repeatedly pronounced to be, by his own defense, âa mental and moral coward,â as opposed to a cold-blooded murderer. Dreiser presents Clydeâs pusillanimity as the result of societal forces beyond his control, the illusory promise and inevitable unfulfillment of the American dream, while Sternberg presents him as what he is: a mental and moral coward, for whom misplaced desire is the only ill-fated circumstance. Lee Garmesâ cinematography, sometimes hinting at the chiaroscuro affectation of Sternbergâs best, complements the more sordid aspects of this pre-code probe into manâs moral downfall. The book was later remade into George Stevensâ A PLACE IN THE SUN, which in 1951 was much more constricted in terms of what it could and couldnât suggest (such as abortion). Even if his heart wasnât completely in itâand even if, as he wrote in his memoir Fun in a Chinese Laundry, he believed that â[l]iterature cannot be transferred to the screen without a loss to its value; the visual elements completely revalue the written wordââSternberg still managed to mine the material for his characteristically subversive perspective. Preceded by Ray Nazarroâs 1932 short film THE RUNT PAGE (10 min, 35mm). (1931, 96 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
Michelangelo Antonioni's RED DESERT (Italy)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Tuesday, 6pm
Antonioni's first film in color (and how!) begins deliberately out-of-focus; it seems as though the theater projectionist has erred until the credits appear fully legible. There are plenty of similar tricks throughout RED DESERT, which befits the theme of humanity's disorientation from modern life. Various settingsânamely the chemical plant owned by the heroine's husbandâsuggest science-fiction until the film reveals their real function; and major sequences begin without explaining how the characters arrived and end without suggesting they're going. For several films, the director had innovated formal strategies to convey the transience and spiritual poverty of industrial society: In L'AVVENTURA (1960), he famously had the main character disappear from the film one-third of the way in, never to return; and the final seven minutes of L'ECLISSE (1963) removed people from its urban setting entirely. But RED DESERT represents the full-on Antonionification of the world, a film in which individuals make little impact on their surroundings, whether they inhabit them or not. (Hence the quiet heartbreak of the film's conclusion, which some viewers misinterpret as anticlimax: the heroine simply realizes there's nowhere for her to escape to.) Monica Vitti's Giuliana has recognized this crisis, and her failure to respond to it has driven her to madness. The film depicts an unspecified period following her release from a sanitarium, a series of abortive attempts at emotional connection. Giuliana stares abjectly at a factory workers' strike, a monumental new device that will allow people to "listen to the stars," and an aristocratic party that tries and fails to transform into an orgy. The last of these accounts for one of the great sequences of Antonioni's career, and it alone is worth the price of admission. It's staged in a shipyard shack where Giuliana and several of her husband's friendsâincluding the introspective engineer (Richard Harris) with whom she's contemplating an affairâhave retreated for an extended bacchanal. The two-room structure becomes a microcosm for the already-cloistered world of the shamefully rich; and within Antonioni's masterful frames it becomes as frightfully imposing as any of the giant industrial structures owned by any of the characters. As the camera finds numerous snaky passages through the space, time itself seems to have been elongated; these characters, so full of imagination and drive, transform the space into a little paradise. But the air turns chilly the following morning, and the men and women proceed to demolish the wooden walls and furniture to add to the furnace. As Giuliana (and Antonioni himself) knows all too well, the heedless dive into pleasure will give way to destruction, leaving a sense of gaping absence in its wake. Screening as part of the Cli-Fi lecture series. (1964, 118 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
George Shermanâs THE RAGING TIDE (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Monday, 7pm
THE RAGING TIDE is the sort of gritty, eccentric programmer that often gets labeled as film noir because no one really knows what else to call it. And while the main character may be a murderer and Russell Mettyâs black-and-white cinematography is perfectly shadowy and atmospheric, the filmâs themes of personal growth and redemption are just too optimistic for it to sit comfortably under the noir umbrella. Thematically, it anticipates some of Hal Hartleyâs films, with characters being led by fate to change their natures. Richard Conte stars as a San Francisco hoodlum who kills a rival in the opening scene. After some conventional running-from-the-law business that George Sherman can generally be relied upon to render suspenseful, Conte comes to hide out on a fishing boat on the Bay. Charles Bickford plays the sea captain (a simple but morally upright Swede straight out of a Eugene OâNeill play) who lets him hide on his boat, gives him a job, and ends up serving as a father figure. The platonic love story that develops between these men is moving and nicely played, especially by Conte, who rarely had the opportunity to show signs of sensitivity through his tough guy demeanor. Playing Conteâs girlfriend, who spends the picture waiting for the heat on his trail to cool, Shelley Winters has some fine moments too. Thereâs one scene in particular when Winters is being questioned by Stephen McNallyâs police lieutenant and within a few minutes, she poignantly conveys just how little her character has lived in spite of her world-weary attitude. (Her path may diverge critically from Conteâs, but Winters also changes substantially before the movie ends.) THE RAGING TIDE is full of little revelations like thisâperhaps itâs more accurate to describe it as a character study with noir dressing. For the most part a workhorse genre director, Sherman fumbles with some of the moral drama but on the whole does well by the cast and Ernest Gannâs literary script. Screening as part of the A Brief Intro to George Sherman series. (1951, 93 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
