:: FRIDAY, AUGUST 22 - THURSDAY, AUGUST 28 ::

📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING

Chicago Film Society Presents: Technicolor Weekend

Gene Siskel Film Center – See below for showtimes

Alfred Hitchcock's THE BIRDS (US)
Friday, 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. (1963, 119 min, 35mm) [Rob Christopher]
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Alan J. Pakula’s THE PARALLAX VIEW (US)
Saturday, 7:45pm
THE PARALLAX VIEW is beguiling in its mise-en-scène, so much so that one can forgive its rather dawdling narrative. Warren Beatty plays a reporter who falls down the proverbial rabbit hole after being adjacent to a liberal senator’s political assassination. Carefully composed visages propel the plot more than any line of dialogue, words failing where aesthetic geometry prevails. Even the political implications—“that right-wing conspiracy is built into the American political and corporate structure,” as critic Don Druker wrote in his review for the Chicago Reader—are chastened by its visual finesse, credit for which is owed to legendary cinematographer Gordon Willis and production designer George Jenkins. Even Beatty seems to understand that his performance is subservient to the image, foregoing any of his usual charm. Perhaps most noteworthy is the five-minute ‘film’ within the film that might seem better suited in an experimental shorts program; Pakula reportedly labored over it for four months, repeatedly changing the order of the still images that compose it. (To correct my previous assertion, perhaps THE PARALLAX VIEW does have this pseudo-collage aspect in common with Steers’ program…). On a tangential note, Pakula’s paranoid thriller is eerily relevant in light of current events. Referring to the early 70s, he said that America had “become a world in which heroes didn’t necessarily win...and not only didn’t you find the heavies, not only did you not destroy the heavies, you sometimes never even found out who they were. We live in a Kafka-like world where you can never find the evil.” He also stated that “[i]f the picture works the audience will trust the person sitting next to them a little less” at the end of it, a cynicism that’s not unwarranted given the political climate. But I digress. Perhaps the whole of both are greater than the sum of their parts, the solid figures superlative to each individual point, but every once in a while one must step forward and appreciate the brilliant minutiae, be it clever coalescence or sagacious style. (1974, 102 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]
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Stanley Donen’s ARABESQUE (US)
Saturday, 4:45pm
Stanley Donen didn’t care much for the script of ARABESQUE, a blatant attempt to replicate the success of his Hitchcock homage CHARADE (1963), so it speaks to his unflappable enthusiasm for making movies that he didn’t half-ass the direction but rather poured all his energy into nifty camera set-ups and trick shots. Working with cinematographer Christopher Challis (who shot multiple films for Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger), Donen presents characters in all sorts of reflections, films through microscopes and ophthalmological equipment, and shoots from behind panes of glass and aquariums. One could argue that the camerawork befits the film’s themes of trickery and encryption, though I’m not sure if that was intentional on Donen’s part. Gregory Peck (standing in for Cary Grant) plays a professor of hieroglyphics at Oxford University who’s encouraged by the Prime Minister of an unnamed Middle Eastern country to decipher a secret message that has some great geopolitical importance. As the film is a Hitchcock homage, the message, of course, is merely an excuse to put Peck in the middle of a dangerous situation in which he must solve a mystery while running for his life. Sophia Loren plays the love interest, whom Peck first meets at the home of the nefarious shipping magnate who possesses the important code. She’s the magnate’s girlfriend, but naturally she gets involved with Peck; for most of the film, neither he nor the audience knows whether she’s trustworthy. ARABESQUE contains almost as many double-crosses as it does trick shots, and Donen manages them nimbly. Like many Hitchcock tributes, this lacks the thematic heft and personal investment one finds in the genuine article, though it’s still fun to look at, especially the final action set pieces, one of which seems intended to outdo the famous crop duster scene from NORTH BY NORTHWEST. (1966, 105 min, 35mm) [Ben Sachs]
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Frank Tashlin’s THE DISORDERLY ORDERLY (US)
Sunday, 2pm
In the years following his legendary collaborations with Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis suddenly began to flourish under the direction of two expert filmmakers: Frank Tashlin and himself. Tashlin, a veteran animation director for Warner Bros.’ Looney Tunes, would helm eight features starring Lewis, meshing the King of Comedy’s innate slapstick eccentricities with his penchant for elaborate, cartoonish gags delivered with lavish visual flair. The Tashlin/Lewis team would last nine years, with THE DISORDERLY ORDERLY being their final collaboration, as Lewis had seemingly found greater artistic, and financial, success with his own self-directed projects like THE BELLBOY (1960) and THE NUTTY PROFESSOR (1963). That feeling of finality is all but absent here, though, as Tashlin and Lewis’ comedic instincts feel as sharp as ever, helming a loud and witty comedy full of medical malpractice mania. In the revolving door of careers he would portray on screen, Lewis plays—who else?—the titular orderly whose overly psychosomatic responses to his patients’ ailments leaves him flailing on the job more often than not. His dream to follow in his late father’s footsteps and graduate from orderly to full-fledged doctor keeps hitting bumps in the road, be it full-body convulsions when overhearing a patient describe her countless maladies, or accidentally letting a patient in a full-body cast roll down in a hill at comic speed. Lewis, ever the sentimentalist, injects a dramatic subplot regarding a reunion with a high school crush newly admitted at the hospital, though the sharp edges of that narrative threaten to pop the comedy balloon. No matter, as the cavalcade of sight gags and pratfalls escalates into one of the most deranged chase scenes I’ve yet to witness in a major motion picture, as gurneys and ambulances race deliriously against each other, marking a fitting end to one of the twentieth century’s most beautifully chaotic collaborations. (1964, 90 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]
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Also screening in Technicolor Weekend are Robert Clouse’s 1974 film BLACK BELT JONES (87 min, 35mm) on Friday at 8:30pm; Charles Walters’ 1953 film LILI (81 min, 35mm) on Saturday at 2:15pm; and Robert Stevenson’s 1964 film MARY POPPINS (139 min, 35mm) on Sunday at 4:30pm.

