When a movie has Werner Herzog as a director and David Lynch as an executive producer, you know it’s going to be more than a little odd. In My Son, My Son, What Have You Done, the weirdness is only just getting started as a San Diego police officer (William DaFoe) is called to the scene after an actor (Michael Shannon) takes his role in Sophocles’ Oresteia a bit too seriously and murders his mother with a sword. Chloë Sevigny and Udo Kier have supporting roles. At NW Film Forum .
Friday only at NWFF: A retrospective of works by German painter and filmmaker Oskar Fischinger whose abstract animations made from the 1920s through the 1940s has had a lingering effect on the motion graphics of film. Optical Poetry features a series of Fischinger’s works and a 5mm cinemscope composite film recreating Fischinger’s multiple-projection performances, R-1, A Form-Play.
Saturday at NWFF: Seeing Sound: The Films of Mary Ellen Blute. Blute made a series of films that translated music into choreographed shapes, lights, shadows and forms.
Sunday at NWFF: The Magnificent Tati, a documentary about Jacques Tati, French comic film master.
SIFF Cinema spends the weekend celebrating Matthew Barney’s Cremaster Cycle. Filmed out of order (chronologically it’s 4, 1, 5, 2, and 3) over the period of nine years, the films are a five part art system too complicated to truly capture in capsule form. I recommend reading the Wikipedia article for an overview as this sort of advanced experimental filmmaking really isn’t for everyone.
The Grand Illusion goes back to the Sixties with 1965′s Bunny Lake Is Missing. In Otto Preminger’s psychological thriller, Ann Lake (Carol Lynley) is an unmarried American woman living in London whose four year old daughter goes missing from nursery school. When Police Inspector Newhouse (Laurence Olivier) arrives to investigate, the mystery becomes not just where is Bunny, but does Bunny even exist?
Late night at the Grand Illusion: Riot on the Sunset Strip, a 1967 teen exploitation flick in which the LAPD chief goes to war with those dirty hippies.
Midnight at the Egyptian: Everyone talks about David Bowie, but I’ve always thought Jennifer Connelly deserved more credit for her performance in Labyrinth. Sarah’s a mopey, self-absorbed teenager with a chip on her shoulder, but Connelly makes you like her even when she’s whining, “it’s not faaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir”.