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The screening of Georgy Girl in my British New Wave series at Doc Films this quarter has been cursed with audio problems. The failure of an amp in the cinema forced us to cancel the initial screening. Last night, our make-up screening caused a moment of panic when we started playing the first reel and discovered that the soundtrack was physically missing from the print. We weren't sure if it was missing from just a portion of the reel, or if the whole first 20 minutes would have to be projected silently. Fortunately, as we let it run, we found that only the opening credits sequence (and later the closing credits) were silent.

This means, however, that we missed out on hearing the hit title song by The Seekers, a folk-pop group from Australia that were hugely popular for a while in the '60s. They coincided and were sometimes associated with the British Invasion, but sound more like an updated but less politically conscious version of The Weavers, along the lines of similar American groups like We Five and The Stone Poneys. "Georgy Girl" was their biggest hit in America, peaking at #2 on February 4, 1967, with "I'm a Believer" by The Monkees keeping it from the top. The music was written by Tom Springfield, brother of Dusty, and the lyrics were actually by the actor Jim Dale, best known for the Carry On films and for his really remarkable work on the Harry Potter audiobooks. Since it wasn't in the screening last night, here it is now:

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The Seekers - Georgy Girl [mp3]

One of my favorite subgenres of teen pop/teen movies of the '50s and '60s are the feeble attempts to force kids into adopting new crazes. In trying to mimic the success of "The Twist" and "The Loco-Motion," most of the pop songs had accompanying dances. The songs are always kind of pushy, because instead of simply introducing the new dance, they instead declare that the dances are already the next big thing that all the kids are doing. It's interesting also how much the songs must have depended on television appearances to ensure their popularity (though I guess I don't actually know what the "Loco-Motion" dance is). The teen films tended to exploit familiar fads (surfing, dragracing etc.), while also branching out to new ones. The Frankie & Annette Beach Party series was really good at this: Beach Blanket Bingo was all about skydiving, Muscle Beach Party had bodybuilding, and Pajama Party was about, uhh, pajamas.

There are countless examples of these, but I've been recently introduced to a couple really bizarre ones that I like a lot. One is the 1957 film Bop Girl Goes Calypso, which is about how a scientist with some fancy machine is "proving" that rock 'n' roll is on the way out, predicting that calypso will be the big new craze! There were a few films that came out at this time all with the same hypothesis, including Calypso Heat Wave which features Maya Angelou(!)

And in the music realm, how about this great song performed by Eddie Hodges, the child star best known as Huck Finn in the 1960 adaptation directed by Michael Curtiz? "Mugmates" suggests that what "everyone does" now to indicate they are going steady, instead of giving someone their pin, is simply have... matching coffee mugs.

Eddie Hodges - Mugmates [mp3]

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In addition to the Downtown 81 series, I am also presenting a retrospective at Doc Films of the work of Charles Laughton, one of my favorite actors, Thursday evenings at 7 p.m. Laughton is one of a handful of actors I can think of that I've noticed instantly make films more enjoyable, regardless of the movie's quality or the size of their role, simply by their presence. This series has nine of his best performances, including some relative rarities, and I very much hope you come see them. It begins tonight with Les Misérables.

Doc Films is located in Ida Noyes Hall at 1212 E. 59th St. in Chicago. Tickets are just $5, or you can get a pass for all 80-or-so films in the quarter for only $30.

The quick schedule of the series, my essay about it, and descriptions of each film:

Oct. 1 - Les Misérables
Oct. 8 - Island of Lost Souls
Oct. 15 - White Woman
Oct. 22 - The Private Life of Henry VIII
Oct. 29 - The Suspect
Nov. 5 - The Sign of the Cross
Nov. 12 - Witness for the Prosecution
Nov. 19 - Advise & Consent
Dec. 3 - The Night of the Hunter

The Public Life of Charles Laughton

Hollywood's blusteriest star.

There has never been a Hollywood star comparable to Charles Laughton. With his portly shape and blustery persona, he could easily have remained in the company of Edward Everett Horton, Thomas Mitchell, and Andy Devine as a successful character actor forever serving as sideman to the handsome stars of the moment. Instead he somehow became one of the most unlikely and distinctive leading men in the industry. Laughton delivered fiercely energetic performances in iconic role after iconic role, projecting intelligence and genuine pathos no matter how much scenery he managed to chew in the process.

