BFI Southbank introduction: The London Action Festival team bring their roadshow ‘World’s
Greatest Screening’ series to BFI Southbank with this special event
celebrating George Miller’s acclaimed action masterpiece, Mad Max 2: The
Road Warrior. Among other surprises, the extra components to the evening will
include an exclusive on-screen contribution by George Miller himself; a
look at how the 1982 classic was a game-changer for the vibrant
franchise; an in-person interview with Iain Smith OBE, BAFTA-winning
Producer of Mad Max: Fury Road, where he’ll look at what it takes to
produce for George Miller and talk about his involvement in bringing the
franchise back; and a live performance of the “Mad Max Medley” by The
McBain Quartet led by Patrick Savage.
Chicago Reader review: George Miller’s 1981 sequel to his 1980 sleeper, Mad Max. Set in a
postapocalyptic Australia, where nomadic tribes battle each other for
precious gasoline, it’s a highly stylized, roaringly dynamic action film
that shuns plot and characterization in favor of a crazy iconographical
melange—it’s like the work of a western punk trucker de Sade. The style
is more spectacular and comic-bookish than that of the original, which
isn’t all to the good: without the crude but functional motivations of
the first film, the violence here comes to seem somewhat arbitrary and
distasteful. But for pure rhythm and visual panache, Miller has few real
competitors; the climactic chase, with its deft variation of tempo and
point of view, is a minor masterpiece. Dave Kehr
Chiswick Cinema introduction: Curated by local film critic and podcaster Matthew Turner, this mini
season of film noir classics runs exclusively at Chiswick Cinema
throughout November 2024.
Each film will be introduced by
Matthew Turner, a lifelong film noir enthusiast, who will also be
around in the bar after each screening. In addition, audiences are
invited to post about the films online, using the hashtag
#Noirvember, a great source of other film noir
recommendations.
About Dead Reckoning:
Released the
same year as The Big Sleep, this lesser-known noir
thriller is ripe for rediscovery. Told in flashback, it stars Humprey
Bogart as war hero “Rip” Murdock, who investigates the death of a
fellow soldier and becomes entangled with smokey-voiced femme fatale
Coral Chandler (Lizabeth Scott), who was his friend’s mistress.
This 35mm presentation is part of the 'Projecting the Archive' strand at BFI Southbank and will feature an introduction by Jade Evans, AHRC REACH PhD student.
BFI introduction: Robert Donat’s spirited performance as a British officer sent to foil a
German chemical weapons plot enlivens this effective spy drama.
Disguised as Romanian dandy Jan Tartu, Captain Terence Stevenson seeks
the help of the local underground, falling for Hobson’s glamorous female
spy along the way. Donat attacks his dual role with gusto, while Hobson
makes a resourceful Mata Hari – garbed in gorgeous Rahvis costumes –
while Glynis Johns elicits sympathy as a plucky young resistance
fighter. The fanciful plot allows for impressive sets, from London
during the Blitz to the futuristic interiors of a chemical plant, which
provide the backdrop to the film’s thrilling climax.
Time Out review: A steamy, Freudian tale of family intrigue set in the deep South, based on a compilation of stories by William Faulkner. Orson Welles is the tyrannical Varner, whose rejected weakling son (an excessively neurotic performance from Anthony Franciosa) seeks consolation in bed with his sexy wife (Lee Remick). A suspected 'barn burner' and definite trouble-maker, Ben Quick (Paul Newman) arrives in town, and is welcomed by Varner as a suitable heir to his empire. The sparks fly between Quick and Varner's schoolmistress daughter (Newman and Joanne Woodward together for the first time), but under her cold exterior beats a passionate heart, and predictably they are in each other's arms by the final shot. The ending is an unconvincing cop out, but it can't spoil the film's compulsive dramatic tension (or a marvellous comic cameo fromAngela Lansburyas Welles' long-suffering mistress).
