The distinctive and unusual talents of French filmmaker Leos Carax have relatively little to do with story telling, and it would be a mistake to approach this, his second feature, with expectations of a “dazzling film noir thriller,” which is how it was described for the Chicago Film Festival last year. Dazzling it certainly is in spots, but the film noir, thriller, and SF trappings–hung around a vaguely paranoid plot about a couple of thieves (Michel Piccoli, Hans Meyer) hiring the son (Denis Lavant) of a recently deceased partner to help steal a cure to an AIDS-like virus–are so feeble and perfunctory that they function at best only as a literal framing device, an artificial means for Carax to tighten his canvas. The real meat of this movie is his total absorption in his two wonderful lead actors, Lavant and Juliette Binoche (The Incredible Lightness of Being), which comes to fruition during a lengthy attempt at the seduction of the latter by the former, an extended nocturnal encounter that the various genre elements serve only to hold in place. The true sources of Carax’s style are neither Truffaut nor Godard but the silent cinema–its poetics of close-ups, gestures, and the mysteries of personality, its melancholy, its silence, and its innocence. Read more
David Mamet’s second feature as a director, coscripted with Shel Silverstein, is a little bit of a letdown after House of Games, but as a Mafia fairy tale with a tour de force performance by Don Ameche (soft-pedaling all the way), it is certainly watchable and enjoyable enough in its own right. Over a weekend, a low-ranking Chicago mobster on probation (Joe Mantegna) is asked to coach and chaperone an elderly Sicilian shoe-shine man (Ameche) who, in exchange for money, has agreed to take the rap for a murder he didn’t commit. He decides to take the old man to Lake Tahoe for a final fling before he goes to prison, at which point a series of misunderstandings leads to the Sicilian being mistaken for a big-time Mafia chieftain. Basically a low-key comedy, this exhibits some of the same tart, triple-distilled flavor of Mamet’s dialogue in earlier efforts; what disappoints after the darker and harder edges of House of Games is a slight veering toward slickness and a touch of sentimentality. Despite some attempt to be “cinematic” here, Mamet’s talk is still his strongest suit. With Robert Prosky, J.J. Johnston, Ricky Jay, and Mike Nussbaum, all effective (as is Mantegna). (Chicago Ridge, Golf Mill, River Oaks, Woodfield, Yorktown, Evanston, Fine Arts, Hillside Square) Read more
If this country’s electorate cared more about honesty and truth, this film would be getting more attention in the media than the Bush-Dukakis debates. Unfortunately, stylish cover-up is the name of the game, and this straightforward account of how our country and Constitution are being sold down the river will only interest that portion of the populace that cares about one of the major international political scandals that the presidential campaign and the national media have been virtually ignoring, if not suppressing. Of course this is nothing new: enough of the Watergate story was already apparent before Nixon was reelected to have affected that election if the public had wanted to hear about it. Considerably more of the Iran-contra affair is apparent (including the Reagan-Bush administration’s heavy involvement in the hard-drugs trade) in this first-rate, compulsively watchable documentary–directed by Barbara Trent, scripted by Eve Goldberg, and narrated by Elizabeth Montgomery, with music by Ruben Blades, Richard Elliott, Pink Floyd, and Lou Reed. But from the looks of things, the American public won’t be interested until it’s too late to make a difference. Spectators who feel differently are urged to take a look at this, and to bring their friends. (Chicago Filmmakers, 1229 W. Read more
The 24th Chicago International Film Festival, running from Monday, October 24, through Sunday, November 6, promises fewer programs this year — a little less than 100 versus last year’s 131 — with a good many more repeats; and the screenings occupy a much wider geographic spread, with films showing on the University of Chicago campus and at the Three Penny as well as at the two standbys from last year, the Biograph and the Music Box. Although some countries are unrepresented–including the People’s Republic of China, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Korea, Mexico, and most of Africa and the Middle East–the overall international spread (or sprawl) is as far-flung as ever, including such unlikely coproductions as Rowing With the Wind (Spanish/Norwegian in English) and Consuelo, an Illusion (Chilean/Swedish). The festival is also broadening its plans for question-and-answer sessions with directors after their films; specifics will be announced at the relevant screenings.
