The limerick's a form metronomical,
For the telling of jokes anatomical.
Yet the best ones I've seen
So seldom are clean,
And the clean ones so seldom are comical.

Auden, that very good man
Said a limerick need not merely scan.
But put up a struggle
And bend itself double
To be decent, and fail at the plan.

And now it comes time, online bums
When your internet blogger succumbs
To numerous entreaties
And posted graffiti
And awards to your limericks his thumbs.

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Yes, the Journal's grand contest will be
Devoted to épater le bourgeois!
We'll hold a contest
In vile, dirty jests
And then we will vote by degrees.

Of course please avoid all risks
By employing some quick asterisks--
For there are some words too crude
And unutterably rude,
As when one of your young f**kers sh*ts.

The limerick was invented by Lear
A gent who was bearded and dear
And was also an artist
And orthinologist
And man of unlimited cheer.

He was the last child of twenty-two,
And raised by a sister, for a few
Of his brothers
and indeed his poor mother,
Had fled to far Kalamazoo.

The bountiful Earl of Derby
And his wife, the Countess of Barbie,
Kept a menagerie wild
And diverse and compiled
As his grace's, the Jesuit Debarbe.

To the Earl's at only age twelve,
Young Edward was invited to delve
Into parrots and monkeys
And turtles from Humphreys
And draw from their very own selves.

He had a good line in ferrets,
But was known for his parrots
With their crimson bright feathers
So good for all weathers;
He competed with Audubon on merits.

There Earl had a dog and he fought it,
And then with his pen he so wrought it
That in every detail
It was quite without fail.
I know this for sure, for I bought it.

The prodigy's fame quickly spread,
And flew up to find a crowned head,
And good Queen Victoria,
Filled him up with euphoria,
By offering to pay for his bread.

In return for this favor he taught her
Such colors as Payne's grey and ochre.
She learned how to draw
So her court was in awe.
And Edward grinned straight at her daughter.

Victoria inspired no rumors
And sex only with Albert consumed her.
Young Edward grew naughty
But Vicki grew haughty
And slapped down his hand from her bloomers.

Our artist then fled quite abroad
And with indigent poverty was gnawed.
He said he would pay his way
By painting on day by day.
It was either that, or try mail fraud.

Our hero had an affliction
That caused interdiction
and sympathicotripsy,
and was known as epilepsy
And in England this caused him some friction.

That nation was sorely backwards
In confusing epileptics with drunkards.
But in Persia and Syria,
Greece and Iberia,
He was always welcomed by landlords.

His travels were restless and ceaseless
And cashless and casteless and easeless
On the back of a mule
He seemed like a fool
And acted with oblige noblesse.

At his side was the faithful Suliot,
Who in service was faithfully fervent.
By name Giuseppe Orsini,
He could mix a martini
And stir up some quick fettucini.

They trekked down the French Riviera;
It was then of a much different era.
The Côte d'Or
Was a sunburning bore
And the rays required much aloe vera.

They had snifters of brandy
On the Canale Grande,
And strolled on the Lido
Without a tuxedo
And, curiously, never felt randy.

Lear's watercolors in Greece,
Which he often sent home to his niece,
Attracted charge d'affaires
And Greek millionaires,
And were marked up the better to fleece.

In Palestine he painted the Holy Land
Which was always in terrific demand.
He sold to the faithful,
Invariably grateful,
Who were wise to arrive cash in hand

He met a young man in Baghdad
Who dreamed that he was a shad.
He thought he was spawning,
And then, the next morning,
He found that, by Jesu!, he had.

In Egypt he found it worthwhile
To observantly paint on the Nile.
He saw camels and Pyramids
And mummies and caryatids
And descendants of people of Phyle.

He drew Kurdistan and Afghanistan,
Turkmenistan and Tadzhikistan,
And places where yeast
Was the whole of a feast,
While wrapped in a Harrods' green kaftan.

Yes, Lear was a charming colorist
With paper and ink an abogenesist.
He took his sketch pad
All bound up in plaid
And drew up the local Alkoranists.

In India, he witnessed two celebrants
Married while riding on elephants.
He gave a great loud hurrah
To the groom, a maharaja,
And was rewarded by
Solid gold underpants.

