| CINEFAMILY's FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE / December |
One of the great joys of running a movie theater is being able to see
your favorite films play fifteen feet high and crankin' loud, but
there are certain programming limitations; there are films we've
personally wanted to show, but for various reason felt unable to.
Some are great films we just couldn't fit into any of our series, but
couldn't wait any longer to watch. Some are just films we've been
obsessed with lately, but wondered whether the things we liked about
them might be too personal, or too difficult to parse from their
flaws, to expect anyone else to necessarily enjoy. Too slow? Too
confusing? Too challenging? How many people could sit through a
foreign film that's neither subtitled nor dubbed? Is this movie just
too damned strange? Is this film maybe not for "civilians"? These
are the kinds of films you want to press into a friend's hand--but
with lots of disclaimers. "I love this movie, but..." At its heart,
this is a festival of our indulgence--these are films we just wanted
an excuse to screen, no explanations, no apologies--on the splendor
of the big screen. And you're all invited to join us.
12/4 @ 7:30pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 The Orphan
We came across the forgotten exploitation gem The Orphan while
researching our Evil Children series via a fascinating description in
grindhouse historian Steven Thrower's essential book Nightmare
U.S.A. Thrower's taste for the peculiar and the lost was so spot-on,
that despite a slow and choppy first third, his recommendation (he
devotes an entire chapter to The Orphan) implored us to finish
watching the film all the way through. Once over the hump, we saw
that not all of the film's strangeness came from a fucked-up
production, but that there was also conscious artistic vision from a
young director inspired by the likes of Bergman and Fellini. Creepy,
unforgettable and fascinating, The Orphan plots a child's descent
into madness without the guiding forces of a benevolent adult; after
the mysterious nasty death of both his Roaring '20s party animal
parents, young David is left in the care of his prudish, restrictive
aunt, who refuses to let him indulge in his adolescent instincts.
Begun in 1969, The Orphan wasn't finished filming for almost ten
years, and passed through the hands of multiple master editors (Ralph
Rosenberg, Susan Morse) before finally being finished off by its last
producers, who lopped off a debilatating, forever-lost 25 minutes.
The result is an erotic film missing much of its sex, and a film of
delicate dream logic unintentionally made more obscure by its missing
scenes. But remaining, for those willing to meet the film halfway,
is a kind of gothic Gatsby-era head film, centered around an
astonishing child performance by Mark Owens (in his only screen
role), with many scenes potent enough to satisfy the hearty filmgoer.
Tickets - $10
12/4 @ 10pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 Cracking Up
Executed in a fog of Percidan following a heart attack and a suicide
attempt, this is Jerry Lewis' last feature film--a minimally released
followup to his surprise comeback hit Hardly Working. Smorgasbord
(aka Cracking Up) is a series of setpieces revolving around a middle-
aged man (Jerry) in extensive therapy as he tries to figure out what
went wrong with his pathetic life. He's an open nerve, with all of
life's minor indignities and petty pains driving him nuts, and it's
the mechanism of life that's cracking up here. We can't say what
Jerry's intent might have been beyond getting some yucks, but what he
concocted is not just an assault on filmic conventions and comedy
norms, but reality itself. It some ways it comes off as so formally
brazen that the end result was avant-garde enough to appeal to
academically inclined critics and Lewis lovers--Jonathan Rosenbaum,
for example, sandwiched cracking up Cracking Up between Bresson's
L'argent and Kiarostami's Fellow Citizen on his list of best films of
1983 (the only English-language pick on the list). But If Cracking
Up evokes art film or experimental theater, it's in how Jerry Lewis'
trademark anarchic live-action cartoon style has been modulated,
slowed, and extended, so the jokes are rendered stultifying absurd.
If you inject pregnant pauses into Bugs Bunny's patter as Elmer Fudd
stares off blankly into space--while we are left to watch their
jokes slowly creep off-screen to die--then you have the
malfunctioning directorial swan song of the sad clown that is Jerry
Lewis.
Tickets - $10
12/5 @ 7:30pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 Fast-Walking
shown with
Some Call it Loving
James B. Harris is a name known to confirmed cinephiles, if only
because, when young, he produced three outstanding films for an
equally young director, Stanley Kubrick -- THE KILLING (1956); PATHS
OF GLORY (1958); and LOLITA (1962). What goes less remarked is that
when they amiably parted ways in the mid 60s, Kubrick had (following
Harris's example) become an excellent producer, while Harris (well-
schooled by his partner's passionate exactitude) emerged as a superb
film director. We plan to celebrate Harris's body of work with two of
his most memorable and controversial films -- SOME CALL IT LOVING,
also known as SLEEPING BEAUTY (1973); and FAST-WALKING (1982). The
first is a lyrical, dreamily romantic and intentionally disturbing
work (based on a John Collier short story) about a jazz-artist
(Zalman King) who believes he's found his idea woman in the literal
Sleeping Beauty (Tisa Farrow) who is displayed, a comatose prop for
the kisses of lonely men, as part of a carnival sideshow. He bundles
her away and awakens her, and ... Well! Who was it that said that "in
the heart of every cynic is a burnt romantic?" FAST-WALKING walks a
similar line, in a more hard-boiled environment, but with a shaggy
sense of humor. James Woods is a affably corrupt, stoner prison guard
who finds himself walking a tightrope between his own jinxed
principles and a circle of conspirators who wish to use him in a plot
to kill a black militant under his lock & key. Woods is brilliant
(as always) and acts opposite Kay Lenz, M. Emmett Walsh, Tim Carey
and Tim McIntyre -- to name a few! James B. Harris will be in persons
for a Q & A!
