Barbican Cinema intrduction: These two 35mm 'race films' from the late 1940s
feature all-Black casts, and a young William Greaves as he was
establishing his career on screen and Broadway. Screened
in segregated cinemas for Black audiences from 1915–1950s, ‘race films’
provided opportunities for more authentic representations of Black life
and a wider range of roles for Black performers in 1900s America.Miracle in Harlem blends
music, romance, and comedy; telling a story of a shipowner who is
tricked by a corrupt real estate mogul. Greaves plays the romantic lead,
straight-laced Bert, who must fend for his fiancée as they are swept up
in a murder. The film stars legendary vaudevillian star Stepin Fetchit. In Souls of Sin,
Greaves showcases his singing as guitar-playing blues musician Isaiah
'Alabama' Lee, one of three young men seeking fame and success in
Harlem.
Introduction to a special evening of two screenings of Ben Wheatley's debut film: 'This is a F&TT&N 5 Launch screening! We celebrate the launch of Ben
Wheatley's latest fanzine - film & television Thoughts & notes 5
- the Low Budget issue: with a special screening and Q&A with Ben
of his debut feature DOWN TERRACE - made for less than £10K in 2009
Ben's latest fanzine unpacks some of the thoughts, processes and
mistakes in making the film. It also features an interview with
Charlotte Regan about making her debut feature Scrapper. Every ticket to
this event comes with a copy of the fanzine. Be the first to get one -
only at the Nickel.'
Time Out review: The British gangster movie has taken a self-inflicted beating of late,
but it’s not out for the count. Staying well clear of the usual parade
of putdowns and punch-ups, ‘Down Terrace’ takes an unexpected approach
to the genre, fusing the wry realism of Ken Loach with the blackly comic
bloodlust of Ken Russell to produce perhaps the best homegrown movie of
the year so far. The action is confined almost exclusively to
one claustrophobic suburban house, where shiftless, insular dope dealers
Karl (co-writer Robin Hill) and his petulant, paranoid dad, Bill (a
stunning first-time performance from Hill’s father, Robert), are facing
trouble with the law and a snitch in their midst. Everyone is in the
frame: brooding matriarch Maggie (Julia Deakin), chubby, avuncular neighbour Garvey (Tony Way) and sadistic Irish thug Pringle (Michael Smiley) are all called upon to explain their actions, leading to rows, recriminations and, inevitably, bloodshed. Lots of it. What director Ben Wheatley
and his writing partner, Hill – veterans of TV comedy shows like ‘Time
Trumpet’ – manage to achieve in ‘Down Terrace’ is a mounting, sickening
sense of a world in freefall, where morality has been compromised to the
point of meaninglessness and where distrust leads to murder, even
within the family unit. And while this does result in a few berserk plot
diversions, particularly in the final act, Wheatley and Hill establish
such an oppressive mood and construct their characters so meticulously
that even in its most extreme moments, the film remains engrossing, not
to mention consistently funny and even, at times, rather sweet. Tom Huddleston
Chicago Reader review: A businessman with a hangdog face (Alain Delon) drinks too much beer on a
train. “What will happen to him?” he asks aloud, then answers:
“Absolutely nothing.” An affectless woman (Nathalie Baye) appears and
tells him, “The story begins on a train.” A sexual encounter between
them leaves him smitten. Begging her to use him “as a minor character,”
he follows her home to the suburbs and installs himself in her easy
chair to wallow in his infatuation and drink more beer, sometimes
joining her friends and bathrobe-clad neighbors in parading from house
to house. Bertrand Blier begins this enchanting 1984 burlesque of
bourgeois marital manners in the self-reflexive spirit of Alain
Robbe-Grillet, morphs it into a droll Bunuelian farce, then ends it on a
surprisingly sentimental note. With Genevieve Fontanel. Bill Stamets
This 35mm presentation also screens on October 29th and 30th. Full details here.