Cecil B. DeMilleâs JOAN THE WOMAN (US/Silent)
Chicago Film Society at the Music Box Theatre â Sunday, 7:30pm
Cecil B. DeMilleâs first sweeping epic (he wrote in his autobiography that it began the âDeMille formula for historical picturesâ) was also the first Hollywood film about Joan of Arc, made even before she was canonized in 1920. She has since become an icon on the screen. There may be some deeper reason for this enduring fascinationâperhaps Joanâs devotion to that which she could not see becomes a stand-in for the power of the imagination and how it manifests into art. Whatever the reason, it likely doesnât apply here, as the film eschews what would later come to signify more classical renditions of the mythosâwhich usually focus on the Maid of Orleansâ religious ecstasy and her determination to liberate France from the Englishâin the contemporary framing device and the insertion of romance by way of a handsome British commander. The framing is that of the English trenches in France during World War I, where a young British soldier is faced with a suicide mission to clear a path for attack. He finds a sword in the wall of his trench, which prompts the revelation of Joan of Arc and the inspiring story of her tenacity. Joan is played by the opera singer Geraldine Farrar; the British soldier in both the contemporary story and the main plot by Wallace Reid. The love story goes unconsummated, as the maid sacrifices potential romance to stay true to God and her country, hence the filmâs title, which alludes to who she was and could have been before becoming Joan of Arc. Thereâs still much of the time-honored lore, from the interception of the divine to the inclusion of still-thrilling battle sequences. The trial scenes are underwhelming, especially in comparison to something like Dreyerâs THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928). But the denouement of Joanâs burning at the stake after refusing to deny her truth, is stunning. Invented for this film was the âWyckoffâ process, later renamed the Handschiegl color process, by engraver Max Handschiegl and the filmâs cinematographer Alvin W. Wyckoff; itâs the dye-transfer coloring of release prints, otherwise known as imbibition. (Per the Chicago Film Society, this new restoration is âderived from DeMilleâs personal nitrate print [and thus] retains the elaborate tinting, toning, and Handschiegl hand-colored effects.â) When Joan burns the flames are orange and red as they envelop her, a shocking contrast against the standard black-and-white. There was another version of the film released in France thatâs said to underscore the heroineâs patriotism; the American version, on the other hand, is more suggestive of the womanâs role in wartime efforts as the country anticipated becoming involved in World War I. The filmâs gender politics are divisive, with some considering it a feminist text, even if unintentionally so (DeMille likely wasnât aiming for that; in the book Icons of the Middle Ages, Margaret Joan Maddox proclaims that âDeMilleâs intention had been to show Joan as a reluctant leader⊠[h]is Joan clearly would have preferred marriage to a military careerâ), and others pointing out ways it undermines the potential for this kind of reading, specifically in how the frame narrative concerns a man. A title card at the beginning refers to Joan as âthe Girl Patriotâ and goes on to list all the ways she existed in relation to men. The purported goal of the film, to support US entry into World War I and for men to go and fight, is less concerned with Joan and rather uses her as a cipher through which to send a message (as she literally does in the film). Arguably, DeMille considers her as hardly more than just a woman, but the film itself is certainly an epic, and in that way services Joan formidably. With live musical accompaniment by Jay Warren and preceded by Georges Meliesâ 1899 short film THE PILLAR OF FIRE (1 min, 35mm). (1916, 148 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
James Frawleyâs THE MUPPET MOVIE (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Sunday, 7pm
Often tossed aside as nothing more than childrenâs entertainment, THE MUPPET MOVIEâa film filled with existential reckoning, raucous Borscht Belt humor, and anything-but-sober filmmakingâproves once and for all that Jim Hensonâs gang of puppet entertainers have serious business on their minds. In their first of many cinematic outings, the Muppets are cast in an origin story of sorts, a film-within-a-film exploring how this ragtag group of felt and foam creatures found each other and burst into the world of entertainment. Each character is introduced in the context that suits them best: Kermit the Frog idyllically strumming his banjo, Fozzie Bear absolutely bombing a standup performance, The Great Gonzo crashing his car, Rowlf the Dog crooning a tune, and Miss Piggy winning a beauty contest before bursting into the charming and (pun-intended) hammy romance number âNever Before, Never Again.