At his best, Laughton committed himself to his acting to a degree few other performers can claim. He was a proto-Method actor – or perhaps more accurately, “a Method actor without the bullshit,” as James Mason described him - often changing his physical appearance for a role as much as his body would allow. George Cukor called him “the first actor I encountered who prepared to make a laughing entrance by going around doing ha-ha! sounds for hours.” But despite any resemblance of his technique to Stanislavsky’s System, it was in fact his friend Bertolt Brecht who championed Laughton as a natural embodiment of his theories. In Brecht’s view, Laughton’s method was only a partial immersion: “The actor appears on stage in a double role, as Laughton and as Galileo; the showman Laughton does not disappear in the Galileo he is showing; Laughton is actually there, standing on the stage and showing us what he imagines Galileo to have been.”

Indeed Laughton brought something very personal to his finest roles. Despite routinely playing emperors, kings, and other Great Men, Laughton managed to channel his own personal struggles and put them on display to the public. He suffered from a crippling lack of self-confidence; he hated his appearance (“I have the face like he behind of an elephant,” he would say); and he struggled with his homosexuality throughout his life-long marriage to fellow actor Elsa Lanchester. The troubled, obsessed characters like Javert in Les Misérables were never far from Charles Laughton the man.

He was a remarkably versatile actor, equally at home in lavish historical drama like The Private Life of Henry VIII, gentle comedy like Ruggles of Red Gap, and stylish film noir like The Suspect. Notoriously difficult to work with, and self-conscious about that fact, Laughton still collaborated with many of cinema’s great directors, including Jean Renoir, Billy Wilder in Witness for the Prosecution, Alfred Hitchcock, Otto Preminger in Advise & Consent), Leo McCarey, and David Lean. Even Ozu seemed to have recognized his brilliance early on, as he included a clip of Laughton’s performance from the Lubitsch-directed segment of If I Had a Million to great effect in Woman of Tokyo.

Although he worked with so many masters, some of Laughton’s greatest performances came in fact from his less distinguished films. The camp of movies like Island of Lost Souls and White Woman perhaps does not represent the artistic zenith of Laughton’s career, but it demonstrates an essential quality of his brilliance. He worked best when he had the liberty to completely invent his own character from nothing, whether creating White Woman’s absurd jungle plantation owner or transforming Nero into a flamboyant queen in The Sign of the Cross. The subpar source material worked to his benefit, essentially offering him a blank canvas to paint on. Conversely, Laughton struggled throughout his career with performing standard Shakespeare and Dickens roles on stage. He was, it seems, less an interpreter of roles than a fervent inventor of personalities.

It’s this passion that Laughton brought to his characters that makes him an easy target for accusations of overacting. To be sure, Charles Laughton was a ham, but in the best sense of the word. Rather than overact in his movies, he managed instead to transcend the film somehow. His performance becomes something more tangible than the film itself. Even in the most unmemorable movie, Laughton’s character lingers long in the audience’s memory. One at times feels sorry for his co-stars, for even if their acting is pitch-perfect, Laughton simply dominates the screen even in a minor role.

Despite a litany of iconic performances over a prolific career, it’s still hard not to dwell on what Laughton might have accomplished. Due in part to the anxieties of both Laughton and the director Joseph von Sternberg, an adaptation of I, Claudius was infamously never completed. The film, which exists now only in about twenty-five minutes of dailies, has since become the stuff of legend. From viewing only these surviving fragments, critic Jonathan Rosenbaum declared it “arguably the greatest piece of acting in all of sound cinema: better than Brando, better than Olivier, better even than Chaplin in Monsieur Verdoux.” Our retrospective concludes with The Night of the Hunter, Laughton’s lone entry in a directing career that never was. The stunning visual style; the overwhelming feeling of suspense; the breathtaking performances Laughton coaxed out of Robert Mitchum, Shelley Winters, and Lillian Gish – it all adds up to one of the great masterpieces of American cinema, and an astonishingly confident debut from a man who was anything but.

