SAVE THE DATE
In celebration of our tenth anniversary, Cine-File is presenting a 35mm screening of Vincente Minnelli’s great (really, really great) 1948 film THE PIRATE on Wednesday, April 5 at 7pm at the Music Box Theatre. Starring Gene Kelly and Judy Garland, and featuring a roster of songs by Cole Porter, this is one of Hollywood’s most inspired musicals—and a pure delight. You won’t want to miss it! Tickets are on sale at the MB website: https://www.musicboxtheatre.com/films/the-pirate.
Bob Hercules and Rita Coburn Whack's MAYA ANGELOU: AND STILL I RISE (New Documentary)
Black World Cinema (at the Studio Movie Grill Chatham, 210 W. 87th St.) – Check Venue website for showtimes
While not exactly innovative in its candid approach to this iconic subject, MAYA ANGELOU: AND STILL I RISE illustrates the story of Dr. Angelou and her nine lives with masterful storytelling, narrated through Angelou's own voice and poetry, and moving interviews with Oprah Winfrey, Common, Alfre Woodard, Cicely Tyson, and Angelou's son, Guy Johnson. Johnson provides the most nuanced and intimate portrait of his mother of the interviewees, and is at times overcome with contagious emotion. The solidly produced documentary in the American Masters series from PBS includes archival footage from Angelou's numerous projects and appearances over the decades, as well as rare photos from her family archive, accompanied by her resonant and commanding voice. Hercules and Coburn Whack were lucky enough to land several great interviews with Angelou herself shortly before her death, and her vivid recollections of the events of her life alone would be reason enough to watch this film. (Disclosure: I did some archival research for this documentary) (2016, 114 min, DCP Digital) AE
The Chicago Cultural Center screens Joanna Sokolowski and Kate Trumbull-LaValle’s 2016 documentary OVARIAN PSYCHOS (72 min, Video Projection), about a crew of Latina bicycle-riding L.A. misfits, on Saturday at 2pm. Free admission.
Cinema Luminarium: Films and Digital Works by Joost Rekveld (Experimental)
White Light Cinema at Cinema Borealis (1550 N Milwaukee, 3rd Floor) - Sunday, 7:30pm
Most abstract avant-garde films refer to something that can be named. The exceptions in the genre can be both daring and potentially tiring. Daring, because it's so easy to be dismissed as indulgent or meaningless. Potentially tiring, because—let's be honest—it can be so damn hard to grasp the intent when the elements on screen are so basic. Light, color, figures, and movement. Ultimately that's all any filmmaker gives us to view, but Joost Rekveld concentrates those basic elements of cinema even further to become visual music. His films are about exposure time and shutter speed, they are about crystalline and kaleidoscopic imagery, they are about controlling the image through a precise visual score, and letting go of the image by limiting the tools the filmmaker controls. You can meet Rekveld's films simply on these terms and be satisfied, or you can go further and do a bit of research on his website (joostrekveld.net) and allow yourself some clues to their construction so you can cut through the tangle of cinematographic light. The films included are #3 (1994, 16mm), an early short work set to a strict visual score; #11, MAREY <-> MOIRÉ (1999, 35mm), created by limiting the elements the filmmaker can control to speed, shutter rotation, and movement of a line; #37 (2009, 35mm), which finds its inspiration in crystals; #43.6 (2016, Digital) which begins with inspiration from nerve firings in heart muscles and builds to a larger exploration of patterns in nature; and his most recent work, #67 (2017, Digital), which pays tribute to earlier visual music artists Steina and Woody Vasulka through analog experimentations with electromagnetic fields. (1994-2017, 84 min total, Various Formats) JBM
European Union Film Festival
Gene Siskel Film Center - Check Venue website for showtimes
The EU festival moves into its third week with our selection of films reviewed below and another dozen titles including Dominik Graf and Johannes Sievert’s documentary DOOMED LOVE: A JOURNEY THROUGH GERMAN GENRE RILM and João Pedro Rodrigues’ THE ORNITHOLOGIST.