â Paul Williams and Kenny Ascherâs myriad of original songs paint a varied sonic palette to embolden this adventure, from the psychedelic âCan You Picture That?â to the playful âMovinâ Right Alongâ to the deep melancholic ballads of Gonzoâs âIâm Going to Go Back There Somedayâ and Kermitâs now-immortal âRainbow Connection.â As a road trip comedy, itâs practically flawless, roaming from one set piece to another, filled to the brim with celebrity cameos that each carry both meta-humor and genuine chuckles (highlights include Milton Berleâs sleazy used car salesman, Mel Brooksâ madcap German scientist, and Steve Martin playing a waiter so insolent that his official character name is literally âInsolent Waiterâ). But amidst the triumphant comedy, thereâs a strong beating heart inside the film, as there always was with the work of Jim Henson, an artist committed to make you cry as hard as you laugh. At the end of the day, this is a movie about those cast off from societyâtoo weird, too strange, too off-puttingâfighting back to prove their mettle and show that all they care about is putting on a great show. If we really wanted to, if we put all our earnest good will into it, we could all see ourselves as Muppets; a gang of disparate exiles from society, star-gazing and dreaming together, setting out to tell great stories and make people happy. Is THE MUPPET MOVIE a kidâs movie? Perhaps, but more importantly, itâs a movie for the lovers, the dreamers, and you. Screening as part of the Revising the Musical series. (1979, 95 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]
Wim Wendersâ ANSELM (Germany/Documentary)
Music Box Theatre â See Venue website for showtimes
Of the auteurs who have ventured into the realm of 3D filmmaking, Wim Wenders is surely among the most astute in utilizing the formatâs unique aesthetic properties. This should perhaps come as no surprise considering the august German directorâs proven, decades-long mastery of fluid camerawork and dynamic mise-en-scĂšne. Like PINA (2011), Wendersâs first 3D film and another documentary about a German artist, ANSELM features immersive images that donât so much showcase the art as produce a specifically cinematic experience of and around it. The subject is Anselm Kiefer, a painter, sculptor, and photographer best known for creating monumental structures and mixed-media paintings incorporating such materials as straw and lead. Born toward the end of World War II and raised in the bombed-out city of Donaueschingen, Kiefer often grapples in his work with the legacy of Nazism and national memory as he confronts viewers with devastated landscapes, fascist visual motifs, Judeo-Christian symbols, and various signifiers of decay. Wenders and cinematographer Franz Lustig use 3D to emphasize the sheer scale of Kieferâs work, as in an ingenious establishing shot in which the magnitude of one of his hangar-sized studios suddenly becomes clear when Kiefer enters the bottom of the frame the size of an ant. At other times, Wenders takes advantage of 3Dâs dioramic rendering of depth by layering the screen with multiple planes, whether through cross-dissolves, superimpositions, or foreground/background juxtapositions. The material diversity and tactility he evokesâespecially in his prismatic use of water, glass, smoke, and light beams from projectorsâforms a continuity with the work of Kiefer. As weâre taken through the artistâs increasingly elephantine studios and exhibition spaces, culminating with a tour of his 200-acre compound in Barjac, France, the line between art, the environment, and our lived spaces dissolves; so too does the one between Kieferâs and Wendersâ work. ANSELM may be skimpy to a fault on biographical detail, but itâs an entrancing sensory experience born from the cinematic alchemy of these two singular artists. (2023, 93 min, 3D DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]
đœïž ALSO RECOMMENDED
Sidney Lumetâs THE WIZ (US)
Music Box Theatre â Thursday, 9:45pm
Charlie Smalls and William F. Brownâs The Wizâa grand retelling of L. Frank Baumâs The Wizard of Oz infused with the sound and vision of Black artistryâwas one in a line of new musicals on the Broadway stage finally centering Black voices and writers. Works like Purlie, Ainât Supposed to Die a Natural Death, Raisin, and Donât Bother Me, I Canât Cope all found relative levels of success, be it financially or critically, but The Wiz outpaced them all in overall performance count, and remains the only work amongst these to find life on the big screen, albeit under the tutelage of director Sidney Lumet, hot off the heels of more dramatic fare like DOG DAY AFTERNOON (1975), NETWORK (1976), and EQUUS (1977). Many would assume that Lumet, a white director of intensely realistic social dramas, might not be the best fit to helm a work of magical, fantastical Black empowerment like THE WIZ. And in many ways, theyâd be right! Lumetâs adaptation often feels like the Tin Man of Oz: a gorgeous and fascinating exterior filled with character, but with no beating heart found within. Tony Waltonâs production design is remarkable in its own right, practically Oz-ifying New York City into a world of Munchkins emerging from graffiti, humanoid crows, and subway stations come to life. But thereâs little-to-no dynamism in the camerawork of cinematographer Oswald Morris, preferring static wide shots of the action more so than letting the rhythms of the music dictate the movement of the image. Even the most energetic and toe-tapping numbers like âEase on Down the Roadâ find themselves charming to look at but with no true pep in their step. The saving graces therein lie with what has always been an