Tag: michigan theatre

REVIEW: Reservoir Dogs

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Reservoir Dogs has Quentin Tarantino’s fingerprints all over it— or, rather, it is Tarantino’s fingerprint. The plot revolves around a group of laughably dysfunctional thieves that encounter trouble when an undercover cop joins their diamond heist. Obscenity-heavy dialogue bounces between twisted characters in a landscape so grim and hopeless that it borders on absurd. Morality is skewed in Tarantino’s world— one minute, the group is discussing the necessity of tipping waitresses, and the next minute a wailing bloodbath is dismissed as a careless blunder. As his writing and directing debut, Reservoir Dogs not-so-gracefully showcases Tarantino’s filmmaking and character-building style; he invalidates the idea that his characters can be redeemed but retains their humanity through witty conversations and vulnerable relationships. There are no villains, heroes, or even a plot structure that feels rewarding; everything is justified and so everything is disappointing. It’s a caricature of the consequences and tragedy of the real world, just framed in a more shocking and theatrical context, and with a lot more blood for a dramatic flourish.

Watching this movie in the Michigan Theatre felt like committing a sin. Reservoir Dogs felt too gritty and grotesque for the ornate and gilded antiquity of the theatre, creating this visceral irony. The experience itself was an oxymoron. Watching the film in such a comfortable space reminded me of the experience of watching Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight, a similarly gruesome tale of bloody stand-offs and unredeemable acts. There is no fitting place to watch these movies without feeling strangely guilty and disturbed, which I’m beginning to think is exactly the feeling Tarantino is trying to evoke. Reservoir Dogs is intended to make you squirm in your seat and want to avert your eyes but the magnetism of the characters won’t let you. This is bound to be a memorable experience regardless of whether you like the movie or not.

Being his directorial debut, Reservoir Dogs isn’t without its flaws. I had predicted that there would be close-ups of some feminine feet in this film— a weird fetish of Tarantino’s— but there were not. I attribute this to the fact that there were zero women in this movie for more than a brief second. Whether or not this is a flaw is a complicated question, because Reservoir Dogs is mostly set in a claustrophobic space with just a few key characters and the film makes a point of subtly ridiculing the hypermasculinity of the group. Constantly screaming at each other, the group of thieves is everything but emotional apt and professional. The explicit racism in the dialogue also felt a bit too far at times, although it also functioned to deepen the immorality of the characters. The script’s edginess felt a little forceful and phony but retained its entertainment value overall.

The consensus is that Reservoir Dogs is a staple Tarantino, but that also means it isn’t for everyone. If you’re in the mood to laugh a little while feeling thoroughly disturbed, check it out at your own risk. Catch another movie at the Michigan Theatre before the year ends. Don’t miss out on the cheap student tickets!

REVIEW: 60th Ann Arbor Film Festival

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The 60th Ann Arbor Film Festival is a goldmine of ingenuity. Although I only experienced roughly two hours of the weeklong event, I left with a newfound sense of what film could be; film could be a series of ambient noises and fractal images, or a stop-motion documentary comprised completely of graphite drawings. It can be a scene of boredom, commonly overlooked but injected with life as soon as a filmmaker touches it. Held at the Michigan Theatre, which I’ve luckily been able to visit a few times for other movie screenings, the Ann Arbor Film Festival’s diverse crowd complimented the extravagance of the theatre’s gilded ceilings, the environment glowing with quiet excitement. Special screenings at the Michigan Theatre always bring a niche crowd of enthusiasts, but this mingling group of filmmakers and film-goers added another dimension of community.

Although I’d planned on seeing A Lantern Through Your Labyrinth: Out Histories of the Ann Arbor Film Festival, schedule changes led me to see the screening just afterward, Films in Competition 6. I entered the theatre with no expectations except to embrace the bizarre. The Films in Competition 6 didn’t seem to have any common theme or genre tying them together, and the variety was electrifying. About a dozen short films were screened one after the other, ranging from two to twenty minutes. They were tales of heartbreak, death, connection, and experimentation. Some were animated, others filmed in bizarre ways with extended shots and unconventional angles. I found that some of them were tediously drawn-out, while others were deeply moving and opened my eyes to new methods of storytelling.

My favorite short film of the night was Life is a Particle Time is a Wave by Daniel Zvereff. The stop-motion film is illustrated with what looks to be charcoal or graphite on white paper, dense lines telling the tale of a widowed old man floating through the rest of his repetitive and lonesome days. The clever sound design is entrancingly ambient, a steady ticking conveying a complicated relationship with time and the slow march toward death. The motif of time is symbolized in the minimal but effective illustrations— of the man repeatedly fixing his watch, of the ominous clock above him, and of his worn-down face. His brush with death sends the film into a fresh segment that is much more experimental. The screen explodes into surreal designs that flow into each other, smudging and warping to evoke the in-between feeling of a chaotic purgatory. The experience is heartwarming, saddening, and utterly human, masterfully speaking to fundamental human experiences in the span of a few minutes.

