As you probably noticed, we rather abruptly shelved our plans to show Election this week. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but enough politics already! It turned out to be a good decision (irony intended).

Monsieur Lazhar was the second French-Canadian movie screened at MovieNight… the first was C.R.A.Z.Y. Both films share the ability to be thought-provoking and comical at the same time, but Monsier Lazhar delved into some troubling issues that are more relevant in today’s world; persecution by religious extremism and the delicate balance which needs to be struck in interactions between children and the adults given authority over them. All the performances were strong, but the children were outstandingly good. We laughed and cried.

This week, along with some new people (welcome!), we saw the return of some MovieNight guests who had been absent, presumed missing, for a few years. Good to have you back.

What’s next?  Stay tuned.

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Ironically, we were going to show The Shining this week, but Sandy made sure that our projector couldn’t shine. We hope you are all safe and well, and hope to be back in the MovieNight “business” again soon.

It’s always great when Hallowe’en falls on a Thursday (or Friday, or Saturday for that matter), and we can show a scary movie. This year, Wednesday’s the night, and we were thinking of just ignoring it altogether. Thankfully, that thought didn’t persist and we decided to make a little “horror sandwich” and show two great flicks on either side of Hallowe’en. The Fly remains wonderfully entertaining in spite of (because of?) it’s age and the plethora of eighties hair. The unanswered question: “Where’s the sequel with the baby?”

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Location: Austrian alps. Pretty, free-spirited (dare I say “Maverick”?) nun sent from convent to be governess to seven unruly, motherless children. Handsome, aristocratic father rules his children with totalitarian authority. Wealthy, cold-hearted sophisticate contrives to marry the father. Meanwhile, the Nazi machine has taken over Austria in the “Anschluss”, and there are bad guys everywhere. On top of all this, the cast is singing frequently throughout the practically three-hour duration. How could this be good?

Somehow it is. Somehow it’s marvelous. The Sound of Music made a perfect finale to our MovieNight season! Some of our guests had never seen it… they were lucky to see the crisp and colorful Blu ray transfer, rather than stumble upon it in a late-night television presentation. Julie Andrews charmed us, of course. When Flea took exception (seemingly… he’s not that smart) to a line about animals and started barking at the screen, we wept with laughter.

After the movie, we gave away a lot of lovely raffle prizes, and Acacia eventually managed to destroy the pinata that Betty-Sue had generously supplied. Another great MovieNight season finale!

Until September… so long, farewell, Auf wiedersehen, adieu…

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City Lights may have been Chaplin’s anti-talkie holdout, and Modern Times a sub-futurist footnote to Rene Clair, but Dictator was something new. A case of conceptual postmodern brio, the film arose from the bipolar synchronicity between two little men with toothbrush mustaches born four days apart and then simultaneously world-famous for years running. (“He’s the madman, I’m the comic. But it could have been the other way around,” Chaplin was quoted as saying.) The result is an unrepeatable explosion of doubling the most renowned entertainer in the world laying his own persona down on the railroad tracks of fascist mania. It was the first film to josh about genocide, even as it was still in the planning stage. If we’re a trifle inured to Nazi jokes by now, Chaplin’s high-spirited mockery shouldn’t be taken for granted: Production began in 1937, before even the annexation of Austria, and when it was finally released ripping Hitler every which way and derisively airing the matters of concentration camps, mass slaughter, and “MARVelous poison gas!” the U.S. was still neutral.

As an individual political act, it marched alone in Golden Age Hollywood. (Think about how spineless Oliver Stone’s W. looks by comparison.) Like all major Chaplin works, Dictator was a cheaply, but methodically, made film, a cardboard act of humanist defiance, and, thanks to its purity of purpose, the cheesier the jokes get (famously, the German language itself receives a phlegmatic hosing), the harder they land. Reportedly, Hitler banned it, then watched it alone twice.

Review by Michael Atkinson for the Village Voice

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