impeccable musical score, alongside an absolutely committed cast. Unsurprisingly, Ted Ross (The Lion) and Mabel King (Evillene, the Wicked Witch of the West), the only two actors in the film who originated their roles on Broadway, are the MVPs of the cast, fully committing to the theatricality and playfulness desired of the work. Michael Jacksonâs physicality and singing chops as Scarecrow are frequent highlights, and Nipsey Russellâs Tin Man finds moments of delight, even if heâs vocally not as up-to-snuff as his peers. Itâs Diana Rossâ Dorothy that remains the most confounding, with Ross insisting she play the role of a teenage girl, here aged up to be a 24-year-old woman (Ross was 33 at the time of filming). Her emotional journey often remains confused throughout the film, yet her final number, âHome,â filmed entirely in an unbroken shot of Ross singing to the heavens, is a musical revelation, a heart breaking and putting itself back together again in musical form. Charlie Smallsâ compositions (from the impassioned âBe a Lionâ to the liberatory âBrand New Dayâ) move and live with such fervor and joy that even in such a constrained context they canât help but burst from the frame. Lumet and his crew might not have captured the stage spectacle at its best self, but THE WIZ succeeds in spite of itself, constantly tripping itself up at every possible turn but valiantly, heroically standing back up, brushing itself off, and easing down a magnificently entertaining road. 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 at 9pm. (1978, 113 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]
Werner Herzog and Denis Reichleâs THE BALLAD OF THE LITTLE SOLDIER (West Germany/Documentary) and LESSONS OF DARKNESS (International/Documentary)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Wednesday, 7pm
This week, Doc Films presents two of Werner Herzogâs most contentious documentaries, the featurettes BALLAD OF THE LITTLE SOLDIER (1984, 46 min, DCP Digital) and LESSONS OF DARKNESS (1992, 54 min, DCP Digital). Both films show the directorâs willingness to risk his life in order to capture powerful images; they also reflect his career-long fascination with chaos and madness. Whether Herzog succeeds in eliciting deep meaning from his death-defying escapades has been a matter of considerable debate, with some viewers praising his documentaries as some of the most important ever made and others regarding them as arthouse equivalents to the MONDO CANE films. BALLAD OF THE LITTLE SOLDIER may be the more shocking of the two, as Herzog devotes long passages to the indoctrination and military training of school-aged children. As the director explains in voiceover, he had been contacted to make this movie about the Miskito Indians of Nicaragua by the French-German journalist Denis Reichle, who had studied and lived with them. The Miskitos used children in their armed struggle against the Sandinistas, who raided and attacked Indigenous communities during the long Nicaraguan Revolution. The movie doesnât dive into the politics of the Revolution (or the role of the United States government in backing the Contras, who also fought the Sandinistas); rather it focuses on the suffering of the Miskitos and considers what would drive a group of people to use children to kill. Herzog is famously given to philosophical musings in his nonfiction work, but he keeps that to a minimum in BALLAD OF THE LITTLE SOLDIER (maybe this was the effect of having a journalist as his co-director), the better to confront the chilling reality at hand. The movie opens with an unbroken shot of a boy of about ten sitting with an automatic rifle and singing a song about being illiterate, and there are other shots throughout of the child soldiers apparently having fun at their military camp. These reminders of how young the boys are arguably the most upsetting moments in Herzogâs filmography. LESSONS OF DARKNESS, on the other hand, aims for a sense of cool contemplation whenever it presents Kuwaitâs burning oil fields in the aftermath of the Gulf War. The recurring helicopter shots of flaming hellscapes, scored to Wagner and other classical composers, echo Coppolaâs APOCALYPSE NOW (which in turn echoed Herzogâs AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD), and the abstract thoughts of Herzogâs narration (philosophical-musing Werner is back in full force in this one) further distance you from actual suffering. These are some of the most arresting moments of 1990s cinema, the sorts of passages that immediately brand themselves onto your consciousness; you may not necessarily want them there, however. Jonathan Rosenbaum called LESSONS OF DARKNESS âthe closest contemporary equivalent to Riefenstahlâs TRIUMPH OF THE WILL, both aesthetically and morally,â and itâs true that Herzog breaks a taboo by associating atrocity with beauty. Yet one could counter that the filmmaker wants us to recognize the wrongness of this way of thinking by including passages where he drops the schtick and presents atrocities on a more human scale. The tour of an abandoned torture chamber that occurs halfway through the film is absolutely horrifying and in no way beautiful. Screening as part of the Conquistador of the Useless: The Films of Werner Herzog series. [Ben Sachs]
Sierra Pettengill's RIOTSVILLE, USA (US/Documentary)
Film Studies Center (at the University of Chicago) â Friday, 7pm
