The story of Richard Kuklinski (portrayed
here by Michael Shannon) is one of those true crime tales that you
simply can’t believe. It’s too crazy to be true, but it also has that
“made for the movies” vibe.
The year is 1915 and France is caught up
in World War I. Young men are on the front lines where injuries and
death abound, but a sense of duty and responsibility inspires more to
join the ranks and, those who can convalesce quickly, to return to the
front as soon as possible.
You’ve got to say this for Eli Roth: Like
his filmmaking brother-in-arms Quentin Tarantino, he’s got spools of
film instead of veins with blood keeping his heart a-beating, and he’s a
genre geek deep in the marrow of his bones.
The film tracks Lore (Saskia Rosendahl),
the eldest of five children, the offspring of staunch Nazi supporters,
who seeks to protect her siblings and stay one step ahead of the Allied
troops at the end of the war.
Steady buzz for the Cincinnati Film
Society (CFS) reboot emerged from the underground thanks to recent
screenings at the Northside Tavern, which have given way to a new
collaboration with The Greenwich, scheduled to kick off in May with The Towering Inferno
(screenings set for the first Thursday of each month).
In filmmaking, there’s always pressure,
especially around one’s first feature. Ideally, you arc your career so
that you can grow as a director with each film, raising your profile as
you raise your game so that when you’re ready for your big break, you’ve
put in the time and have the resume and scars to prove it.
High-end art auctioneer Simon (James
McAvoy) cues us in to the ins and outs of the security necessary to
protect near-priceless works of art from the would-be thugs out there
with enough “muscle and nerve” to dare to burst into an auction house
and steal a painting.
The only movie I can clearly recall seeing on the West Side screen is Lady Sings the Blues in 1972. My parents were finally splitting up the
same year that movie came out and I took to the darkness in movie
theaters from that point on as my own private Idaho of insular thinking,
mourning and disappearance. Darkness: visible.
Film history, like art history, has
tended to be fairly academic — you take a class, which uses textbooks
and screens key movies in full, and dryly study the high points of
cinema, from the silent era to the arrival of digital effects.