A bit of surprise news: There’s a (sort of) new theater in town. The multiplex high above the former car dealership on mid-Van Ness Ave. has been taken over by another owner—its third, I believe—and is now operating as Apple Cinemas Van Ness. I wouldn’t expect major physical changes, since prior operator CGV (which took over after AMC left in 2019) poured a purported $54 million into upgrading the facilities…then inexplicably bailed on the enterprise after less than two years. During which they never made a serious effort to promote the venue, so many residents never even realized it had re-opened.
Apple Cinemas (no relation to the computer brand) is likewise having a “soft opening” without any significant publicity, but let’s hope that soon changes, lest they fall prey to the same word-of-mouth dearth of their immediate predecessor. At present, the bill of fare is the same wide releases (Superman, Jurassic World Rebirth, F1, etc.) you can find everywhere, but maybe there will eventually be room for more specialized programming. Anyway, get it while you can: Current listings for Apple Cinemas Van Ness are here. (This news comes along with celebratory word that the Roxie secured ownership of its building for $5 million, putting it in a much more stable position.)
Meanwhile, if you’re not interested in such mainstream fare—this Friday’s major such arrivals are two franchise entries, the horror remake I Know What You Did Last Summer and animation reboot Smurfs—there are several more arthouse-oriented new releases to choose from, detailed below. Probably none of them will be as willfully perverse as Eddington, the latest from Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar, Beau Is Afraid), with Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Emma Stone, and others in an “apocalyptic western” set during the COVID pandemic’s initial onset. But that sendup of our “divisive” current political landscape, paranoid conspiracy theories ’n’ all, was unavailable for preview by this column’s deadline.
Growing Up In Chaos: Two Childhoods Amidst Adult Conflict
Two accomplished new movies from women directors take a child’s-eye view of worlds made inscrutable by discord amongst grownups. Schindler’s List and “Mad Men” actress Embeth Davidtz makes her debut behind the camera adapting Don’t Let’s Go To The Dogs Tonight, journalist Alexandra Fuller’s bestselling 2001 memoir about her early years in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). The film is set in 1980, on the eve of a national election that turned the British colony into an independent nation, ending white rule. That prospect is viewed with terror and resentment by the Fullers, who after years of defensive living during the Rhodesian Bush War are gun-toting arms of the minority government facing an imminent demise.
Dad Tim (Rob Van Vuuren) is frequently away on army tours, combating Black “terrorists” whose tactics have indeed gotten more violent towards Caucasian settlers—even relatively poor, scraping-along ones like his family. Mom Nicola (Davidtz), who refuses to consider moving despite escalating danger, has to pull shifts at the police HQ in town, where suspected rebels are imprisoned and quite likely tortured. But she spends a lot of her time angrily bossing around the Fullers’ two servants, Jacob (Furmani N. Shilubana) and Sarah (Zikhona Bali), and/or drinking herself into various degrees of stupor. Eldest daughter Vanessa (Anina Reed), stuck at home between boarding-school terms, is just trying to have a normal bourgeoise adolescence—something impossible under these circumstances.
Their separate self-absorptions leave eight-year-old Bobo (Lexi Venter) pretty much alone, her main companions being the family cat, their three canines, and Sarah, whom she tries to shoehorn into the affectionate maternal role her real mother seldom feels inclined to play. At home with the bush wildlife (including a cobra that mom casually shoots in the kitchen), Bobo makes an almost feral impression not unlike that of Quvenzhane Wallis in Beasts of the Southern Wild. She is raising herself, intrigued by the belief systems of her supposed racial inferiors while finding few role models among her own kind. She’s too young to understand why Jacob or Sarah must be wary of getting “too close” to her, or why they bridle when she innocently imitates the imperious behavior of white adults.
Dramatizing just part of Fuller’s book, the South Africa-produced Dogs (Davidtz spent much of her youth in that country) is impressionistic and fragmentary, stylistically channeling its heroine’s viewpoint, which is astute in observing up-close details but often oblivious to the bigger picture. It’s an impressively textured directorial debut, even if the grownups’ world may seem simplistically depicted at times, and a parting note or two a bit trite. Bobo’s perspective isn’t exclusive—there’s an alarming scene when poor Vanessa is assaulted by a drunk, leering “uncle” at a party—but it is our primary one, and Davidtz coaxes a remarkable turn from child actor Venter. She makes Bobo seem forever in the moment, a spirit strong enough to endure trials she’s probably fortunate to not yet fully grasp. Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight opens Fri/18 at Bay Area theaters including SF’s Opera Plaza, Berkeley’s Elmwood, and the Smith Rafael Film Center in Marin.