Chicago Reader review: No one denies it: F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror is
still the gold standard for Dracula onscreen. This 1922 silent German
expressionist film—an unauthorized riff on Bram Stoker’s Dracula—harnessed
the macabre tale of desire and despair from the 1897 novel. By turning
Count Dracula into the grotesque Count Orlok and moving the story to a
German town, Murnau created something entirely its own. Despite lawsuits
and near extinction, Nosferatu survived—and its shadow still looms over every vampire film made since. An adaptation was previously undertaken by Werner Herzog (1979’s Nosferatu the Vampyre) and with The Witch (2015), The Lighthouse (2019), and The Northman (2022) under his belt, director Robert Eggers daringly follows in these footsteps. Eggers’s Nosferatu is
predictably stylized—a cryptic horror that gradually leverages its
score and pallid lighting to cultivate a grand, disquieting epic. It
does so with Ellen (the Mina Murray character from Stoker’s novel,
played by Lily-Rose Depp) in the foreground. “Come to me,” Ellen calls out in a
sleepwalking state. Her call is answered by a brutish voice, and in a
second, a communion between the melancholic girl and a demon takes place
in the outside garden. This nightmare haunts Ellen to the present—1838
in the fictional German port town of Wisborg. There, she’s comforted by
her new husband, Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult), a too-sincere property
man. This comfort is cut short. Hutter’s boss, a
certain suspicious Herr Knock (Simon McBurney), sends him to the
Carpathian Mountains to help secure a property for Count Orlok in
Wisborg. Bill Skarsgård’s rendition of the vampire is unlike any
predecessor: he’s a brute with a bushy mustache who looms just out of
focus for most of the film. A rising king of horror, Skarsgård makes
sure to put his stamp on this legacy. The narrative unfolds with all the classic Dracula checkpoints—a feverish account from Hutter to the vampire’s trip on the Demeter. It’s interspersed with tributes to the yearning vampire in Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula
(1992) and the fear of the plague featured in the original silent film.
It’s fair to say Eggers is juggling a lot, and it’s these influences
that pull the film apart at times; it often clumsily balances the
absurdity and horror of its predecessors. Yet, it’s the actors who pull together Nosferatu.
Thanks to a career-making performance by Depp, Ellen is at the heart of
this forlorn nightmare—it’s a performance that pulls its audience
deeply into this sinister love affair. Maxwell Rabb
This 35mm screening is part of the National Film & Television School student-curated film seasons making their way across London cinemas in the next few months. Details here.
Time Out review: Described by director Karyn Kusama (‘Girlfight’) as ‘a tribute to the
fierce power of oestrogen’, this coming-of-age horror comedy typecasts
beautiful ‘Transformers’ star Megan Fox as Jennifer, a high school alpha
female in the ‘Heathers’ or ‘Mean Girls’ mould. However, by going
against the grain of the ’80s horror movies to which it pays
affectionate homage – ‘Carrie’, ‘Fright Night’, slasher movies in
general – the script by ‘Juno’ writer Diablo Cody explores the toxic
friendship between Jennifer and her nerdy, speccy bosom buddy, Needy
(Amanda Seyfried). ‘Sandbox love never dies,’ so they are best friends
forever. But when Jennifer’s encounter with a diabolical indie band ends
with her being sacrificed and transformed into a literally maneating
demon, Needy must see through her one-sided girl-crush in order to end
Jennifer’s bloody reign of terror. A welcome antidote to the
sexless romanticism of ‘Twilight’, Kusama and Cody’s female-driven
horror comedy explores the premise that ‘hell is a teenage girl’. When
the far from virginal Jennifer transforms, she simply becomes herself,
but more so: her sexual power is magnified, she glows with health after
feeding, and her cruel selfishness goes into overdrive. But not even
Needy’s sensitive boyfriend Chip (Johnny Simmons) will believe that
Jennifer’s body is now the embodiment of evil. There are
weaknesses: Kusama’s set-piece scare scenes aren’t always frightening,
Cody’s trademark teen slang is occasionally more forced than arch, and
the mysterious psychic connection between Jennifer and Needy is never
explained. But by tapping in to the same vein of ‘hormonal horror’ as
the excellent ‘Ginger Snaps’, this offers a witty, subversive look at
the darker side of teen friendship. Nigel Floyd
This is a 16mm presentation from the great Cine-Real team and is also screened on October 25th. You can find the full details here.
