:: FRIDAY, JUNE 21 - THURSDAY, JUNE 27 :: — CINEFILE.info (2024)

📽️ CRUCIAL VIEWING

Hiroshi Shimizu’s JAPANESE GIRLS AT THE HARBOR (Japan/Silent)

Chicago Film Society at the Music Box Theatre – Saturday, 11:30am

Hiroshi Shimizu’s skills as a director of melodrama emerge early on in JAPANESE GIRLS AT THE HARBOR, as images of two women looking across the water speak volumes within the frame. What makes Shimizu stand apart is how he saw beyond the trappings of the genre to yearn for something deeper within his material, challenging perceptions of the image to further evoke character and emotion, joining the ranks of filmmakers who used the tools of early cinema to push the artform to new heights of formal experimentation. Some might see this as the work of an artist dissuaded by the cliches of silent dramatic storytelling, but that urge to inject dreamlike imagery and painterly compositions into these stories reveals an engagement with story and character that reads as earnest engagement more than anything. In this particular entry, we see the tragic unraveling of a friendship between two young women (Michiko Oikawa and Yukiko Inoue) living in the coastal city of Yokohama, their bond torn apart by the philandering nature of a young man juggling both of their hearts. A tragic act of violence causes Sunako (Oikawa) to flee town and eventually become a sex worker, a moralistic detour that is paralleled against her former friend Dora’s domesticated life as the wife of Henry (Ureo Egawa), the man that instigated this emotional upheaval in the first place. In the space where synchronized dialogue is lacking, Shimizu uses depth in exceedingly dramatic ways, drastically playing with characters getting swallowed into the background to emphasize an emotional distance from their scene partner. Most gripping are the few moments where Shimizu has characters literally fade away from a scene, in some instances to note the passage of time, others to note the drastic nature of which a character is no longer wanted in a set location. Even in these ways of evading the traditional genre trappings, Shimizu’s grasp on silent melodrama is unparalleled, able to effortlessly pull expressions from his lead actors that break through the screen and reverberate in our hearts. We are left with fragments of lives, torn apart by the cruelties of fickle humanity, cast against a blank sky and a calm sea, ever-changing yet still the same. With live musical accompaniment by MIYUMI Project Japanese Experimental Ensemble. Preceded by Yasuji Murato’s 1927 short film BATTLE OF THE MONKEY AND THE CRAB (4 min, 16mm). (1933, 77 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]

Ernst Lubitsch's TROUBLE IN PARADISE (US)

Chicago Film Society at Northeastern Illinois University (The Auditorium, Building E, 3701 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.) – Wednesday, 7:30pm

Wes Anderson has made no secret of the influence Ernst Lubitsch had on his 2014 film THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL; he's openly cited several of the German-born director's films as inspiration, including TROUBLE IN PARADISE. Upon seeing THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL, Lubitsch's influence is obvious—in one scene, Monsieur Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes) advises his elderly lady love, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton), on her choice of nail color. In another, as Madame D. lays in her coffin, Gustave sees that she changed it just before her death. Both are reminiscent of similar scenes from TROUBLE IN PARADISE, in which the lovable crook Gaston Monescu (Herbert Marshall) critiques Madame Mariette Colet's (Kay Francis) choice of lipstick and powder; in another scene, he notices that she's taken his suggestions to heart. In Anderson's film, other characters speculate as to Gustave's sexuality, oftentimes in a way that is more derogatory than humorous. In Lubitsch's film there's no doubt that Gaston is heterosexual, but the important distinction between the films isn't one's perception of a character's sexuality—it's that, in Lubitsch's world, those very qualities are synonymous with refinement, the essence of a sophistication that comprises what is known as ‘the Lubitsch Touch,’ a certainje ne sais quoithat is now largely absent from American cinema. His fourth collaboration with screenwriter Sam Raphaelson, derived as usual from underwhelming source material, TROUBLE IN PARADISE is the story of two love-struck crooks and the target who comes between them. At the beginning of the film, in the midst of a robbery, Gaston meets and falls in love with Lily (Miriam Hopkins), another thief from his side of the tracks. Together they leave Venice and travel to Paris, where they become entangled with Madame Colet, a widowed perfumier The film's title refers to the disruption brought to their relationship by Gaston and Mariette's newfound infatuation, a riff on the phrase often used to describe marital discord, though it could also be applied to the tenuous economic times in which the characters are operating. Though hardly a political director, Lubitsch includes one scene in which a disheveled Communist berates Madame Colet for her exorbitance, which acts, in addition to Gaston and Lily's low social class, as an acknowledgment of the financial depression that was then affecting the Western world. Such inclusions don't detract from one's enjoyment of the luxury and frivolity for which Lubitsch is primarily known but instead is representative of moviegoing itself. It's not necessarily escapism, but rather a genteel divorce from reality that makes the movies in general, and Lubitsch's in particular, a paradise of their own. Preceded by Arthur Ripley’s 1933 short film THE PHARMACIST. (1932, 83 min, 35mm) [Kat Sachs]

Mike Nichols’ WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (US)