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Similar praise has greeted the performance of Mia Banko as the six-year-old protagonist in Czech filmmaker Beata Parkanova’s Tiny Lights, which is now streaming on arthouse platform Film Movement Plus. Amalka’s perspective is exclusive in this 76-minute dramatic miniature, which takes place in the course of a single day—she’s in every shot, and we are very conscious of the director keeping us from any knowledge she might not glean or overhear herself. Unfortunately, that’s probably already too much for her age, as the impish redhead not only detects the dissonance between her quarreling parents (Elizaveta Maximova, Martin Finger), but has a grandma (Veronika Zilkova) who’s shrilly unrestrained about criticizing their actions—which seem to encompass mutual infidelity, edging towards divorce—within the child’s earshot. At least grandpa (Marek Geisberg) is a mediating force.
Given all those shadowy tensions, it’s no surprise that Amalka does a certain amount of petulant acting-out during a day largely spent farmed out to the doting grandparents. But she is largely a sunny presence. Almost too much so—this well-crafted movie can be a tad precious, and unlike in Dogs, I was overaware of the juvenile star’s precocious, sometimes preening professionalism. She has to carry the entire film, and it’s a testament to our arguablynunfair expectations around child actors that her doing so in such polished fashion can ring a bit false; we want naturalism, not tangible expertise. Tiny Lights itself is good as far as it goes, but in the end I wasn’t convinced it might have worked just as well or better as a short of one-third the length or less.
To A Land Unknown
The immigrant/refugee drama is now a staple of European cinema, for obvious real-world reasons. Mahdi Fleifel’s Greece-shot multinational production is among the best of recent examples, delivering a tale of brotherly love that is oddly reminiscent of Midnight Cowboy. Actually our protagonists here are cousins from Palestine, whose current stay in Athens is hopefully just a stopover on their way to a gainfully employed better life in Germany. But they must gain money for fake passports, human smuggling and other expenses first.
The reason for their leaving home only gradually becomes clear, as we realize that sweet-natured but irresponsible Reda (Aram Sabbah) has exhausted his family’s patience, being a fuckup who can’t be trusted not to lapse into drug abuse when left to his own devices. So older, straight-edge Chatila (Mahmood Bakri) has left his own wife and child behind in a Lebanese refugee camp to mind this skateboarding manchild, intending to set them both up in a more stable, prosperous life in the west.
They gain possible allies in a 13-year-old from Gaza (Mohammad Alsurafa) who needs chaperoning to reach an aunt in Italy, and a jaded Greek woman (Angeliki Papoulia) who might be willing to help but has her own issues. Human frailty, the need to utilize criminal ties, and other factors make the odds against them imposing indeed. This deeply empathic and finely crafted tale has some of the tragic depth of pioneering neorealistic classics—it really earns that lump in your throat. A favorite at last year’s SF Arab Fest, it opens at the Roxie this Fri/18.
Unicorns
Another buddy pic of sorts is this UK feature by Sally El Hosaini (My Brother the Devil) and James Krishna Floyd (an actor who appeared in her film The Swimmers), which inhabits a cross-cultural serio-comedic terrain familiar from movies like My Beautiful Launderette and Kinky Boots. Ben Hardy plays Luke, a surly young car mechanic working in his father’s garage while raising the very young son whose mother has abandoned them both. By chance one night he wanders into an underground London club, and is instantly smitten with the performer doing a bombastically bump-and-grindy dance act onstage.
The feeling is mutual—though it’s doused when Luke realizes glamorous Aysha (Jason Patel) has an adam’s apple, which causes him to storm off in angry confusion. Nonetheless, the two develop an alliance, with Aysha/Ashiq hiring him as chauffeur, introducing him to a wild world of South Asian drag personalities, some of whom have quite fiery rivalries. Meanwhile, the attraction Luke rejected at first keeps asserting itself. But so does the pressure from Ashiq’s conservative Muslim family, who cannot accept his lifestyle and cope by pretending they’re unaware of it.
