CRUCIAL VIEWING
The Films of Marcel Broodthaers:
Between Art History and Film Studies
(Screening / Symposium)
Film Studies Center (University of Chicago) -
Saturday, 11am-4pm
It's a rare event when Belgian artist Marcel Broodthaers' films
are screened. But Chicagoans will have an opportunity to see a selection
of them this weekend as part of a one-day symposium and screening at
the Film Studies Center. We don't know which ones will show (details
weren't available), but the event will include a keynote lecture by Benjamin
Buchloh (Andrew W. Mellon Professor of Modern Art, Harvard University),
two screenings of work, and a round table discussion with Bruce Jenkins
(SAIC), Anne Rorimer (independent scholar, Chicago), and Rachel Haidu
(University of Rochester). This context will be useful: Broodthaers
films weren't meant to be shown in a conventional theater space; they
were part of his larger artistic practice and lived more in gallery
settings than film theaters. Broodthaers would also make multiple versions
of his films, complicating the act of trying to watch "the movie"
(which variation is the film?). Broodthaers didn't consider himself
to even be a filmmaker: "For me, film is simply an extension of
language. I began with poetry, moved on to three-dimensional works,
finally to film, which combines several artistic elements. That is,
it is writing (poetry), object (something three-dimensional), and image
(film). The great difficulty lies, of course, in finding a harmony among
these three elements." Part of the interest in his film is in how
one negotiates the extension of an artistic practice into the film medium.
Broodthaers is part of a lineage here that includes Man Ray, Marcel
Duchamp, László Moholy-Nagy; contemporaries such as Robert Smithson,
Robert Morris, Ed Ruscha; and more recent figures such as Cindy Sherman,
Julian Schnabel, and Robert Longo. The film work of those artists is
generally easier to see, as most of it is in distribution in the U.S.;
but Broodthaers' is not, so this is a unique chance to see his films
in 35mm prints, brought over from Belgium. For a crummy low-res glimpse
you can check out two on Ubuweb. Note: Registration is required;
call the FSC at (773) 702-8596. KH/PF
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More info at filmstudiescenter.uchicago.edu.
Straub & Huillet's
DER TOD DES EMPEDOKLES (International Revival)
Doc Films (University of Chicago) - Sunday, 7pm
One of the things Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet's filmmaking offers cinema is one possible answer to the perplexing problem of how to present a "period piece" or "historical drama." The inevitable shortcoming of most films set in the past is that they can never really show the "truth" of their settings; and the more distant the past the farther from "truth" they travel. If the historically set movie is striving for any kind of accuracy, it is by default only an approximate accuracy, cobbled together by set designers, costume designers, the director, researchers, etc. What you get is the product of their imagination, limited by budget restrictions. Straub/Huillet don't bother with trying to recreate the past. They understand the only thing we have, and can "truthfully" portray on film, is the present in its natural state. Instead of losing themselves in process of trying to visualize the past, they keep us in the present and bring the past forth through a rather emotionless reading of the script. This has the effect of distilling the text from a lot of the artifice attached on by the production and allowing us to "read" it instead of "hear" it. With THE DEATH OF EMPEDOKLES, they take Hölderlin's 18th century poetry about the ancient Greeks and film it in the hills of modern (1986) Sicily. Obviously, this approach isn't for everyone. But for some it can be the best of both worlds: the spectacular settings (i.e., filming the world in its natural state) matched with the interest of the historical story (i.e., the relatively honest adaptation of Hölderlin's unfinished play). With Nature's latest show of strength exhibited in the plume of smoke from the Eyjafjallajokull volcano that has shutdown part of the airline industry, the film's emphasis on the greatness of the natural world is especially relevant. Indeed, the ancient Greek philosopher/poet Empedokles died by throwing himself into the volcanic abyss of Mt. Etna to show people he would be reborn as a god, only to be proven wrong by only being swallowed up in lava. Straub and Huillet utilize natural sound and simple "editing" so as not to misrepresent the world. Characters are often filmed in "blocks," which tends to give little indication that they might even be talking to each other (there is no back-and-forth cutting between dialogue). Dominique Païni puts it well in his Senses of Cinema article: "The Straubian mise en scène realizes itself thus according to a conception of montage by blocks, perceived by some as crude. In fact, the images would be islands and the sound the sea, united and disconnected according to the principle of an archipelago." (1987, 132 min, 35mm) KH
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More info at www.docfilms.uchicago.edu.
