Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 156: Fri Jun 5

The Misfits (Huston, 1961): BFI Southbank, 2.30pm; 6pm & 8.35pm

This film, the centrepiece of the Marilyn Monroe season at BFI Southbank, is on an extended run at the cinema. Details here.

Time Out review:
Rarely has a film’s content been as overshadowed by its context as 1961’s ‘The Misfits’, re-released this week as part of a Marilyn Monroe retrospective at BFI Southbank. Director John Huston drank his way through the production, falling asleep repeatedly during filming. As her marriage to screenwriter Arthur Miller collapsed, leading lady Monroe checked herself into rehab: her recovery was so rocky that all subsequent close-ups had to be taken in soft focus. Two days after the film wrapped, star Clark Gable died of a heart attack. Monroe would follow 18 months later, having loathed the film and her performance in it. Third lead Montgomery Clift survived for five more drink-fuelled years: his final words, to a friend who asked him if he felt like catching a late-night TV showing of ‘The Misfits’, were ‘absolutely not! 'The tale of a down-on-her-luck divorcée (Monroe) who shacks up with a grizzled-but-lovable Nevada cowboy (Gable) and his rodeo-riding pal (Clift), ‘The Misfits’ is a problematic but provocative piece of work. Miller’s dialogue is as theatrically fruity as it gets – ‘You’re three dear, sweet, dead men!’ – while his overall treatment of Monroe’s character – dim, dizzy, innocent but oh-so-lively – feels patronising. But there are powerful moments too: Eli Wallach’s performance as Gable’s widowed buddy is pin-sharp, his transformation from pitiable sidekick to soulless creep the most convincing thing in the film. And the climax is simply magnificent, as matters come to a head out at a remote salt flat and Monroe finally gives vent to her frustrations with the entire male gender.
Tom Huddleston

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 155: Thu Jun 4

Till We Meet Again (Borzage, 1944): BFI Southbank, NFT2, 6.30pm

BFI introduction for UK premiere of digital restoration:
When a US plane is shot down in occupied France, its pilot finds shelter in a convent. He encounters a young novice who agrees to help him escape the country, to save him and his secret cache of documents from the Nazis. The night casts a veil of intimacy over the couple, who develop a bond beyond physical love. Full of suspense and expressionistic chiaroscuro, this transcendental drama remains striking for its mix of thrill, torment and wonder. Restored in 4K by Universal Pictures and The Film Foundation at NBCUniversal StudioPost laboratory, from the original 35mm negative nitrate, a 35mm composite fine grain and the 35mm optical sound track negative nitrate. Special thanks to Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg.

Time Out review:
Frank Borzage's admirers - and who'll not claim at least associate membership of that circle? - will find this movie to be in a familiar case. The writing suggests melodrama at its most mechanical and life cheapening, yet the director infuses individual scenes with such warmth and spontaneity as to ensure that the affections are celebrated even as they're being betrayed. This time the love affair is explicitly non-sexual, since the plot is to do with shot down flyer Ray Milland and virginal nun Britton pretending to be husband and wife while on the run in occupied France - a situation requiring fancy footwork from all concerned to keep the censors at bay. It's salutary to watch the usually tight-lipped Milland transformed into a model Borzage hero, enthusiastic and brimming with tenderness.

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 154: Wed Jun 3

Lawrence of Arabia (Lean, 1962): Prince Charles Cinema, 12.30pm

The Prince Charles are showing this classic movie from 70mm in a season that continues throughout May and the beginning of June. You can find the full details here.

Chicago Reader review:
David Lean's 1962 spectacle about T.E. Lawrence's military career between 1916 and '18, written by Robert Bolt and produced by Sam Spiegel, remains one of the most intelligent, handsome, and influential of all war epics. Combining the scenic splendor of De Mille with virtues of the English theater, Lean endeared himself to English professors and action buffs alike. The film won seven Oscars, including best picture and direction, yet the ideological crassness of De Mille and most war movies isn't so much transcended as given a high gloss: the film's subject is basically the White Man's Burden—despite ironic notations—with Alec Guinness, Anthony Quinn, and Omar Sharif called upon to represent the Arab soul, and Jose Ferrer embodying the savage Turks. The all-male cast helps make this one of the most homoerotic of all screen epics, though the characters' sexual experiences are at best only hinted at. 
Jonathan Rosenabum

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 153: Tue Jun 2

Blind Spot (Von Alleman, 1981): ICA Cinema, 6.30pm

'This is the LAST screening from the people behind THE MACHINE THAT KILLS BAD PEOPLE!* After eight years, the series is coming to a close with the launch of a book containing all the essays specially commissioned for each screening. As always, two towering films. But at this final event, the film club will reveal the secret rule that has governed their programming all along.'