The screening on Sunday the 17th of November will be introduced by writer and lecturer Dr Julia Wagner. Dr Julia Wagneris
a lecturer and writer specialising in film and television. She holds a
PhD in Film Studies from UCL and is author of Hester Street
(BFI/Bloomsbury, forthcoming 2025), a BFI Classics book about Joan
Micklin Silver’s debut film.
Garden Cinema introduction: In Between the Lines Joan
Micklin Silver (herself a former reporter for the Village Voice)
creates a lived-in portrait of the smoky dive bars, record stores, pawn
shops and strip clubs frequented by a ragtag group of broke but
passionate journalists in the dying days of their alternative newspaper.
Featuring debut performances from John Heard, Joe Morton, Marilu
Henner, Raymond J. Barrie, and Jeff Goldblum (to name just a few), Between The Lines is
a top-tier 1970s hangout movie, offering a comedic take on the
importance of fighting for what’s important to you when the sticks are
down.
Chicago Reader review: Pretentious, overenergized, muddled, intellectually bogus, and very
entertaining for it. Richard Rush’s film concerns a cryptic fugitive
(Steve Railsback) who finds refuge, of a sort, with a movie company led
by a flamboyant, engagingly sadistic director (Peter O’Toole).
Experienced as pure motion, the picture is a rush, barreling
through highly charged action montages and baroque flights of rack
focus, though dramatically it becomes disappointingly conventional in
the last few reels. The theme is illusion and reality, but you’re better
off if you try to forget it. With Barbara Hershey, Allen Goorwitz, and
Alex Rocco. Dave Kehr
BFI introduction: Two country bumpkins meet on a train bound for Seoul. One of them is
hoping to locate his long-lost daughter in the big city, while the other
is looking for a former sweetheart who may now be an up-and-coming
nightclub singer. It’s the perfect basis for a smart fish-out-of-water
comedy, interspersed with musical set-pieces in Seoul nightclubs and
dance halls, featuring some of the era’s biggest performers.
This film will be introduced by Telegraph film critic Tim Robey, who has written about the movie here, and is the author of the new book about Hollywood flops Box Office Poison.
Empire review: Chevy Chase, John Candy and Dan Aykroyd are all comic actors with a
string of hit comedy movies, including Ghostbusters and Uncle Buck,
between them. It’s worth pointing this out, since in this “comedy” their comic
talents are strangely absent, and there is barely one laugh to be had
throughout the whole film. Chase is rich financial publisher Chris Thorne, who encounters the
beautiful Diane (Demi Moore) in a lift, and invites her on a daytrip to
Atlantic City. Setting off with her and a Brazilian couple along for the
ride, they take a detour off the freeway for a picnic and end up in the
derelict village of Valkenvania, where they get arrested for running a
stop sign. Now, Valkenvania is no ordinary place, so instead of being let off
with a traffic ticket, the foursome are hauled up in front of
100-year-old Judge Reeve (Dan Aykroyd) looking like a latex leftover from
Dick Tracy), whose methods of justice are extreme to say the least. Finding
them guilty, the judge, his policeman grandson (Candy) and his
man-hungry granddaughter (Candy in drag) imprison the four in their
booby-trapped home where they encounter Bobo and Little Devil (two
adult-sized babies that look like Jabba The Hut) and various moving
floors, walls and gizmos that would get better laughs at a funfair’s
haunted house. Unfortunately this
isn’t even half as fun as the shortest bumper-car ride, with the cast —
lost in a sea of unfunny situations and badly executed antique jokes on
loan from The Munsters— all obviously puzzled about why they are
actually there. Jo Berry
Cinema Museum introduction to the event: Wonder Reels return to the Cinema Museum with their unique events
featuring live performances from outstanding London musicians followed
by a 35mm screening of a full feature film chosen with the artist in
mind. The event will start with a live performance by British multi instrumentalist producer Forest Law
who crafts a slice of Balearic funk and urban Tropicalia. Centred
around his adept, Bossa Nova-influenced guitar playing, old school
sampling, and UK-styled beats, played alongside his mellow, yet sombre
vocal work.