The Films

Thursday, October 1 at 7:00 • 105m
Les Misérables
Richard Boleslawski, 1935 • In the first sound adaptation of Victor Hugo's novel in English, Fredric March stars as convicted bread thief Jean Valjean. March is a perfect match for Laughton's wonderful performance as the obsessed Inspector Javert, unrelentingly pursuing Valjean over a period of decades. Between this, Mutiny on the Bounty, and Ruggles of Red Gap, 1935 marked an extraordinary year for Laughton. His over-the-top bluster here feels delightful and appropriate, unlike the over-the-top bluster of the dreadful 1980 musical adaptation that helped destroy Broadway forever—Susan Boyle be damned. 35mm

Thursday, October 8th at 7:00 • 67m
Island of Lost Souls
Erle Kenton, 1932 • Charles Laughton was perhaps born to play a mad scientist, and he makes the most of the opportunity in this creepy version of H.G. Wells's Island of Dr. Moreau. Richard Arlen and Leila Hymans are shipwrecked on Moreau's island, where the doctor has been conducting experiments combining humans and animals. His bizarre creations, led by none other than Bela Legosi, are barely under control. Laughton's performance, which he apparently based on his dentist, marked his first starring role in an American film. Find here the source for Devo's famous chant of "Are we not men?" from their 1977 song "Jocko Homo." 35mm, not available on DVD

Thursday, October 15th at 7:00 • 68m
White Woman
Stuart Walker, 1933 • A bizarre pre-code gem about a despotic rubber plantation owner in Malaysia married to a nightclub singer (Carole Lombard). Terrorized by her husband (Laughton), she begins a relationship with one of his employees. Though he did not think fondly of the film and disliked working with Lombard, who he said was not a "controlled actress," Laughton's overblown performance among the headhunters and spear fights of the jungle makes the film a real joy. During filming, Laughton insisted that Ravel's Bolero be played in between takes to sustain the tense jungle atmosphere. Archival 35mm, not available on DVD

Thursday, October 22nd at 7:00 • 97m
The Private Life of Henry VIII
Alexander Korda, 1933 • Never is Laughton given license to let loose and chew scenery more than in this star-making turn as the titular monarch. Henry blusters his way through five marriages, contending with wives and lovers played by likes of Merle Oberon, Binnie Barnes, Robert Donat, and Laughton's real-life wife Elsa Lanchester. Tremendous fun and gleefully inaccurate, the film's worldwide success became a major breakthrough not only for Laughton, but for British cinema as a whole. Laughton would again collaborate with Alexander Korda on the equally excellent historical biopic Rembrandt. 16mm

Thursday, October 29th at 7:00 • 85m
The Suspect
Robert Siodmak, 1944 • One of director Robert Siodmak's best works, this film noir, set in 1902 London, stars Laughton as a bank teller with a horrid wife (Rosalind Ivan). He begins an innocent friendship with the young and beautiful Mary Gray (Ella Raines), but his wife learns of it and is consumed with rage. Laughton then kills his wife and covers it up as an accident, but of course, he still raises the suspicions of a Scotland Yard inspector, as well as his neighbor. The result is a classic suspense tale, taut and finely crafted, largely thanks to the excellent performance of Laughton. 35mm, not available on DVD

Thursday, November 5th at 7:00 • 125m
The Sign of the Cross
Cecil B. DeMille, 1932 • In making this Roman epic, his comeback project at Paramount, DeMille met with tremendous resistance by the studio, forcing him to recreate ancient Rome on a modest budget. Perhaps distracted by these struggles, DeMille allowed Laughton to transform his interpretation of Emperor Nero into a raging queen, complete with a nude, nubile young man sitting by his side. The film became a hit, yet for decades faced censorship battles, including over an infamous scene where Claudette Colbert bathes in milk. This archival print, restored from DeMille's personal copy, returns the film to its uncut form. Archival 35mm

Thursday, November 12th at 7:00 • 114m
Witness for the Prosecution
Billy Wilder, 1957 • Billy Wilder adapts this thrilling mystery by Agatha Christie to great effect. Laughton plays Sir Wilfred Robards, a successful British attorney defending Leonard Vole (Tyrone Power) against a murder charge, despite his poor health. Sir Robards is shocked to discover that Vole's wife, played by Marlene Dietrich, plans on appearing as a witness for the prosecution. Elsa Lanchester also appears, and both husband and wife would eventually be rewarded with Oscar nominations. The twisting plot and witty dialog show both Christie and Wilder at the top of their form.35mm