After the screenings, a few of the filmmakers took to the stage for a Q&A, allowing the community to connect on a personal level with passionate creators. The “festival” part of “film festival” revealed itself more through this degree of interactivity; it was a group celebration, each person a part of the joyous experience, whether they create or just observe. It is a wholly equal appreciation for art in every form.

Life is a Particle Time is a Wave is just one of the hundreds of mind-bending films in the competition. Knowing I can’t possibly see all of them is a bit saddening, but good news: the best of the best will be shown on Sunday! Award-winning films will be chosen by the jurors and screened to the Ann Arbor public, so grab an $8 student ticket and check it out!

PREVIEW: 60th Ann Arbor Film Festival

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Nestled into the predictable hustle-and-bustle of a Midwest college town, nearly swallowed by the indifference of overworked students, March Madness, and the encroaching doom of finals, a week-long event brings a lucky glimpse of worldwide talent to Michigan Theatre. The Ann Arbor Film Festival is the oldest experimental and avant-garde film festival in North America, reaching all the way back to 1963.  Each year, thousands of film submissions compete for less than two hundred spots in the six-day event. As prestigious of an honor it is to even secure a spot in the lineup, AAFF competitors are even eligible to qualify for Academy Awards, illuminating a world of possibility beyond the big screens. This showcase of creative talent annually sets up shop in our own backyard at the Michigan Theatre, so why not make the walk to witness a couple of hours of rare genius? The week of film screenings extends from March 22nd to the 27th; each day features a schedule of special screenings and “Films in Competition” that compete for awards. The festival wraps up on Sunday with screenings of the winning films. Attendees can choose from a range of events to attend, from experimental shorts to animated features and grim documentaries. There’s something for everyone at AAFF.

I am attending the third night of film screenings on Thursday the 24th, specifically the special program titled A Lantern Through Your Labyrinth: Out Histories of the Ann Arbor Film Festival. This program focuses on experimental LGBTQ cinema throughout the film festival’s history; going into this with very little knowledge of the film festival or its queer artists, I hope to be enlightened about the intersectionality of film and its role in this distinguished event.

Student tickets are only $8 for any event of your choice! Find more information, buy tickets, and view the full schedule at https://www.aafilmfest.org/.

REVIEW: Fight Club

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On yet another numbingly cold night in Ann Arbor, the Michigan Theatre stood dazzlingly bright amongst the empty streets, promising warmth and the excitement of another cult classic in its Late Nights at the Michigan series. If you have a pulse and live in America, you either know about Fight Club or you’ve seen it. Regarded as David Fincher’s directorial masterpiece, or at least undeniably his most popular film, the 1999 dramatic thriller offers everything that other films don’t: a seemingly insane and ripped Brad Pitt, a smoker who attends meetings for cancer patients, and a plot twist that leaves you analyzing every scene of the film for days on end. The plot can’t be explained without ruining the fun, but be aware that every scene packs a punch and leaves you breathless.

Also revered for Gone Girl and The Social Network, David Fincher’s distinct style is what makes Fight Club a masterpiece. Sharp monologues and witty dialogue inject life into the characters, somehow sculpting believable people that are so bizarre and morally corrupt that the concept of hero versus villain goes out the window. Once you become fully invested in the unpredictable lives of these troubled people, Fincher draws you in with clever shots and action sequences, balancing bloody fists with genius cinematography and a bold anti-capitalist war cry. The plot never stays in one place, constantly escalating and spinning, but the ride is exhilarating and somewhat relieved by clever deadpan humor. Each shot is a stunning puzzle that offers perfectly placed hints.  Fight Club is a total psychological riddle garnished with tasteful edginess and outright fury— a dangerous recipe that Fincher does best.

My admiration grows with each movie screening I attend at the Michigan Theatre. Historic and timelessly elegant, the theatre somehow still feels cozy, offering a sense of community through the collective anticipation that all moviegoers feel. There is something especially magical about an energized group experience in the midst of a lonesome pandemic. Throngs of students chatting and munching popcorn on a weekend night is an almost forgotten spectacle. The Michigan Theatre’s elaborate COVID-19 precautions ensure that the experience is free of anxiety, allowing a couple of hours of carefree escapism into a world untainted by COVID numbers and homework deadlines. If you find yourself longing for a temporary vacation from the burdens of college life, or you’re noticing that your Friday nights could use more excitement, check out the Late Nights at the Michigan series. Upcoming screenings include Princess Mononoke, Star Wars: Episode II, and The Princess Bride. Student tickets are only $8.50, so get them while you can!