At the Royal Academy, Lear played
in the shade of Piccadilly Arcade.
Pride of place in the show,
With its own special glow,
Was an old Jersey cow on parade.

It was a tad smaller and a good deal older
But oh, how it struck the beholder.
Said the Lear expert Noakes
In her catalogue notes
"It is a rare prize for the owner:"

"It's the first from that bearded Titian
That's a completely polished fine rendition.
Not a sketch or a drawing,
A cartoon or scrawling
But a masterly studio composition."

I bought it from Spink's, thanks to my lucky jinx.
After at the Red Lion for some drinks.
Did I know it was early?
No, and nor did Miss Burley.
We were both just as cool as the Sphinx.

"It's very pristine, and incredibly clean
And we got it from Ebert unseen.
So for Wastwater we thank him
And dine him and swank him!
Oh! And also, HRH the Queen!"

In old age he grew quite immersed
In some of his Nonsense Verse.
He wrote "The Quangle Wangle's Hat"
And the "Owl and the Pussycat"
But it drew from his art like a curse.

Of the "Dong With the Luminous Nose"
And "The Pobble Who Has No Toes,"
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo
Where the early pumpkins blow
And about Dorking Hens, tho they don't rhyme.

Having traveled the globe far and near
He put out the shingle of "Lear"
In the town of San Remo,
Near the family Giaimo
And there found retirement quite dear.

He and Giorgio drank Lapsang Souchong
Which made them feel very strong,
And his cat, named Old Foss,
Was their tyrannical boss
Though lacking a luminous prong.

Who but Edward would send invitations
To all his friends and relations,
To attend his demise
And say their goodbyes
Without any sad lamentations.

That day was reported by Bartelme,
In "The Death of Edward Lear."
You will find that below
Told with a sweet glow
But first we must pause for a tear.

In San Remo churchyard Lear lies well,
Where Giorgio heard the death knell,
They lie side by side
For now they have died,
And Old Foss is down there, as well.

The graveyard is filled with despair
And monuments fearsome and drear
And marble white stallions
And blooming wild scallions.
I know, for I have been there.

Let Edward express the last chord,
About how his sunniness soared.
He was a man sweet and kind
And never maligned.
With that the world was in accord.

This following poem by himself
Is composed in A, B, A, B.
As practiced by Spenser
And Herrick and Spender
And many a rhyming young elf.

Now you might logically ask
Why Lear embarked on this task
While abandoning the limerick.
And all forms of meter-stick?
He eventually grew tired of the form,
as realize I did myself, a few moments ago.

How Pleasant to Meet Mr. Lear
By Edward Lear

How pleasant to meet Mr.Lear
Who has written such volumes of stuff!
Some think him ill-tempered and queer,
But a few think him pleasant enough.

His mind is concrete and fastidious,
His nose is remarkably big;
His visage is more or less hideous,
His beard it resembles a wig.

He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
Leastways if you reckon two thumbs;
Long ago he was one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.

He sits in a beautiful parlour,
With hundreds of books on the wall;
He drinks a great deal of Marsala,
But never gets tipsy at all.

He has many friends, lay men and clerical,
Old Foss is the name of his cat;
His body is perfectly spherical,
He weareth a runcible hat.

When he walks in waterproof white,
The children run after him so!
Calling out, "He's gone out in his night-
Gown, that crazy old Englishman, oh!"

He weeps by the side of the ocean,
He weeps on the top of the hill;
He purchases pancakes and lotion,
And chocolate shrimps from the mill.

He reads, but he cannot speak, Spanish,
He cannot abide ginger beer:
Ere the days of his pilgrimage vanish,
How pleasant to know Mr. Lear!

P.S.
By running this all on the Web,
I'll avoid a moment I dread
When my editor, Laura Emerick,
Will declare that a limerick
Would never fit into a head.

If you find that my illo's page size
Is too miniscule for your eyes,
Just click them like hackers
They're like Christmas crackers
And explode to the skies with surprise.

¶

The Small Print: (1) Enter your limericks one to a post, with only your name and e-mail, and nothing else. Unlimited number of separate entries. (2) Comments on entries and the entry itself may be in either prose or poetry. (3) "On-topic" strictly enforced. Anything off-topic, post at previous entry. (4) Mind your apostrophes!