Unicorns has strong performances, a colorfully slick presentation (though unaided by the inappropriately treacly original score), and plenty of crowdpleasing energy. Still, I couldn’t help finding it awfully reminiscent of numerous past movies with a similar central dynamic, and thought a story whose beats are this predictable didn’t need a full two hours to play out. It opens Fri/18 at SF’s Opera Plaza Cinemas.
One-Night Stands: Zombies, McAdams, ‘Fucktoys,’ Implants
Several single showings this week are worth special mention. Though it bypassed Bay Area theaters this spring, Hung Up on a Dream: The Zombies Documentary (the band, not the horror genre) is coming to down after all, playing Fri/18 at the Great American Music Hall in conjunction with a live performance by founding member Colin Blunstone, backed by the band Rooney—whose founder is the film’s director, Robert Schwartzman. The British Invasion group famous for “She’s Not There” has long been a huge favorite for fans of Sixties pop, though this overview is sadder than you might expect: Their career (begun when some were barely teenagers) was incredibly brief, terminated early because they never quite capitalized on their early chart success. But also because they were, like so many acts of the time, hugely exploited by their management, which pocketed major profits yet gave the members so little to live on that they broke up out of financial necessity.
Worse, that breakup preceded the wholly unexpected success of a last single, the genius “Time of the Season”—which was such a hit that copycat groups were formed to impersonate the Zombies in concert in order to cash in on it. A memorable anecdote here is that before they called it quits, the lads accepted an offer to play Manila, thinking at least they’d get a free vacation out of it. Upon arriving, they were stunned to realize they’d been booked to perform at a stadium for a full week—filling it every night, with zero knowledge beforehand of their popularity in the Philippines. Still… they were only paid a few pounds each for the gig, while the promoter and their own reps presumably made a small fortune. On the plus side, most Zombies did go on to successful careers in other guises, several within the music industry. It’s an engaging documentary with plenty of archival footage. For more info on the GAMH date (and other Zombies activities), go here.
Another event affording considerable delight is “Cartoon Girl: The Restored Films of Heather McAdams,” a co-presentation with Canyon Cinema and SF Cinematheque at the Roxie on Sun/20 (more info here). Though a woman who wears many hats—including “cartoonist, performance artist, painter, sculptor, junk salesperson”—her movies, as represented by the collection of eight shorts (all from 1980-1995) collected here seem to lean towards antic and dynamic found-footage collage. They range from the hilarious All Fucked Up to Holiday Magic’s poke at feminine beauty standards, the more sinister Fetal Pig Syndrome, and carnival “freak show” tribute Comes to a Point Like an Ice Cream Cone. Then there are two longer, no less antic character portraits, both of distinctive multitalented cross-dressers: Meet…Bradley Harrison Picklesimer and The Lester Film. McAdams and Chicago Film Society’s Kyle Westphal will discuss her career and these newly restored works after the screening.
Finally, those seeking camp and sleaze will be in heaven with a couple other presentations this weekend. Annapurna Sriram’s Fucktoys, which played CAAM a few weeks back, has the writer-director as a bisexual dominatrix sent down a phantasmagorical path after a tarot reader tells her she’s “cursed.” Roughly what you’d get if you crossed Eating Raoul with Sordid Lives, then adding a climactic thriller element, it is an exercise in deliberate “bad taste” that attempts to tread the path once pioneered by John Waters. It will kick off Movies for Maniacs’ new “Get Off the Internet” series (of films you cannot find online) this Sat/19 at the Great Star Theater in Chinatown. Details here.
Which venue is not to be confused with the 4-Star, where the next night you will be able to experience the silicone overload that is 1997’s Sorceress II: The Temptress (more info here). I have a faint memory of its 1995 predecessor (which involved such relatively mainstream names as Linda Blair, Edward Albert and Michael Parks) being a minor camp classic—I mean, it must be good, since there’s a VHS tape of it on my shelf. There’s a reason why this sequel, which is barely related beyond the presence of erstwhile Penthouse Pet Julie Strain and a plot centered around witchery, is (even) less well-known. However, its tale of sexy sinister doings in “Coventry, California” (get it?!?) will enthrall those looking for the kind of quasi-horror movie in which the primary tension rests on how long it will take various fetish-model-looking women to take off their blouses, revealing giant orbs with no connection to gravity or movement. (Answer: About five seconds.) This softcore silliness is brought to you by Piranha Psychotronic and Kafka K, whose Media Meltdown Movie Madness promises such subterranean weirdness every third Sunday.
