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:: Friday, DEC. 9 - Thursday, DEC. 15 ::


Robert Greene’s KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE (New Documentary)
Gene Siskel Film Center - Friday, 8:15pm; Saturday, 5:30pm; Monday, 7:45pm

Building on the exploration of performers as documentary subjects in his last two films, Robert Greene’s latest drastically ups the scale of his particular brand of “ecstatic truth,” in which a canny choice of subject and style foregrounds cinema’s peculiar relationship with reality, and the role of performance (conscious or otherwise) in ostensible non-fiction. Antonio Campos has already submitted an answer this year for how to make a film about Christine Chubbuck, CHRISTINE, dramatizing the life and death of the Florida newscaster who famously shot herself on live TV. KATE PLAYS CHRISTINE takes the question of how to make such a film as its central subject. Coming out of a screening of Greene’s last film, ACTRESS, Adam Nayman tweeted: “You can feel this movie thinking.” This time, you *see* the movie thinking, with every scene contemplating the act of telling a story that took place in a public visual medium, but for which the documentary record is now completely inaccessible. The setup is Greene making a soap-opera-esque telling of Chubbuck’s demise, with Kate Lyn Sheil in the lead role. As Sheil prepares, she interviews Sarasota locals, visits locations from Chubbuck’s life, and goes through rehearsal and shooting of various scenes. The nesting doll structure of the narrative bears a resemblance to Hou Hsiao-hsien’s GOOD MEN, GOOD WOMEN, where the film-within-a-film is an integral part of the framing story of an actress portraying a historical figure, shifting so seamlessly between the registers that they can sometimes become indistinguishable. Greene maximizes this ambiguity, suddenly enlisting straight documentary interviewees as participants in reenactments, or cutting to talking-head interviews with actors introduced in staged sequences alongside Sheil. The collaboration between director and star is just as difficult to nail down. In many of the interview segments, Sheil seems like the on-screen stand-in for Greene (though he isn’t completely absent in front of the camera), asking questions that likely came from preparation between the two. There are scenes of her reading the script for the film-within-the-film and making aside comments, but with her eyes never leaving the page it’s hard to tell whether the comments themselves are part of the script in her hands. The synchronicity isn’t absolute though, and some of the film’s most compelling moments come when Sheil clearly pushes back on the direction she’s given. The result is an ever-moving hall of mirrors where distinctions between documentary, fiction, performance, and reality are not so much erased as proven irrelevant. Christine Chubbuck’s story is inherently fascinating, from the sad trajectory of her biography to the intoxicating absence of her final public act that would be so readily available to the curious if it occurred today. That we get a treatment of the subject from one of the most exciting documentary critic-practitioners working today is a rare treat. Director Greene and local filmmaker/critic Michael G. Smith in person at the Friday screening; Greene and documentary filmmaker Steve James in person at the Saturday screening. (2016, 112 min, DCP Digital) AK
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José Luis Guerín's THE ACADEMY OF MUSES (New Spanish)
Facets Cinémathèque - Check Venue website for showtimes