Time Out review: Returning to the rich pastures of American suburbia, Steven Spielberg takes the
utterly commonplace story of a lonely kid befriending an alien from
outer space, and invests it with exactly the same kind of fierce and
naive magic that pushed Disney's major masterpieces like Pinocchio
into a central place in 20th century popular culture. Moreover, with
its Nativity-like opening and its final revelation, the plot of E.T.
has parallels in religious mythology that help to explain its electric
effect on audiences. But although conclusively demonstrating Spielberg's
preeminence as the popular artist of his time, E.T. finally seems a less impressive film than Close Encounters.
This is partly because its first half contains a couple of comedy
sequences as vulgar as a Brooke Bond TV chimps commercial, but more
because in reducing the unknowable to the easily loveable, the film
sacrifices a little too much truth in favour of its huge emotional
punch. David Pirie
Chicago Reader review: 'With his weary romanticism, Humphrey Bogart was made for Nicholas
Ray, and together they produced two taut thrillers (the other was Knock
on Any Door). In this one (1950, 94 min.), Bogart is an artistically
depleted Hollywood screenwriter whose charm is inextricable from his
deep emotional distress. He falls for a golden girl across the way,
Gloria Grahame, who in turn helps him face a murder charge. Grahame and
Ray were married, but they separated during the shooting, and the
screen breakup of the Bogart-Grahame romance consciously incorporates
elements of Ray's personality (he even used the site of his first
Hollywood apartment as Bogart's home in the film). The film's subject
is the attractiveness of instability, and Ray's self-examination is
both narcissistic and sharply critical, in fascinating combination.
It's a breathtaking work, and a key citation in the case for confession
as suitable material for art' Dave Kehr
Chicago Reader review: Adapted
from a novel by Ukrainian writer M. Kotsyubinsky, Sergei Paradjanov's
extraordinary merging of myth, history, poetry, ethnography, dance,
and ritual (1964) remains one of the supreme works of the Soviet
sound cinema, and even subsequent Paradjanov features have failed to
dim its intoxicating splendors. Set in the harsh and beautiful
Carpathian Mountains, the movie tells the story of a doomed love
between a couple belonging to feuding families, Ivan and Marichka,
and of Ivan's life and marriage after Marichka's death. The plot is
affecting, but it serves Paradjanov mainly as an armature to support
the exhilarating rush of his lyrical camera movements (executed by
master cinematographer Yuri Illyenko), his innovative use of nature
and interiors, his deft juggling of folklore and fancy in relation to
pagan and Christian rituals, and his astonishing handling of color
and music. A film worthy of Dovzhenko, whose poetic vision of
Ukrainian life is frequently alluded to. In Ukrainian with
subtitles. Jonathan Rosenbaum
This is a 35mm presentation introduced by Telegraph film correspondent Tim Robey. He will also be discussing his new book, Box Office Poison, in the Library at BFI Southbank at 6.30pm.
Chicago Reader review: If the heart of the horror movie is the annihilating Other, the Other has never appeared with more vividness, teasing sympathy, and terror than in this 1932 film by Tod Browning. Browning flirts with compassion for the sad, deformed creatures of his sideshow—most played by genuine freaks from the Ringling Brothers circus—but ultimately finds horror and revulsion as the outsiders take their climactic revenge. A happy ending, shot by Browning but deleted when the film was rereleased, resurfaced after many years: it shows the midget couple reunited under the condescending gaze of the “normal” friends, firmly reestablishing the complacent sense of “separateness” the body of the film has worked so hard to undermine. With Leila Hyams, Wallace Ford, and Harry and Daisy Earles. Dave Kehr
This film is part of the Celluloid Sunday strand at ICA Cinema and the screening also includes the 1993 short Somewhere in Californiastarring Tom Waits and Iggy Pop.