Music Box Theatre – Sunday, 11:30am

There’s an intoxicating, venomous spirit running through the veins of Edward Albee’s seminal work Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? that seems so indebted to its life as a living, breathing stage play that it’s something of a minor miracle that—​in his debut directorial feature, no less—​Mike Nichols was able to transplant that feeling to the screen. Just a few years prior, after concluding his storied double-act comedy career with fellow comic-turned-director Elaine May, Nichols proved his bona fides as an artist adept at navigating complex romantic relationships with his stage directorial debut, Neil Simon’s Barefoot in the Park, another dramatic work about a married couple, though in this case one more plainly comedic than Albee’s festering ulcer of a piece. Under the tutelage of producer/screenwriter Ernest Lehman, Nichols’ success with Albee’s work is ultimately a masterclass in identifying tragedy and comedy as flip-sides of the same coin. The vollying barbs between history professor George (Richard Burton) and his wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor) provide perfect bait for their late-night guests, a younger academic, biology professor Nick (George Segal) and his wife Honey (Sandy Dennis), with each vicious insult and threatening remark equally laced with bitter contempt and playful wit. Owing to its theatrical origins, the breakneck pace is enough to convince you that the film exists as one two-hour-long single take, like we’re sitting in George and Martha’s living room as well, equally falling prey to their conversational games of provocation and intrigue. As characters, George and Martha exist as fun-house mirror reflections for Nick and Honey, an eerie premonition of the toll that such a toxic marriage can take down the line, yet within that toxicity lies something magnetic and alluring. As stellar as the entire quartet of players is here, it’s Taylor and Burton, of course, who get the meatier roles, not so much chewing the scenery as they are knocking the set down and spreading the wreckage across an eight-course tasting menu, their hatred and adoration for each other appearing so entangled as to become utterly meaningless by the inevitable moment when, finally, after the rubble has been cleared, the sun rises above it all. Screening as part of the Liz & Monty Matinees series. (1966, 132 min, 35mm) [Ben Kaye]

Michael Curtiz's YANKEE DOODLE DANDY (US)

Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Thursday, 8pm

“My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you, and I thank you.” So ended each performance of the popular vaudeville act The Four Cohans, who entertained audiences across the United States with their singing, dancing, and clowning around in the late 1800s. So, too, do those words remain with me to this day as perhaps the most memorable line of the traditional 4th of July movie, YANKEE DOODLE DANDY. James Cagney won his only Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of showbiz phenomenon George M. Cohan (1878–1942). Here was the intensity he brought to his gangsters—Tom Powers, Cody Garrett, Martin Snyder—in service of a tour de force performance of pure joy. His singing (not so hot, but expressive), his dancing (eccentric and strange to modern eyes, but masterfully entertaining and done in Cohan’s style), and, of course, his acting, which could turn from bravado to playful to soulful in just the right measure, all come together like a force of nature to tell perhaps the ultimate showbiz story. Michael Curtiz applied his considerable ensemble directing skills to a story that spans from Cohan’s birth, through his days with The Four Cohans and Broadway theatrical career, and on to wartime contributions and his late career. Along the way, we get heavy doses of co*cksure Cohan charm, grand production numbers, and large slices of fictional hokum about George M.’s theatrical partnership with Sam Harris and his marriage to Agnes Mary Nolan (Joan Leslie), as well as his deserved reputation as a super-patriot. The dramatic moments in the film are generally fine, though Leslie and Cagney generate all the fire of a wet match. Some moments, however, are quite poignant. For example, sister Josie Cohan (Jeanne Cagney, James’ sister) and George talk at the family farm, and Josie tells him she is getting married and retiring. This scene actually took place between Jeanne and James, who were a vaudeville team, and thus, there is a personal note that I find moving. The flag waving goes into overdrive for the musical number that ends the film, “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” from George Washington, Jr., giving Curtiz a chance to thank his adopted land for granting him safe harbor with all the skill at his disposal. I’m sure that in an America embroiled in war, this film helped ease the pain of parted loved ones, wartime rationing, and social uncertainty. James Cagney holds nothing back in portraying an American patriot who wasn’t afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve. Give it a try. You just might feel a little bit better about America afterward. Screening as part of the Public Enemy: Cagney on Film series. (1942, 126 min, 35mm) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Sidney Lumet's THE ANDERSON TAPES (US)

Gene Siskel Film Center – Saturday, 3pm and Wednesday, 6:30pm

Based on a novel by Lawrence Sanders, THE ANDERSON TAPES ushered in a new era for the crime subgenre, reflecting on surveillance and our relationship to it in the modern world. In heist films like this, character usually takes a back seat to plot, but with Sidney Lumet behind the wheel, distinct performances color an otherwise run-of-the-mill theft yarn. Released after a decade in prison, John "Duke" Anderson reunites with his old girlfriend Ingrid Everleigh (Dylan Cannon), who's been kept in one of the luxury apartments of a wealthy building owner named Werner. A criminal mastermind, Anderson hatches a plan to rob the whole building blind by stuffing all Werner’s greatest riches into a van parked on the street. Led by a maniacal performance by the thick-browed Sean Connery, a team is recruited, which includes a young Christopher Walken (making his first full length feature debut). In a brilliant performance, Alan King plays the mob boss who finances the job. While plans are being made, several government agencies keep tabs, recording all events yet never intervening in the criminals' process. Coming before other surveillance thrillers such as Coppola’s THE CONVERSATION (1974) or Scott’s ENEMY OF THE STATE (1998), THE ANDERSON TAPES is entertaining heist film that signaled a new anxiety was oozing its way into American film: surveillance. Screening as part of the Sidney Lumet Centennial series. (1971, 99 min, 35mm) [Ray Ebarb]

📽️ ALSO RECOMMENDED

Wes Anderson’s THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (US)

Music Box Theatre – Sunday, 7pm

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

Roy Del Ruth’s BLONDE CRAZY (US)

Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, 5pm

James Cagney is my favorite actor of all time—stage or any size screen, any gender, any country, any era. I discovered his films on TV when I was a tween, became instantly enamored, and ensured that I would never miss any of his pictures by setting my alarm for the wee hours if “The Late Show” was airing one of them. I still have the 1969 paperback edition of Leonard Maltin’s TV Movies with checkmarks next to all the Cagney films I saw back then. Thus, it came as a surprise to watch BLONDE CRAZY and realize that I had never seen it before. One of five features he made in 1931, including his breakout role as Tom Powers in THE PUBLIC ENEMY, BLONDE CRAZY teamed him with Joan Blondell, his regular costar during the 1930s. The pair came to Hollywood in 1930 when the flop Broadway play they starred in, “Penny Arcade,” was optioned and made into SINNER’S HOLIDAY (1930), their screen debuts and the first of seven films they made together. BLONDE CRAZY is classic Cagney and Blondell. Cagney plays Bert Harris, an ambitious bellhop with larceny in his heart and a yen for Ann Roberts (Blondell), the chambermaid whose job he secures at the expense of his coworker’s girlfriend. He enlists her in a scheme to fleece a rich adulterer, something she agrees to do only because she is drawn to him. They move from their small Midwest city to Chicago, where Bert ends up on the wrong end of a scam. Chasing the team who took all their dough, Ann and Bert end up in New York City, where they pursue different dreams, only to end up (as expected) together. The chemistry between Cagney and Blondell sparkles, and the exceedingly clever script by THE PUBLIC ENEMY’s writers, Kubec Glasmon and John Bright, gives them both a chance to uncork their signature wisecracks. When the pair starts their partnership, Bert turns Ann’s qualms aside with “The age of chivalry is past; this is the age of chiselry. … Honest men are scarcer than feathers on a frog.” Put off by Bert’s crude passes, Ann says, “I could go for you. Sometimes I think I even want to. You’re nice. You're not a collar ad, but, you’re not bad-looking either. But just when I get set to fall, you spoil everything.” With these two quotes, the keys to Cagney’s appeal are revealed—naughty, nice, easy on the eyes, worldly wise. In addition, director Roy Del Ruth makes the most of Cagney’s physicality, giving him opportunities to show off both his dancing and boxing chops. Cagney and Blondell are well supported by Louis Calhern and Noel Francis as confidence artists out to fleece Bert. A great recreation of a stock brokers office and its hand-operated stock board is fascinating, and a final overhead tracking shot of ceilingless prison cells, complete with prisoners, lend interest to a tonally interesting crime film. Screening as part of the Public Enemy: Cagney on Film series. (1931, 95 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Josh Margolin’s THELMA (US)

Music Box Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes

Some say that age is just a number. While it’s true that old people can have young attitudes (and vice versa), nobody ages without experiencing functional decline. Take Thelma Post (a feisty June Squibb), the title character of actor Josh Margolin’s directorial debut. Thelma is 93 years old, lives alone in the house she shared with her husband until he died two years earlier, and is first seen exploring the wonders of the internet after a tutorial from her 24-year-old grandson, Daniel (Fred Hechinger). Thelma is determined to be as active and up-to-date as possible, but her judgment fails her when a scammer cheats her out of $10,000 by pretending to be Daniel calling to get bail money after getting into a car accident involving a pregnant woman. With law enforcement unable to help her, she decides to get her money back herself with the assistance of Ben (Richard Roundtree), a friend with a two-seat electric scooter she needs to get around. I admit I approached this film with some trepidation. Comedies centered on old people typically like to make fun of the infirmities and perceived randiness of people who presumably can’t have sex anymore. However, THELMA surprised me by looking at the elderly without ridiculing or pathologizing them. The comedy is gentle, but the reality that most of Thelma’s friends are dead and that Ben moved to assisted living because he couldn’t hear his wife fall down their staircase and die is sobering. Hechinger is very engaging as her loving grandson who can’t seem to get his life in gear; his interactions with Squibb are among the best in the film. Parker Posey provided me with most of the laughs as Daniel’s mother, swinging from California correct to hectoring spouse of emotionally vague Clark Gregg. A short scene in which Bunny Levine plays Thelma’s homebound friend Mona is brilliantly played and incredibly sad, as we see the disorder of Mona’s roach-infested home and the effects of memory loss on her ability to interact with the world. Staring down old age is no picnic, but Margolin provides a wonderful grace note at the very end of the film. The dialogue Squibb utters as she and Daniel drive away from a cemetery comes word for word from Margolin’s grandmother, seen in a video before the closing credits remarking on the resilience of the trees she sees. This film is a cleverly constructed act of love I’m happy to have seen. (2024, 97 min, DCP Digital) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Scored by Hisaishi