Yang Ik-joon's BREATHLESS (New Korean)
Gene Siskel Film Center - Sunday, 3pm and Tuesday, 7:45pm
Remember that old Woody Allen joke? "My brother beat me. My sister
beat my brother. My father beat my sister, my brother, and me. My mother
beat my father, my sister, my brother, and me. The neighbors beat our
family. The family down the street beat the neighbors and our family." What I'm trying to say is that everyone in BREATHLESS is beating the
shit out of each other (mostly literally). But the movie ain't a joke,
even though it doesn't always take itself seriously (this is a plus).
The blood looks like kids' paint, the dialogue is 50% shibals,
Yang Ik-joon puts a cigarette in his mouth like it's Popeye's pipe.
Yang plays Sang-hoon, debt collector, moody low-life, no-good thug,
absent father. He beats the shit out of strangers for a living and then
he gambles away the money. Everybody tells him to change his shirt more
often. He probably smells bad, like spilled beer and sweat. He meets
a girl and the best thing he can do is punch her in the face, but she's
alright--she's used to it. The script (by Yang) is all kitchen sink
drama, siblings gnashing their teeth, howling fathers; the direction
(also by Yang) is all violence, the camera pushing forward like it's
about to knock down a door or waiting at the sidelines like it's catching
its breath before it gives you a kick in the groin. Yet somewhere this
movie of wild-eyed slaps and headbutts also becomes a movie of stray
glances, weighty silences, and oddly enunciated questions, as though
by filling itself to the brim with brutality it'll flush out the simmering
hostility of everyday conversation. (2009, 130 min, 35mm) IV
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More info at www.siskelfilmcenter.org.
Jessica Hausner's LOURDES (New French / Austrian)
Music Box - Check venue website
for showtimes
Jessica Hausner shot LOURDES on the
Red One. The tiny HD camera that produces 35mm-like images with a fraction
of the set-up time, the most powerful tool of the impatient, is here
used for to create careful images. A camera that could conceivably go
anywhere fast and photograph anything is asked to sit still and pay
attention. But to present Hausner's choice of equipment as a perfect
metaphor for LOURDES would be taking it too far; in fact, it would mean
missing the point of the film: the victory of the momentary over the
symbolic. Wheelchair-bound with multiple sclerosis, Christine (Sylvie
Testud) has gone with a group of pilgrims to Lourdes. She's looking
for a change of pace while they search for a miracle, talking amongst
themselves like Tati's tourists. One or two miracles end up occurring,
but whether they're "real" is a matter of debate. Someone like Ulrich
Seidl, unleashed in this Catholic tourist trap, where every other person
is in a wheelchair or walks with a cane and the shop displays are stuffed
with light-up Virgin Marys, would think up enough monstrosities to fill
a four-hour film. Hausner doesn't have Seidl's contempt, nor does she
think boredom is either funny or soul crushing. What's she got is a
talent for attentiveness (she did, after all, start her career as a
script girl for Michael Haneke--on FUNNY GAMES, no less). She approaches
her characters the same way she approaches her audience: willing to
make a joke, but completely non-condescending. This is a sincere and
patiently made film, which doesn't mean it's a sluggish or slow one,
or for that matter anything less than completely engrossing. (2009,
96 min, 35mm) IV
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More info at www.musicboxtheatre.com.