Thursday, November 19th at 7:00 • 140m
Advise & Consent
Otto Preminger, 1962 • While battling bone cancer, Charles Laughton made his final screen appearance in Otto Preminger's slow-burning adaptation of Drury's Pulitzer Prize-winning political novel. Henry Fonda plays Robert Leffingwell, a liberal appointed by the President to serve as Secretary of State, sparking an intense confirmation battle that puts the careers of several politicians in jeopardy. Players in the drama include Burgess Meredith, Walter Pidgeon, and Laughton donning a southern drawl as a fiery senator from South Carolina. Preminger reportedly also offered a role to Martin Luther King, Jr., who declined. Archival 35mm
Preserved by the Academy Film Archive with funding from the Andrew J. Kuehn Jr. Foundation.

Thursday, December 3rd at 7:00 • 90m
The Night of the Hunter
Charles Laughton, 1955 • It's difficult to encapsulate the power of The Night of the Hunter, the greatest directorial debut this side of Citizen Kane, which, sadly, would also be Laughton's only directorial credit. Robert Mitchum gives one of film's most iconic performances as a sinful preacher who marries a fragile widow so that he can torture her two children into revealing the location of a hidden fortune. Pulitzer Prize-winner James Agee wrote the screenplay, with Laughton himself providing an uncredited rewrite. A terrifying slice of Americana filled with haunting imagery, this is, simply put, as good as cinema gets. Archival 35mm

The Fall 2009 calendar at Doc Films begins this week, and there are two series on it that I programmed. The first one, which I put together with my good friend Hannah, is called Downtown 81 and focuses on the work of the downtown New York artists of the '70s and '80s. The series runs every Tuesday night at 7 p.m., beginning tonight with James Nares's Rome 78. We're really excited for this series and have been talking about doing it for a long time. Basically, it's just an excuse for us to showcase some of our mutual favorite movies and artists, like Laurie Anderson, John Lurie, Spalding Gray, and Talking Heads.

Doc Films is located in Ida Noyes Hall at 1212 E. 59th St. in Chicago. Tickets are a measly $5, or you can get a pass for all 80-or-so films in the quarter for only $30.

Here's the quick list of the films in series, then the essay about it that Hannah and I wrote, and finally the descriptions of each film:

Sep. 29 - Rome 78
Oct. 6 - The Vasulkas: Selected Works I & II
Oct. 13 - Stranger Than Paradise
Oct. 20 - Home of the Brave
Oct. 27 - The Kitchen Presents Two Moon July
Nov. 3 - Downtown 81
Nov. 10 - True Stories
Nov. 17 - Swimming to Cambodia
Nov. 24 - Stop Making Sense
Dec. 1 - Ellis Island & Book of Days

Downtown 81

The New York arts scene of the '70s and '80s

Since at least the 1960s, downtown Manhattan was the home to a diverse community of artists committed to experimentation within their art and lifestyle. The blurring of art and life and the dissolution of the barriers between artistic disciplines can be seen in the work of downtown residents of the early ‘60s, such as Jack Smith and Tony Conrad. Coming generations of artists in the Lower East Side would sustain this radical ethos, and they are the focus of our series, Downtown 81.

This series focuses on films from the mid-1970s and ‘80s, and highlights the diversity of voices and flexibility characteristic of the downtown arts scene of the time. Many of the artists showcased were associated with the Kitchen, a venue started in the early '70s by Steina and Woody Vasulka with the intention of exhibiting video and performance art.

The Vasulkas’ Selected Works I & II illustrates their creative output during the early years of the Kitchen. Due to its willingness to embrace a broader definition of what was considered art, the Kitchen became home to numerous experimental bands and mixed media projects, many of which can be seen in the concert film The Kitchen Presents Two Moon July.

Downtown artists also made significant innovations in experimental theatre. The Mabou Mines company performed radical interpretations of classic texts in non-traditional theatre spaces, while the Wooster Group created performances from found material, recycled texts, and their own autobiographies. Spalding Gray produced a series of autobiographical monologues with the Wooster Group, most notably Swimming to Cambodia, which was released as a film under the direction of Jonathan Demme. Both companies were inspired by the work of Meredith Monk, director of Ellis Island and Book of Days, whose epic theatrical events blended dance, music, film, and opera.