Time Out review: Let nobody claim that Jim Jarmusch isn’t a grand master of the ironic
Zen shaggy-dog caper, in that every one of his eccentric films features
bewildered men (rarely women) ambling down the road less travelled to
locations of unclear significance. With ‘The Limits of Control’, his ode
to John Boorman’s stark 1967 revenge thriller ‘Point Blank’, he has
delivered a work of dazzling formal discipline that riffs on the simple
notion of repetition and variation. The film’s succession of
cryptic encounters – involving Isaach de Bankolé as a steely, Melvillian
lone gunman on a ‘mission’ in Spain – feel more like painstakingly
sculpted stanzas of a poem than they do twists in some contrived yarn.
Certainly, some will find Jarmusch’s convention-bending games a little
testing, but in craftily withholding so much information about where
we’re headed (or, indeed, where we’ve come from), he forces us to work
harder to find meaning in the film’s ambiguities. Why does De Bankolé
keep visiting that gallery? Why does he always order two single
espressos? What do the absurd outpourings of the supporting players – a
white-haired Tilda Swinton musing on films and dreams, a scraggy John Hurt discussing the derivation of the term ‘bohemian’, etc – actually mean? Jarmusch
takes great pleasure in daring us to suppress our expectations of where
pulp genre films are supposed to take us and the emotional cues they’re
supposed to house. Being black, celibate and monosyllabic, De Bankolé’s
criminal operative inverts all the usual trappings of the traditional
screen gangster, and once you apply that rule to everything within the
film’s exotic, strangely logical world (beautifully photographed by
Chris Doyle), then its point will become clear. David Jenkins
This film is part of the London Korean Film Festival. Details here. Tonight's screening has an introduction while the other screening is on November 3rd.
BFI introduction: Lee Kyoung-mi’s acclaimed 2008 debut Crush and Blush was produced by
Park Chan-wook. Eight years later, she returned with an innovative film
co-written by Park. The daughter of a politician and his wife goes
missing in the lead-up to national elections. As he carries on with his
campaign, Yeon-hong becomes increasingly determined to find their
daughter. Son Ye-jin is mesmerising as a mother fighting bureaucracy in
Lee’s intelligent drama.
Time Out review: Undercover
FBI agent Keanu Reeves strips for action and gets into some serious
male bonding when he infiltrates the Californian surfing fraternity
in search of a gang of bank robbers who call themselves the
Ex-Presidents. During the course of the investigation, however,
Reeves is seduced by 'spiritual' surfer Patrick Swayze's cosmic talk
about one-ness with the sea, and becomes addicted to the adrenalin
rush of life on the edge. Despite this theme of Faustian redemption,
the distinction between good and evil is far from black and white,
Swayze's reckless craving for danger filling an elemental void in
Reeves' hollow soul. There are times when the dialogue is a shade
comic, others when the brilliantly staged action set pieces become
almost abstract. Plausibility, though, has never been director
Kathryn Bigelow's strong suit, and there's precious little to be found here.
Even so, there's enough high-octane, heart-racing excitement for a
dozen movies. Nigel
Floyd
This film is part of the 'Rewriting the Rules: Pioneering Indian Cinema after 1970' season at Barbican Cinema. Full details here.
Barbican introduction: DirectorMani Kaul was
a key architect of the avant-garde experimental strand of Parallel
Cinema. Many of his films have a distinctive austere visual sensibility
that drew on the indigenous influences of Indian art, expressly painting
and music. Adapted from Vijaydan Detha'sRajasthani folk tale, Duvidha
explores the haunting and surreal world of a newlywed bride left alone
in her in-laws' house when her husband departs on business. Her life
takes an unexpected turn when a ghost falls in love with her and assumes
her husband's identity. Memorable
lead performances are intensified by Kaul's distinctive use of long
takes and static frames; the minimalist visual style resembles an
extended painting. The film is deeply rooted in Rajasthani culture,
bringing to life the region's landscapes, architecture, and customs.