Robert Bresson's L'ARGENT (French
Revival)
Doc Films (University of Chicago) - Tuesday, 7pm
In 1983, Robert Bresson was about as old as the 20th century. That's
the best kind of lifespan: to live out the entirety of a century from
start to finish (Bresson, in fact, nearly outlived it). So L'ARGENT
is the film of an 82-year-old man, and by 82, you come to realize that
the great moral question isn't why people commit crimes, but why they
don't. And another important question comes around, especially if you
live in a wealthy country: how do people convince themselves that they
are not committing crimes every day? So here goes: a forged 500-franc
note is spent by two young men at a photo supply shop. The owner recognizes
it as a forgery, but decides to pass it off to a workman, who is arrested
when he attempts to pay with it at a restaurant. The workman leads a
cop back to the photo store, but the employees deny ever having met
him. They don't want to get blamed. The workman is put on trial. Those
are about the first fifteen minutes of L'ARGENT. The film's all cause-and-effect,
crime-punishment-crime: a car smashes into another car during a getaway,
the rumbling of a piano knocks over a glass, the court sends a man to
jail, people are murdered. But L'ARGENT isn't a story about how the
system fails the individual, because Bresson also knows that the middle-class
conception of the evil and distant "system" is just a way
of avoiding moral responsibility and facing the fact that the middle
class is the system itself. L'ARGENT is about how individuals fail and
surprise each other, about how we are all each other's oppressors when
we could just as easily be each other's saviors. In 85 minutes of images,
sounds, quiet words, and concrete cuts, we are shown how our half-conscious
actions allow society to perpetuate evil and offer the possibility (if
not the reality) of good at the same time. Neither trait is more inherent,
more naturally "human" than the other; both are offered as
possibilities for individual action. If anybody tells you that Bresson
is all about "transcendence" (and a lot of people will, even
smart people), remember that it's bullshit: no filmmaker was in more
direct interaction with physical matter, with the stuff of action. (1983,
35mm, 85 min) IV
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More info at www.docfilms.uchicago.edu.
ALSO RECOMMENDED
Robert Siodmak's
COBRA WOMAN (American Revival)
Block Cinema (Northwestern University) - Friday, 7pm
Kenneth Anger has called COBRA WOMAN his favorite film and, really,
could you ask for a higher recommendation than that? This Universal
Pictures fantasy--set on a fictional South Seas island but clearly filmed
on elaborate sets--transcends gaudy spectacle through odd conviction,
playing out according to some unexplained dream-logic. Forgotten diva
Maria Montez stars as Tollea, the most beautiful woman of a small island
paradise and fiancée to adventurer Ramu. On her wedding day, Tollea
is stolen away to the land of her birth, an island built around a snake-worshipping
cult presided over by the beautiful Cobra Woman of the title. Montez
plays the priestess as well (echoes of Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors),
in a performance that climaxes around a sultry interpretative-dance
to the gods. Despite the ridiculous premise and consistently wooden
acting, the film is still highly watchable and not only as camp. For
one thing, director Robert Siodmak never slouches on basic virtues like
composition and narrative economy. Each frame brings you to the heart
of the film's storybook world, and after Tollea is kidnapped (less than
ten minutes after the credits!) the pacing never flags. Siodmak built
his U.S. reputation on some especially hard-edged film noirs like PHANTOM
LADY and CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY (both made the same year as this); and while
COBRA WOMAN isn't as disarmingly brutal as those films, there's still
a satisfying visceral quality to the action scenes. During Ramu and sidekick
Kado's rescue mission, they have to scale a mountain. The scene is hardly
vital to the narrative but it goes on far longer than anything in a
contemporary action movie: The point is to see them do it, to imagine
yourself in the adventure instead of watching it passively. The film
was shot in three-strip Technicolor, making full use of the thick-oil-paint
qualities of the medium. The archival print playing this Friday should
look great. (1944, 70 min, 35mm) BS
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More info at www.blockmuseum.northwestern.edu.