Akira Kurosawa’s STRAY DOG (Japan)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Monday, 8pm

Everyone is begging for things to cool down in this early detective thriller from one of cinema’s undisputed masters, Akira Kurosawa. In some cases, this is extremely literal; barely a scene goes by without a character hectically fanning themselves, seeking the cooling winds of a desk fan or the soothing sensation of a popsicle, anything to control the profuse sweat and exhaustion weighing down their minds and bodies. Throughout his career, Kurosawa would use the weather and climate to literalize emotion and themes. Here, the building panic festering within Detective Murakami (Toshirō Mifune, in one of the first of many collaborations with Kurosawa) manifests as a heatwave affecting all of Tokyo, more characters finding themselves pulled into Murakami’s quest to find the gun that's been stolen from under his nose. Even as his emotional state casts a humid shadow across the city, Murakami often finds himself isolated within the frame, resting in the background or on the sidelines of scenes, his obsession over his mistake casting him aside from even those trying to help him. The spikey energy of Mifune’s character is matched by his crime-solving partner, Detective Sato (Takashi Shimura, another brilliant Kurosawa regular), a veteran of the police force offering a grounded energy to the shaggy dog, episodic quest. Sato assures Murakami that the longer he works as a detective, any and all emotional attachment to the work will drift away, a lesson learned too late in the film’s inevitable violent ending. (1949, 122 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]

F.W. Murnau’s JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT (Germany/Silent)

Comfort Film at Comfort Station – Wednesday, 8pm

JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT, F.W. Murnau’s earliest surviving film, is an extremely Germanic tale of love and anguish—it feels like it could be the modern-dress version of some “Sturm und Drang” novella. The plot concerns a famous doctor, Eigil Börne, who is seduced away from his fiancée by a cabaret dancer; she in turn later leaves him for one of his patients, a painter losing his eyesight. That summary sounds melodramatic, and to some extent, the film plays that way, yet Murnau’s sense of nuance is already in place, and it tempers the creakier elements of the scenario. The performances are detailed and impassioned, anticipating the director’s extraordinary work with Emil Jannings in THE LAST LAUGH (1924) and FAUST (1926), while the intertitles exhibit a psychological complexity that suggests the direct influence of literature. Consider an early scene in which Börne’s fiancée, Hélène, journals about her conflicting feelings for him. Her entry acknowledges her passion for Eigil but also her fear of distracting him from his career, which forces her to suppress her emotions when she’s around him. With this scene, the film turns a potentially disposable character into a complicated human being, and each of the other main characters is granted similar moments. Hélène is arguably the heart of JOURNEY INTO THE NIGHT, even though she appears in it the least of the four principal characters. Murnau sometimes returns to shots of Hélène after the other characters are “done” with her, reminding us of the repercussions of Börne’s callousness. The filmmaker also elicits sympathy for the dancer and the painter, despite the fact they’re instrumental in Börne’s downfall (though one could argue that only the doctor is responsible for that). The film considers everyone’s motives humanely, resulting in a complex meditation on how desire can destroy a person. In partnership with the Goethe Institut and with a live musical score by Ira Glass and a special guest. (1921, 84 min, Digital Projection) [Ben Sachs]

Clint Eastwood’s GRAN TORINO (US)

The Davis Theater – Sunday, 7pm

In GRAN TORINO, Clint Eastwood’s Walt Kowalski says at one point, with the straightest face possible (it is Eastwood, after all), “Get off my lawn.” The NIMBY adage is uttered without a hint of irony, yet in the context of Eastwood’s film, there’s nevertheless a blazing self-awareness to the sentiment. Understandably (if misguidedly), many think of Eastwood as a real-life Walt, a racist old man stuck in the past, representative of everything that’s wrong with the country who thinks it’s everyone else that’s the problem. (Released the year Obama was elected president, in retrospect one might hear whispers of “Make America Great Again” floating in the air of Kowalski’s rundown Detroit suburb.) In college I knew a guy who thought Stephen Colbert was really conservative, and though for all intents and purposes Eastwood is conservative and it follows that one might interpret his character as being a stand-in for the filmmaker himself, as much as Colbert is a satirical representation of a Fox News host Walt is a rather earnest incarnation of that which Eastwood himself seems to personify. Except, as Eastwood reveals subtly through a not-so-subtle, almost-sentimental story, of a retired veteran and longtime Ford factory worker who starts off a racist asshole but begrudgingly befriends some Hmong teenagers who move in next door, there’s more depth to the stereotype of he who stereotypes and while not exactly redeeming, confronts a two-dimensional character on the contemporary American stage. It’s specifically 16-year-old Thao (Bee Vang) with whom Kowalski becomes close; Thao is being eagerly recruited by his cousin to join his gang, and Walt takes him under his wing after he’s caught trying to steal the old man’s prized Gran Torino. At the funeral for Walt’s wife, a young neighborhood priest takes an interest in the old man, as his wife had made him promise to get Walt to take confession. Walt’s transgressions go beyond being racist; he’s haunted by what he did as a soldier during the Korean War. In one of the most affecting scenes I’ve seen in an Eastwood movie, which is saying a lot, there’s a beautiful symmetry with (spoiler alert) Walt’s eventual confession scene and one immediately thereafter where Walt has locked Thao in the basement, preventing him from taking part in revenge on the gang bangers who assaulted his sister. They speak between a screen-like door similar to that of the confessional booth, where Walt confesses the impact of his real sins, that of killing other humans and which he doesn’t want weighing on Thao's young soul. The film was written by Nick Schenk, a “nobody” screenwriter whose first professional script appealed to Eastwood; he has gone on to write THE MULE and CRY MACHO, and along with GRAN TORINO, these films embody the hallmarks of Eastwood’s later career, wherein he interrogates the moral follies of both his earlier directorial work and his image at large. As an actor, Eastwood doesn’t play the character sympathetically at all, rather depicting him as a person who’s thought and done bad things and to realize the error of his ways too late, through his relationship with Thao, his family, and the Hmong community that now comprises a large part of his community. His essential personhood is more complicated than merely being good or bad. In atonement, he makes the ultimate sacrifice—atonement being the key word, not redemption. What begins as almost a caricature ends up yielding true development, both in the narrative and spiritual sense. Screening as part of the Don’t Fence Me In series. (2008, 116 min, DCP Digital) [Kat Sachs]

📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED

Clint Eastwood's THE MULE (US)

The Davis Theater – Wednesday, 7pm

One can be hard-pressed to still defend Clint Eastwood’s brand of moviemaking with a straight face. Not that there isn’t enough evidence for this defense, but it usually boils down to having to defend him and the slippery notion of separating the art from the artist. Eastwood’s work and public persona aren't all that distant in that his art isn’t necessarily trying to escape or gloss over his persona. Yet Eastwood is one of the most self-critical filmmakers living, at least to a point. It can be easy for many to let their cultural memory slip back only so far: to a cranky old man berating a chair at the RNC or shallow first-reads of the good but not great “racist old man movie”, GRAN TORINO (2008). It's sadly the shallowest observations of his art that will keep people from witnessing this strange and moving film, which oddly masquerades in the form of prestige, vying for awards-season love. In THE MULE, Eastwood seems to be posturing as a confessor, yet the result will have many scratching their heads at just how much humility he can muster onscreen. The director goes so far as to cast his own daughter and alter facts about the real-life subject he's portraying in order to comment on his own personal history. The movie is in part a rueful admission of having lived in the service of fleeting pleasures, but it also nosedives into sequences that wouldn’t be out of place in the horniest rap video. Eastwood has laid out these contradictions before: his  persona of the shitty dad/husband who only cares about his work and fleeting sexual encounters has been there since TRUE CRIME, and threads about guilt and his public image going hand-in-hand, can be traced all the way back to SUDDEN IMPACT. But here, Eastwood's pursuit of forgiveness without expecting to find redemption feels more lonely than arbitrary—the film’s final shot, combining the ability to remain attached to one’s work without having to compromise, while remaining contained in one’s own personal prison of failure, is one of the loneliest shots you’re likely to see this decade. Screening as part of the Don’t Fence Me In series. (2018, 117 min, DCP Digital) [John Dickson]

Peter McDowell’s JIMMY IN SAIGON (US)

Chicago Filmmakers – Friday, 7pm and Sunday, 6pm

It sometimes feels reductive to read films of the New German cinema primarily as reactions to the legacy of Nazism. Although DER FAN invites this reading early on—with an image of a Third Reich rally, set to the score composed by aptly named New Wave group Rheingold—Eckhart Schmidt’s thriller has both a monomaniacal focus and a sophisticated, expansive set of ideas on its mind; the links between girlhood and fandom, consumerism and violence, pop stardom and fascism. Teenage Simone (Désirée Nosbusch) thinks of nothing but her musical idol, R (Bodo Staiger), writing love letters to him in which she asks him to send her a message back through his television appearances. She cuts school and hitchhikes from Ulm to Munich, camping outside the television studio where he is preparing for another performance. Along the way, she suffers the attentions of leering bums who offer her wine and an attempted assault by the driver who offers her a lift—barely skirting a serious trauma until, that is, she comes face to face with her quarry in all his vacant majesty. An enthralling portrait of a disturbed mind, Schmidt’s film lulls the viewer into a trancelike identification with Simone, herself a political subject pressed between a consumerist culture industry and a pervasive structure of misogyny that are two faces of the same vise. Schmidt himself was a journalist and critic before turning to filmmaking, becoming a prolific helmer of documentaries, including interviews with Hollywood émigré and fellow countryman Douglas Sirk. An intellectual artist fully engaged with the past and present of popular culture, his treatment of R’s stage-managed performances—supposedly inspired by the progressive arrangements of David Byrne and Brian Eno—emphasizes the futuristic aesthetics that cycle back around to a kind of Hitlerian kitsch, all seen through the unblinking eyes of Simone, a girl yet without a past in a newborn country without a memory. Considering the caustic satire of an upwardly mobile, postwar Germany in THE MARRIAGE OF MARIA BRAUN (1979), historian Tony Judt wrote that “For [Rainer Werner Fassbinder] and a coming generation of angrily dissenting West Germans, the newfound qualities of the new Germany in its new Europe—prosperity, compromise, political demobilization and a tacit agreement not to arouse the sleeping dogs of national memory—did not deflect attention from the old defects. They were the old defects, in a new guise.” DER FAN puts a fresh face to Judt’s “old defects”, studying their mutations with an empathetic but merciless gaze before—in its shocking if inevitable third act—peeling back the skin to show the red, raw underneath. (1982, 92 min, DCP Digital) [Brendan Boyle]