Gene Siskel Film Center – See below for showtimes

Hayao Miyazaki's PRINCESS MONONOKE (Japan/Animation)
Saturday, 4pm
As morally complicated as it is visually complex, PRINCESS MONONOKE was Hayao Miyazaki’s darkest, most contemplative film prior to THE WIND RISES. Like WIND, MONONOKE advances a skeptical view of war and technological progress. It adopts a Medieval setting to portray, in the director’s words, “the very beginnings of the seemingly insoluble conflict between the natural world and modern industrial civilization.” What makes the film intellectually challenging, however, is that Miyazaki refuses to demonize industrial civilization in delineating the story’s conflict. MONONOKE takes place in a mythological feudal Japan where humans interact freely with gods and demons. Much of the second half concerns the persecution of forest spirits by the denizens of Irontown, a refinery/village that’s producing the first iron Japan’s ever seen and which it wants to destroy parts of the surrounding forest in order to expand. In a simpler film, Irontown would be a land of dumb brutes, yet Miyazaki presents the village as progressive, even enlightened. The town’s leader, Lady Eboshi, radically refuses to acknowledge the Emperor’s authority, putting her centuries ahead of her time; she also employs former sex workers, lepers, and other social outcasts in the town’s operations. (Miyazaki claims to have taken inspiration from John Ford’s westerns in his depiction of a diverse small community.) One can’t help but admire the resolute spirit of Irontowners even as they aspire to commit genocide against the gods—Miyazaki’s humanism is so profound that he sees good even in characters that perform evil deeds. Similarly, the film’s hero, Ash*taka, often seems callow and insecure when doing good. Ash*taka is attacked by a demon at the start of the film and spends the rest of the picture slowly dying from a curse that’s placed on him. The young man’s fate parallels that of the forest spirits: he’s doomed to die, but he’s determined to use whatever strength he has left to fight for the protection of the natural world. And as depicted by Miyazaki and the Studio Ghibli team, the natural world seems magisterial enough to die for. (1997, 134 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]
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Hayao Miyazaki's SPIRITED AWAY (Japan/Animation
Sunday, 2pm
For evidence that Hayao Miyazaki works from a different playbook than his Disney counterparts, look no further than the dynamic, kaleidoscopic world of SPIRITED AWAY. In this coming-of-age story set in a modern-day wonderland, the animation grandmaster creates a detail-rich realm of the spirits where the only rule seems to be that the rules can always change. Here, physiologically impossible characters shape shift through various forms, villains quite suddenly prove themselves to be friends, and the plot itself refuses to settle into a groove, redefining the boundaries the moment we become aware of them. What begins as a spectral plunge down the rabbit hole takes an abrupt shift the moment young Chihiro lands on her feet, and it's not long before she is neck-deep in the politics of the magical bathhouse at the center of this world. She is tugged at in all directions by the denizens therein, including the disproportioned governess, Yubaba, the dragon-boy, Haku, and the ghostly No-Face, whose part in the story temporarily takes us into horror movie territory, and lest we think the world of SPIRITED AWAY is confined to this singular, vibrant location, the final chapter opens the world even further, allowing neither Chihiro nor the viewer to grow too complacent. The film, like any great imagination, knows no bounds, and its scope and soaring ambition have rightly marked it as Miyazaki's masterpiece. (2001, 125 min, DCP Digital) [Tristan Johnson]
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Hayao Miyazaki's HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE (Japan/Animation)
Monday, 6pm
Hayao Miyazaki’s films were one of the first things my brother and I bonded over. He’s just shy of a decade older than me, so when I was growing up I desperately wanted his seal of approval. I often found myself spending hours on end watching animated movies and cartoons with him in an attempt to know what the cool older kids were talking about. He first showed me Miyazaki’s folklore-heavy SPIRITED AWAY, albeit at far too young an age for either of us to really understand it. But even still, we both knew that there was something about it that was magical. Every time I watch a Miyazaki film, I feel like a kid again. Wide-eyed and brimming with a child-like wonder as I marvel at the distinct worlds he’s able to create time and time again. The one that sticks with me the most in adulthood, though, is HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE. Sophie, a young and soft-spoken hat-maker, gets swept up by a charming wizard named Howl. A vengeful witch jealous of Sophie’s beauty and newfound relationship with Howl turns her into her worst fear: a 90-year-old woman. Howl and Sophie then embark on a journey to reverse the curse, a journey filled with kitschy side characters and a magically mechanical moving castle, and set against a backdrop of a kingdom at war. In many ways Sophie feels like an audience surrogate, falling into Miyazaki’s weird and fantastical world with the same curiosity as those watching. In addition to its intricate beauty, HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE is a deeply political work, with strong anti-war sentiments directly inspired by Miyazaki’s opposition to the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003. Miyazaki’s films cover a lot of ground, and HOWL’S may be especially hard to keep up with at times, but it would be a mistake to pass up the chance to revel in all of its complexities. (2004, 119 min, DCP Digital) [Cody Corrall]
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Hayao Miyazaki's THE WIND RISES (Japan/Animation)
Tuesday, 6pm
Legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki brought down the curtain on an estimable career when he announced that THE WIND RISES, a biopic of aeronautical engineer Jiro Horikoshi and his first film aimed squarely at an adult audience, would also be his last. As seen by Miyazaki, Jiro's life plays out against a moving backdrop of 20th century Japanese history, including such key events as the 1923 Kanto earthquake, the tuberculosis epidemic (represented by Jiro's doomed romance with his sickly wife Nahoko) and, of course, World War II. This latter aspect engendered controversy when some among the left in Japan condemned Miyazaki's refusal to condemn Jiro for designing fighter planes during the war (though the fact that the film simultaneously alienated Japanese conservatives for being "anti-Japanese" is surely an indication that he was doing something right). Miyazaki instead chooses to portray Jiro as an apolitical dreamer caught in the jaws of history; the way the character's fantasy life is placed on the same plane as reality—as evidenced by his repeated encounters with his hero, a famous Italian engineer—results in something mature, beautiful and profound, and adds up to a kind of self-portrait on the part of the director. Also, if you want to know why good old-fashioned hand-drawn animation is aesthetically superior to its digital counterpart, look no further than here: the painstaking work required to produce Miyazaki's breathtaking 2-D images lends the film a human touch—and consequently a sense of warmth—that the digital behemoths of Hollywood cannot match. Everything about THE WIND RISES feels handcrafted and deeply satisfying—like a good craft beer. (2013, 126 min, DCP Digital) [Michael Glover Smith]
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Hayao Miyazaki's THE BOY AND THE HERON (Japan/Animation)
Wednesday, 6:30pm and Thursday, 6pm
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 Mahito—buried within heavy emotional armor to navigate the grief of losing his mother in a hospital fire the year before—finds 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 Warawara—adorable floating balls that ascend to the heavens to be born as humans—to the bizarre amass of pelicans and parakeets that threaten to swallow up any frame they inhabit. Mahito‘s quest to find closure for his mother’s 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]
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Programmed in collaboration with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, who are welcoming the artist for Hisaishi Conducts Hisaishi from June 27 - 30. More info here.