Time Out review: Nearly 60 years on, Ealing's compendium of
spooky tales remains scary as hell. The best of the five stories,
which we see enacted as they're related in turn by guests at a country
house, are Alberto Cavalcanti's 'The Ventriloquist's Dummy', with Michael Redgrave
possessed by his deceptively lifeless little partner, and Hamer's 'The
Haunted Mirror', with the splendid Googie Withers a reluctant participant as
history repeats itself; least frightening, but amusing, are Basil Radford and
Naunton Wayne as typically obsessive sporting coves in Crichton's 'Golfing
Story'. Best of all, however, is the overall narrative arc, with the
framing story finally taking a headlong rush into a nightmarish realm
almost surreal in its weird clarity and familiarity. Geoff Andrew
This 35mm screening is part of the National Film and Television Schoolstudent-curated film seasons making their way to cinemas across London over the few months. Details here.
Chicago Reader review: A yakuza chief who’s turned up in LA helps his brother form an alliance
between Japanese and black gangsters, which rivals the city’s Italian
Mafia only until the new syndicate clashes with the old. The chief,
played by writer-director-editor Takeshi Kitano (aka Beat Takeshi),
exhales self-parody and cool in the same breath. Though he bonds with
local Omar Epps in the buddy configuration typical of action comedy,
Kitano’s handling of this convention—and of extreme violence—is unique.
The buddies are characterized by deceptively simple twists on
acknowledged stereotypes, and their intimacy evolves gradually through
an accumulation of small gestures. A wizard at manipulating time, Kitano
introduces staccato elements that interrupt the meditative pace even as
they help set it. And he uses this paradoxically peaceful tension to
inspire in us a kind of spiritual response to the violence—a sensation
that’s utterly different from the visceral reaction we have to most
actioners, which we only hope is catharsis. Pat Graham
This 35mm presentation (also screened on November 23rd) is part of the Roger Corman season at BFI Southbank. You can find the full details here.
Chicago Reader review: Scientist Ray Milland discovers a potion that gives him X-ray vision,
and after becoming a freak he ends his days as a sideshow attraction
promoted by Don Rickles, who gives a fine low performance. This queasy
1963 SF parable was directed—quickly and cheaply—by Roger Corman for
American-International, drawing some of its strength from its tawdry
drive-in overtones. Milland grows through his debasement, and the
production offers plenty of it. Dave Kehr
Chicago Reader review: A large portion of this highly original 2006 feature from Mali by Abderrahmane Sissako (Life on Earth, Waiting for Happiness)
consists of a hearing devoted to the operations of the World Bank and
the International Monetary Fund in Africa, with judge, black and white
lawyers, and witnesses all played by nonactors who’ve written their own
speeches, many of them angry. All this is set outdoors, in a backyard in
a poor section of Bamako, the capital of Mali, and the remainder of the
film is devoted to glimpses of everyday African life taking place
around this event. Sissako scrupulously avoids making any facile
connections between his two blocks of material, and his cast, even when
silent, are always eloquent. Jonathan Rosenbaum
Time Out review: Marvellous performance from Barbara Stanwyck, all snap, crackle and pop as the
brassy nightclub entertainer Sugarpuss O'Shea who seeks refuge with
seven crusty old professors (plus Gary Cooper) to escape unwelcome attentions
from a gangster, and whose vocabulary (not to mention charms) excite
delighted wonderment in the professors since they have just reached
'Slang' in the encyclopaedia they are compiling. Rather surprisingly,
Hawks slightly muffs the sequence in which the gangster and his aides
get their comeuppance; otherwise his handling of the sparkling
Brackett-Wilder script and its subversions of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is pure joy. Tom Milne
Rejoice! Screenings from prints are back at Everyman Screen where Michael Mann returns from September 25th to October 24th in a season dedicated to five unforgettable works from one of modern cinema's most influential filmmakers. This 35mm screening (also being shown on October 23rd and 25th) is part of a programme that included Collateral, Last of the Mohicans and Thief. Full details here.
Time Out review: Investigating a bold armed robbery which has left three security guards
dead, LA cop Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino), whose devotion to work is
threatening his third marriage, follows a trail that leads him to
suspect a gang of thieves headed by Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro). Trouble is,
McCauley's cunning is at least equal to Hanna's, and that makes him a
hard man to nail. Still, unknown to Hanna, McCauley's gang have their
own troubles: one of their number is a volatile psychopath, while the
businessman whose bonds they've stolen is not above some rough stuff
himself. Such a synopsis barely scratches the surface of Mann's masterly
crime epic. Painstakingly detailed, with enough characters, subplots
and telling nuances to fill out half a dozen conventional thrillers,
this is simply the best American crime movie - and indeed, one of the
finest movies, period - in over a decade. The action scenes are better
than anything produced by John Woo or Quentin Tarantino; the
characterisation has a depth most American film-makers only dream of;
the use of location, decor and music is inspired; Dante Spinotti's
camerawork is superb; and the large, imaginatively chosen cast gives
terrific support to the two leads, both back on glorious form. Geoff Andrew
This is a 35mm restoration print of Ken Russell's cult movie and is being screened for a week ending its run on October 29th. You can find the full details here. The new director's cut was a great success at the London Film Festival and these 35mm presentations seem sure to prove very popular.