If you only know José Luis Guerín from his 2007 film IN THE CITY OF SYLVIA, then the first thing you should know about his latest work is that THE ACADEMY OF MUSES probably has more dialogue in its first two minutes than SYLVIA featured in its entirety. To call this a deliberate decision would only be playing coy. "As a filmmaker I subordinated all my resources to the staging of word," notes Guerín in his director's statement, "to that infinite space opened through the confrontation between two faces. No rhetorical or stylistic added: nor music, or cross-fade, neither gimmicks mounting or descriptive plans, not even a single transition shot [....] Nothing to hide: the film assumes its industrial insecurity condition, it admits its modest tools: there is nothing to hide or conceal." He's not kidding; shot on consumer grade video, the aesthetic is ascetic. The moments of pictorial beauty that flitter by—the reflections of trees in a car windshield, the images of passersby bouncing off the windows of a small cafe, the competing focal planes that hazily suggest an infinite expanse in a nondescript room—are not so much accidental as incidental to the larger design: they're temporary felicities that occasionally intersect with something coarser, more permanent. Much of the film is given over to classroom discussions in the Philology Department at the University of Barcelona, where we gradually discern that poetry, eros, patriarchy, and the Western canon are functionally one and the same. Professor Raffaele Pinto matches wits with his students, delighting in any opportunity to puncture their linguistic sensitivity. "We cannot avoid language," he observes, spoken like a University of Chicago provost convinced that he has perfected a logical refutation of academic safe spaces, "we are prisoners of language, we can't communicate or think or improve our living conditions, except through language." Yes, but who dictates that language—and who stumbled innocently upon the notion of muses midwifing the creative energy of our poets? Do the muses possess agency, subjectivity, and interiority of their own? According to whom? Later on, Professor Pinto meekly brushes aside his own agency: he asserts that teaching is an act of seduction, and there's not a damn thing the poor man can do about that. When his wife asks whether he's slept with a student, the professor answers, without missing a beat, that poetry is the quest to understand what happens after death. (With all the nymphs gathered around middle-aged philosophers on park benches discussing the contours of the universe, you'd be forgiven for wondering whether you'd stumbled into a curiously chaste Jean-Claude Brisseau movie.) This is a confounding, irascible film, straddling the line between rebuke and awe just as readily it does between fiction and documentary. If you agree with the supposition that love means sharing bookcases, this movie was made for you. (2015, 91 min, Digital Projection) KAW
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Jûzô Itami’s TAMPOPO (Japanese Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center - Check Venue website for showtimes

Frequently billed as a ‘ramen western,’ the satirical TAMPOPO follows the SHANE-esque Goro who decides to help the bubbly Tampopo turn around her struggling noodle shop. Tampopo wants to learn the secret to making the perfect ramen. Although Jûzô Itami’s film was only marginally successful in Japan upon first release, it has since been received with almost universal praise thanks to its delightfully whimsical interweaving of food, sex, and death. TAMPOPO is episodic in nature: Itami’s free flowing narrative draws influence from the works of Luis Buñuel. Each humorous sequence flows freely into each other, often aided by sheer preposterousness that works charmingly well. The real star here is the food. Dish after dish, meal after meal, it’s impossible not to feel hungry when watching this film. A foodie’s ultimate dream, the impressive showcase of culinary offerings is staggering, and their preparations are shown in great detail. There’s a prevailing sense of joy permeating the entire film that delights in simple pleasures like cooking, lovemaking, and sometimes the two combined. Like some of the tantalizing ramen presented onscreen, TAMPOPO is a hearty visual feast best enjoyed in the company of others and with a ferocious appetite. (1985, 114 min, DCP Digital) KC
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John McTiernan's DIE HARD (American Revival)
Music Box Theatre - Monday, 4:30 and 9:30pm and Wednesday, 7:15pm

Non-aficionados of narrative overanalysis are basically going to have to step off in the case of DIE HARD, which is inarguably a modern masterpiece of both structuralist and psychoanalytic semiosis. As an n-dimensional mythological lattice posing as an unpretentious, violent movie, DIE HARD simultaneously pits East Coast vs. West Coast, Eastern capitalism vs. Western capitalism, work vs. family, local vs. global, working class vs. upper class, white vs. black ad infinitum, all entirely immersed in the sacred moment of the pagan Winter Solstice. How, indeed, will John McClane (Bruce Willis) reassert values of patriarchy and Anglo supremacy during this longer-term period of acute economic and multicultural transformation? The answer is by defeating a band of indeterminately Euro monsters who erupt from his unconscious on Christmas Eve as he attempts to renegotiate the terms of his marriage in a building played by—in one of Hollywood's premier self-reflexive architectural cameos—20th Century Fox's brand new office tower. Additionally, the film is creatively suffused in a wide variety of explicit and implicit Christmas-related symbolism (our red-footed hero frequently sends explosive "presents" to lower floors, bond certificates float through the air like snow, etc.) However, the present-day evidence of the film's DVD commentary track suggests that director John McTiernan is almost completely unaware of what he has done, remaining entirely concerned with the implementation of shrill, irrelevant action set pieces. Showing as a double-bill with Joe Dante's 1984 film GREMLINS. (1988, 131 min, 35mm) MC
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Baz Luhrmann’s WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S ROMEO + JULIET (American Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center – Sunday, 3pm and Wednesday, 6pm