Kelly O’Sullivan & Alex Thompson’s GHOSTLIGHT (US)

Music Box Theatre and the Wilmette Theatre – See Venue website for showtimes

There are days where Chicago’s storefront theater scene can feel like the city’s best-kept secret; abandoned rooms and buildings scattered across the city that have been converted into shelters for imagination and earnest emotional excavation, created by people sharing stories with live audiences for little-to-no money, simply for the pleasure of nourishing that deep, artistic part of the human spirit. It’s corny and scrappy and painful and oftentimes exploitative, and in its best moments, it’s a place where—​despite it all—​art for art’s sake comes alive in a most hopeful and earnest fashion. It’s somewhat surprising that such a potent artistic subculture has rarely been seen as an environ for cinematic exploration, but Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson’s GHOSTLIGHT succeeds in mining this world for all it’s worth, tying this all to a story of familial grief and cathartic retribution that, of course, can only be unearthed through the power of theater. In this case, a hastily tossed-together production of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet does the trick, with construction worker Dan (Keith Kupferer) inexplicably joining the cast after wandering away from his worksite. Sullivan’s script slowly teases out the true narrative meat plaguing Dan’s life, a tragedy of human proportions that finds eerie parallels to the tragic Shakespearean love story Dan and his theatrical cohort (led by a harsh-yet-tender Dolly de Leon) have found themselves exhuming in a dingy storefront in the Chicago suburbs. The layers of authenticity are further deepened by the fact that Kupferer’s real-life family inhabit those same roles on screen here; Tara Mallen (a Chicago theater all-star in her own right) plays Dan’s beleaguered wife, and their daughter Katherine Mallen Kupferer delivers an adolescent tornado of a performance as their rebellious teen offspring. Their shared onscreen family trauma (unfurled late in the film at a deposition hearing in a stunning piece of performance from Kupferer) is always boiling under the surface of their lives, with Dan and his daughter eventually finding a home for these repressed feelings to thrive within the Bard’s text. O’Sullivan and Thompson deliver the final blow with one fleeting image near the end of the film, hiding in the shadows, bringing Dan closer to a breaking point of meaning and understanding than he’s ever felt before. As messy and as slapdash as storefront theater often is, truth and vulnerability always find a way to shine through. (2024, 110 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Kaye]

Ramata-Toulaye Sy’s BANEL & ADAMA (Senegal/France/Mali)

Gene Siskel Film Center – See Venue website for showtimes

“Banel e Adama. Banel e Adama. Banel e Adama.” The couple’s names fill the notebook of 19-year-old Banel like an incantation, an attempt to will her relationship with Adama into impossible permanence. Living in a small village in Senegal, the two have just been married following the death of Adama’s father and brother, the latter of whom was Banel’s previous husband. Talk of destiny abounds. Were Banel and Adama meant to be together? They certainly think so: blissfully in love, they plan to leave their homes and families to live together in an abode outside the village, with Adama shirking his prescribed hereditary role as the new village chief. Banel, too, sees a way out of her own societal constrictions as a woman forced to bear a male heir. While they map out their shared future, a deadly drought befalls their village. Is this plague punishment for their recalcitrance, as the village elders believe, or a needed upheaval of an oppressive social order? BANEL & ADAMA stands firmly on the side of its rebellious titular characters—played beautifully and without sentimentality by Khady Mane and Mamadou Diallo—even as their headstrong ways court danger. In earthy images that poetically return to mythical motifs of water, sun, sand, trees, and animals, Sy conjures a world beyond societal dictates, where the distant call of freedom makes even the most perilous storm worth weathering. (2023, 87 min, DCP Digital) [Jonathan Leithold-Patt]

Kathryn Bigelow's POINT BREAK (US)