Sierra Pettengillâs newest feat of archival filmmaking, RIOTSVILLE, USA, details the small fake towns set up by the American military in the 1960s in the response to growing civil unrest. Using soldiers to pose as rioters, the military would model demonstrations after real examples of recent major conflicts (the Watts riots are mentioned specifically) to prepare local police units for the assumed upcoming protests against racial injustice and the War. Understandably, this direct militarization of police did not keep anyone safe. As seen in the film, the riots during the 1968 Republican National Convention were largely instigated by militarized cops, who killed multiple civilians due to a bogus presumed threat of sniper fire. The film uses all archival materials, warping and obscuring some but leaving most tricks to the montage, juxtaposing footage of real demonstrations with the fake exercises. The clips of news coverage keep their beginnings and ends too, with punditsâ disfluencies and smirks allowing their rehearsals of popular narrative to line up nicely with the policeâs. Pettengill has made a film thatâs as bleak as it is rigorous and stimulating, and its relevance in our current year is without question. RIOTSVILLE inspires comparison to numerous critiques of state violence, but it also bears a certain resemblance to Nathan Fielderâs TV series The Rehearsal. Itâs an inverse of sorts to Fielderâs aspirational coaching, showing how rehearsing for something like riot policing is a great way to isolate peopleâs worst and most unfounded fears, running enough simulations until they metastasize into real-life violence. Similar to contemporary cops whoâve gone through Warrior Mindset training, RIOTSVILLE's police are under the impression that what theyâre doing is 100% necessary to maintain public safety. Over-training is impossible when the threat is always that bad. Since the âthreatsâ that Pettengill shows are often nonviolent protesters or people in their homes, she highlights that racist violence continues in part because of fantasies of existing violence. You probably wonât see a more politically vital film this year. With Allyson Nadia Field, Associate Professor of Cinema and Media Studies and the College, University of Chicago. (2022, 91 min, DCP Digital) [Maxwell Courtright]
Brian De Palma's BODY DOUBLE (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Thursday, 7pm
The 80s were a heady time: Apple released the Macintosh, Eli Lilly brought you Prozac, and Brian De Palma was constantly inventing new and exciting ways to fail the Bechdel test. BODY DOUBLE (1984) had the unenviable task of following up the director's DRESSED TO KILL (1980), BLOW OUT (1981), and SCARFACE (1983). Say what you will about those filmsâI think the horse is still breathingâbut in the waning days of New Hollywood they occupied a certain place in its pantheon. Caine, Travolta, Pacino. Add to that mononymous list: Wasson. "Nobody's perfect" is the De Palma mantra though, and BODY DOUBLE manages to transcend its flaws en route to realizing its unique vision of Reagan-era Los Angeles. Craig Wasson plays Jake Scully, underemployed actor and amateur claustrophobic. When we meet Scully he's just suffered a series of unfortunate setbacks: he has a fit on the job, he catches his wife cheating on him, and is thus booted from their home. Temporarily adrift, an acting acquaintance offers him a plush housesitting gig high, high in the Hollywood Hills. From this lofty vantage point Scully makes a habit of spying on exhibitionist neighbor, Gloria, and under the flimsy pretense of chivalry the practice eventually evolves into outright stalking. No points for catching the Hitchcock nods; De Palma's allusions to (or outright theft of) works like REAR WINDOW and VERTIGO are so overt as to signal jumping off points rather than ends in themselves. In a surreal segue toward the end of the film, a lip-synching Holly Johnson of the band Frankie Goes to Hollywood leads Scully, suddenly decked out in thick-rimmed glasses and argyle, onto a porno set to the tune of "Relax." The sequence functions as a movie-within-a-movie; it's De Palma's "Broadway Melody Ballet," if you will, except Gene Kelly didn't find Cyd Charisse behind a door labeled 'SLUTS.' The "Relax" scene marks a tonal crossroads in BODY DOUBLE. Soon after, the proceedings begin to accelerate at an almost nightmarish rate and the tightly plotted thriller De Palma fashioned in the film's first half starts to unravel as the limits of internal plausibility are pushed to the extreme. If you're on De Palma's wavelength though it's a worthy tradeoff, as tension gives way to near mania. When the film was released, Roger Ebert characterized BODY DOUBLE as having De Palma's "most airtight plot" yetâan assertion it's hard to imagine Ebert leveling without cracking a slight smile. The virtue and, dare I say, greatness of BODY DOUBLE come not from bulletproof narrative or even rudimentary character development, but instead from a messier place. De Palma synthesizes a multitude of disparate references into a scathing critique of nice-guy chauvinism, critical Puritanism, and countless other -isms, all under the guise of mindless genre fare. Screening as part of the Mirroring series. (1984, 114 min, DCP Digital) [James Stroble]
Nikolaj Arcelâs THE PROMISED LAND (Denmark/Germany/Sweden)
Gene Siskel Film Center â See Venue website for showtimes