Szabolcs Hajdu’s IT’S NOT THE TIME OF MY LIFE (New Hungarian)
Saturday, 6:30pm and Monday, 8pm
The nifty thing about IT’S NOT THE TIME OF MY LIFE—a modest yet perceptive family drama written by, directed by, and starring Szabolcs Hajdu (BIBLIOTHEQUE PASCAL)—is the way it keeps shifting its perspective, the camera identifying alternately with each of the six primary characters. This strategy has the effect of leveling the dramatic playing field; no one person has the upper hand with regards to audience sympathy. It reveals a lot about Hajdu’s filmmaking that most of his contemporaries in the eastern European art house scene would try to get this effect through the absence of cutting and subjective camerawork. Rather than create a uniform distance between the audience and the subjects, Hajdu chooses to flit about inside the material—his approach suggests a restless curiosity as well as a refusal to judge too quickly. It’s comparable to what Richard Linklater accomplished with TAPE, another chamber piece limited to a small playing area where the characters constantly shift between being sympathetic and unsympathetic. The dramatic stakes are relatively low: it never seems likely, for instance, that the two sisters and their families will never get along again. Hajdu is more interested in family dynamics on a micro-level, how they change position from moment to moment. The use of Daniel Johnston’s “Life in Vain” over the end credits seems misguided, however; the characters here may be screw-ups, but Hajdu never questions their right to exist. (2016, 81 min, DCP Digital) BS
Argyris Papadimitropoulos’ SUNTAN (New Greek)
Saturday, 8:15pm and Wednesday, 8pm
Argyris Papadimitropoulos’ SUNTAN is a veritable horror movie, with a drudging story told from the perspective of its monster. It’s from this viewpoint that the film is most effective; the “coming-of-middle-age” tagline adds a layer of repugnance to the inadvertent terror. Kostis, the seeming protagonist, is a 42-year-old doctor who arrives on the Greek island of Antiparos during the off-season, his loneliness palpable as he meanders through the day-to-day. During the “on” season, however, the island is in full swing, and it’s during this time that he meets Anna, a 21-year-old woman visiting his office with her similarly attractive and hedonistic friends following a motorbike accident. Kostis joins their gang and develops a tentative relationship with Anna, which culminates in an awkward, yet innocuous, sexual encounter on the beach. The tone shifts soon thereafter, devolving into every woman’s worst nightmare. Christos Karamanis’ evocative widescreen cinematography frames the narrative in such a way that the subtext is inescapable. Neither Kostis’ small life nor his mid-life crisis excuses his depravity—it’s the artful juxtaposition that redeems the problematic implications. (2016, 104 min, DCP Digital) KS
François Ozon’s FRANTZ (New French/German)
Sunday, 3pm and Thursday, 6pm
Like Steven Soderbergh, François Ozon is a cinematic chameleon, exploring multiple styles and genres over the course of his career. Unlike Soderbergh, Ozon has a consistent theme that unites his disparate work: he’s fascinated by the human impulse for perversion, the curious instinct that leads people to explore taboos. The taboos that Ozon’s characters confront (and often break) tend to be sexual in nature, and when they aren’t, you can easily detect a sexual subtext in the films. In FRANTZ, Ozon’s sublime reworking of Ernst Lubitsch’s 1932 melodrama BROKEN LULLABY (aka THE MAN I KILLED), that subtext is further beneath the surface than usual; the passion it addresses is essentially metaphysical. The film concerns a young German woman’s friendship with—and growing desire for—the mysterious Frenchman who murdered her fiancé on the battlefield during World War I. Their relationship may be chaste, but that doesn’t keep Ozon from emphasizing its perversity. Before Adrien, the Frenchman, reveals that he is Anna’s fiancé’s killer, he pretends to be a long-lost friend whom the fiancé, Frantz, met while studying in Paris. He introduces himself to Anna and to Frantz’s parents under this ruse, and