Just as EL TOPO and DEAD MAN were labeled acid Westerns (by, respectively, Pauline Kael and Jonathan Rosenbaum, for better or worse) because of their countercultural leanings, one might consider Baz Luhrmann's ROMEO + JULIET to be “acid Shakespeare,” not only because of its polychrome aesthetics but also it’s nonpareil interpretation of the timeless classic. The second film in his so-called ‘Red Curtain Trilogy’ (STRICTLY BALLROOM and MOULIN ROUGE being the first and third), ROMEO + JULIET takes the star-crossed lovers out of Verona proper and puts them in Verona Beach, hybridizing a decidedly 90s beach bum vibe with a kinetic, Tarantino-esque alacrity. Twenty years later, the film, like the play itself, hasn’t aged a day; despite the overabundance of bleach-blonde tips, the nostalgia that wells up when one first sees Leo’s soulful eyes and hears the first pangs of the its indelible soundtrack is indefatigable—a feeling that never really went away. Even if it’s a shallow admiration, born of luxated sentimentality and expired desire, it’d be all the more appropriate considering the nature of Shakespeare’s adolescent romance. Advanced as though the language may seem to our 21st century ears, this story of more woe is actually a puerile reverie of superficial attraction. (Had Romeo and Juliet not killed themselves—sorry, spoilers!—one wonders how long their marriage would have lasted. Paul Rudd’s Paris may have begun to seem like the better option when Leo’s Romeo started hitting on super models and embarrassing himself at Coachella.) Luhrmann doesn’t betray that point, instead using the impetuous romance to highlight the play’s more radical elements. Much like WEST SIDE STORY, his film imagines the Montagues and Capulets largely as rival gangs, replacing knives and swords with a various array of pithily named guns. The gang violence in Luhrmann’s adaptation, however, is a more urgent depiction of a violence respective to the time in which it was made; often criticized as being shot in an “MTV style,” which is unfairly reductive of both, it does borrow the exigency of the era’s socially conscious music videos. Though from the standpoint of teeny-bopper and proto-hipster propensity, one can more fully appreciate the casting of both Leo and Claire Danes (the latter of whom was recommended to Luhrmann by fellow Aussie director Jane Campion, who had seen her on My So-Called Life), as well as the now-classic soundtrack with songs from the Cardigans, Butthole Surfers, and Radiohead. Another interesting casting choice and subsequent character execution is Harold Perrineau as a gender-bending Mercutio. Indeed, Luhrmann’s depiction of Mercutio as being a queer black man who’s clearly in love with Romeo is perhaps the most audacious aspect of his interpretation, which he claims is how he thought Shakespeare would have done it had the play been a film. Reading Mercutio as having feelings for Romeo isn’t especially subversive, but the whole of Luhrmann’s characterization reflects a sympathy that wasn’t so widespread in 1996. In an interview with Creative Screenwriting magazine, he said that he didn’t “believe that there really are modern characters,” just that they have a “modern image” in the film. This embodies Luhrmann’s enduring vision—at its core, it’s a faithful rendition made modern by image rather than intent. The film begins and ends with a newscaster reporting the famous prologue and final monologue in remarkable deadpan, signaling both a seriousness and a self-awareness that don’t often co-mingle in contemporary interpretations of the Bard. (1996, 120 min, 35mm) KS
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Richard Curtis' LOVE ACTUALLY (British Revival)
Music Box Theatre – Tuesday, 7pm and Thursday, 4:45 and 9:30pm