Conquest seems to be a given in our compulsions and desires as humans. In contemporary times, we have ways to reframe this drive. I canât go a week without the satisfaction of crushing someone in a video game, and, as Nicole Kidman proclaims in the AMC theaterâs intro, the cinema can leave us ânot just entertained, but somehow reborn.â Then in the 1775 of THE PROMISED LAND, it would make sense for our protagonist, Mads Mikkelsenâs Ludvig Kahlen, to obsessively strive to shape the land to his will. In the desolate heath of the Jutland, Ludvig wishes to cultivate the land in exchange for a title of nobility, an outrageous and humorous yet hesitantly agreed upon request. Ludvig is a complicated man, and the filmâs Danish title BASTARDEN, literally THE BASTARD, does far more justice to this complicated portrait. The film does take a while to find its footing, but once the complex cast of characters begin to dig in and root themselves to the stubborn land, a compelling tale begins to sprout forth. However, the viability of the ground is not the only concern as local landowners and ruthless cutthroats look to take advantage of anyone they can. Ludvig, a former military captain, isnât necessarily out of his element but at what cost does his quest yield fruitful? While bodies stack up and traumas are repeated, the vision can easily be soiled. But perhaps Ludvigâs conquest is different, one of revitalization and agency rather than destruction for the sake of the status quo. (2023, 127 min, DCP Digital) [Drew Van Weelden]
Mira Nairâs MISSISSIPPI MASALA (US)
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Sunday, 4pm
Featuring one of the truly outstanding onscreen romances, Mira Nairâs MISSISSIPPI MASALA is also a multifaceted film about race. After their forced expulsion from Uganda by the dictatorship of Idi Amin, Mina (Sarita Choudhury) and her Indian family end up settling in rural Greenwood, Mississippi. Here, she falls deeply in love with Black business owner Demetrius (Denzel Washington), but their relationship reveals prejudices from both their families and communities. Nairâs camera moves to highlight the deep connections and profound rifts between characters. The gorgeous cinematography lends itself to Choudhury and Washingtonâs chemistry, which is completely realized; this is evidenced by a scene early in their relationship when theyâre on the phone and still their passion is palpable and so sincere. MISSISSIPPI MASALA is grounded in its detailed and charismatic characters. The film is also very much historically grounded, especially with regards to Minaâs father, Jay (Roshan Seth), and his relationship to his homeland of Uganda, a framing plot likewise about love and heartbreak that's interwoven throughout. MISSISSIPPI MASALA never shies away from complicated issues such as displacement, racism, and colorism and concurrently maintains its sweetness as a charming and sexy romance; itâs not a juxtaposition but rather an effective illustration by Nair of the complexities of these cultures and communities. Special event co-sponsored by South Asian Students Association (1991, 117 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]
Jonathan Glazerâs THE ZONE OF INTEREST (UK/US/Poland)
Various Cinemas â See Venue websites for showtimes
The term âthe zone of interest,â the designation the Nazis applied to the Auschwitz extermination camp and adjacent areas, might as well apply to the robust activity surrounding this ultimate human evil by artists and the larger cultural community. The late British writer Martin Amis used the term for his 2014 novel, and now we have director/screenwriter Jonathan Glazerâs very loose adaptation of Amisâ book as a major motion picture. Whereas Amis focused on personal relationships between pseudonymous and fictional versions of Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Höss, his wife Hedwig, and an SS officer, Glazer chose an observational approach to the historical Höss family, imagining what living in a villa directly abutting Auschwitz might have been like for them and those who worked for them. Filmed at Auschwitz primarily in an accurate reconstruction of the villa the Höss family occupied, Glazer and cinematographer Ćukasz Ć»al eschewed conventional shooting techniques. They instead operated static, hidden cameras that could be manipulated remotely, and used natural light whenever possible. They also had no interest in giving us the usual horror show. Instead, Glazer leaned on Johnnie Burnâs sound design of gunfire, screams, and dogs, and only what camp structures could be seen from the Höss villa, to evoke the Holocaust. For example, the Höss family is hosting a childrenâs party in the vast garden of which Hedwig is so proud. As the children play, a cloud of steam moves in a line across the top of the camp wallâyet another train transporting victims to the slaughter. What Glazer concentrated on what he thought mattered to Rudolf (Christian Friedel) and Hedwig (Sandra HĂŒller)âcareer success and the good lifeâand if they had to live near and work in a human abattoir, well, that was the price of admission. Höss was reportedly a cold-blooded, hands-on killer early in his career, but Christian Friedel didnât play this side of his character. Here, Rudolf seems like a loving father who reads to his daughters at night, is a good companion to his wife, and is well regarded by his fellow SS officers. His deeper depravity comes though chillingly during a late-night phone call with Hedwig. He eagerly shares his excitement that the deportation of up to 700,000 Hungarian Jews for extermination and slave selection will bear the name Operation Höss. Sandra HĂŒller as Hedwig projects a prosaic personality motivated by greed and social position. She seems like a Mother Courage pushing heedlessly through every circumstance to get what she wants, and is convinced that their living arrangement is doing nothing to harm her âstrong, healthy, happyâ children, despite the filmâs ample evidence to the contrary. Little is known about the real Hedwig Höss, so this depiction seems like another example of demonizing mothers for fun and profit and the only questionable choice in an almost flawless movie. The remarkable score by Mica Levi is a haunting mĂ©lange of electronic and choral music. Glazer uses her score sparingly, however, in attempts to foreground the murdered at moments when we may be lulled by the mundane screen action. (I highly recommend you watch through the credits to listen to her audaciously beautiful score in its fullness.) In the end, a final, puzzling scene takes place largely in the present. Iâll leave its meaning to your own interpretation, but the familiar bourgeois lives Glazer has shown offers us a chance to reflect on our own unknowing callousness in the face of the suffering others endure for our convenience. (2023, 105 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]