they respond by incorporating him into their lives as though he were the reincarnation of their dead loved one. That the principal characters are acting out of grief doesn’t make their arrangement any less strange, and, as in Ozon’s previous feature, THE NEW GIRLFRIEND, the way the characters normalize their desires comes to seem no less perverse than the desires themselves. Yet the writer-director never condescends to these people; rather, the film is gentle and delicate, shot mainly in gossamer black-and-white widescreen and in compositions that grant a certain spatial integrity to each character. Ozon respects the emotional sincerity of classic Hollywood melodrama without slavishly imitating it. (To return to the Soderbergh comparison, this is not Ozon’s THE GOOD GERMAN.) The acting styles feel contemporary even when the mores depicted onscreen do not. Further, the brief flashes of color that occur whenever Frantz is evoked in others’ hearts may feel sometimes like a gimmick, but at least it isn’t an ironic, postmodern one. Ozon wants to understand these characters and their period on their own terms, despite using entirely personal means to arrive at that understanding. (2016, 114 min, DCP Digital) BS
Icíar Bollaín's THE OLIVE TREE (New Spanish)
Sunday, 5:15pm and Monday, 8pm
I'll confess: THE OLIVE TREE made me tear up. A touching drama with a sense of humor, it has a lot to say about America, Europe, and global capitalism, but it embeds its politics in a straightforward and engaging story, if a bit pat. A headstrong, emotionally troubled young spitfire (Anna Castillo) lives on her family’s farm on Spain's Mediterranean coast. As a child, she would stroll with her beloved grandfather in their sun-kissed olive grove, full of warmth and birdsong. Today he's a sad, silent old man, but once he taught the little girl about his 2,000-year-old tree. She would climb in its strong branches, finding in its gnarls and nooks the face of a friendly monster. Ever since her father sold the tree, the family's been unmoored, at odds. Now her grandfather is dying—of heartbreak, she believes. When she discovers his tree ended up in the lobby of a greenwashing energy company in Dusseldorf, she vows somehow to bring it back for him. She inveigles her bitter, hotheaded-but-loving uncle (Javier Gutiérrez) and a long-suffering but loyal admirer (Pep Ambròs) to drive the truck, and they set off trundling north. Icíar Bollaín is one of Spain's foremost directors, and this is her third collaboration with her husband Paul Laverty, who's written nearly every Ken Loach film of the past two decades. THE OLIVE TREE shares the admirable values (and some of the limits) of Loach's cinema: values of social-democratic humanism and collective human effort against heartless corporate power, nicely visualized in the film's motif of clasped hands. It hews, satisfyingly if slightly schematically, to conventional story arcs and beats. Bollaín doles out her movie in bursts: quick handheld shots stitched seamlessly together. A tacky replica of the Statue of Liberty trussed to the flatbed, and a heartbreaking shot of the beautiful old tree uprooted, represent how the most brutal, Trumpist version of globalization is abroad in Europe, and how even something sacred can be commodified. With its moving performances, tremendous heart, and strong emotions, THE OLIVE TREE is the kind of movie that, in a better world, would be a big popular hit. (2016, 98 min, DCP Digital) SP
Arthur Penn’s BONNIE AND CLYDE (American Revival)
Music Box Theatre – Saturday and Sunday, 11:30am