FACETS Cinema – Thursday, 9pm

There was a point in my life where I was completely obsessed with this film. For years, I would evangelize the good word of POINT BREAK to all who would listen—and sometimes to those who wouldn't as well. One of my old bands used a Patrick Swayze sample from this movie to open one of our tracks. A co-bandmate of mine even made it on to NPR by fact-checking an inaccuracy about the movie Robert Siegel made on All Things Considered, something they attributed to the number of times I had made them watch this film. I even drove 12 hours round trip to catch a production of the hilarious theatrical send-up Point Break Live! So, to say that I think this a great movie would be a severe understatement. Even today, it seems ridiculous to most people to hear about the genius of POINT BREAK. To them, it's a dumb ‘90s action movie about bank-robbing surfer dudes and a couple of buddy cops—one an old loose cannon, the other an uptight, fresh-faced new guy—playing a good old-fashioned game of cops and robbers. There are shootouts, surfing, even skydiving. (The final DVD release of this movie was dubbed “The Pure Adrenaline Edition.”) It seems like a dumb movie for dumb people. And here's the trick: it is, but also it isn't. POINT BREAK is actually two films happening at the same time. Keanu Reeves plays Johnny Utah, a federal agent assigned to LA to track down a gang of bank robbers lead by surfer guru Patrick Swayze. With the aid of his crackpot supervisor Gary Busey, Reeves goes undercover to infiltrate the gang, but ends up developing a sense of camaraderie with them. This seems like a by-the-numbers conceit, but if you squint oh so slightly, a whole other film appears. Bigelow tosses aside the traditional male gaze of the action film and replaces it with an equally sexualized female gaze that turns this tough-guy action flick into the queerest himbo will-they-or-won't-they romance ever made by a major Hollywood studio. Until she became the first woman to win the Best Director Oscar for THE HURT LOCKER, Kathryn Bigelow was never taken very seriously by the greater public. It took her breaking away from genre subversion and turning to more straightforward storytelling in order to be taken seriously. Suddenly, it seemed like everyone looked back at her work and thought, “Oh my, maybe what she was doing was tongue-in-cheek the whole time!” (As if her music video for New Order that looks exactly like a bad Mötley Crüe video wasn't blatant enough.) Suddenly, the mainstream was catching up and saying, “Maybe NEAR DARK wasn't just a dumb vampire movie, but a movie about chosen family and patriarchy.” It's almost insulting. Actually, it’s completely insulting. POINT BREAK is the kind of action film you get when it's made by someone who studied under Sylvère Lotringer, Susan Sontag, Edward Said, and Andrew Sarris. This is a director who understands symbols and semiotics but also Hollywood pageantry. Bigelow asks, “Instead of having the undercover cop get in too deep with his role, what if he got in too deep with his love?” This isn't the muy macho no hom*o bromance we're used to, but an almost Shakespearean love story about two men from different cultures who can never be together. Yes, it's an infinitely quotable action movie (“Utah! Gimme two!) that’s also so relentlessly queer that it's almost astonishing. And the best part is, you get to choose which of the two films you'd like to watch. They're both there. Turn your brain off and the volume up if you want and watch what is quite possibly the greatest chase scene ever shot. Or go reach for that post-structuralist lens and get your queering female gaze full of himbo tragedy. POINT BREAK offers all things to all people at all times. If you want the ultimate, you've got to be willing to pay the ultimate price, which in this case is simply the low price of admission. (1991, 122 min, Unconfirmed Format) [Raphael Jose Martinez]
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Preceded at 7pm by FACETS Film Trivia, hosted by CineRomero Productions.

Pedro Almodóvar's TIE ME UP! TIE ME DOWN! (Spain)

Alamo Drafthouse – Monday, 7pm

One of the sexiest films ever made about Stockholm Syndrome, Pedro Almodóvar described his eighth feature as, “Lots of skin, a large helping of irreverent humor, and very little money, of course.” The film genesis came during the shooting WOMEN ON THE VERGE OF BREAKDOWN (1988). Production spent an excessive amount of money building a set of a penthouse. “I told my producer-brother, Agustín: ‘I’d like to make a movie à la [Roger] Corman that could occur entirely on Pepa’s penthouse set. Maybe then we can justify the huge expense.’ ‘Let’s go for it!’ he said.” With the instinct to make two films for the price of one, the seed snowballed into a film that Miramax would go on to defend over an X rating in the United States. The film follows a young man, Ricky (Antonio Banderas), recently released from a mental institution. His mission is simple: find the former p*rn star, Marina (Victoria Abril), whom he slept with the one time he escaped the ward. Eventually, he finds the girl. Bounding and holding her against her will, they shack up in her apartment. The next step, wait until she sees him for who he truly is and fall in love with him. To the chagrin of the audience and the damsel in distress, she develops feelings. In an unexpected climax, the two drive off into the sunset singing songs. The color and vibrancy of the set and costume design adds an electricity to the picture. In her second collaboration with the director, Victoria Abril gives a charming performance as the salacious ingénue trying to escape the captor she falls in love with. In his sexual prime, Banderas gives notes of a sultry Norman Bates. Like a lot of Almodóvar’s work, TIE ME UP! TIE ME DOWN! is controversial in its material but more so in its delivery of the material. Ricky and Marina’s relationship explores fantasy, and their performances almost feel intentionally distant, like the movie is one big exercise in foreplay. Regardless of whether or not Almodóvar directs his actors to treat their scenario like role play, the picture as a whole fits in the lineage of Spanish surrealism, a descendant of Luis Buñuel. Screening as part of the Film Theory 101 series. (1989, 111 min, DCP Digital) [Ray Ebarb]

Steven Spielberg's JAWS (US)

Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Friday, 8pm

If PSYCHO forever changed bathroom behavior, then JAWS no doubt gave us pause before diving head first into the ocean; but like the best horror movies, the film's staying power comes not from its superficial subject matter, in this case a mammoth, man-eating shark and the ominous abyss of the deep blue sea, but from the polysemic potential and wealth of latent meanings that these enduring symbols possess. JAWS marks a watershed moment in cinema culture for a variety of reasons, not excluding the way it singlehandedly altered the Hollywood business model by becoming the then highest grossing film of all time. A byproduct of such attention has been the sustained output of scholarly criticism over the years. At the time of its release, JAWS was interpreted as a thinly veiled metaphor for the Watergate scandal (an event that was slightly more conspicuous in the book), but since then a variety of readings have emerged, including socioeconomic and feminist analyses; however, Marxist theorist Fredric Jameson may provide the most intriguing interpretation by connecting the shark to the tradition of scapegoating. Like Moby Dick or Hitchco*ck's titular birds, the shark functions as a sacrificial animal onto which we project our own social or historical anxieties (e.g., bioterrorism, AIDS, Mitt Romney). It allows us to rationalize evil and then fool ourselves into thinking we've vanquished it. But by turning man-made problems into natural ones we forget that human nature itself is corrupt, exemplified here by Mayor Vaughn who places the entire population of Amity Island in peril by denying the existence of the shark. Jameson's reading is in keeping with the way in which Spielberg rarely displays the shark itself (the result of constant mechanical malfunctions); as opposed to terrifying close-ups, we get point of view shots that create an abstract feeling of fear, thus evoking an applicable horror film trope: the idea is much more frightening than the image. JAWS is a timeless cautionary tale because it appeals to the deep-rooted fears of any generation. And because sharks are scary. (1975, 124 min, DCP Digital) [Harrison Sherrod]

Spike Lee's DO THE RIGHT THING (US)

Davis Theater – Sunday, 7pm
Doc Films (at the University of Chicago) – Thursday, 5pm

Spike Lee's long and prolific career has been maddeningly uneven but he is also, in the words of his idol Billy Wilder, a "good, lively filmmaker." Lee's best and liveliest film is probably his third feature, 1989's DO THE RIGHT THING, which shows racial tensions coming to a boil on the hottest day of the year in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn. Lee himself stars as Mookie, a black deliveryman working for a white-owned pizzeria in a predominantly black community. A series of minor conflicts between members of the large ensemble cast (including Danny Aiello, Ossie Davis, Ruby Dee, Giancarlo Esposito, and John Turturro) escalates into a full-blown race riot in the film's incendiary and unforgettable climax. While the movie is extremely political, it is also, fortunately, no didactic civics lesson: Lee is able to inspire debate about hot-button issues without pushing an agenda or providing any easy answers. This admirable complexity is perhaps best exemplified by two seemingly incompatible closing-credits quotes--by Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X—about the ineffectiveness and occasional necessity of violence, respectively. It is also much to Lee's credit that, as provocative and disturbing as the film at times may be, it is also full of great humor and warmth, qualities perfectly brought out by the ebullient cast and the exuberant color cinematography of Ernest Dickerson. Screening at the Davis Theater as part of the Heat of the Summer series. (1989, 111 min, Digital Projection/DCP Digital) [Michael Glover Smith]

Cameron Crowe’s ALMOST FAMOUS (US)

Davis Theater – Thursday, 7pm

Like the San Diego environment in which he was raised, many of director Cameron Crowe’s films conjure a certain sun-dappled nostalgia that, like the sand on the beaches where he swam and sunned, blunts the rough edges of memory. His first films, from FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH (1982) to SINGLES (1992), zero in on youth culture with all its romance, experimentation, and uncertainty. ALMOST FAMOUS, made nearly twenty years after Crowe’s directorial debut, tells the lightly fictionalized story of his now-storied debut as a rock critic for Rolling Stone magazine at the tender age of 15. The film begins in 1969. The Summer of Love is over, the nation’s innocence has been shattered by the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, and William Miller’s (Michael Angarano) older sister (Zooey Deschanel) is leaving the repressiveness of their widowed mother (Frances McDormand) for San Francisco, where she intends not to drop out, but rather to take off as a flight attendant. She leaves William her classic rock records, which she believes will set him free. Fast forward to 1973. Now 15, a budding rock critic, and a devoted reader of Creem, William (Patrick Fugit) has a chance to meet its editor, Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), and wrangles an assignment to cover a Black Sabbath concert. Failing to get backstage, he meets a group of Band Aids, founded and headed by 16-year-old Penny Lane (Kate Hudson), who is the muse of Russell Hammond (Billy Crudup), lead guitarist of the fictional hard-rock band Stillwater. By flattering Hammond and the band, William gets past the stage door bouncer and is swept up in the band’s fortunes and cross-country road trip after being recruited, sight unseen, to write for Rolling Stone by its senior editor, Ben Fong-Torres (Terry Chen). Based on Crowe’s reporting for a cover story on The Allman Brothers Band, ALMOST FAMOUS channels the DIY feeling of a rock band bussing through the country through the wide-eyed wonder of Fugit, a discovery from Utah who beat out hundreds of other teens for the role. As the daughter of teen idol Bill Hudson, Kate Hudson understands the music business and idol worship better than most. She affects the worldly air of an elevated groupie while embodying the fragility of a youthful free spirit who is growing up too fast. Crudup, a master of romance, maintains an air of mystery that masks his character’s delusion of grandeur that only reveals itself when he is tripping on acid. And what can one say about McDormand? She’s amazing as a professor and concerned mother with a literary aesthetic whose intensity regularly freaks out the simpler minds she encounters. The candy-colored cinematography of John Toll matches the rose-colored glasses Crowe turns toward this time in his life, and the costumes by Betsy Heimann, while true to the period, actually look quite contemporary. Musician Nancy Wilson, a founding member of Heart and Crowe’s wife at the time, wrote the original songs Stillwater plays during their concerts, and Peter Frampton taught Crudup how to play guitar and gave pointers to the band about performance. Crowe peppers the soundtrack with songs by Yes, The Who, Black Sabbath, and other then popular acts, though Stillwater favors pop rocker Elton John for a group sing-along on their bus. ALMOST FAMOUS will elicit reminiscences not only from Boomers who came of age in the ’70s, but also from Millennials who remember Hudson, Crudup, and supporting actors Fairuza Balk, Anna Paquin, and Bijou Phillips when they were young. Screening as part of the Heat of the Summer series. (2000, 124 min, Digital Projection) [Marilyn Ferdinand]