The No Wave movement, another crucial voice in the downtown arts scene, is a product of the creative influence of punk rock on the art community. Rhys Chatam, Arto Lindsay, and other artists were decisively inspired by bands such as the Ramones, who were getting their start at Lower East Side venue CBGB. This intercommunication seen in No Wave produced the distinct aesthetic displayed in work by Lydia Lunch, James Chance, and No Wave filmmakers such as Amos Poe and James Nares. Nares's Rome '78 features an array of crucial contributors to the scene and displays a punk approach to filmmaking.

Edo Bertoglio’s Downtown 81 uses a similar format to that of Rome 78, following Jean-Michel Basquiat as he encounters artists and musicians on the Lower East Side. These films give a sense of the thriving community, and of the participatory ethic that was definitive of the scene. The opposition to professionalism characteristic of the punk attitude set the mood for a scene in which artists were inspired to try their hand at making music, acting, or directing without regard to the boundaries of discipline, both initiating diverse projects of their own or participating in those of their friends. All three stars of Jim Jarmusch’s film Stranger than Paradise started as musicians; leading man John Lurie also composed the film’s original score. In fact, Jarmusch himself was at one time a member of the No Wave band the Del-Byzanteens. The frequency with which artists appear as contributors to the films in this series demonstrates how essential this collaborative spirit was to the productivity of the scene.

In covering a relatively wide time range, the series tracks the full trajectory of celebrity for several artists featured in these films. David Byrne, who was involved in the Kitchen, was at the height of fame by the mid-‘80s with the Talking Heads. Before the release of Stop Making Sense and True Stories, they had scored a top ten hit in the U.S. with the song “Burning Down the House.” Likewise, Laurie Anderson, who also performed at the Kitchen, was two albums into a record deal with Warner Brothers when she made her concert film, Home of the Brave. These concert films are not from the downtown arts scene proper, but instead offer insight into the way these artists continued to apply the sensibility gained during their involvement in the scene toward their work.

The inclusion of these later works also highlights how remarkable it is that so many artists from the scene were able to achieve mainstream popularity. Byrne, Anderson, Philip Glass, Cindy Sherman, and Bill T. Jones have all become international celebrities – all working within a neighborhood with a total area under a square mile. This mainstream success also signaled the end of the movement. The rising cost of living meant that within the next decade, lower Manhattan would no longer be conducive to the kind of movement that had thrived there since the '60s. While the movement ended, the participatory approach to art influenced the generations that followed, and has been applied in communities worldwide. It is our hope that this series offers a chance to think critically about the collaborative ethic that defined the period.

The Films

Tuesday, September 29th at 7:00 • 82m
Rome 78
James Nares, 1978 • Painter, performance artist, and former Contortions bandmember James Nares directed this classic of No Wave cinema. An irreverent and playful period drama, the film is as much a documentary of late-70s Lower East Side as it is a fiction film about the late Roman Empire. David McDermott III stars as Caligula, Anya Phillips plays the Queen of Sheba, and Lydia Lunch, lead singer of Teenage Jesus and the Jerks and star of many films produced in the movement, also appears. Critic J. Hoberman, an early champion of No Wave, described the film as "like a toga party in Little Lulu's clubhouse." 16mm, not available on DVD

Tuesday, October 6th at 7:00 • 52m
The Vasulkas: Selected Works I & II
Steina and Woody Vasulka, 1974 • The Vasulkas were pioneers of the video art form, and founders of The Kitchen. They were among the first to have their video works included in the Whitney Biennial, and have remained innovators of the genre, both technically and formally. These selected works serve as a sampling of the Vasulkas's work during the early years of the Kitchen, a time in which they were primarily concerned with the production of synthetic video images. Through their emphasis on the materiality of video with the use of static and wave patterns, the Vasulkas forge images of a natural beauty akin to landscapes. DVD, not commercially available on DVD

Tuesday, October 13th at 7:00 • 95m
Stranger Than Paradise
Jim Jarmusch, 1984 • Eva, freshly arrived from Hungary, walks the derelict streets of New York in search of her cousin Willie. She pauses to turn on her portable tape player, and continues to the sound of Screamin' Jay Hawkins, hysterically repeating "I Put a Spell On You." With this scene, Jarmusch established himself as an innovator of American cool and informed the idiom of independent American cinema with a blend of style and incongruent humor. As Willie's sidekick (Richard Edson, one-time drummer for Sonic Youth) tags along on a trip across the U.S., Jarmusch weaves nuanced relationships between off-beat characters. 35mm

