The 52nd edition of the Chicago film festival includes tributes to Peter Bogdanovich (The Last Picture Show), Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave), Claude Lelouch (A Man and a Woman), Geraldine Chaplin (Doctor Zhivago), Alfonso Arau (Like Water for Chocolate), and producer James D. Stern (An Education). But what I’m most curious about this year is the festival’s spotlight on the musical, a genre dear to the hearts of many but challenged, since the 1970s, by the rise of rock and hip-hop and the heightened realism of the modern cinema. The series collects new musicals from Brazil, Poland, Israel, Finland, and the UK, as well as a restoration of the long-lost Bing Crosby/Paul Whiteman vehicle King of Jazz (1930) and, on opening night, the midwest premiere of Damien Chazelle’s La La Land, starring Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. (The latter, a romance between an aspiring actress and musician, sounds more like Chazelle’s dreamy debut feature, Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench, than his celebrated sophomore effort, Whiplash.) The movie musical is an American invention, so we should be proud to see it flower in other cultures. —J.R. Jones
The B-Side: Elsa Dorfman’s Portrait Photography Errol Morris indulges his long-standing interest in photographic method with this slight but agreeable profile of portrait photographer Elsa Dorfman, who made a big name for herself with large-format Polaroid photography but chose to retire after the company discontinued the film in 2008. Associated with Grove Press in the 60s, Dorfman took up photography in the mid-70s and shot numerous black-and-white images of literary and musical icons (Allen Ginsberg, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Jorge Luis Borges, Anaïs Nin, Anne Sexton, Audre Lorde, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan, Jonathan Richman). But the Polaroid portraits she began taking in 1980, captured in fluorescent tones on 20-by-24-inch film, brought out a new sense of color and artifice in her work. “I’m totally not interested in capturing their souls,” she tells Morris. “I’m only interested in how they seem.” To judge from this chatty, fleetly edited film, Morris feels the same way about her, but her story does illustrate the dilemma of an artist dependent on a corporation for her materials. —J.R. Jones 76 min. Sat 10/15, 3:45 PM, and Mon 10/17, 12:15 PM.
Elle Dutch writer-director Paul Verhoeven, making his first French- language film, returns to the themes of sexual perversion and errant womanhood he mined in Basic Instinct (1992) and Showgirls (1995). An affluent video games executive in Paris (Isabelle Huppert) is brutally raped in the first few minutes of the movie, and her reaction ranges from sad and predictable (she doesn’t report the crime) to disturbing and unexpected (she’s attracted to the perpetrator). Huppert is spellbinding as the icy, licentious victim; she seems to be daring the viewer to dislike her character, but the woman’s mettle and barbed wit produce the opposite effect. Verhoeven masterfully stretches the suspense, and his gallows humor lands most of the time. His attempts at edginess slide into exploitation, though, as he entertains the notion that women might enjoy sexual assault and even deserve it. In French with subtitles. —Leah Pickett R, 131 min. Thu 10/20, 8:30 PM.
Like Water for Chocolate Based on the best-selling novel by Laura Esquivel, who adapted her own work for the screen, this delightful piece of magical realism (1992) from Mexican director Alfonso Arau contemplates the unrequited love of a single woman for her brother-in-law, which can be expressed only through the sensual meals she prepares for him. (The original novel even contains recipes.) The title, incidentally, derives from a Mexican slang expression that means, approximately, “ready to boil.” In Spanish with subtitles. —Jonathan Rosenbaum Arau attends the screening. 113 min. Mon 10/17, 5:30 PM.
One Day Since Yesterday: Peter Bogdanovich and the Lost American Film This 2014 documentary about the eminent American filmmaker lacks the production value of A&E’s Biography series, let alone the style and virtuosity of Bogdanovich’s signature film, The Last Picture Show. The title may suggest an in-depth profile of the man or a study of his influence on Hollywood, but director Bill Teck focuses more on Bogdanovich’s romantic relationship with ingenue Dorothy Stratten, who appeared in his 1981 caper comedy They All Laughed (see review below) and was murdered by her estranged husband prior to the film’s release. Movie buffs won’t learn anything about the Stratten case that hasn’t already been covered in other media (including Bob Fosse’s drama Star 80), and the documentary’s shoddy production seems unworthy of Bogdanovich, whose filmography demands a closer look. With Jeff Bridges, Quentin Tarantino, and Wes Anderson. —Leah Pickett Teck and Bogdanovich attend the screening. 120 min. Sun 10/16, 5 PM.
They All Laughed Peter Bogdanovich conceived of this 1981 film—about a New York detective (Ben Gazzara) hired to follow a millionaire’s unhappy wife (Audrey Hepburn)—as a revival of the romance and sophistication of Ernst Lubitsch’s comedies. If intentions counted more than accomplishment, this movie would be a masterpiece: all the right elements are present, chosen with a keen critical eye. But Bogdanovich, a cold director drawn to sentimental material, doesn’t have the warmth to bring it off, and his wobbly control of tone keeps leading the physical comedy into pain and humiliation, the romance into prurience, and the wit into the realm of the sour and shrill. With John Ritter, Colleen Camp, Blaine Novak, and Dorothy Stratten, luminous in her last screen appearance. —Dave Kehr PG, 115 min. Mon 10/17, noon.