Paul Thomas Anderson's BOOGIE NIGHTS (US)

Davis Theater – Wednesday, 7pm

For me, no Paul Thomas Anderson film has yet topped the dynamic experience of watching BOOGIE NIGHTS. This is exemplified by the film’s vibrant pool party scene—set to Eric Burdon and War’s “Spill the Wine”—as the camera follows those just having fun and those deep in significant conversation. It’s a film that perfectly seesaws the audience between scenes of pleasure and of real darkness. It’s hilarious at times while also containing one of the most horrifyingly tense scenes in cinema. It is both brutally honest yet sweetly empathetic to its main characters. It’s dazzling in its meandering and colorful '70s and '80s set pieces, its memorable costuming, and influential soundtrack. Set in Los Angeles during the Golden Age of p*rn—and based on an earlier mockumentary short film by Anderson—BOOGIE NIGHTS follows the rise and fall of Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg), a young aspiring adult film star. He is discovered by Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds) and joins his community of filmmakers and stars. This group includes outstanding performances from Julianne Moore, John C. Reilly, Don Cheadle, and Philip Seymour Hoffman, just to name a few. The film combines an overarching narrative with distinct vignettes, making the stories of even the most minor of characters matter. Dirk may be the central figure around which the rest of the characters revolve, but the film makes it clear everyone else is just as significant, just as complicated, and everyone else is also struggling and succeeding in their own ways. Rollergirl (Heather Graham), a p*rn starlet who never takes off her skates the entire film, could easily be a background character solely based on her visual gimmick but instead is fully allowed to both find joy in and rail against her situation—the striking costume and period setting is so entertaining but never overshadows the characters. BOOGIE NIGHTS constantly takes time for these characters, stressing that their experiences are also essential. The result is intimate while simultaneously suggesting worlds of possibility both on and off camera. Screening as part of the Heat of the Summer series. (1997, 155 min, Digital Projection) [Megan Fariello]

David Wain's WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER (US)

Davis Theater – Friday, 7pm

Based on the director's personal experiences at Jewish summer camps, David Wain’s WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER draws from '80s summer-camp comedies like MEATBALLS and summer-camp horror like SLEEPAWAY CAMP to portray a crash course in expertly interweaving modern humor and silliness. Wain co-wrote WET HOT with Michael Showalter, with whom Wain worked as part of the '90s comedy sketch team The State, a group represented by members of the large ensemble cast (Showalter, Joe Lo Truglio, and Ken Marino). Taking place over the last full day of camp in the summer of 1981, the film follows the counselors and staff of Camp Firewood as they navigate love, sex, stressful theatrical productions, and astrophysics. The cast includes Janene Garofalo, David Hyde Pierce, Molly Shannon, Paul Rudd, and Bradley Cooper, to name just a few of the many familiar faces (H. Jon Benjamin provides a familiar voice). WET HOT grounds moments of pure absurdity, overacting (Rudd’s performance stands out here), and fantasy with some of true sincerity; a friend of mine mentioned this movie as representing the cinematic representation closest to his own summer camp experiences. Wain parodies familiar 1980s film tropes in outrageous ways, including an incredible take on '80s montages, as camp cook and Vietnam vet Gene (Christopher Meloni) teaches counselor Coop (Showalter),how to dance for an audition for the camp’s talent show. The montage is set to an original song that perfectly mimics the inspirational rock songs of the period. The entire soundtrack is spot on—​for me, Jefferson Starship's "Jane" is synonymous with the film. While not a critical or financial success upon release, partially due to its distribution, WET HOT found its audience on cable and home video. It had two spin-off Netflix series in 2015 and 2017 with the original cast returning, one a prequel set on the first day of camp and the other catching up with the gang ten years later. (2001, 92 min, Digital Projection) [Megan Fariello]

Jonathan Demme's STOP MAKING SENSE (US/Documentary)

Music Box Theatre – Friday, Midnight

In nearly every shot, STOP MAKING SENSE makes the case that Jonathan Demme was the greatest director of musical performance in American cinema. It isn't difficult to convey the joy of making music, but Demme's attention to the interplay between musicians (and, in some inspired moments, between the musicians and their crew) conveys the imagination, hard work, and camaraderie behind any good song. And, needless to say, the songs here are very, very good. By this point (the performances are culled from three concerts from 1983), Talking Heads were the headiest American band to achieve their degree of success, and they made the most of it, doubling their line-up to include back-up singers and a few instrumentalists from the golden years of George Clinton's Funkadelic. It's never openly acknowledged that the five new members are Black and the Heads are white; the sheer creativity of the music, which fuses everything from soul to traditional African rhythms to then-advanced electronic effects, is fully utopian in its spirit. (1984, 88 min, DCP Digital) [Ben Sachs]

🎞️ ALSO SCREENING

🎞️ ONLINE SCREENINGS/EVENTS

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

CINE-LIST: June 21 - June 27,2024