Tuesday, October 20th at 7:00 • 90m
Home of the Brave
Laurie Anderson, 1986 • Five years after landing a surprise pop hit with "O Superman," performance artist (and Glen Ellyn, Illinois native) Laurie Anderson directed her own concert film while touring in support of her album "Mister Heartbreak." Playing violin and synthesizer along with a full band, she layers poetry on top of electronic music in this innovative multimedia performance, and her deadpan observations are at once hilarious and spooky. William S. Burroughs, the inspiration for her song "Language is a Virus," also appears on stage at one point to dance a tango with Anderson. Laserdisc, not available on DVD

Tuesday, October 27th at 7:00 • 53m
The Kitchen Presents Two Moon July
Tom Bowes, 1985 • Founded in the early '70s by Steina and Woody Vasulka, The Kitchen became one of the most important art spaces of the downtown scene. Located in the kitchen of the Mercer Arts center, it started as a space for video art, but eventually expanded to include artists across several disciplines, as illustrated in this film. Originally filmed as a television project, Two Moon July is a unique document of this community, bringing together many of its talented artists, including David Byrne, Bill T. Jones, Laurie Anderson, Cindy Sherman, John and Evan Lurie, Philip Glass, Brian Eno, Robert Longo, and Bill Viola. DVD, not available on DVD

Tuesday, November 3rd at 7:00 • 71m
Downtown 81
Edo Bertoglio, 1981 • Also known as New York Beat Movie, Downtown 81 is a fascinating portrait of the New York scene in the early '80s. The then-unknown Jean-Michel Basquiat stars as a character much like himself, who spends the day wandering the Lower East Side, encountering many notable figures from the scene, including Debbie Harry, the Plastics, and John Lurie. Glenn O'Brien, host of the infamous public access show TV Party, wrote the screenplay. Financing issues caused the film to be abandoned until 2001. As much of the original soundtrack was lost, Basquiat's dialog was re-recorded by actor and poet Saul Williams. 35mm, not available on DVD

Tuesday, November 10th at 7:00 • 90m
True Stories
David Byrne, 1986 • Featuring a score by Talking Heads, True Stories is a beautiful, bizarre take on small town life. Byrne, sporting a ten-gallon cowboy hat, guides us through the fictional town of Virgil, Texas, as its citizens prepare for the "Celebration of Special-ness." Inspired by headlines from tabloids, the film wanders from character to character, such as the woman who never leaves her bed, the man with a radio in his head (the inspiration for the British band's name), and the engineer with the consistent panda bear shape looking for love. The result is an intruiging variation on the traditional American musical. 35mm

Tuesday, November 17th at 7:00 • 85m
Swimming to Cambodia
Jonathan Demme, 1987 • In the first of his filmed monologues, Spalding Gray recounts his experiences in Southeast Asia filming his supporting role in The Killing Fields. Armed only with a glass of water, a writing pad, and a map, he provides a compelling example of storytelling at its finest. Gray, a co-founder of the experimental theatre company the Wooster Group, pioneered in this film a form of autobiographical one-man-show whose influence is still seen today. Demme's minimalistic direction gives room to focus on Gray's hilarious and touching anecdotes, while Laurie Anderson provides an appropriately haunting score. 35mm, not available on DVD

Tuesday, November 24th at 7:00 • 88m
Stop Making Sense
Jonathan Demme, 1984 • Beginning with David Byrne performing "Psycho Killer" alone with a drum machine and growing to an enormous band with backup dancers, this classic concert film catches Talking Heads at the height of their global success. By this point, Byrne had developed into one of music's great showmen, and moments from his performance—dancing with a lampshade, jogging in a circle around the stage, and donning his famous big suit—have since become iconic. Demme's fluid direction helps make this, along with >i/i<, one of the greatest rock n' roll films ever made. Thanks! Does anybody have any questions? 35mm

Tuesday, December 1st at 7:00 • 100m
Ellis Island & Book of Days
Meredith Monk, 1981 & 1988 • Monk, a filmmaker, choreographer, and composer, filmed Ellis Island at the famous port of entry before its 1990 restoration. Described by Monk as a "ghost story told through the musicality of images," it blends fiction, documentary, and dance to explore the story of the millions of immigrants who passed through. In the dreamlike Book of Days, Monk juxtaposes black and white depictions of the tumult of the Middle Ages with color scenes of a contemporary AIDS-plagued world. Music, dance, and stunning cinematography mix into a haunting and often humorous meditation on the transparency of time. 35mm, not available on DVD