Aleksandr Sokurov's THE SUN (New
International)
Doc Films (University of Chicago)
- Saturday, 7 and 9:30pm and Sunday, 3:30pm
If Aleksandr Sokurov's THE SUN wasn't
so restrained, one could say that it was a staggering masterpiece. But "staggering" implies a grandiosity that is totally alien to
the film. Conversely, if one were to say it was a quiet masterpiece,
then that would not account fully for the profundity of the film. Of
course, it is both staggering and quiet, and this seemingly irreconcilable
dichotomy is proved false by the genius of Sokurov. The film, simply,
chronicles the last days in power of Japanese Emperor Hirohito. The
third film in a trilogy on WWII (MOLOCH is about Hitler and TAURUS about
Lenin), it continues Sokurov's great themes of war, power, and individual
character and responsibility in the face of conflict and change. The
pacing is very deliberate, but never feels slow. It mirrors Hirohito's
contemplative nature (in his Reader Critic's Choice, Fred Camper
referred to the "individual as split between a body and an almost
cripplingly self-aware mind"), as does Sokurov's pronounced attention
to minutiae and tiny details: close-ups of an elderly manservant's difficulty
buttoning up Hirohito's shirt; the carapace of a small specimen crab.
Similarly, Sokurov's soft cinematography, somber lighting, and muted
colors reflect both Hirohito's reserve and the dying of the empire (the
Land of the Rising Sun). Issei Ogata gives a stellar performance as
Hirohito. He is halting in his movements (including brilliant but peculiar
contortions of his mouth), presenting the Emperor as someone not fully
comfortable in his position, yet shades his performance with a subtlety
that allows for great sympathy. Ogata's Hirohito is no caricature; rather
it is a portrait of an inquisitive, simple, out-of-place man becoming
overwhelmed by history. And it is just this confluence of the personal
(large and small) and history (large and small) that Sokurov has been
exploring for over three decades now. (2005, 110 min, 35mm) PF
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More info at www.docfilms.uchicago.edu.
Akira
Kurosawa's IKIRU (Japanese Revival)
Gene Siskel Film Center - Saturday, 4:45pm and
Thursday, 6pm
There's a strong taste of Dickens in this bittersweet concoction
of Kurosawa's; an old man learns an important lesson about how to live
(ikiru) with just enough time to mend his ways. But the man,
Watanabe (Takashi Shimura), was never evil, only dull, and his redemption
is messy and incomplete. He struggles and fails to reconnect with his
son, and in the process of reawakening manages to give the creeps to
his vivacious young co-worker. Pity is a strong theme in IKIRU; when
Watanabe learns he's dying, the movie mopes with him for an unusually
long time, lingering over his bass-like expression of shock. When he
goes out on the town, no amount of Latin dancing or pachinko can wipe
it off his face for long. This expression allows Watanabe to be a human
character instead of a moral lesson, even as several formal elements
bar you from getting inside him (although the movie begins with an x-ray
of his abdomen). In a sentimental reprisal of themes from RASHOMON,
the film skips a depiction of his last days and presents them through
the uncertain accounts and drunken speculations of his coworkers as
they pay respects at Watanabe's funeral. The scenarios they concoct
are so colored by the concerns of their bureaucracy that it's clear
they are doomed men, even as the idea of Watanabe learning to live titillates
them. There's something a little too sweet about the final shot of the
film, it almost dilutes the whole mood of the last hour. That is until
you begin to imagine what takes place immediately after with a soft
thud or a terrible wail, we don't find out. (1952, 143 min, 35mm)
JF
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More info at www.siskelfilmcenter.org.