Chicago Reader review: This dark and determinedly sleazy 1947 film comes as quite a surprise
from its director—Edmund Goulding, whose specialty through the 30s, in
films like Grand Hotel and The Old Maid, was his inveterate tastefulness (although, come to think of it, the sleaze of Nightmare Alley
has a suspicious gloss). Tyrone Power stars as a sideshow barker who
successfully promotes himself as a mind reader, only to have his
ruthlessness catch up with him in a finale that still seems shockingly
draconian, particularly where a matinee idol like Power is concerned. A
fascinating anomaly. With Colleen Gray and Joan Blondell; the
screenplay, adapted from William Lindsay Gresham’s novel, is by Howard
Hawks’s frequent collaborator Jules Furthman. Dave Kehr
Chicago Reader review: Elaine May’s 1976 film, dumped by Paramount on first release, is one of
the most innovative, engaging, and insightful films of that turbulent
era of American moviemaking. John Cassavetes is a small-time hood on the
run from a powerful syndicate boss; he calls on boyhood friend Peter
Falk to help him in his hour of need, but he can’t be sure of his
loyalties—Falk works for the same outfit. May allows the improvisational
rhythms of her actors to establish the surface realism of the film, but
beneath the surface lies a tight, poetically stylized screenplay that
leads the two characters, as they pass a fearful, frenzied night
together, back over the range of their lives, from infancy to adulthood.
At every step May tests the two men’s affection against the conflicting
demands of making a living and finding a measure of security in a
brutal, unstable world; what emerges is a profound, unsentimental
portrait of male friendship—and of its ultimate impossibility. Dave Kehr
This film also screns on November 22nd at the Prince Charles. Details here.
Time Out review: Shot at weekends on a shoestring, Christopher Nolan's 16mm b/w feature is more Shallow Grave
than Shane Meadows. Blocked writer Bill (Jeremy Theobald) takes to following
strangers through the streets of Soho, ostensibly to kickstart his
fiction. One day, one of his 'targets' bites back: Cobb (Alex Haw) introduces
himself as a burglar skilled at 'reading' people's identities from
rifling through their possessions, and he insists that Bill should tag
along to experience the thrill for himself. A complicated time structure
(the film flashes backwards and forwards) signals that more is going on
here than meets the eye. Sure enough, the denouement involves two
double crosses, a femme fatale, a murder and a crowning triple cross.
The generic pay off is a little disappointing after the edgy, character
based scenes of exposition, but the film is acted and directed
confidently enough to work well as a wry mystery thriller. Tony Rayns
Chicago Reader review: George Romero's gory, style-setting 1968 horror film, made for pennies
in Pittsburgh. Its premise—the unburied dead arise and eat the living—is
a powerful combination of the fantastic and the dumbly literal. Over
its short, furious course, the picture violates so many strong
taboos—cannibalism, incest, necrophilia—that it leaves audiences giddy
and hysterical. Romero's sequel, Dawn of the Dead, displays a much-matured technique and greater thematic complexity, but Night retains its raw power.
Dave Kehr
This film is part of the 'Rewriting the Rules: Pioneering Indian Cinema after 1970' season at Barbican Cinema. Full details here.
Barbican introduction: A visually stunning and poetic exploration of the inner lives of a
travelling circus trope in which old age, loneliness and regret becomes
magnified through Govindan Aravindan’s salient observation. In the dialogue-free opening to The Circus Tent, we
follow a truck as it meanders its way through the costal landscape of
Kerala, coming to a stop at a local town where the children come running
excitedly to greet the travelling circus. The arrival of the
circus feels ritualistic, celebratory, but more importantly an outlet
for the local people, an enthralling spectacle they can escape into for a
short time. The Circus Tent is hailed by many as Keralan filmmakerGovindan Aravindan’s masterpiece. The restoration of The Circus Tent in 2021 by the Film Heritage Foundation, India,
brings to life the extraordinary pictorial sensibilities of a film that
has thankfully been reclaimed and is now being rediscovered by a new
generation of filmgoers.