Jeff Tremaine's JACKASS: THE MOVIE (US)

Music Box Theatre – Thursday, 9:45pm

There are two ways you can come at JACKASS. The first: this is a film filled with desperate idiots who will do anything for fame and fortune, including degrading themselves as pure spectacle. A pointless parade of post-Beavis and Butthead, post-Howard Stern stupidity and baseness. A meaningless montage of violence for the sake of humor. The nadir of American entertainment. The second: JACKASS is a direct successor to the enduring Hollywood comedy of Harold Lloyd, the spectacular stunt work of Buster Keaton, the violent slapstick of the Three Stooges, the anarchic free-for-all of the Marx Brothers, and the silly chaos of the Looney Tunes. Obviously, I stand by the latter view. Because while it is simple gross-out comedy, it isn't only that. How can you not appreciate the astoundingly pure Wile E. Coyote-ness of "Rocket Skates," or the "Ain't I a stinker" vibes of “The Golf Course Airhorn.” What people seem to tend to forget when discussing this film is that while it was officially directed by Big Brother skateboard magazine editor Jeff Tremaine, it was produced, partially written and filmed by, and occasionally stars Spike Jonze—the man who 3 years prior was nominated for Best Director for BEING JOHN MALKOVICH (1999) and in the same year as JACKASS released the four-time Oscar-nominated ADAPTATION (2002). And that's the thing about this film: it's smarter than it wants you think it is. Honestly, it's even smarter than some of the people who star in the film think it is. The film opens with the majestic sounds of Carl Orff’s bombastic "Carmina Burana," while the second song featured is Slayer’s “hit” about Nazi war crimes, "Angel of Death." And this duality is what makes JACKASS a film absolutely worth taking seriously. Yes, I agree, watching someone get electrically shocked in the genitals is moronic humor. But that skit, "The Electric Stimulator," is also the living embodiment of artist Barbara Kruger’s aphorism of feminist postmodernism: "You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men." Seeing Dave England, naked, legs up and spread in the missionary position, surrounded by shirtless men with an electric stim pad on his taint shows how JACKASS transcends dumb hetero jock humor and enters the realm of outright gay BDSM porn. It’s interesting to see exactly how truly and unapologetically queer the JACKASS franchise truly became by the fourth film JACKASS FOREVER (2022). But am I reading too much into this? A film with absolutely no plot, no narrative, no point? A series of stunts and gag pieces, some lasting literally less than a minute? Quite possibly. Arguably, completely. But the fact that I can even possibly attach these concepts to JACKASS, can even see a possible through line to the silent comedy greats of Hollywood says something. Don’t underestimate this film. It’s pure entertainment, but it's not bereft of meaning or substance. Or maybe it is. Just please don’t try any of these stunts at home, cause these guys are definitely smarter than you are. Presented by Rated Q and Ramona Slick! - A Celebration of Queer, Camp, & Cult Cinema with preshow drinks and DJ in Music Box lounge at 9pm and a dragshow performance in the Main Theater at 9:45pm, with the screening to follow. (2002, 84 min, 35mm) [Raphael Jose Martinez]

Spike Lee's HIGHEST 2 LOWEST (US/Japan)

Gene Siskel Film Center — See Venue website for showtimes

HIGHEST 2 LOWEST marks Spike Lee and Denzel Washington’s fifth collaboration together, beginning with MO’ BETTER BLUES (1990). Washington plays David King, legendary record producer and owner of Stackin’ Hits records; he's sold a portion of his company and looks to retake control by putting everything on the line. His plan is upended when kidnappers apprehend his son Trey (Aubrey Joseph) and his friend Kyle, the son of his friend and chauffeur Paul Christopher (Jeffrey Wright). When the kidnapper releases Trey by mistake, David is faced with the choice to buy back power or risk it all for Kyle’s ransom. The film follows the outline of Kurosawa’s HIGH AND LOW (1963), but the insecurities of the collaborators saturate the story. For a majority of the runtime, this feels less like a crime thriller and more like a Bergmanesque meditation. Living in his ivory tower of pop culture relics, King lives fully aware his prime has passed. While his home decor fills the frame with images of James Brown, George Foreman, Muhammad Ali, and Michael Jackson, he feels restless. Washington, a surrogate for Lee, tries to keep up in an unrecognizable world after experiencing the greatest success in his field. Some have argued the film is a metaphor for Lee’s pivot towards conservative politics, glorifying ownership of production; but the character’s motivation lies in pursuit of mojo rather than salivating over exploitation. HIGHEST 2 LOWEST feels like two separate genre films colliding head on at 90 miles an hour. The first half presents a day in the life with sprinkled uneasiness by way of New Wave-ish editing style. As father and son enter the gym, the camera trucks along on Steadicam. As family talks to the coach, Lee cuts between parallel shots slightly punched in for coverage, a big no-no according to most accredited film schools yet a choice made by the artistic director of NYU Tisch’s film program. During one of Washington’s greatest monologues, Lee’s editing interrupts the actor to communicate the character’s frustration past the abilities of skilled oration. Lee’s intervals keep us on our toes, shocking us awake in case we were sleeping. An actor’s brilliance comes from his spontaneity; a good actor prepares, but a great actor prepares not knowing what will come out. Every frame of Denzel Washington exudes truth and vulnerability. In interviews, Lee appears quietly apprehensive sitting next to Washington, quietly observing a force of nature. The film pairs his chops with other heavy hitters such as Wendell Pierce and delightfully surprising A$AP Rocky. The final confrontation between rhyming foes deserves a seat next to the coffeeshop scene from HEAT (1995). For a film about an artist ruminating on the past, we witness the best images of the auteur’s career. HIGHEST 2 LOWEST is not OLDBOY (2013). Instead of remaking, this Spike Lee Joint riffs in its own direction, using the classic as a launchpad into the final phase of his career. (2025, 133 min, DCP Digital) [Ray Ebarb]