Tom Ford's A SINGLE MAN (New Narrative)
Doc Films (University of Chicago)
- Friday, 7, 9, and 11pm and Sunday, 1pm
A SINGLE MAN is a good film in spite
of itself. At its weakest moments, it feels like an advertisement for
some non-existent film also called A SINGLE MAN--a long, long trailer
for a serious drama with literary origins. The images seem to have a
gloss to them, like magazine paper, and we are treated to a string of
portentous clocks, animals, and reflections. But if it's possible to
recommend a film solely on the basis of a few scenes, or a few stray
shots, edits, sounds, or ideas, then A SINGLE MAN can be recommended
over many others. Why? Because despite Julianne Moore's terrible British
accent, there's her face and the tone of her voice, and despite Nicholas
Hoult, there's the way Colin Firth looks at him, and despite the family
next door there's Matthew Goode, and, despite every element of the film
that is facile or narrow-minded, there are the moments that are unbendingly
intelligent. There's one scene that sums up everything commendable about
Tom Ford's directorial debut, and it's completely extraneous to its
deathly serious plot. Firth pulls up at a liquor store beside a billboard
advertising PSYCHO. On the way in, he sees a handsome stranger talking
on the phone; on the way out, they bump into each other. The stranger
drops his cigarettes and Firth spills his booze all over them. He offers
to buy a new pack and smokes two cigarettes with the man, first by the
phone booth, then on the trunk of his car. They talk in English and
Spanish. The stranger thinks Firth's college professor is trying to
pick him up; really, Firth's just stuck by this anonymous man. It's the
moment when all of Tom Ford's sensibilities about acting, editing, images,
color correction, and dialogue come together, leaning on one another
to form something like a house of cards that won't topple. As in a John
Cook or a Jim Jarmusch film--that is, in the sort of film Wim Wenders
always sets out to make but rarely does--nothing seems to happen because
something is constantly happening. It's when the film feels the need
to "get going" that it seems empty, but at moments like this
it feels bottomless. (2009, 99 min, 35mm) IV
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More info at www.docfilms.uchicago.edu.
MORE SCREENINGS AND EVENTS:
Roots & Culture Gallery
(1034 N. Milwaukee Ave.) presents a program of recent work by local
video artist Steve Reinke this Saturday at 8pm. Included in the
show are HOBBIT LOVE IS THE GREATEST LOVE (2007), BOY/ANALYSIS (AN ABRIDGEMENT
OF MELANIE KLEIN'S "NARRATIVE OF A CHILD ANALYSIS") (2008), MUSIC
AT NIGHT (2009, with Dani Leventhal), EVERYBODY (2009, with Jessie Mott),
DANCE RECITAL (2010), NOT TORN (ASUNDER FROM THE VERY START) (2010),
and DISAMBIGUATION (2009, with James Richards).
Gallery 400 at UIC (400 S. Peoria)
presents "The Tableaux Vivant Show" this Wednesday at 7pm.
Curated by local film/video makers Ben Russell and Jesse McLean, the
program features Michael Snow's BREAKFAST (1976), the terrific MARY
WORTH (1998) by Channel Zero, HIGHWAY LANDSCAPE (1972) by J.J. Murphy,
French filmmaker Rose Lowder's LES TOURNESOLS and LES TOURNESOLS COLORES
(1982-83), local filmmaker Eric Fleischauer's STILL LIFE W/FRUIT (2005),
Hermine Freed's 1974 video ART HERSTORY, and Jeroen Eisinga's AS IT
WAS REVEALED UNTO JEROEN EISINGA (1988).
Chicago Filmmakers welcomes Portland-based film collector and historian Dennis Nyback this
weekend for three programs of assorted films in a "Forbidden Cinema"
series: educational films, industrial films, government films, cartoons,
silent comedies, and more. The shows are divided thematically--on Friday
it's "I Know Why You're Afraid," featuring health and safety films
from the 1940s-60s; Saturday is "Terrorism Light and Dark," with
propaganda films, cartoons, and Buster Keaton's COPS; on Sunday it's
"Bad Bugs Bunny," which features a collection of rare pre-PC cartoons
that treat racist and other stereotypes quite casually. Screenings are
at 8pm Friday and Saturday, and 3pm Sunday, with Nyback in person each time.