Writing about Nicholas Ray’s REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE, Cine-File contributor Kyle A. Westphal shrewdly asserted that it “has had more lives than many auteurist causes… [it’s] a genuine popular classic sustained by an endless supply of James Dean posters, magnets, t-shirts, and tchotchkes.” Along those same lines, BONNIE AND CLYDE is equal parts myth and movie, belonging as much to popular consciousness as it does to the critics who’ve championed it. Fifty years later, no aspect has gone unexamined—fans and theorists alike have since diminished it to archetype, reducing nuances to aphoristic criteria or hollow fad. Directly influenced by the French New Wave (screenwriters David Newman and Robert Benton greatly admired Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut, and they were both approached to direct before Arthur Penn, whose earlier films THE LEFT HANDED GUN and MICKEY ONE exhibited elements of the style and tone so favored by the young writers), BONNIE AND CLYDE didn’t just synthesize aspects of that movement, but helped to create a different one altogether. Even with a New Hollywood on the horizon, the film was widely misunderstood upon its release, due in part to graphic violence that audiences were unaccustomed to at the time. It defies any preconceived notions about what a criminal-lovers-on-the-run movie should be, expectations set by such precursors as Fritz Lang’s YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE (1937) and Nicholas Ray’s THEY LIVE BY NIGHT (1948). Penn’s realization of the Bonnie and Clyde mythos—from a Lubitschian meet-cute to the bloody, balletic death scene—is at once judicious and grandiloquent, relishing as much in the real-world implications of their egregiously violent ways as it does in Warren Beatty’s id-laden mannerisms and Faye Dunaway’s whimsical sociopathy. In her staggering review for The New Yorker, Pauline Kael brilliantly details why the film is important and how it achieves its status as a singular work; her piece is a must-read for anyone interested in or skeptical of the film’s lasting influence on the medium. Her assessment also portends contemporary cinema, and perhaps even current events; “[i]nstead of the movie spoof, which tells the audience that it doesn’t need to feel or care, that it’s all just in fun, that ‘we are only kidding,’ BONNIE AND CLYDE disrupts us with ‘And you thought we were only kidding.’” Penn and Co. may owe their vision to the enfants terribles of the Nouvelle Vague, but much recent cinema, including films such as David Mackenzie‘s HELL OR HIGH WATER and Jordan Peele’s GET OUT, are indebted to Penn’s au courant provocation. (1967, 111 min, 35mm) KS
Anna Sandiland and Ewan McNicol’s UNCERTAIN (New Documentary)
Facets Cinémathèque – Check Venue website for showtimes
The title refers to a small town in east Texas with a population of 94 and nothing around it for miles—the sheriff introduces it in an early scene as a good place for a wanted man to lie low. Directors Anna Sandiland and Ewan McNicol interweave portraits of three men from Uncertain, all of them talkative eccentrics harboring some deep shame: a 21-year-old sliding into alcoholism; a 50-something ex-con and recovering addict who moved to Uncertain to clean up; and a 74-year-old boatman who loves to talk about sex. The movie was shot in the same region as David Gordon Green’s PRINCE AVALANCHE, and it recalls Green’s early films in its naïf-romantic response to blue-collar sincerity and weirdness (and like Green’s early films, the politics might be described as staunchly apolitical). Sandiland and McNicol like to play the audio of one of the subjects speaking wistfully or dreamily over a montage of exterior shots, a familiar poetic device that nonetheless reminds us how the subjects have been shaped by the area they inhabit. And that area, as presented by the filmmakers, is a sort-of benign purgatory where people make themselves interesting in order to pass the time. (2015, 83 min, Digital Projection) BS
Lee Soo-yeon’s BLUEBEARD (New Korean)
AMC Showplace Niles 12 (301 Golf Mill Center, Niles)