Like last year’s selection, the films on offer, taken as an unwieldy whole, make up an indigestible hodgepodge, reflecting neither a critical position nor an all-purpose cornucopia. (A total absence of retrospectives — apart from an Alan Parker tribute, which is surely the last thing that we need — is especially striking and unfortunate.) Read more
Something of a first, this is a serious movie about rape, and as such might be said to represent penance of a sort for the crude milking of antifeminist sentiments in the previous film of producers Sherry Lansing and Stanley R. Jaffe, Fatal Attraction. Sarah Tobias (Jodie Foster) is gang-raped in a bar, and Deputy District Attorney Katheryn Murphy (Kelly McGillis) agrees to take over her case. A courtroom drama with certain faint echoes of Anatomy of a Murder and the more recent Nuts (the latter of which had the same screenwriter, Tom Topor), this attention-holder explores such issues as the public’s received ideas about rape and the question of ultimate responsibility without ever stacking the deck or being unduly preachy; and director Jonathan Kaplan, who previously gave an edge to Over the Edge, guides things along capably. Not a brilliant film, but an intelligent and thoughtful one that builds to an effective climax, with an exceptional performance by Foster. (Evergreen, Hillside Square, Webster Place, Old Orchard, Norridge, Hyde Park, Forest Park, Woodfield, Water Tower, River Oaks, Plaza, Orland Square, Ridge) Read more
Flawed but fascinating, Nicolas Roeg’s direction of an original script by Dennis Potter (Pennies From Heaven, The Singing Detective) yields a provocative and multilayered depiction of American infantilism. In a North Carolina town, Theresa Russell plays a bored, alcoholic, and frustrated housewife married to a doctor (Christopher Lloyd) who prefers playing with his model railroad to dallying with her. Into the picture comes an enigmatic young English stranger (Sid and Nancy’s Gary Oldman) who may or may not be her long-lost son, who was forcibly taken from her at childbirth and who, like much else in the film, may or may not be real. Roeg and Potter’s grasp of Americana may be flawed in certain details, but the overall drift of their parable carries an undeniable charge. Russell’s southern accent only works intermittently, and it’s a pity to see actors as interesting as Sandra Bernhard and Seymour Cassel wasted (Colleen Camp fares somewhat better as Russell’s best friend), but Roeg’s talent as a stylist, purveyor of the bizarre and kinky, and poet of disturbed mental states (as experienced from within) keeps this alive and humming. If you’re looking for something different, this is definitely worth a visit. (Fine Arts) Read more
Henry Jaglom’s latest let-it-all-hang-out gabfest, this one set in a beautiful, about-to-be-destroyed Los Angeles theater, where Jaglom invites his friends on Valentine’s Day. It certainly has its moments–most of them provided by Orson Welles (in one of his last extended film performances), his vivacious long-time companion Oja Kodar, and the venerable Sally Kellerman–but most of this largely improvised movie, as critic Elliott Stein has pointed out, is pretty much the equivalent of the Donahue show, with all the strengths and limitations that this implies, and Jaglom’s own earnest inquiries about what makes so many people lonely can get a bit cloying after awhile. However, Welles, as the equivalent of a talk-show guest, is very much in his prime, and his ruminations about feminism, loneliness, drama, and related subjects certainly give the proceedings an edge and a direction that most of the remainder of this floundering movie sadly lacks. Among the other participants in this encounter session are Jaglom’s brother Michael Emil, Andrea Marcovicci, Ronee Blakley, and Monte Hellman. A Chicago premiere (1987). (Film Center, Art Institute, Columbus Drive at Jackson, Friday through Sunday, October 7 through 9, 6:00 and 8:00, 443-3737) Read more
On the whole, a disappointing episodic feature of seven shorts by women filmmakers, commissioned by German television. Perhaps the best parts are Ulrike Ottinger’s Pride with Delphine Seyrig and Chantal Akerman’s appropriately unassuming (though slight) Sloth. Maxi Cohen’s Anger is certainly striking and provocative, but also highly questionable and exploitative; Laurence Gavron’s Envy, Valie Export’s Voluptuousness, and Helke Sander’s Gluttony are relatively forgettable; and the worst of the lot, alas, is Bette Gordon’s feeble Greed. Certainly this is worth seeing if you want to keep up with the work of these filmmakers, but don’t go expecting any major revelations. (JR) Read more
The first feature of Babette Mangolte, an American-based experimental filmmaker also known for her remarkable work as a cinematographer for Chantal Akerman, Jean-Pierre Gorin, Marcel Hanoun, Yvonne Rainer, Sally Potter, and others. This 1975 film is not a literal adaptation of Henry James’s novel, but it incorporates the idea of a little girl’s subjective view of the adult world in a relatively nonnarrative framework: a low-angle look at the sexual intrigues and other preoccupations of grown-ups in a country house, seen by a spectator who is virtually invisible herself. By implication, the viewer is invited to make his or her own imaginative contributions to this subjectivity. (JR) Read more