The Los Angeles County Museum of Art has operated a successful repertory cinema for many years. Michael Govan, the director of the museum, however, has recently announced that they will be cutting the program. This, needless to say, is a horrible development, and one that has national consequences for the already ailing repertory cinema circuit. Many filmmakers and critics have stepped up to criticize the LACMA's move, including Martin Scorcese and Peter Bogdanovich, but the best critique to date has come from my good friend Kyle Westphal, who literally wrote the book on Doc Films. He eloquently touches on both the disingenuousness of the LACMA's administration, and on the need for repertory cinema in general:

Simply stated, the whole history of cinema is not available on DVD. It cannot be studied adequately in the comforts of one’s home. And that home repertory is no substitute for a curated program that responds to and is influenced by local sensibilities and tempers. It has a character distinct from the nation’s Netflix queue.

This is a hard message but perhaps not so hard. It is broadly analogous to ‘Buy Local,’ a slogan of informed consumerism that is easily understood and practiced by a substantial portion of our population. It is implicitly understood that a purchase represents not only an exchange of money for goods but an affirmative vote for a certain way of living and all of the productive infrastructure that will sustain it.

In the same way, repertory film-goers cannot be motivated by nostalgia alone. They must be made to recognize that they are stakeholders sustaining a wider movement greater than any individual institution. Museums, of course, could not mount lavish exhibitions or comprehensive retrospectives without collective action—touring programs, collaborations with peer institutions, and the like. It’s the same story for film.

Read his whole post here, and then please sign the petition to save the LACMA film program.

Also, feel free to listen to the much more lightweight defense of repertory cinema I provided a few years ago on Chicago Public Radio.

[motion within motion]

Monica sends me this censored-for-television version of the most famous line of 21st century cinema:

Though it's not even three years old, I'm already gripped with nostalgia for Snakes on a Plane. More accurately, it's not the actual film that I think fondly of so much as the anticipation that led to it. It had all the makings of one of the greatest feel-good stories of movie fandom. Seizing on the total absurdity of the plot and its perfectly straightforward title, it became a cult sensation before a trailer was even out. It was all set to be the finest example of fan influence on filmmaking to date. The (uncensored) line from the above video was not originally in the film, but when online fans demanded that Samuel L. Jackson say it, the filmmakers actually went back after the movie had already wrapped to shoot additional footage, including that line. According to legend, when the producers were about to rename the movie, Samuel L. Jackson balked, claiming the title was the only reason he had agreed to do the movie.

As you recall, after months of hype, the actual release of the movie was a total dud at the box office. So what went wrong? Well, New Line Cinema made two fatal errors. The first mistake was not moving up the release date to capitalize on the hype, instead waiting till everyone was already sick of hearing about it. The second, far graver error was in not putting my song on the soundtrack.

You see, the studio sponsored a song contest where fans were invited to write snake-related songs and submit them to be voted on online. The top ten vote-getters would be sent to the producers and director who would ultimately choose one to go on the soundtrack.

The song I wrote, "Two Snakes on a Plane," ended up getting the most votes of them all. My lyrics were quoted in an AP article that was reprinted, among other places, in the Redeye. I saw various bloggers refer to the song as the song they wanted to hear at their wedding. Oh, to be a D-list internet celeb again!

Ultimately, though, the filmmakers chose a song by Captain Ahab, a legit duo from LA, crushing my dreams of having the jam of the summer. I still have hopes that in the future, SoaP will be rediscovered and have a long life on the midnight circuit, at which point a Restored Version will be released with the proper soundtrack.

The song itself was written and recorded within a couple days. I wrote the lyrics—which alternate between disgusting and just nonsensical—about half an hour before we recorded the vocals. And then we literally only had time to record one take of the vocals before the singers had to rush off to Bloomington. I listen back now and hear so many imperfections I wish I could fix. Among other things, it's probably about 45 seconds too long. But still, it is what it is, and people seem to enjoy it enough to ask me about it about once a month, so here it is.