Robert Altman’s GOSFORD PARK (UK/Italy/US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Saturday, 2pm

Taking inspiration from Jean Renoir’s THE RULES OF THE GAME (1939), Robert Altman’s masterly social satire GOSFORD PARK is a film so much about the power dynamics of spaces. Altman’s camera is slow and deliberate, tracing characters’ positions both figuratively and literally, their movements and placement within scenes as significant as any of the choice dialogue. While we follow some characters more closely than others, the focus on space helps to establish everyone so richly, as the cleverly overlapping dialogue in group scenes reveals a host of interpersonal issues bubbling underneath the surface. It’s also got a devilishly funny and sharp script, which makes the moments of grief and silence even more potent. Our entryway into this interwar-set film is Mary Maceachran (Kelly Macdonald), a sweet but inexperienced maid to Lady Trentham (Maggie Smith), who’s attending a shooting party on a large British country estate. Traversing between upstairs and downstairs, Mary witnesses the overbearing rule of the estate’s owner Sir William (Michael Gambon); the downstairs is run by the competing forces of head housekeeper Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren) and the cook, Mrs. Croft (Eileen Atkins). GOSFORD PARK examines what happens when outsiders—including an American filmmaker played by Bob Balaban (who developed and produced the film with Altman)—question or challenge the established social norms. This questioning culminates in a murder that turns the film into an Agatha Christie-like mystery. The apathy and sheer boredom of the upper class, however, is even more emphasized by the violent death of one of their own. The heartbreak of the film is how their callousness affects those with any kind of lower social standing, especially women. Their few moments of agency can be found in scenes of pleasure, like when party guest and matinee idol Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam) entertains them all, even the servants who sneak up to hear the music. A song he plays, which also closes out the film, laments “we shall never find that lovely land of might-have-been,” suggesting that even with realization of the cruelty and unfairness of these structures, it’s incredibly difficult to change. Screening as part of the Robert Altman Centennial series. (2001, 137 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]

Julian Glander’s BOYS GO TO JUPITER (US/Animation)

Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes

Will anyone handle the monotonous horrors of our contemporary gig economy culture with such whimsical artistry as Julian Glander? The writer/director/composer/3D animator behind BOYS GO TO JUPITER has crafted a potent and heartwarming treatise on the pitfalls of late-stage capitalism that doubles as a hilariously inventive computer-animated hangout film. Glander’s world, all bright pastels filling up painterly frames, reimagines Christmastime Florida as a grand geometric landscape filled with colorful humans of all shapes and sizes navigating a world absurdly similar to our own. The episodic proceedings follow the grindset mindset-obsessed Billy 5000 (Jack Corbett, in a bit of meta-casting considering his notoriety as the “Planet Money” TikTok guy), as he spends his precious teenage days avoiding his goofy friends and clingy younger brother to deliver food through the familiarly exploitative Grubster app (“Have a Grubby day!” becomes a familiar refrain throughout). There's a larger plot at stake here involving rare species of lemon, baby aliens running rampant, and a vicious capitalist juice scientist (Janeane Garofalo) pushing her research to the brink, but as thematically rich as the material is to dig into, BOYS GO TO JUPITER excels on a gorgeous aura of vibes. Glander’s electronic music (goofy and charming songs littered throughout) mixed with his exquisitely lo-fi animated scenes makes for a perfect hangout vibe to rival that of films like SLACKER (1990) or NOWHERE (1997). Glander fills out the cast with alt-comedy royalty like Julio Torres, Cole Escola, Joe Pera, and Demi Adejuyigbe, fellow artists with singular visions of creating meaningful comedy through aesthetically particular means. That Glander’s world is wide enough to make all of these voices mesh together seamlessly is a testament to how curious and peculiar his work is. It’s not spoiling much to say that Billy 5000 eventually learns that life is worth more than the gigs you stack up and the money you make and that the real joy of life are the connections you make. A lovely and meaningful message from a film featuring singing worms and talking dinosaurs—what could be more 2020s than that? (2024, 90 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

Sam Hayes’ POOLS (US)

Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes

“It’s unclear.” This sentence spoken by the central character of writer and first-time feature director Sam Hayes’ POOLS, is our entry into a world where the vagaries of the future prove to be life’s biggest challenge. Kennedy (Odessa A’Zion) is in summer school at Lake Forest College, the tony institution on Chicago’s North Shore to which the well-heeled send their offspring to train to be the elites of tomorrow. She spends what little time she actually visits a classroom drawing pictures and writing poetry all over her books. Warned that if she misses any more classes, she will be expelled, Kennedy convinces some fellow students to spend the evening pool-hopping with her through the nearby palatial estates. Attractions will be explored, many tots of Malört and bottles of Perrier Jouet will be consumed, and some home truths and commitments to the future will be realized. Hayes grew up on the North Shore and knows just how to make his film specific to the place and these characters. The streets drip with forested canopies. The estates all have electronic gates that are easily breached by this crew and are patrolled by police who rarely do more than act as a buffer to the outside world. Each member of Kennedy’s crew has a vaguely upper-crust name: Blake (Tyler Alvarez), Shane (Francesca Noel), Delaney (Ariel Winter), and Reed (Mason Gooding). Aside from the cautious will-be doctor Blake, all are comfortable with their bodies, with showing each other affection, and with breaking the rules, though perhaps only for this one night. And all struggle with coming to terms with what they really want in the near and long term. Hayes introduces one character, the working-class, conventionally named Michael (Michael Vlamis) who understands himself and how success on other people’s terms is a soul destroyer. Hayes unsurprisingly identifies director-screenwriter John Hughes as a major influence, but POOLS is a much more generous and humane film than I find Hughes’s films to be. Even the minor characters who provide comic relief, such as the randy wife (Lucinda Johnston) of a dyspeptic scion of industry, seem real and generally good-natured. Hayes’s young cast, composed largely of popular TV stars, is superb, especially A-Zion, whose vulnerability and grief-laden abandon are almost painful to watch and whose singing is revelatory. First-time film scorer Cody Fry hits it out of the park, and cinematography by Ben Hardwicke, especially his nighttime work, makes the film a visually enjoyable experience. I kinda loved this film. A Q&A with Hayes and actor Francesca Noel follows the Friday night screening. (2025, 99 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Vanessa Winter and Joseph Winter’s DEADSTREAM (US)

Music Box Theatre – Friday and Saturday, 11:45pm

Found footage horror has always wrestled with a paradox: the device that gives the form its immediacy also provokes its greatest skepticism. Why does the camera keep rolling as terror unfolds? Across decades, the answers have ranged from obsessed documentarians to stubborn characters, with most films evading the question altogether. From the backyard aliens of THE MCPHERSON TAPE (1989) to the abject menace of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (1999), the subgenre thrived when suggestion outpaced explanation. Oren Peli’s PARANORMAL ACTIVITY was released in 2007 by Blumhouse, which has since created a seven-film franchise and helped usher in more than 200 found footage films all seeking the same glorious profit margin. Many of the films cultivate unremarkable answers as to why the cameras are rolling, who edited the footage, and why it has been released to the public. Vanessa and Joseph Winter’s DEADSTREAM tackles this problem directly. Instead of dodging the question, the first act is devoted to an airtight logic for why the cameras keep rolling. Shawn Ruddy (Joseph Winter), a disgraced internet provocateur, is livestreaming his stunt: a one-man overnight in Death Manor, a Utah house with real ghost lore. His comeback requires visibility. After tossing his car keys into the woods, he rigs cameras throughout the manor and clutches a tablet that monitors the feeds. Each setup is explained, each angle justified. Shawn is both prisoner and showman, trapped by his own design. By the time the hauntings begin, there’s no question as to why everything is captured. His cameras are his lifeline; without them he has no audience, and therefore no relevance. The Winters, who met in film school and worked across editing, design, scoring, and costumes before writing and directing, put their versatility to dazzling use. DEADSTREAM plays like a handmade contraption: stabilized rigs and GoPros replace the nausea-inducing shakiness often blamed on the format. The interface of Shawn’s livestream with comments scrolling and multiple feed windows was prototyped in Keynote so Joseph could interact with it in real time, creating a seamless illusion. Practical effects lean on masks, goo, and puppetry, giving the film a tactile mischief. It’s designed to be believed and delighted in simultaneously. Shawn recounts the legend of Mildred Pratt, a failed poet and Mormon heiress who killed herself after her lover’s death, her spirit said to stalk the manor. When Shawn performs a séance, a fan named Chrissy (Melanie Stone of HE’S DEAD & SO AM I [2023]) suddenly appears, riffing with him on spirit boards and haunted verse. But Chrissy may not be what she seems. From this point the film accelerates into slapstick hauntings: Shawn is pummeled through windows, splattered with fluids, and forced to recite Mildred’s poetry. The revelation that Mildred didn’t seek a family but just an audience for her poems gives the film its thematic punchline. Art is parasitic, attention requires sacrifice, and Shawn pays in blood and bone. DEADSTREAM is a splatstick feast, recalling Sam Raimi’s EVIL DEAD II (1987) in its blend of grotesque creatures, ooze, and physical comedy. Beneath the slime lies a sharp critique of digital performance culture. Shawn’s apologies, humiliations, and mutilations are all content, cheered on by an audience that translates incantations, mocks him, and keeps him alive while sealing his fate. The Winters remind us that in a livestream confessional, the audience is never passive, it is complicit. Placed alongside the best of the post-PARANORMAL ACTIVITY wave like HELL HOUSE LLC (2015), THE POUGHKEEPSIE TAPES (2007), and CREEP (2014), DEADSTREAM stands out by reengineering the very logic of found footage. Where others stumble over the camera’s persistence, the Winters make it the foundation. Handmade, clever, and gleefully grotesque, DEADSTREAM proves there’s still life—and plenty of afterlife—in found footage. (2000, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Shaun Huhn]

Bruno Mattei’s THE OTHER HELL (Italy)