*(The Machine That Kills Bad People is held bi-monthly in the ICA Cinema and is programmed by Erika Balsom, Beatrice Gibson, María Palacios Cruz, and Ben Rivers.) 

Time Out review:
Flora Tristan was a 19th century utopian socialist feminist, notorious in her day, now largely forgotten. A young historian (Rebecca Pauly) leaves husband and child to seek traces of Tristan in contemporary Lyons. Disillusioned with the records-and-monuments methods of historians, she roams the streets recording sounds Tristan may have heard. A film about the impossibility of knowing the past; the camera looks and looks but only yields implacably closed images. Sound's the thing, and in the final, long-held shot of the woman ecstatically playing her violin, the film's complex and compelling themes come together.
Jonathan Rosenbaum

Here (and above) is an extract.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 152: Mon Jun 1

Klute (Pakula, 1971): Prince Charles Cinema, 3.20pm

This is a 35mm presentation.

Chicago Reader review:
As close to a classic as anything New Hollywood produced, Alan Pakula's 1971 film tells of a small-town detective who comes to New York in search of a friend's killer. The trail leads to a tough-minded hooker who can't understand the cop's determination. Donald Sutherland works small and subtly, balancing Jane Fonda's flashy virtuoso technique. 
Dave Kehr

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 151: Sun May 31

Hollywood Shuffle (Townsend, 1987): BFI Southbank, NFT2, 12.15pm

This 35mm presentation is part of the Big Screen Classics strand at BFI Southbank.

Time Out review:
Bobby is a struggling black actor. The few roles offered by white movie writers and producers reek of artifice: punks, pimps, sassy soul brothers and Eddie Murphy clones. What's a man to do? Townsend's satire may be gentle, but more often than not it's spot on. As Bobby (Townsend) escapes the sad reality of racial stereotyping through daydreams that expose the absurdity of whites telling blacks how to be Black, we're treated to visions of a Black Acting School (learn how to play a yodelling butler Stepin Fetchit-style), a truly noir TV-noir (Sam Ace in Death of a Breakdancer), and best of all, a Bros' version of a Bazza Norman-type movie round-up. Despite the film's conspicuously minuscule budget and shaky narrative structure, it is funny. If you value enthusiasm and imagination more than glossy sophistication, you'll laugh.
Geoff Andrew 

Here (and above) is the trailer.

Capital Celluloid 2026 — Day 150: Sat May 30

California Split (Altman, 1974): Prince Charles Cinema, 6.10pm

This is a 35mm presentation.

Robert Altman made a number of groundbreaking films in the 1970s (MASH, The Long Goodbye, Nashville and McCabe and Mrs Miller). This one has slipped through the net but is no less innovative and is a must-see for anyone interested in the director's work.

Elliott Gould (slumbering through the decade in his inimitable style) and George Segal are excellent in the lead roles. It's funny and poignant and undoubtedly the best film I've seen on the subject of gambling as the pair take the well-worn road from casino to racetrack to card hall, ending up in Reno.

Chicago Reader review:
Robert Altman's masterful 1974 study of the psychology of the compulsive gambler. Elliott Gould, loose, jocular, and playful, and George Segal, neurotic, driven, and desperate, are really two halves of the same personality as they move from bet to bet, game to game, until they arrive for the big showdown in Reno. As in all Altman films, winning is losing; and the more Altman reveals, in his oblique, seemingly casual yet brilliantly controlled way, the more we realize that to love characters the way Altman loves his, you have to see them turned completely inside out.
Don Druker

Here (and above) is an extract.