Justine Triet's ANATOMY OF A FALL (France)
FACETS Cinema â Friday, 7pm and Sunday, 3pm
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) â Saturday, 7pm
Like John Cassavetes, Justine Triet makes movies that feel like theyâre constantly trying to catch up with their own characters; one consistent pleasure of both of their films is never knowing how the tone will adapt to how the subjects behave. Unlike Cassavetes, who started as an actor, Triet began her career making documentaries, so itâs likely that she allows her characters such liberty because she cut her teeth on observing real people. In her fiction features, the sense of directorial fascination extends beyond what the characters do and into the worlds they inhabitâanother surprising quality of Trietâs IN BED WITH VICTORIA (2016) and SIBYL (2019) is how they at first resemble bourgeois lifestyle comedies but end up having a lot to say about law and psychoanalysis, respectively. ANATOMY OF A FALL, which won the Palme dâOr at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, also has a lot to say about the law, in addition to fiction writing and marriage; befitting a movie about a novelist, it feels novelistic in its breadth and depth. But that doesnât mean it ever feels less than cinematicâTriet makes as many engagingly eccentric decisions behind the camera as her characters make in front of it. ANATOMY OF A FALL is noteworthy for its deliberately graceless zooms and pans, which suggest the perspective of a curious insect, and its low-angle closeups, which evoke a sense of nervous intimacy before the characters even do anything. Triet also shifts enigmatically between objective and subjective perspectives, creates chilling ellipses through editing, and covers staggering amounts of emotional territory within individual scenes. If she werenât such an exceptional director of actors, her ambitions as a storyteller might seem show-offy; yet ANATOMY OF A FALL (like Trietâs previous two features) is worthy of Sidney Lumet in how it glues your eyes to the performances. Sandra HĂŒller deserves all the praise she gets for her lead performance as a successful novelist who stands trial after her husband dies in a suspicious accident, but the whole cast is mesmerizing, down to the bit players. Special mention goes to young Milo Machado Garner, who plays HĂŒllerâs 11-year-old son and exudes an emotional maturity well beyond his years. Yet another surprise of ANATOMY OF A FALL is how much it comes to be about his character in the final act; his story vaguely recalls Ozuâs early masterpiece I WAS BORN, BUT⊠(1932) in its stinging evocation of the moment when we realize our parents are flawed individuals like everyone else. It speaks to the effectiveness of Trietâs maximalism that even the revelations of secondary characters carry the weight of entire separate films. (2023, 152 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
Hayao Miyazakiâs THE BOY AND THE HERON (Japan/Animation)
Gene Siskel Film Center â Saturday, 8pm
The anticipation of seeing a new film directed by Hayao Miyazaki is two-fold: there is a set expectation of whimsy, magic, and complex thematic exploration inherent in his work, but this is tied to the mystery of not knowing how specifically these traits will play themselves out. So it is with his (seemingly) final film, THE BOY AND THE HERON, a film rooted in familiar themes that Miyazaki has been dwelling on for decades of artistry. As with many of his works, Miyazaki provides another story of a youthful protagonist; here, the teenage Mahitoâburied within heavy emotional armor to navigate the grief of losing his mother in a hospital fire the year beforeâfinds himself navigating an unknown mystical world that sits somewhere between the afterlife and his own subconscious, after he's lured there by a deliriously antagonistic gray heron. The fantastical elements of Miyazaki immediately float to the surface, from new imaginative creatures like the Warawaraâadorable floating balls that ascend to the heavens to be born as humansâto the bizarre amass of pelicans and parakeets that threaten to swallow up any frame they inhabit. Mahitoâs quest to find closure for his motherâs death results in a journey, ever joyous and sumptuous to watch, that ponders the nature of a world built upon loss, destruction, and chaos. Without spoiling too much, the film leaves us on something of an abrupt note, left to ponder the work of an undisputed master of cinema who was unafraid to bare his mortality before us, letting us sit in the knowledge that to live with the chaos of grief is still a beautiful life in and of itself; to know that there is no escaping pain, and there is something beautiful to carry on towards. Maybe a book your mother left behind for you, maybe a new, unknown journey waiting on the other side of a doorway. (2023, 124 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]
đïž ALSO SCREENING
â« Architecture & Design Film Festival
The Chicago edition of the Architecture & Design Film Festival takes place through Sunday at the Chicago Architecture Center (111 E. Wacker Dr. More info here.