REVIEW: The Shining

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As the night grew cold and the streets of Ann Arbor became quiet, horror enthusiasts and casual moviegoers alike herded into the beautiful interior of Michigan Theatre. The theatre’s 10 pm screening of The Shining was a part of their Late Nights at the Michigan series, promoting one-time screenings of classic films across all genres. I was particularly drawn to The Shining; I’d seen it before, but I’d never had the chance to watch the film in theatres, where it was intended to be viewed in all its horrifying glory. The theatre’s vast open spaces and elaborate antique decor mirror the atmosphere of The Shining‘s infamous Overlook Hotel, in which the film takes place; a troubled family lives in the vacated hotel for a long winter, falling victim to the effects of isolation and the hotel’s dark history. In addition to the actual venue drawing me into the movie, the experience of the big screen and immersive sound made the viewing experience infinitely better than the other times I’d watched The Shining on small screens at home.

One thing I’ve noticed about moviegoers at Michigan Theatre is that they truly love movies. The crowd reacted collectively to the scariest moments and even laughed at parts, appreciating the film’s quality while keeping a lighthearted attitude. After the two and a half exhilarating and exhausting hours, applause echoed throughout the room, moviegoers excitedly discussing the experience. If you’re looking for a passionate group to appreciate artistry with, the Michigan Theatre is the place to go.

The Shining was a wild ride; Jack Nicholson’s warped facial expressions are infinitely more terrifying when his face is twenty feet tall, and the huge screen has the same effect on the empty hotel’s menacing interior. I love The Shining for its simplicity relative to other popular horror flicks; it relies on psychological manipulation, incredibly slow build-up, and just enough context clues to keep the audience scared of the mysteries that lurk behind each corner, rather than constant jump-scares and disturbing imagery. The few scenes that revolve around actual violence and horror, rather than the threat of it, are so powerful and wisely executed that they are all timeless images ingrained in pop culture. Even the cast is minimal; all three main actors deliver incredible performances, so the film never feels phony— sometimes Shelley Duvall’s terror felt too real.  From Jack Torrence’s cold “Kubrick stare” to the motif of the axe and a blood-filled hallway, The Shining has found a way to be beautifully simple and avoid horror overkill while reigning as the king of horror for forty years, scaring generations to come.

Although this screening was a one-time event, Michigan’s Late Nights at the Michigan series continues through February. Tickets are only $8.50 for students, and they’re selling fast, so be sure to check out upcoming screenings for an exciting way to spend a Friday night!

REVIEW: The French Dispatch

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The French Dispatch is a display of director Wes Anderson’s uninhibited ambition, manifesting itself in a whirlwind of drama and colorful characters. The film does not stick to a single narrative but rather tells three stories in long segments. Each story is a vignette written by a journalist for The French Dispatch, an international outpost of an American newspaper that operates in a dreary French town by the name of Ennui-sur-Blasé. Everything is mundane— even the name of the fictional town translates to “boredom-on-apathy”— except for the dedicated journalists, the invigorating stories they release to the world, and the eccentric people involved in the stories. Thus the typical Anderson irony begins. This film is, at its core, a celebration of journalists and a love letter to all things literary and artistic. It is an Anderson classic: upbeat, artistic, and a bit pretentious, but its unfamiliar structure makes it feel fresh.

Each scene is rich with deadpan humor, rarely outright saying a joke but implying it in every corner of the frame. The juxtaposition of the still-faced, sharp-tongued characters and their chaotic predicaments against the colorful backdrop feels unnatural, as is the constant narration that overlays the stories, but they both add to the unique nostalgia of the film. Rather than experiencing the stories myself, I am being guided through them like a picture book. The visuals add to the book-like atmosphere— black-and-white scenes, entirely animated scenes, and experimental lighting exaggerate the easily-missed emotions. The world is symmetrical, well-color-coordinated, and moving in synchronicity, just as a storybook world should. Wes Anderson’s films stick with me for this reason— not because they are believable in the slightest but because they revive a childlike amusement. The unrealistic twists and turns in each segment are comical and effortlessly engaging. However, the sentimentality of his films is usually amplified by emotional depth. This is where The French Dispatch falters. The three-story structure and quick pace refuse to allow us to get attached to one character for too long or watch the slow development of relationships. I gravitated toward the recognizable faces and quirky personalities (such as the mustache-wearing and disheveled teenage rebel played by Timothée Chalamet) but the characters disappear shortly after they serve their purpose.

The French Dispatch manages to be a sensory feast on top of an exciting tangle of stories but the combination is nearly exhausting. From the hard-to-catch humor to the drastic time jumps, I attempted to absorb everything yet desperately needed to let my senses rest. It is also overwhelming in its organization, as the stories have no connection besides the journalists publishing them, so the film is difficult to process as a sum of all its parts. The French Dispatch is not a casual watch if you want to enjoy all its beauty; it requires patience, energy, and an attention span, and an estimated two or three watches.

As a sum of its visuals, script, and diverse storylines, each element of The French Dispatch is crafted in a way that maximizes Anderson’s quirky innocence and childlike fun. Anderson may have been trying to emphasize too much of his signature style in one film, resulting in entertainment so constant that it is almost nauseating. The French Dispatch is an exhilarating masterpiece but it is a masterpiece that needs to be prepared for.