Also at Doc Films (University of Chicago) this week: Arch
Hall's 1962 low-budget horror film EEGAH! is Monday; John Hughes'
1988 film SHE'S HAVING A BABY is Wednesday; Nuri Bilge Ceylon's
2008 drama THREE MONKEYS is the early show Thursday; and Russell
Doughten's 1983 evangelical drama THE HEALING is the late show
Thursday.
Also at the Gene Siskel Film Center this week: the School of the Art Institute
BFA and MFA student screenings conclude with a show Friday at 4:30pm;
exiled Iranian artist Shirin Neshit's first narrative feature, WOMEN
WITHOUT MEN, receives a week long run (check venue website for guest
speakers); RASHOMON plays Saturday and Tuesday in the Akira Kurosawa
retrospective (also see IKIRU above); Han Jae-rim's 2007 film THE
SHOW MUST GO ON plays Sunday and Monday in the Korean series; and
local filmmaker Daniel Kraus' "Work" trilogy screens this week.
The newest film, 2010's PROFESSOR, is Saturday (Kraus and Rabbi
Jay Holstein In person) and Wednesday, SHERIFF (2004) is Monday,
and MUSICIAN (2007), on local musician Ken Vandermark, is Thursday.
Also at the Music Box this week:
Thomas Balmes' French documentary BABIES is held over (also a
matinee on Sunday); Nash Edgerton's THE SQUARE is held over as
one of the midnight films Friday and Saturday and as a matinee on Saturday;
Tom Six's HUMAN CENTIPEDE is the other Friday and Saturday midnight
film; and William Beaudine's 1932 film THREE WISE GIRLS is also
in the Saturday and Sunday matinee slot.
Also at Block Cinema (Northwestern
University) this week: acclaimed German filmmaker Margarethe von Trotta's
2009 film VISION screens on Thursday at 7pm. Post-screening discussion
with NU professor Barbara Newman.
On Saturday at 8pm the Bank of America Cinema screens Alfred Hitchcock's LIFEBOAT.
This week at Facets Cinémathèque:
Tze Chun's 2008 drama CHILDREN OF INVENTION receives a week long
run. Producer Mynette Louie will be in person at the 7 and 9pm screenings
on Saturday; Dorian Knight and Steve Goldenberg's
PIRANHA-MAN VS. WOLF-MAN: HOWL OF
THE PIRANHA screens Saturday at midnight.
At the
Chicago Cultural Center this week: S. Leo Chiang's documentary on
the Vietnamese community near New Orleans, A VILLAGE CALLED VERSAILLES,
screens Saturday at 2pm. Followed by a panel discussion; Cinema/Chicago
presents Hannes Stöh's 2001 film BERLIN IS IN GERMANY on Wednesday
at 6:30pm (repeats next Saturday).
The Portage Theater
hosts the Silent Film Society of Chicago's screening of a restored 35mm
print of Lotte Reiniger's amazing 1926 animated feature THE ADVENTURES
OF PRINCE ACHMED on Sunday at 3pm. The film will be accompanied
by organist Jay Warren and introduced by animator Jacqueline Smessaert
Brennan.
Also at the Film Studies Center (University of Chicago) this week: Noa Steimatsky presents the
lecture "From Face to Image" on Friday at 5pm; and Amei Wallach
presents her work-in-progress film ILYA AND EMILIA KABAKOV: HOW TO
MAKE A PARADISE on Thursday at 7pm. The Kabakovs will also be in
person.
Saturday Cinema's window-display
screenings features work by David Price and Andy Roche this month. Saturday's
at dusk, for two hours, view the films from the sidewalk at 1369 W.
Chicago Ave. This week it's TWO BALLS/DEUX BALLES.
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