Tickets - $10
12/6 @ 10pm & Midnight/ SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 Dangerous Men
In its initial mysterious one-week L.A. theatrical run --in which it
was booked into EIGHT theaters in the same arthouse chain, no less--
the inexplicable-in-every-way Dangerous Men was viewed by literally
about 50 people--though receipts may have been deceptively higher
cause of maniacs like us seeing it two and three times. After those
few viewers quickly ran out and told everyone they knew about how
mindbendingly entertaining and unusual it was, a flare of interest
generated a handful of midnight shows before it finally vanished.
Since its disappearance into the ether--few have been marked by the
experience of seeing Dangerous Men, but none will forget! These
intrepid viewers, whenever they run into each other at a party or
BBQ, will swap stories like veterans of a great war battle, eagerly
recounting practically every scene in the picture in minute detail to
each other, in no particular order of awesomeness, savoring every
memory. Just for you (and us), we've plucked the film from the
clutches of oblivion to give to you one of the most singularly unique
movie experiences you've had in years, so that you too may join the
cult, and find yourself muttering the code words "Dangerous Men" to
strangers. Trying to describe Dangerous Men to those who haven't
seen it is a nearly pointless exercise. Even director John S. Rad
himself relied on a cacophony of mixed adjectives in his great
tagline "An unforgettable suspense, mystery drama" (not our comma).
Which he later added "comedy" to, between "unforgettable" and "suspense", after the film's initial reception. Upon our own first
viewing of the film, we geniunely wondered for the first twenty
minutes whether or not it was all a hoax, an elaborate well-done
prank by a precocious art school student. EVERYTHING was wrong in oh-
so-right a way, and the director's name, John S. Rad, was just too,
uh, rad to seem like someone had thought it up. It didn't seem
possible that someone could've hit the bullseye in every scene, every
shot, every audio edit--but there you have it. Forgot Troll 2,
forget Ed Wood, forget--dare we say, The Visitor--Dangerous Men is
the holiest of all Holyfuckingshits. The reason it's in the Festival
of Indulgence is that it's so unique that we couldn't find one other,
much less three other films to match it with in a series. But we
just can't wait to exercise our powers as film programmers to show as
a Holyfuckingshit anymore.
Tickets - $10
10pm
Midnight
12/9 @ 8pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
The Experimental Experiment
One of the great difficulties of programming theme-based experimental film nights (like The Fine Art of Fear, or Guerrilla Television) has been the difficulty of seeing these films in advance. Experimental films are difficult to see outside of exhibitions, and screeners are generally unavailable. Lustfully and curiously paging through the catalogs of Canyon Cinema, Electronic Arts Intermix or The Filmmaker's Co-op, we often come across intriguing names and films we've never heard of, or have never seen. How to see them? Are they any good? Who is the director Herbert Jean deGrasse, and is he worth knowing? For tonight's program, we're taking the indulgent opportunity to order a grab bag of films from these catalogs, ones whose descriptions captured our imagination. We don't know them, we can't vouch for them, but we wanna see them. Discovery is our idea of a good time--it's an experiment. Come join us to yay or nay at this experimental film version of The Gong Show, and maybe we'll see a new few gems, and you might even help us program a night or two for 2009.
Tickets - $10
12/11 @ 7:30pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 The Passing
We first caught this 16mm oddity late one night on "The B-Movie
Channel"--a now-defunct basic cable outlet for public domain
obscurities--and, clueless to what it was, found ourselves totally
captivated. Baltimore director John Huckert's sci-fi arthouse curio
is a unique melding of verite naturalism and chilly techno-terror a
la Cronenberg. At first, we meet a young white trash petty criminal
on a path to death row. This "mullet noir" action alternates with a
documentary-like depiction of two WWII vet buddies facing the sunset
of their days. The very genuine moments that we spend with these old
coots are the heart of the film, and are full of subtle, wry humor--
no saccharine-soaked cornball Cocoon-erisms here. But what do these
two disparate thematic threads have in common? Eventually they're
sewn together at a creepy soul-transferal institute full of dark
foreboding hallways, menacing murmuring and flickering, clanking
computers. At this point, Huckert shifts away from the character
study and renders the reincarnation experiments by going into full
blown "head film" mode, unfurling his own dimestore 2001 "Stargate"
sequence. An atmospheric no-budget labor of love that benefits from
some truly affecting performances from it's non-professional actors.
I'm not really surprised it's been rarely seen or discussed. Too
lowkey to be a cult film but far too far out for the normals, THE
PASSING lives in its own beautiful little cinematic universe.