About twenty minutes into this disturbing and sophisticated thriller, the main character, Seung-hoon, played expertly by Jo Jin-woong in a rare leading role, has a short but meaningful conversation with his landlord, Sung-geun, in a disarmingly creepy performance by Kim Dae-myung. Seung-hoon is a doctor trying to make a start in a new town after his clinic went bankrupt in Gangnam, taking his marriage with it. One afternoon in his crappy apartment, as he and his landlord try for a moment to make sense of their troubling lives, Seung-hoon starts talking about why he loves detective fiction. ‘I like having answers,’ he says. ‘Mystery books have answers in the form of criminals.’ There are many criminals in this movie, and many different kinds of crime are committed, but unlike the novels the main character loves, those criminals work to destabilize and frustrate the narrative’s questions much more than they put those questions to rest. BLUEBEARD opens with the discovery of a body in a funereal cityscape seemingly populated by stragglers, drifters, and aimless longing. Death is on everyone’s lips, in the background of every conversation here. In the midst of this, Seung-hoon slowly develops a terrible suspicion that the butchers he rents his apartment from are serial killing cannibals. Are those viscera near the meat grinder bovine or human? Does that opaque plastic sack on the high shelf in their freezer contain the head of a pig or the head of a woman? Was Sung-geun making a macabre joke or demonstrating his power over his tenant by offering him a human diaphragm for dinner? At work, Seung-hoon performs a mind-numbing torrent of endoscopies and colonoscopies, listening to his patients mumble and babble in their propofol-induced unconsciousness, peering into the pulsating tissues of young and old in search of secrets to keep them alive, while Sung-geun and his father efficiently dismember and sell flesh that’s visually indistinguishable from the insides of the people the doctor examines. But this not a movie built on such an easy dichotomy. Almost as soon as suspicions are raised about the butcher’s nighttime pleasures, in a few horrifying phrases uttered by the butcher’s father while under sedation, BLUEBEARD makes sure to turn those suspicions around to point equally at the doctor. Are the doctor’s lapses in memory the result of stress, exhaustion, and fear or are they the signals of a more ominous hidden life? Writer/director Lee builds her movie into a labyrinth of frames within frames, of shots that linger just a few seconds too long on seemingly banal imagery, on intricate discoveries of disruptive reflections and sifting spaces. She overstuffs the narrative with threat and transgressions—theft, kidnapping, blackmail, and more—making the world of BLUEBEARD a world of incalculable menace and secrecy. The film’s Korean title literally translates to THAWING, which would be a much more apposite name for this slow melt into horror and madness. By the movie’s end, any hope that evil has been vanquished and that righteousness has prevailed has been so utterly undermined that it makes more sense to say that a free-flowing malevolence has seeped its way into the city, poisoning everything within its horizon. This is a movie that wisely eschews easy scares as much as it avoids easy answers, preferring instead to unsettle, to horrify, and to fracture. (2017, 117 min, DCP Digital) KB
Julia Ducournau’s RAW (New French Drama/Horror)
Music Box Theatre - Check Venue website for showtimes
In Julia Ducournau’s RAW, sixteen year old Justine (Garance Marillier) is the last of her vegetarian family of four to enroll in veterinarian school. This particular school has a rite of passage wherein the older students (including Justine’s sister, Alexia) haze the incoming students by dumping buckets of blood on them and forcing them to consume a raw rabbit kidney while taking a shot of liquor. This latter rite awakens a deep and primal hunger within Justine that not only acts as a catalyst in her coming of age but also triggers more predatory instincts. RAW is as visceral as they come. It takes bold chances with its script and subject matter that pay dividends to the viewer, but be warned this is not a film for those with a weak constitution. Much of the action centers on the sisterhood of Justine and Alexia. Their dynamic plays out as rebellious thanks to their implied strict upbringing, and the two share increasingly shocking moments as the film progresses. Ducournau draws influence from older body-focused horror films such as EYES WITHOUT A FACE as well as more modern stylized features including the works of Nicolas Winding Refn and Jeremy Saulnier. The driving, Europop score adds a frantic layer that attempts to simultaneously sharpen the horror and dull the viewer’s empathy. Haunting and unforgettable, RAW provokes strong reactions, mental, and for some, physical. Like a pack of lions on the prowl, it strikes at the most vulnerable of our senses. (2016, 99 min, DCP Digital) KC