â« Block Cinema (at Northwestern University)
Tamer Hassan and Armand Tufenkianâs 2018 film ACCESSION (48 min, Digital Projection), preceded by Colectivo Los Ingravidosâ short film SEEDS, screens Thursday at 7pm. Introduced by Jeremie Fant, the Molecular Ecologist and Conservation Scientist at the Chicago Botanic Garden, and followed by a post-screening discussion with Hassan and Tukenkian. 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 mid-March. More info here.
â« Doc Films (at the University of Chicago)
Denis Villeneuveâs 2010 film INCENDIES (131 min, 35mm) screens Friday, 7pm, as part of the Mommy Issues: Freudian Relationships in Film series.
Motoyoshi Odaâs 1955 film GODZILLA RAIDS AGAIN (78 min, DCP Digital), preceded by Winsor McCayâs 1914 animated short film GERTIE THE DINOSAUR, screens Saturday, 1pm, as part of the Dinosaurs Plus! on Film series.
Joel and Ethan Coenâs 2000 film O BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU? (107 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday at 4pm. Screening sponsored by the UChicago Folk Festival (Feb 9-10).
Joe Winstonâs 2021 documentary PUNCH 9 FOR HAROLD WASHINGTON (113 min, DCP Digital) screens Tuesday at 7pm. Co-sponsored by the Harris School of Public Policy.
Kerry Conranâs 2004 film SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW (106 min, 35mm) screens Thursday, 9:30pm, as part of the Computer Vision: Experiments in Digital Cinema series. More info on all screenings here.
â« Gene Siskel Film Center
Rainer Werner Fassbinderâs 1980 epic miniseries BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ (902 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday and Sunday starting at 11am, as part of the Settle In series. More info here.
â« MCA Chicago
In celebration of the Sojourner Truth Festival of the Artsâ 2023 edition and Faith Ringgoldâs retrospective, Sisters in Cinema and the MCA are co-presenting an all-day screening of rarely shown films by and about Black women, under the auspices of the Sojourner Truth Festival of the Arts, starting at 10:30am. More info here.
â« Music Box Theatre
Andrew Haighâs 2023 film ALL OF US STRANGERS (105 min, DCP Digital) and Ä°lker Ăatakâs 2023 German film THE TEACHERSâ LOUNGE (98 min, DCP Digital) continue screening this week. See Venue website for showtimes.
Clare Cooneyâs 2023 film DEPARTING SENIORS (85 min, DCP Digital) screens Friday and Saturday at 11:45pm.
Russell Mulcahyâs 2007 film RESIDENT EVIL: EXTINCTION (94 min, 35mm) screens Friday and Saturday at midnight.
Spike Leeâs 1992 film MALCOLM X (202 min, 35mm) screens Saturday, 1:15pm, as part of the Melanin, Roots, and Culture series.
Roger Watkinsâ 1983 film CORRUPTION (79 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday at 9:30pm. Programmed and presented by The Front Row and Olivia Hunter Willke.
MAP OF THE BOMB (2022, DCP Digital), by LA-based artist Amanda Beech, screens Tuesday at 7pm. Programmed and presented by Twelve Ten Gallery in conjunction with an exhibition of Beechâs work at their space. Followed by a post-screening discussion with Beech. Free and open to the public.
Josh Sliffeâs 2024 concert doc WHO CAN SEE FOREVER (80 min, DCP Digital), about Iron & Wineâs Sam Beam, screens Wednesday at 7pm with Beam in person for a post-screening Q&A and performance. More info on all screenings and events here.
â« South Side Home Movie Project
Bronzeville in Reel Time, featuring select cinema reels of Ramon Williams, Black IBEW electrician, film hobbyist, and early adopter of amateur filmmaking, screens Saturday, 1pm, at the South Side Community Art Center (3831 S. Michigan Ave.). The event is sold out. More info 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
As VDB welcomes the Eiko & Koma and Eiko Otake collections, they are presenting a three-month series of programs that highlight representative works from them. Eiko Otake with Wen Hui: No Rule is Our Rule (2021, 73 min) screens for free on VDB TV. More info here.
CINE-LIST: February 2 - February 8, 2024
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs
CONTRIBUTORS // Maxwell Courtright, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Ben Kaye, Jonathan Leithold-Patt, James Stroble, Drew van Weelden