Alamo Drafthouse – Tuesday, 9:30pm

With its green-tinged lighting and repurposed Goblin score, it’s easy to understand why Bruno Mattei's THE OTHER HELL has garnered comparisons to Dario Argento’s work from the same early '80s period, notably INFERNO (1980). That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and there’s a lot to admire about Mattei’s low budget nunsploitation, which was written by his frequent partner, fellow Italian exploitation filmmaker Claudio Fragasso. The at-times very jazzy Goblin music renders the supernatural convent setting even stranger. Despite the limited set pieces, the film generates some stunning horror imagery throughout with clever use of color and framing. Specifically, the repeated, perplexing visual of mannequins swinging from the ceiling of the convent, a clanging sound effect emphasizing their swinging movement, stands out as arrestingly creepy. There isn’t a shortage of sleaze and gore, with crazed nuns taking center stage. When the nuns begin murdering each other and supernatural occurrences ripple through the convent, there’s fear the devil’s infiltrated the sanctuary. Young Father Valerio (Carlo De Mejo) is brought in to investigate, but his presence is challenged by the authoritative Mother Vincenza (Franca Stoppi), who dismisses the alarming activities. It’s clear from the beginning, however, that Vincenza’s got some demonic secrets she’s been hiding, as the deaths continue to pile up. As a nasty nunsploitation, THE OTHER HELL has it all: spiral staircases, stigmata, Satan, and lots of stabbings. Screening as part of the Terror Tuesday series. (1981, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Megan Fariello]

Jacques Deray’s LA PISCINE (France)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Thursday, 8:30pm

The 4K restoration of Jacques Deray’s French thriller could not have come at a better time. In a twist that would have certainly pleased the likes of Will H. Hays, there has been a growing resurgence in online discourse of puritanical, anti-sex attitudes towards film, especially (and confusingly) among young people. It’s not uncommon to log onto Twitter and see the regurgitation of the same stale takes: sex scenes are unnecessary, problematic, or inherently abusive; they don’t move the plot forward; et cetera. LA PISCINE argues—and rightfully so—that sex and pleasure are inseparable from cinema. Two lovers, Jean-Paul (Alain Delon) and Marianne (Romy Schneider), enjoy a steamy vacation in their friend’s St. Tropez villa. But when Marianne’s former lover decides to join them, bringing along his 18-year-old daughter, the various intersections of attraction and tension amongst the four characters simmer—until they boil over into something much more sinister. It's a slow burn as far as erotic thrillers go, but the accumulation of seemingly small moments sets the film into a satisfying overdrive: the nonchalant non sequiturs, the bodies constantly dripping in sweat, the eyes that scan the room for the next beat, the hands always caressing a lit cigarette. LA PISCINE is unapologetically horny and sinister; Delon and Schneider craft a welcome cocktail of summer scandal that can evoke a heatwave in a cold theater. And the film’s climax, not unlike the film itself, is less of an explosion and more of a test of endurance. Screening as part of the Scorchers series. (1969, 123 mins, DCP Digital) [Cody Corrall]

Gregg Araki's THE DOOM GENERATION (US)

Alamo Drafthouse – Wednesday, 7pm

I loved this film when I first saw the incomprehensible Blockbuster Video cut when I was 13. I had no idea it had been destroyed by Hollywood, and I probably wouldn't have cared if I did know. THE DOOM GENERATION is lab-made for angsty teens in the 1990s. A propulsive industrial/shoegaze soundtrack. Stunt casting featuring Skinny Puppy, Perry Farrell, and Heidi Fleiss. Sex, leather jackets, drugs, blood, and the kind of socio-political messaging and metaphors tailormade for punk teens first reading Chomsky by way of hardcore punk record liner notes. Queer, but not too queer. Like Kurt Cobain wearing dresses on TV queer. It is "A Heterosexual Movie by Gregg Araki," after all. This is a quintessentially American film: a road trip filled with romance, danger, crime, and cases of mistaken identity. The logical end of film noir nihilism at the end of the American Century. And now I love this 4k restoration with the proper letterboxing (finally!) and extended scenes that haven't been seen since its first festival screenings. Originally bought by MGM out of Sundance, it was dropped when Goldwyn himself saw it and was personally disgusted. After it was picked up and brutally butchered by its next distributor (not counting the aforementioned insanely confusing Blockbuster version), who didn't even fix the letterboxing for the film's DVD release, Araki basically left THE DOOM GENERATION to rot until he personally ended up with the rights again. The definition of a cult film, it was barely released in theaters initially, only gaining infamy via word of mouth and VHS rentals—and the absolutely crucial film soundtrack. Thankfully, this time around Araki was able to team up with his old friends at Strand Releasing (who released his previous features THE LIVING END and TOTALLY FUCKED UP) and finally got his film the way he always wanted it. This is the perfect time for THE DOOM GENERATION, and Araki's work in general, to get re-released and reappraised. At a time when American cinema seems bifurcated between mainstream movies of sexless, mindless, puerile frivolity for adult children and indie, eat-your-vegetables, gimme an Oscar, "this is capital-A Art" dryness, THE DOOM GENERATION is the perfect reminder of the halcyon days of '90s American Indie films—when you could have an exciting, sexy, pulpy, dangerous, offensive, action-driven film that still had something to say. In retrospect, the bleak, almost nihilistic, hopelessness of Gen X seems to have been more of a Cassandra curse than bored, apolitical, slacker malaise. Younger millennials and Gen Z understand this on a fundamental level. While us Xennials and Gen Xers saw the world get slowly fucked, they were born into one that was already, well, totally fucked up. I have a feeling (and hope) this film will resonate with them the way it did with us nearly 30 years ago. THE DOOM GENERATION is a powerful film, and we're lucky to finally have it in all its intended glory. (1995, 83 min, DCP Digital) [Raphael Jose Martinez]

📽️ ALSO SCREENING

​​​​​​​⚫ Alamo Drafthouse
Juan González and Nando Martínez's 2025 film THE FANTASTIC GOLEM AFFAIRS (98 min, DCP Digital) screens Monday at 9:30pm.