Of the world of modern romantic comedies, so shaped by Richard Curtis' pen (BRIDGET JONES’S DIARY, NOTTING HILL, FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL), I once knew naught. This, despite my great affection for the rom-coms of the 30s and 40s. It took a connoisseur like my wife to clue me in. Upon first viewing LOVE ACTUALLY, Curtis' maiden attempt at wielding the camera, I was scandalized. "Curtis, you have no shame!" I cried. It took repeated administerings over several holiday seasons. Slowly, my amazement grew to fascination, and pretty soon I was clamoring for it as soon as December rolled around. Today, I believe it to be one of the age's great entertainments, a milestone in the canon of UK-US Christmas pop culture. It dawned on me that it was Curtis' utter lack of shame that constituted his greatness. He is completely sincere; he cannot be embarrassed. He achieves moments of real dramatic and psychological verisimilitude, then happily chucks them in favor of fantasy. I began to see the film as a modern, cheerily explicit, sexy equivalent of my cherished P.G. Wodehouse novels. Like Wodehouse, Curtis breezily choreographs a complex farandole of plot and subplot, stacking and spinning ten storylines at once. Even after umpteen viewings, one spots new connections, marvels at Curtis' conducting of the relationships and destinies of a bevy of Londoners, embodied by pleasing players like Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Keira Knightly, Laura Linney and Bill Nighy. LOVE ACTUALLY is a film that even the vinegary David Thomson, in The New Biographical Dictionary of Film, calls "a triumph." It will restore your faith in humanity. It's very funny, and it gets you in the mood. My wife reckons that the transcendent detail is the way the "enigmatic" Carl (Rodrigo Santoro) plays with Linney's hair as they dance. In response, I can only muse happily over how much I still have to learn. Showing as a double-bill with Jon Favreau’s ELF. (2003, 135 min, DCP Digital) SP
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Jacques Tati's PLAYTIME (French Revival)
Alliance Française (54 W. Chicago Ave.) – Thursday, 6:30pm

Jacques Tati's psycho-geographical treatise par excellence, PLAYTIME, begins in a pedagogical mode: for the first hour, working entirely in and around a multimillion-dollar parody of contemporary skyscrapers constructed in the outskirts of Paris, he teaches the viewer a new way to watch a film. The primary use of long shots and deep focus suggests a Bazinian spectatorial freedom, but the meticulously dubbed, panlingual audio is constantly in close-up: from the cacophony of American tourists to the analog buzzing of an office intercom, from the crash of Mr. Hulot's umbrella to the comic deformation of a squeaky leather chair. By the time we reach a long sequence set outside an apartment with soundproof glass, we have learned that the ear can lead the eye as often as the reverse. And none too soon, for the next 40 minutes--detailing the opening night of the posh "Royal Garden" restaurant and its progressively chaotic, visually and aurally exhausting demolition at the unconscious hands of a repressed, consuming tourist society--is what Jonathan Rosenbaum calls "one of the most staggering accomplishments on film." Here, Tati inscribes an intricate, painterly progression on his enormous canvas: from a restrictive, rigid grammar of straight lines and orthogonal angles to the continuous sweeps of French curves, expressed most directly in the movement of his characters' bodies--progressively intoxicated and compelled not just by alcohol and the increasingly frantic music but by an inevitable collective camaraderie--as they travel through an overplanned and overheating environment that, in a series of destructive sight gags, has lost its organizational power to constrain human desire. Once a disastrous critical flop, PLAYTIME is an odd and striking masterpiece of urban studies that absolutely must be seen on the big screen. Preceded by Chuck Przybyl’s 2015 short INSITE: A DOCUMENT (8 min). (1967, 124 min, Video Projection – Unconfirmed Format) MC
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Frank Capra's IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (American Revival) Music Box Theatre – Saturday at Noon and 6:30pm and Sunday at 3:15pm
Like Steven Spielberg today, Frank Capra was associated more with reassuring, patriotic sentiment than with actually making movies; but just beneath the Americana, his films contain a near-schizophrenic mix of idealism and resentment. In this quality, as well as his tendency to drag charismatic heroes through grueling tests of faith, it wouldn't be a stretch to compare Capra with Lars von Trier. There's plenty to merit the comparison in IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE alone: The film is a two-hour tour of an honest man's failure and bottled-up resentment, softened only intermittently by scenes of domestic contentment. Even before the nightmarish Pottersville episode (shot in foreboding shadows more reminiscent of film noir than Americana), Bedford Falls is shown as vulnerable to the plagues of recession, family dysfunction, and alcoholism. All of these weigh heavy on the soul of George Bailey, a small-town Everyman given tragic complexity by James Stewart, who considered the performance his best. Drawing on the unacknowledged rage within ordinary people he would later exploit for Alfred Hitchcock, Stewart renders Bailey as complicated as Capra himself--a child and ultimate victim of the American Dream. Ironically, it's because the film's despair feels so authentic that its iconic ending feels as cathartic as it does: After being saved from his suicide attempt (which frames the entire film, it should be noted), Stewart is returned to the simple pleasures of family and friends, made to seem a warm oasis in a great metaphysical void. (1946, 130 min, DCP Digital) BS
Showing as a double-bill with Michael Curtiz's 1954 film WHITE CHRISTMAS. Tickets available individually or as a double feature.
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Jacques Perrin and Jacques Cluzaud’s SEASONS (New French Documentary)
Music Box Theatre - Check Venue website for showtimes