Eliza Hittman's IT FELT LIKE LOVE (Contemporary American)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Tuesday, 6pm
Eliza Hittman's first feature IT FELT LIKE LOVE pulls no punches. Its teen protagonist, Lila, is opaque: she's childish and jaded. She doesn't speak much, and when she does it comes out mumbled or monotone, so her sincerity and honesty are questionable. As hazy as her motivation is, her sexuality is a complete vision of teen obsession and desire. Knowledgeable enough to know better, but too inexperienced to resist, Lila's infatuation with an older boy unfolds with a voyeuristic intensity: as though by looking she will somehow be subsumed entirely by him, and as though the looking will reveal him. Like an only child FAT GIRL, IT FELT LIKE LOVE hovers on the brink of debasement, never providing an easy emotional answer, and never letting you look away either. Filmmaker and SAIC instructor Melika Bass lectures. (2013, 82 min, DCP Digital) CAM
Ceyda Torun’s KEDI (New Turkish Documentary)
Music Box Theatre - Check Venue website for showtimes
In Istanbul, Turkey, feral cats can be found everywhere; however, unlike the rats of our fair Chicago, these animals experience a peaceful co-habitation with the populace that, for some, borders on the reverential. KEDI packages Istanbul’s admiration for its felines in several vignettes and is meant for cat lovers and non-cat lovers alike. The stories told are uplifting. For some of the interviewees, these cats represent a tangential relationship between themselves and their beliefs in religious omnipotence. The cinematography found in KEDI is superb and beautiful. At times providing a cat’s eye view of the city, the camerawork bounces from rooftop to rooftop, scurries up trees, and dives down pathways that only the nimble footed could traverse. Combined with the staccato score, KEDI has succinct and upbeat tempo. The film follows seven cats’ lives and the nuances of their individual personalities are allowed to flourish on screen. Ceyda Torun explores the circumstances of how these animals came to become so prevalent in Istanbul and to paint a portrait of why their existence is a joyous thing for everyone. KEDI is the kind of film that gives essence to mankind’s love for cats and showcases all of the natural and urban beauty that can be found in Istanbul. (2016, 80 min, DCP Digital) KC
MORE SCREENINGS AND EVENTS
Sharon Karp and Silvia Malagrino's 2014 documentary A SONG FOR YOU (87 min, Video Projection - Unconfirmed Format) screens at Loyola University (Damen Cinema, Gentile Arena, 6511 N. Sheridan Rd.) on Thursday at 4pm. Free admission.
The Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago presents the part 3D film, part live dance performance work TESSERACT, by video artist Charles Atlas and choreographers Rashaun Mitchell and Silas Riener, on Thursday-Saturday, March 23-25, at 7:30pm nightly.
The Park Ridge Classic Film Series screens George Cukor’s 1932 film WHAT PRICE HOLLYWOOD? (88 min, Unconfirmed Format) on Thursday at 7pm at the Park Ridge Public Library (20 S. Prospect Ave., Park Ridge). Free admission.
The Instituto Cervantes (31 W. Ohio St.) screens Sebastián Borenszteinsz’s 2011 Argentinean film CHINESE TAKE-OUT (90 min, DVD Projection) on Tuesday at 6pm. Free admission.
Black Cinema House (at the Stony Island Arts Bank, 6760 S. Stony Island) screens Theodore Witcher’s 1997 film LOVE JONES (104 min, Video Projection) on Friday at 7pm. Free admission.
The Italian Cultural Institute (500 N. Michigan Ave., Suite 1450) screens Daniele Luchetti’s 2007 Italian film MY BROTHER IS AN ONLY CHILD (100 min, Video Projection – Unconfirmed Format) on Tuesday at 6pm. Introduced by UIC professor Chiara Fabbian. Free admission.
The Northbrook Public Library (1201 Cedar Lane, Northbrook) screens Mel Gibson’s 2016 film HACKSAW RIDGE (139 min, DCP Digital) on Wednesday at 1 and 7:30pm. Free admission.