Quentin Dupieux's 2012 film WRONG (94 min, DCP Digital) screens Wednesday, 9:30pm, as part of the Weird Wednesday series. More info on all screenings here.

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

⚫ Cinema/Chicago
A members’ screening of Alex Russell’s 2025 film LURKER (100 min, DCP Digital) takes place Wednesday, 7pm, at AMC River East 21. More info here.

⚫ FACETS
So Grateful Films presents the premiere of ECHOES OF FREEDOM on Friday at 5:30pm.

Ray Yeung’s 2024 film ALL SHALL BE WELL (93 min, Digital Projection) and Tsai Ming-liang’s 1994 film VIVE L’AMOUR (119 min, Digital Projection) screen Sunday at 1pm and 3:45pm, respectively, as part of the (In the Spectrum of Love: Asian LGBTQ+ Film Tour).

Full Spectrum Features presents CAFE FOCUS in the FACETS Lounge on Sunday starting at 2pm. Cafe Focus is a monthly coworking pop-up for Chicago filmmakers and film workers of all backgrounds and experience levels.

Patricia Castañeda’s 2024 film DEAR GENTLEMAN (100 min, Digital Projection) screens Tuesday, 7pm, as part of the Reel Film Club, presented by the Latino Cultural Center. There are appetizers and a cash bar starting at 6pm and a conversation following the screening.

Eva Victor’s 2025 film SORRY, BABY (103 min, DCP Digital) screens Thursday at 7pm.

Juliet Bashore’s 1986 film KAMIKAZE HEARTS (77 min, DCP Digital) screens Thursday, 9pm, preceded by free FACETS Film Trivia. More info on all screenings here.

⚫ Gene Siskel Film Center
Also screening as part of the Scorchers series are Stuart Rosenberg’s 1967 film COOL HAND LUKE (127 min, DCP Digital) on Sunday at 11:30am and Stanley Kramer’s 1960 film INHERIT THE WIND (128 min, DCP Digital on Thursday 6pm.

Off Center, a monthly program of experimental work, presents Double Trouble on Monday at 6pm. The program features Tony Conrad’s THE FLICKER (1966, 30 min, 16mm), Louisa Minkin’s YES TO LIFE (2013, 7 min, Unconfirmed Format), and Keith Sanborn’s OPERATION DOUBLE TROUBLE (2003, 10 min, Unconfirmed Format).

Interiority on Screen, this fall’s weekly lecture series, presents Shorts Program 1 on Tuesday at 6pm. Works include Anahita Ghazvinizadeh’s WHEN THE KID WAS A KID (2013, 17 min), Alexander Payne’s 14E ARRONDISSEMENT (2006, 6 min), Walter Salles and Daniela Thomas’ LOIN DU 16E (2006, 5 min), and Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s BLUE (2018, 12 min), all presented digitally.

Robert Altman’s 2006 film A PRAIRIE HOME COMPANION (105 min, 35mm) screens Wednesday, 6pm, as part of the Robert Altman Centennial series.

Amy Berg’s 2025 documentary IT’S NEVER OVER, JEFF BUCKLEY (106 min, DCP Digital) screens Wednesday, 8:30pm. More info on all screenings here. 

⚫ Music Box Theatre
It’s officially Music Box Garden Movies season! See Venue website for lineup and showtimes.

Kate Beecroft’s 2025 film EAST OF WALL (97 min, DCP Digital) continues this week. See Venue website for showtimes.

Frank Ripploh’s 1980 film TAXI ZUM KLO (98 min, New 4K DCP Digital Restoration) screens Friday, 9:45pm, in partnership with the Goethe-Insitut Chicago.

Morito Inoune’s 2024 film HOT SPRING SHARK ATTACK (77 min, DCP Digital) screens Saturday at 9:30pm.

Tommy Wiseau’s 2003 cult film THE ROOM (99 min, 35mm) screens Friday at midnight, and Jim Sharman’s 1975 cult film THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (100 min, 35mm) screens Saturday at midnight.

Adrienne Shelley’s 2007 film WAITRESS (104 min, 35mm) screens Sunday, 11:30am, as part of Clean Plate Club: A Film and Food Series.

Z Cher-Aimé’s 2025 animated short CAPTAIN ZERO: INTO THE ABYSS PART II (15 min, DCP Digital) screens Sunday, 11:30am, followed by a Q&A with the director and crew.

Christopher Guest’s 2000 film BEST IN SHOW (90 min, 35mm) screens Thursday at 7pm. All proceeds benefit SitStayRead programs for K-2nd graders. More info on all screenings and events here.

⚫ Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts (915 E. 60th St.)
“The Act of Recording is an Act of Love: The South Side Home Movie Project” exhibition is on display in the Gallery through Sunday. More info here.

⚫ Rewindr00m
Toshiya Fujita’s 1973 film LADY SNOWBLOOD (97 min, Digital Projection) screens Monday, 7:30pm, at Casa Cactus (4595 N. Elston Ave.). More info here.

⚫ VDB TV (Virtual)
“Dog Days: Superimposing the Canine,” programmed by Cine-File contributor Elise Schierbeek and with films by Jesse McLean, Ken Kobland, and Matthew Lax, streams free on VDB TV. More info here.

CINE-LIST: August 22, 2025 - August 28, 2025

MANAGING EDITORS // Ben and Kat Sachs

CONTRIBUTORS // Rob Christopher, Cody Corrall, John Dickson, Ray Ebarb, Megan Fariello, Marilyn Ferdinand, Shaun Huhn, Ben Kaye, Raphael Jose Martinez, Drew Van Weelden