Directorial duo Jacques Perrin and Jacques Cluzaud’s previous documentaries, WINGED MIGRATION and OCEANS, found the dual Jacqueses tackling the migratory patterns of birds and mankind’s effect on the oceans. In SEASONS, they seek to explore the history of the seasons since the last ice age from the perspective of animals and humans. With many nature documentaries, a sort of opportunistic filmmaking technique must be utilized in order to capture content that is both compelling as well as somewhat narrative, and SEASONS excels in this aspect. Sequences such as a pack of wolves chasing a wild horse at high speeds through a forest demonstrate a technical cinematic proficiency only achieved through years of dedication and just a pinch of luck. Perrin and Cluzaud compartmentalizing the past 80,000 years into four chapters allows the viewer to see the drastic changes that Earth has undergone in addition to the ripples created once humans started to stake their claim, some such sequences feature dramatized roles which help serve as benchmarks for what time period it is. The minimal narration allows for a pure view on nature and what it looks like from a purely observational vantage point. There is a certain comfort found in this environmentalist approach. In the end, SEASONS ponders mankind’s place in the world and its obligation to protect it, both for the sake of the species as well as for the others that inhabit the globe with it. (2015, 97 min, DCP Digital) KC
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Nicolas Pesce’s THE EYES OF MY MOTHER (New American)
Music Box Theatre - Check Venue website for showtimes

First time director-writer-producer Nicolas Pesce makes a bold statement with the taut THE EYES OF MY MOTHER. The film centers on three familial chapters in the life of Francisca (Kika Magalhaes), a young farm girl whose simple country life is shattered by a family tragedy at a young age, and explores themes of maternalistic urges and loneliness. Francisca has a fascination with eyes thanks to her mother, an ocular surgeon who emigrated from Portugal. Magalhaes performance is highly reminiscent of Asami from 1999’s AUDITION in that both characters handle their attachment/abandonment issues in extreme manners. Pesce opts to shoot the film in black and white, a choice that pays dividends thanks to the lack of grey area exhibited in the character’s moral actions while also dampening the effect of some of the violence. This cinematography plus a relatively muted score creates a disquieting atmosphere. The film’s inclination towards sight, in all of its facets, creates an interesting visual kaleidoscope when all of its parts are compounded. Pesce ponders what it means to really see, how exhilarating it can be to see the world through another’s eyes, and how chilling life can be in the face of darkness. THE EYES OF MY MOTHER feels perfectly paced and well-executed at its rather concise seventy-six minute runtime and shows enough flashes to suggest the young director has a promising future ahead of him. (2016, 76 min, DCP Digital) KC
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Chan-wook Park’s THE HANDMAIDEN (New Korean)
Music Box Theatre – Check Venue website for showtimes

Widely known for his Revenge Trilogy, which includes the seminal OLDBOY, Chan-wook Park’s films have frequently employed the use of retribution. His latest work, although less violent than some of his previous outings, finds the Korean director swimming in familiar waters. In THE HANDMAIDEN, a swindler is hired by a Japanese heiress (set to inherit an exorbitant amount of priceless books) to be her handmaiden; but she is secretly planning to steal her employer’s fortune by having the heiress committed to an insane asylum through the help of her partner, who plans to marry her. The film is divided into three parts, with each part building upon the previous as new twists and wrinkles are exposed through perspective shifts. The resulting web is complex and mischievous. The love story is equal parts passionate and perverted. Love of all kinds is explored and Park does not shy away from sensual moments. From gorgeous cherry blossom trees to rolling fog over a river, the cinematography captures everything in a large depth of field. This added clarity helps to show off what's at stake (such as the heiress's gigantic estate) as well as to provide the audience with more screen real estate in which to catch clues. THE HANDMAIDEN finds Park in peak creative form thanks to its captivating source material, dynamic cast, and beautiful undertones. (2016, 144 min, DCP Digital) KC
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The Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago presents Tatsu Aoki, Formalism, Structuralism, and Reduction on Tuesday at 6pm. The program includes Aoki’s experimental films DREAM WORKS (1981, 14 min, 16mm), DECADES PASSED: RE-EDIT (2003, 25 min, 16mm), and AH SO DESUKA: IS THAT SO (2012, 42 min, Digital Projection). Free with museum admission (which is already free for Illinois residents on Tuesdays).