Tickets - $10
12/11 @ 10pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 O.C. and Stiggs
''O. C. and Stiggs''...deals with what may be one of the director's
least favorite subjects: all-American boys." - Janet Maslin, New York
Times
"It failed quite successfully." - Robert Altman, 2005 O.C. and Stiggs
DVD interview
Robert Altman did not suffer fools gladly. Part of the experience of
watching an Altman film--along with bathing in an abundance of warm,
realistic and humanistic portrayals of characters he sympathizes
with--is to take part in his unbridled sadism towards those
characters he finds to be buffoons. In terms of his pure disgust for
the inanities of the human race, none of his films comes even close
to O.C. and Stiggs, a thoroughly hateful film which becomes a total
joy when viewed in the right context. After his troubled 1980
production of Popeye, Altman found himself a pariah in the studio
system, and constantly bemoaned in interviews about how the "new
Hollywood" was gearing everything towards kids. So, when MGM came a-knockin' to give him his first studio film in four years, Altman
quickly jumped at the chance to work in the big leagues again, with
the full knowledge that he was being asked to participate in the then
in-vogue teensploitation genre. The second he came on board for O.C.
and Stiggs, the iconoclastic director intended for the end product to
be a satire of the genre, and seen with that knowledge, the film is a
rollicking, anarchistic good time. O.C. and Stiggs are two bored-to-death Arizona kids who relentlessly torment the Schwab clan, the
local fatcat family responsible for the cancellation of the insurance
policy of one of their grandfathers--but all that's hardly the
point. Repulsed at being simply forced to tell a story about
pubescent delinquents, Altman turned things his way by making the
protagonists ignorant unlikeable assholes, and burying their
shimmering nonsense amongst the enjoyable, zany efforts of a
crackerjack supporting cast (Dennis Hopper, Paul Dooley, Ray Walston,
Jane Curtin, Jon Cryer, Cynthia Nixon, Martin Mull and Melvin Van
Peebles), colorful surreal suburban set design, and big slippery
handfuls of barbed political humor (going so far as to reprise his "Hal Philip Walker" character from Nashville). Topping the whole
glorious mess off is an inexplicably placed, awesome concert
apperance by King Sunny Ade and His African Beats! O.C. and Stiggs
thoroughly gobsmacked the few viewers who saw it upon its scant 1987
release (MGM kept it on the shelf for three years), but you'll thrill
to one of Altman's most mind-roasting pranks.
Tickets - $10
12/12 @ 7:30pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
Reincidente
Reincidente is the best film we've ever seen that no one seems to
have heard of--and we know an awful lot of people who would know.
Originally discovered by us in a downtown Mexican video store's used
VHS bin, Reincidente is a 1977 juvenile delinquent movie from
Venezuela that mixes the rough plot of Scarface, the incredibly
realistic south-of-the-border locations, performances and brutality
of a film like Los Olvidados or Pixote, and the directorial flourish
of a film brat like Scorsese or De Palma. Numerous sharply-designed
directorial setpieces, a Latin jazz fusion score, howlingly funny
visual gags, to-die-for period fashion and decor, and a tangible
portrayal of Third World everyday life make the film a joy to watch,
as long as you can live without specifically knowing what dialogue is
being said--if you don't know Spanish, that is. For, you see, the
only existing film print of Reincidente is Spanish-language only.
This means no subtitles, no dubbing. Yet, none of that particularly
matters, since the film's cinema language is so strong that hardcore
film lovers will have no trouble knowing exactly what's going on.
You cannot imagine our delight at finding a 35mm print, and in
finding an excuse to share it with anyone willing to watch.
Tickets - $10
12/12 @ 10pm / SERIES: FESTIVAL OF INDULGENCE
 The Love Butcher
The Love Butcher is a true "they don't make 'em like this anymore"
exploitation classic from the sicko seventies, when psycho-sexual
murder was played for laughs. This is the kind of tongue-in-cheek
trash you might have stumbled upon at the bottom of a Times Square
triple bill, and while half-watching you realize: "Hey, I think this
dialogue is supposed to be funny….wait, this guy is acting ridiculous
on purpose." The squirminess It's the tale of two brothers: there's
Caleb, a bald, myopic "gimp" gardener, who's continually insulted and
abused by his snooty desperate housewife clients--and then there's
Caleb's polyester-clad studly sibling Lester, a self-proclaimed
"great male Adonis of the universe" who visits each of Caleb's
tormentors on a seduce-and-destroy mission. Erik Stern's
schizophrenic rendering of both "brothers" is a tour-de-force of
demented dramaturgy. He puts on one hell of a show switching back
and forth from grotesque mugging to smooth psycho ladykiller moves,
and his tasteless, ranting madman monologues pitch The Love Butcher
into the darkest shades of black comedy. Offensive, sloppy, bizarre
and funny, this squirmy mixture of tones creates impossible to
predict, wildly varying audience reactions....will you be laughing?
Or will you walk out in disgust? We'll be watching to see.
Tickets - $10
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