Time Out review: There's plenty here that's still incredibly shocking. The
scenes of plague are truly vile, as are the climatic torture scenes. But
what horrifies most is Ken Russell's nihilistic view of the world in
general, and humanity in particular: almost without exception, we are
shown to be vain, lustful, perverse, self-serving, murderous,
disease-ridden, exploitative, decadent, deluded creatures unworthy or
incapable of salvation. Approach with extreme caution. Tom Huddleston
This is the opening night of the Shōhei Imamura season at the ICA. Full details here.
Chicago Reader review: Shohei Imamura’s first feature (1958), shot in black-and-white ‘Scope,
deals with a form of working-class Kabuki that attracted him as a
college student, but its story about an itinerant troupe performing a
striptease version of the form near Osaka isn’t very inspired.
Nevertheless, Imamura characteristically finds some vitality in
vulgarity—though his more prosaic working title, “Tent Theatre,” was
rejected by the production company. Jonathan Rosenbaum
This film will be followed by a group discussion in the bar area with Nick Walker of the Cult Classic Collective.
Chicago Reader review: The treacherous-mate theme that has been a staple of “women's pictures” since Gaslight
gets its ultimate, most agonizing development in this 1968 story about a
young woman (Mia Farrow) who discovers her husband has sold her body
for use by a witches' coven. The horror is more clinical than
supernatural, as Polanski transforms Ira Levin's story into a metaphor
for the loss of identity induced by pregnancy. A very sophisticated,
very effective piece of work spun from primal images, with an excellent
cast that includes John Cassavetes, Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer, Ralph
Bellamy, Maurice Evans, Patsy Kelly, and Elisha Cook Jr. Dave Kehr
Time Out review: Detective Vince Edwards hunts Los Angeles for dynamiter Chuck Connors (a
nicely quirky characterisation), who is writing to the papers to
explain that his bombs are punishments meted out to society. The victims
include a high school, a hospital, a Women's Lib group...and aid comes
from the unlikely quarter of a pathetic rapist (Brand, another fine
performance). Shoddily assembled, but brightly conceived and very well
acted, it has a genuine 'B' movie vitality. (From a story by Marc Behm).
Time Out review: A mini-masterpiece, this is a cross between a ‘Grand Hotel’ for the
1980s and film noir: a crumbling Paris hotel houses four groups of
people whose paths occasionally cross. One is the group around detective
Terzieff, still trying to solve a murder of years ago; another is the
entourage of boxer Tiger Jones, in training with his manager (Johnny
Hallyday); another is a couple on the verge of breaking up; and the last
is the Mafia. Much of it, especially Léaud (Terzieff’s nephew-aide) and
Cuny as a Godfather who judges men by their toilet habits, is riotously
funny. Built on the charisma of its stars and on memories of the great
thrillers of the ’40s, tenuously held together by Jean-Luc Godard’s romantic
pessimism, curiosity and sense of humour, it’s co-dedicated, sensibly,
to Clint Eastwood. Tony Rayns
Time Out review: RogerCorman's first gangster movie is one of the most ambitious and rewarding of his '50s quickies: not because it transcends any of its inherent limitations, but rather because it indulges them recklessly. Apparently modelling itself on Siegel's Baby Face Nelson, it sees Kelly (Charles Bronson) as a child-like thug with a pathological fear of death, helplessly dominated by his moll Flo (Susan Cabot, Corman's favourite femme fatale until Barbara Steele came along). The post-Freudian motifs aren't imposed on the dime-novel material; they grow with a hysteria all of their own from the sleazy settings and one-note performances. The movie reveals Corman as a director entirely in touch with his audience, and Floyd Crosby as one of the most prodigiously resourceful cameramen in Hollywood history. Tony Rayns