Comfort Film at Comfort Station Logan Square (2579 N. Milwaukee Ave.) presents two programs from the Twisted Oyster Film Festival on Friday and Saturday at 7:30pm. See for the full lineup; and on Wednesday at 8pm, Amir George screens his short DECADENT ASYLUM (Unconfirmed Runtime) and Lewis Vaughn screens his 2016 short SILVERHEAD (21 min), in a “grindhouse” format that will include trailers and selected film clips. Free admission for all.

Black Cinema House at the Stony Island Arts Bank (6760 S. Stony Island) presents Edgar Arceneaux’s 2015 film UNTIL, UNTIL, UNTIL… (Unconfirmed Details) on Sunday at 4pm, with Arceneaux in person. Free admission.

The Italian Cultural Institute (500 N. Michigan Ave.) presents The Shortest Day Short Film Screening & Holiday Celebration on Thursday at 6pm. No details available. Free admission.

The Northbrook Public Library (1201 Cedar Lane, Northbrook) screens Stephen Frears’ 2016 film FLORENCE FOSTER JENKINS (111 min, DCP Digital) on Saturday at 2 and 7:30pm; and Mel Brooks’ 1974 film YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (106 min, Unconfirmed Format) on Wednesday at 1 and 7:30pm. Free admission.

Also at the Gene Siskel Film Center this week: Gianfranco Rosi’s 2016 Italian documentary FIRE AT SEA (114 min, DCP Digital) and Anna Muylaert’s 2016 Brazilian film DON’T CALL ME SON (82 min, DCP Digital) plays both for a week; Michael Radford’s 2004 film THE MERCHANT OF VENICE (131 min, 35mm) is on Saturday at 3pm and Thursday at 6pm; and Jayro Bustamante’s 2015 Guatemalan film IXCANUL (93 min, DCP Digital) is on Saturday at 3:15pm and Tuesday at 6pm, with a lecture by SAIC professor Daniel R. Quiles at the Tuesday show.

Also at the Music Box Theatre this week: Michael Curtiz’s 1954 film WHITE CHRISTMAS (120 min, DCP Digital) is on Saturday at 3:15 and 9:45pm and Sunday at Noon and 6:30pm (showing as part of a double feature with IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE; see Also Recommended above); Joe Dante’s 1984 film GREMLINS (106 min, DCP Digital) is on Monday at 7pm and Wednesday at 5 and 9:45pm (showing as part of a double feature with DIE HARD; see Crucial Viewing above); and Jon Favreau’s 2003 film ELF (97 min, 35mm) is on Tuesday at 5 and 9:45pm and Thursday at 7:30pm (showing as part of a double feature with LOVE ACTUALLY; see Also Recommended above).

Also at Facets Cinémathèque this week: Ian Olds’ 2016 film BURN COUNTRY (102 min, Digital Projection) plays for a week-long run.



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 has Andrea Fraser: May I Help You? on view through January 2. It features a rotation of five of the artist’s videos: MUSEUM HIGHLIGHTS: A GALLERY TALK (1989, 29 min), WELCOME TO THE WADSWORTH: A MUSEUM TOUR (1991, 25 min), MAY I HELP YOU? (1991, 19 min), INAUGURAL SPEECH (1997, 27 min), and OFFICIAL WELCOME (2003, 29 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.

Camille Henrot’s 2013 video GROSSE FATIGUE (14 min) is on view at the Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago through December 18.

Block Museum (Northwestern University) presents Salaam Cinema! 50 Years of Iranian Movie Posters through December 11.

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CINE-LIST: December 9 - December 16, 2016

 Patrick Friel

CONTRIBUTORS / Michael Castelle, Kyle Cubr, Alex Kopecky, Scott Pfeiffer, Ben Sachs, Kathleen Sachs, Kyle A. Westphal, Darnell Witt

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