The musicians on the recording are credited as The Guesstimates and include Stuart Seale and Nola Richardson on vocals, Bart Pappas and Nicholas Krause on guitar, Paul Kusper on drums, and myself on bass, Rhodes, synth, and Vocoder.

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The Guesstimates - Two Snakes on a Plane [mp3]

Jim Carrey stars as Bert Headly, an associate professor of English at a small liberal arts college. Shy and reserved, he's notorious among the student body for writing very little feedback on the papers he grades. Ignoring the requests of kindly medievalist Carole (Maggie Gyllenhaal) that he edit a paper she is submitting to The Journal of English and Germanic Philology, Bert instead retreats back to his small flat to enjoy a P.D. Wodehouse novel alone. He brews a cup of Constant Comment brand tea, only to discover after drinking it, he is compelled to comment... constantly.

It's timely, and opportunities for product placement are obvious.

P.S. Did you realize that Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, The Mask, and Dumb and Dumber were all released in 1994?

WTF?: The God-damndest Things Ever Seen, my series of bizarre cinema at Doc Films, continues tonight with the crown jewel of the series: Corn's-a-Poppin'. It's an utterly mysterious backstage musical. Nobody seems to have any real information about it - we can't even confirm the year of its release, though 1951 is probably right. In fact, for all we know, its screenings at Doc have been the only theatrical exhibitions of the movie ever. All we know is that one of its screenwriters was none other than a starving Kansas City television worker named Robert Altman.

I won't attempt to describe the film anymore, as my friend Kyle Westphal wrote the definitive piece about the film on his blog - and this is not just because it is likely to be the only piece ever to be written about Corn's-a-Poppin', but because it is a truly insightful look at the kind of unaccountable cinema that a certain contingent of Doc people/alums are particularly entranced by:

The emotional heart of a picture filled with obtusely intimate moments is the penultimate number, “On Our Way to Mars.” It has the greatest build-up of all the numbers, with little Susie begging her brother to be allowed to sing with him on the air. The result is a piece of minimalist s-f: Susie and Johnny float in a cardboard rocket while crooning about finding a grilled cheese sandwich on the moon. They set up rhyme schemes and then abandon them, finishing couplets with ‘Zoom! Zoom!’ It’s a creepy number, filled with romantic and sexual overtones—already present from the first reel of Corn’s-A-Poppin’ during which we’re not quite sure whether Susie is Johnny’s sister or his midget bride. (Susie speaks with all the bluster and toughness of a boozed-out Hollywood sideshow, cooks all of Johnny’s meals in an apron, and possesses a disposition very unbecoming of a child star.) But “On Our Way to Mars” becomes unexpectedly moving when Johnny sings about ‘dreams in Cinemascope,’ a timidly self-conscious expression about the kind of ragged, desperate movie that Corn’s-A-Poppin’ must be. Its actors will never see their names on a marquee or headline a Hollywood production; the reference to unattainable aesthetic luxuries has the effect of reminding us that Corn’s-A-Poppin’ constitutes a wooly alternative to them. The enterprise is so small-time that most of the performances come across better and stronger as documentary records of deer in the proverbial limelight. Intentionally or not, local acts of guerilla cinema like Corn’s-A-Poppin’ unleash a torrent of poetic feeling and reveal a new territory in film aesthetics.

For many years at Doc, the people running the organization were obsessed with Stanley Donen's Bedazzled starring Dudley Moore and Peter Cook, which you may remember was remade by Harold Ramis in 2000 with Brendan Fraser and Elizabeth Hurley. Doc for some reason would screen the original Bedazzled every single year. That tradition ended some time ago, but perhaps it is time to start it up again...only with Corn's-a-Poppin' instead.

The film screens Thursday, April 9 at 9:00 p.m at Doc Films, 1212 E. 59th St, Chicago. There will be some delightful shorts beforehand as well.

[motion within motion]

Why stop there with the Tati images? LIFE Magazine has hosted on Google a wonderful series of photos of Jacques Tati wandering around New York from a November 1958 issue. The photos are a sort of reverse Play Time, with Tati, dressed in character as Monsieur Hulot, as a tourist in America, rather than guiding an American tourist in Paris. Remarkably, some of the images of the urban landscape are strikingly similar to moments in Play Time, which wasn't released until nine years later.

The complete set of photos is here.