The Trial of Joan of Arc (1962) is perhaps the most extreme instance of Robert Bresson’s dedramatizing technique, exercised here in a rigorous treatment of its subject that couldn’t be further from Dreyer’s handling of the same subject. It’s been more than a quarter of a century since I’ve seen this spare, elliptical work, so it would be unfair to make a judgment, but as one of the most infrequently screened works of one of the greatest living filmmakers, I’m sure it warrants a look. (JR) Read more
Michael Rubbo’s delightful Canadian fantasy-adventure about stamp collecting excels in several departments. The acting is first-rate, and the script and direction are unusually good. The fantasy elements occur some distance into the film, but are well worth waiting for. A magic formula permits two young stamp-collecting rivals to become miniaturized and to travel on stamps to the other side of the world in search of a precious stamp album hidden there by a young collector more than half a century ago. One of the rivals gets sent accidentally to Hong Kong, and both of them eventually converge in the Australian outback near Sydney. It’s a film that’s clever enough to give us several subjective shots from the viewpoint of postage stamps, and the characters are admirably fleshed out for a film of this genre. (JR) Read more
David Mamet’s second feature as a director, coscripted with Shel Silverstein, was a bit of a letdown after House of Games, but as a Mafia fairy tale with a tour de force performance by Don Ameche (soft-pedaling all the way), it is certainly watchable and enjoyable enough. Over a weekend, a low-ranking Chicago mobster on probation (Joe Mantegna) is asked to coach and chaperone an elderly Sicilian shoe-shine man (Ameche) who, in exchange for money, has agreed to take the rap for a murder he didn’t commit. He decides to take the old man to Lake Tahoe for a final fling before he goes to prison, at which point a series of misunderstandings leads to the Sicilian being mistaken for a big-time Mafia chieftain. Basically a low-key comedy, this exhibits some of the same tart, triple-distilled flavor of Mamet’s dialogue in earlier efforts; what disappoints after the darker and harder edges of House of Games is a slight veering toward slickness and a touch of sentimentality. Despite some attempt to be cinematic here, Mamet’s talk is still his strongest suit. With Robert Prosky, J.J. Johnston, Ricky Jay, and Mike Nussbaum, who are all effective, as is Mantegna (1988). (JR) Read more
John Carpenter’s 1988 SF action-thriller about aliens taking over the earth through the hypnotic use of TV. The explicit anti-Reagan satirethe aliens are developers who regard human beings as cattle, aided by yuppies who are all too willing to cooperate for business reasonsis strangely undercut and confused by a xenophobic treatment of the aliens that also makes them virtual stand-ins for the Vietcong. Carpenter’s wit and storytelling craft make this fun and watchable, although the script takes a number of unfortunate shortcuts, and the possibilities inherent in the movie’s central conceit are explored only cursorily. All in all, an entertaining (if ideologically incoherent) response to the valorization of greed in our midst, with lots of Rambo-esque violence thrown in, as well as an unusually protracted slugfest between ex-wrestler Roddy Piper and costar Keith David. R, 97 min. (JR) Read more
A painful attempt to satirize the making of rock videos that runs aground with a puerile plot and bombastic, self-infatuated delivery. Two security guards (Tim Robbins and John Cusack) decide to go into the music video business, start out by making a fast-food commercial, and wind up involved in a plot to unmask a politician with deviant sexual tastes. Candor compels me to admit that there was a lot of laughter around me when I saw this upon its 1988 release, but I found it difficult to share in the fun. (If this were five times better, it just might qualify as a white man’s Hollywood Shuffle.) Bill Fishman directed a script by himself and Patrick McCarthy; with Katy Boyer, Mary Crosby, Clu Gulager, Jessica Walter, Sam Moore, Junior Walker, Connie Stevens, and Doug McClure. 97 min. (JR) Read more
A remarkable and sensitive blend of the personal and the political, the conclusion of Nick Deocampo’s trilogy from the Philippines on the theme of poverty and prostitution, shot in Super-8 format, is both distinctive and powerful. Narrated by Deocampo in English, the film documents the anti-Marcos revolution, the life of Oliver (a transvestite who was the subject of the first film in the trilogy), child prostitution, and the filmmaker’s own personal history, including his homosexuality, his filmmaking, and his travels abroad. The tone is reflective, lyrical, and sufficiently impassioned to bridge the film’s occasional technical limitations. (JR) Read more