Time Out review:
When Gilda was released in 1946,
striking redhead Rita Hayworth had already starred in a series of
musicals that made her America’s pin-up, yet here she delivers the same
va-voom (in sundry shoulderpad-tastic Jean Louis outfits) while always
hinting at the anxieties beneath the ‘love goddess’ surface. It was
the defining role of her career, yet it says a lot about the rest of
the movie that Hayworth’s fire never overwhelms it.
There’s an element of ‘Casablanca’ exoticism in the Buenos Aires setting, where moody leading man Glenn Ford plays a drifter taken under the wing of casino owner George Macready
– a silky-voiced character actor who always brought an element of
sexual ambiguity to the screen. When the latter marries Hayworth on the
spur of the moment, Ford bristles because he has previous with this
femme fatale and is still feeling it. ‘Hate,’ as the pearly dialogue has
it, ‘can be a very exciting emotion.’ From then on, homoerotic
undertones, atmospheric black-and-white camerawork, Ford’s fight not to
let bitterness get the better of decency and Hayworth’s ever-present
heat combine in one of the great films noirs, softened just a little by
the moralising censorship strictures of the time. See it. Trevor Johnston
This is Hayworth's extraordinary first appearance in the movie.
This screening will be followed by Dr. Elena Gorfinkel and Stephen Thrower in conversation with BFI National Archive curator William Fowler.
BFI introduction: It was a surprising moment when, in the 1980s, long-term sexploitation legend Doris Wishman made a slasher. It’s just a shame things didn’t go better – the processing lab destroyed the film reels. As a solution, Wishman incorporated found footage to paper over the cracks. Released from hospital, back into the family home, psychotic Vicki struggles to resists the powers of a sinister ancestral curse. The public greeted the film with disinterest. But the public can be wrong! Jagged, cut-up, even post-modern in shape, the incredibly weird, psychotronic A Night to Dismember distils the core tropes of the slasher genre while appearing hallucinogenically avant-garde. Dr. Gorfinkel, Thrower and Fowler discuss Wishman, her film and the links between horror and experimental film as part of the event.
Chicago Reader review: Exploitation filmmaker Doris Wishman made her first foray into slasher flicks with this bloody, incoherent, but sometimes quite funny 1983 feature starring soft-core porn star Samantha Fox. Reportedly assembled from outtakes after a disgruntled employee destroyed the negative, it flirts with self-parody, incorporating every horror cliche from the not-very-scary graveyard scenes of Ed Wood to the unconvincing bloodbaths of Herschell Gordon Lewis. The story, recounted in flashback by a deep-voiced private detective, involves a great many knives, axes, and ice picks but never manages to be very frightening; the awful dubbing and numerous mismatched shots are hilarious, but whether that’s intentional is a matter of debate. Jack Heilberg
Chicago Reader review: This genre-busting 2003 debut feature by writer-director Jang Jun-hwan
flopped in his native South Korea, where it was misleadingly pitched as a
date movie. Convinced the earth is under siege by extraterrestrials, a
troubled young man and his acrobat girlfriend abduct a corporate
executive they believe to be an undercover alien and set about torturing
him at a mountain hideaway; meanwhile an over-the-hill cop and an eager
rookie are closing in. Punk graphics and a snaking camera add zest to
the story, which is alternately heartbreaking, suspenseful, and darkly
funny. Andrea Gronvall
The film will be introduced by season programmer Goran Topalovic.
BFI introduction:
Before he worked for the Shaw Brothers in Hong Kong, kick-starting the martial arts movie craze in the West with 1972’s The King Boxer, Chung Chang-wha laid the groundwork for Korean action cinema. A Swordsman in the Twilight tells the story of a mysterious swordsman in a lawless village during the Joseon Dynasty. The film’s action is marked by graceful and restrained action.
Tonight's screening will be introduced by season programmer Young Jin Eric Choi.
BFI introduction: The second Korean feature by a female director, the drama portrays the
struggles of a newly appointed judge, who faces mounting pressure from
her jealous husband and his family to conform to the traditional
expectations of a housewife. Considered lost for more than 50 years,
this story of a fearless woman who fights against societal norms
reflects the career of the director, who broke through many boundaries
at the time. It has lost none of its resonance or relevance.