Also at the Music Box Theatre this week: Claude Barras’ 2016 French animated film MY LIFE AS A ZUCCHINI (70 min, DCP Digital; showing in both French-language and English-dubbed versions. Check the website for showtimes of each) continues; Phil Grabsky’s 2017 documentary I, CLAUDE MONET (87 min, DCP Digital) is on Saturday and Sunday at 11:30am; John Landis’ 1988 film COMING TO AMERICA (116 min, DCP Digital) is on Tuesday at 7pm, as part of critic Mark Caro’s “Is It Still Funny” series; Jonas Åkerlund’s 2016 concert film RAMMSTEIN: PARIS (98 min, DCP Digital) is on Thursday at 7:30pm; Tommy Wiseau’s 2003 film THE ROOM (99 min, 35mm) is on Friday at Midnight; and Jim Sharman’s 1975 film THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW (100 min, 35mm) is on Saturday at Midnight.
Also at Facets Cinémathèque this week: Heber Cannon, Ian Wittenber, Marston Sawyers and Mariah Moore’s 2017 documentary FITTEST ON EARTH: A DECADE OF FITNESS (127 min, Digital Projection) and Andre Gordon’s 2017 film YOU CAN’T HAVE IT (88 min, Digital Projection) both play for week-long runs.
The Chicago Cultural Center hosts the Chicago Latino Film Festival’s presentation of Andrés Burgos’ 2012 film SOFIA AND THE STUBBORN MAN (82 min, Video Projection) on Wednesday at 6:30pm. Free admission.
The Gorton Community Center in Lake Forest (400 E. Illinois Rd., Lake Forest, IL) hosts a screening of Sean Bloomfield’s 2016 documentary APPARITION HILL (115 min, Digital Projection) on Sunday at 3pm.
ONGOING FILM/VIDEO INSTALLATIONS
The Chicago Cultural Center (in the Dance Studio) presents Patrick Clancy’s 1979 film PELICULAS as a looped installation. It is on view March 22-26. The exhibition will include the film as “a 16mm film scroll” as well.
The Art Institute of Chicago exhibition Hélio Oiticica: To Organize Delirium is on view through May 7. The large exhibition of work by the acclaimed Brazilian artist includes several films by him, and some related films. Included are Oiticica’s films BRASIL JORGE (1971), FILMORE EAST (1971), and AGRIPPINA IS ROME-MANHATTAN (1972); two slide-show works: NEYRÓTIKA (1973) and CC6 COKE HEAD’S SOUP (1973, made with Thomas Valentin); and Raimundo Amado’s APOCALIPOPÓTESE (1968) and Andreas Valentin’s ONE NIGHT ON GAY STREET (1975, 16mm).
Olympia Centre (737 N. Michigan Ave. - entrance at 151 E. Chicago Ave.) presents Virginio Ferrari & Marco G. Ferrari: Spirit Level through April 6. The show features sculpture, 16mm film, video and installations by artists Virginio Ferrari and Marco G. Ferrari, including Marco Ferrari’s SPIRIT LEVEL (2015-16, 30 min) and CONTRAILS WITH BODY (2011-16, 3 min).
The Art Institute of Chicago (Modern Wing Galleries) has Dara Birnbaum’s 1979 two-channel video KISS THE GIRLS: MAKE THEM CRY (6 min) currently on view.
The Art Institute of Chicago (Gallery 186) has Rodney McMillian: A Great Society on view through March 26. The exhibition features three video works by McMillian: UNTITLED (THE GREAT SOCIETY) I (2006, 16 min loop), A MIGRATION TALE (2014-15, 10 min loop), and PREACHER MAN (2015, 6 min loop).
CINE-LIST: March 17 - March 23, 2017
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF // Patrick Friel
MANAGING EDITORS // Ben Sachs, Kathleen Sachs, Kyle A. Westphal
CONTRIBUTORS // Kian Bergstrom, Kyle Cubr, Alexandra Ensign, J.B. Mabe, Chloe McLaren, Scott Pfeiffer