This film also screens at Cine Lumiere on October 15th and November 8th. Details here.
Time Out review: Cast as the patriarch of a spaghetti-eating Sicilian family who are
crooks to a man, the once formidable Jean Gabin - stout, white-haired and now
a bit past it - mostly sits back and glowers while the younger members
of the cast squabble, lust and plot a caper involving the hijack of a
plane-load of jewels. He finally rouses himself from his lethargy to
defend his honour by executing Alain Delon, a Corsican who had the temerity to
play around with his daughter-in-law. Verneuil, not for the first time,
tries to direct like Jean-Pierre Melville and fails to make it, though
the action scenes are passable, and Henri Decaë's moody photography is rather more than that. Tom Charity
Rio Cinema introduction: To close Black History month celebrations across Hackney, Rio Cinema presents an in-house favourite with Franco Rosso’s Babylon
(1980). Banned on release in the US in fear of inciting riots and
originally rated X in the UK, Babylon follows Jamaican-British youngster
Blue’s day to day in Brixton. The young reggae DJ (played by Brinsley
Forde, M.B.E., Aswad) of the Ital 1 Lion sound system in Thatcher-era
South London pursues his musical ambitions while battling against the
racism and xenophobia of employers, neighbours, police, and the National
Front.
The film will be followed by a live on-stage Q&A
panel hosted by musician Nubiya Brandon. The conversation will take the
opportunity to hear the real-life experiences of those who grew up in
the Caribbean-British community of 1980s London.
Alongside
these events in Screen 1, the Rio lobby will be exhibiting photographs
by Chanté Saunders and Maisie Brown (previously exhibited at Dijons and
featured in Nowness) with their photography series titled “RUDEBOYS”.
The series is a contemporary re-imagining of Rude boy culture inspired
by the wealth of British-Caribbean style and history across the UK. And
In partnership with Backronym Films there will be a limited number of
Black history month zines on sale (included in one of the ticket
brackets) available on the day.
Time Out review: Although Babylon shows what it's like to be young, black and
working class in Britain, the final product turns dramatised documentary
into a breathless helter-skelter. Rather than force the social and
political issues, Rosso lets them emerge and gather momentum through the
everyday experience of his central character Blue (sensitively played
by Brinsley Forde). A series of increasingly provocative incidents finally
polarise Blue and lead to uncompromising confrontation. Although the
script runs out of steam by the end, the sharp use of location, the
meticulous detailing of black culture, the uniformly excellent
performances and stimulating soundtrack command attention.
Ian Birch
This screening will be preceded by the famous Kenneth Anger short Scorpio Rising. Time Out review: The
first British Hell's Angels pic, and just about the blackest comedy to
come out of this country in years. It features a bike gang called The
Living Dead, whose leader (Nicky Henson) discovers the art of becoming just
that. So he kills himself and is buried along with his bike, until he
guns the engine and shoots back up through the turf; two victims later,
he drives to a pub and calls his mother (Beryl Reid), a devil worshipper
ensconced in her stately old dark house with George Sanders as her sinisterly
imperturbable butler, to say he's back. This level of absurdity could be
feeble, but director Don Sharp knows how to shoot it straight, without any
directorial elbows-in-the-ribs. Consequently, much of the humour really
works, even though the gang as individuals are strictly plastic. David Pirie
This delicious cult classic features in the Horroctober season at the cinema. Details here. Here is the excellent Geoffrey Macnab's article in the Independent on the movie.
Chicago Reader review: Harry Kumel's stylish Belgian vampire film with a cult reputation (1971)
is worth seeing for several reasons, not least of which is Delphine
Seyrig's elegant lead performance as a lesbian vampire who operates a
luxury hotel. The baroque mise en scene is also loads of fun; with
Daniele Ouimet and Andrea Rau. Jonathan Rosenbaum
This film is part of the Barbican's excellent 'Rewriting the Rules: Pioneering Indian Cinema after 1970' season. You can find the full details here.
Barbican introduction: 27 Downfollows
the story of Sanjay, a young man whose life is irrevocably altered by a
train journey from Bombay to Varanasi. As a ticket collector, his
monotonous existence takes a turn when he meets Shalini, a compassionate
teacher. Their relationship unfolds against the backdrop of the train's
rhythmic journey, symbolizing the passage of time and life's transitory
nature. Beautifully shot in noirish monochrome and with striking production design, 27 Down
strives for a semi-documentary feel that is amplified by naturalistic
on location shooting at various train stations and compartments. A key work in the foundational years of Parallel Cinema, 27 Down
draws much of its emotional resonance from the understated interplay
between Sanjay and Shalini’s transient but forlorn characters.
This screening, presented in partnership with the National Film & Television School, ispart of Gynophobia: A Film Season Exploring the Monstrous-Feminine. Gynophobia is dedicated to exploring representations of monstrous women in horror, inspired by Barbara Creed’s concept of the ‘Monstrous-Feminine’. This season looks to embody the specific formal and stylistic properties of 70s horror, with introductions before each film prompting analysis and questioning of the societal attitudes inherent in their production and exhibition. Gynophobia is both an appreciation of the horror genre and a feminist retrospective, examining the roles and representations of women in this pivotal era of film history. The season aims to highlight how these films reflect and challenge the cultural shifts of their time, offering a thought-provoking experience that celebrates and critiques the portrayal of the monstrous-feminine in horror cinema.
Try not to miss this ultra-rare screening of a key early Brian de Palma film which the late, great critic Robin Wood described as “one of the key American films of the 1970s”.
After ten years and a number of ambitious works (commercially successful and critically controversial) such as Carrie, Dressed to Kill and Blow Out, Sisters arguably remains Brian de Palma's most completely satisfying film. Like Dressed to Kill, it is an elaborate variation on Psycho; unlike it, its attachment to the feminine viewpoint is much less compromised. Like all de Palma's films, it invites a psychoanalytic reading (‘the wound' as symbolic castration). Few Hollywood films (and perhaps no other horror film) have explored so rigorously the oppression of women under patriarchy and its appalling consequences for both sexes. Robin Wood
ICA introduction: A young boy (Raizo Ishihara) in Okinawa searches for an outlet for his spirituality, encountering the magical force of Nature and the history behind the creation of a place that is not quite American yet not Japanese. The boy, who seems to live on the outskirts of an already outsider society, likes to get a cola float and watch the American soldiers get their tacos. People around the town prepare for summertime festivals, welcoming ancestors and ghosts. A gang of abandoned children, barefoot and homeless, wreaks havoc amid the ruins of the once prosperous city. As reality seems to melt and drift, the boy sips his cola float and waits for the end of the world.
The screening on 22 October will be followed by an in-person Q&A with filmmaker Maiko Endo, hosted by curator, Hyun Jin Cho.
New Yorker review: In their first major movie roles, Al Pacino and Kitty Winn star in Jerry Schatzberg’s 1971 drama, as a pair of drug addicts drifting through Manhattan’s horror holes in a state of mutual self-destruction. The overheated Bobby (Pacino), a crook since childhood, is a bundle of jitters and motormouthed sass from the city streets. He cools down with the heroin that his girlfriend, Helen (Winn), a torpid artist from Indiana, uses to thaw her emotional core (frozen solid by an illegal abortion). The city seems rotted by the schemes of hustlers in need of a fix and by the law’s corrupting force (embodied by Alan Vint, as a soft-spoken, hard-nosed detective). Schatzberg doesn’t romanticize the addicts’ troubles; with a tender but unsparing eye, he spins visual variations on shambling degradation and on fleeting relief, and makes the sudden lurch of moods, ranging from bad to worse, his subject. Briskly panning telephoto shots, with their tremulous mysteries, reveal a city within a city, a second world of experience that shows through New York’s abraded surfaces. Richard Brody