The Prizes: All five winners will receive a small original lithograph of bird, from the 19th century, and a nice little book of Lear's Nonsense. (1) First prize winner also receives a copy of the Edward Lear First Day Cover issued on his Centenary, as illustrated, except yours will come unsullied by an address. (2) Second prize wins a tin plate decorated with Lear drawings as sold at the great Lear Centenary Exhibition in 1988 at the Royal Academy of the Arts. (3) Third prize wins a tin collector's cup as sold at the same exhibition.

Booby Prize: For the worst limerick, a prikzed copy of The Limerick, by G. Legman, because you need to do yourself some more studying. I know. That's his real name.

Winners will be chosen via election by blog visitors, via e-mail as with our Caption Contest.

¶

click here.
For a touching presentation of Donald Bartheme's essay, "The Death of Edward Lear," portraying the scene at his bedside, click here. It was a dramatic event re-staged by theaters around the land.

¶

More than you ever dreamed it was possible to know about How to Write a Limerick..

¶

"The Limerick Song,"performed by Kevin Tyler, a.k.a. "Savageminstrel"

¶

John Valby performs dirty limericks 


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Lear's ompleteNonsense Verse can be found here.

¶

Here are some the limericks I create
Inspiring censorious hate.
But at least I supply some
And don't ever cum some
Nor ever, my friends, masturbate.

¶

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.29351 2009-11-13T03:22:56Z 2009-11-17T05:49:01Z

It was the opening day of the Disney-MGM studios in Orlando. The stars were there with their children. There was an official luncheon at the Brown Derby, modeled after the legendary Hollywood eatery. I was beside myself. I was in...

Roger Ebert It was the opening day of the Disney-MGM studios in Orlando. The stars were there with their children. There was an official luncheon at the Brown Derby, modeled after the legendary Hollywood eatery. I was beside myself. I was in a booth sitting next to Jack Brickhouse, the voice of the Chicago Cubs. A man walked over and introduced himself. "Bob Elliott." Oh. My. God. Bob, of Bob and Ray.

For me he was the biggest star in the room. Who, after all, compared to even one half of Bob and Ray, was Tom Hanks? Whoopi Goldberg? Art Linkletter? "Gosh all whillikers, Mr. Science!" I said, "What's that long brown object???" Bob didn't miss a beat: "That's known as a board, Roger."

Another man was steaming toward us through the throng. A middle-aged man, well-dressed, tanned, with a pleasant smile. "Hi, Jack!" he said. "Say, I hear Ernie Banks is invited. Yeah, I was just talking to Michael and that's what he said." Jack turned to me and said, "Roger, this is a man I want you to meet. You're going to be seeing him again many times over the years. Say hello Jerry Berliant."

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"Hi, Roger," Jerry Berliant said, reaching across Brickhouse to shake my hand. "I just saw Gene. Yeah, he was with Marlene. She looks pregnant, right?"

Jack Brickhouse told him, "I'm sure you'll be the first person she tells."He turned to me. "Jerry is the World's Greatest Gate Crasher. I see him everywhere. Just last week, at the Cubs games, up in the press box. Who invited you today, Jerry? Michael Eisner?"

Jerry nodded affably. "He was on the list," he said.

Gene and Marlene arrived to sit in our booth.

Jerry Berliant at Cannes 2003 (Photo by Roger Ebert)

"Hello, Jerry," Gene said.

"Hi, Gene. Hey, I heard you were out in Vegas. Yeah, over at the Mirage. Jack Entratter told me Steve Winn hired you guys to judge the Employee of the Year video contest. You have any luck at the tables?"

"Oh, about the same as always. I won five bucks under the taxable limit."

Brickhouse was right. I was to see Jerry Berliant many times over the years. "This isn't an A-list party," Marlene told me one night back in Chicago. "Jerry Berliant hasn't crashed it."

The enigma of Jerry Berliant has fascinated Chicagoans for years. The Sun-Times columnist Irv Kupcinet, listing the stars at a premiere, would add: "...and Jerry Berliant, America's Guest."

I think the next time I saw him was down in New Orleans, at the annual NATPE event. This was the annual convention and sales meeting of the syndicated television industry. Such as King World, Merv Griffin, Disney, Viacom and Universal had big pavilions in the convention center. Buyers for television stations marched through the aisles, filling their free bags with free gifts. The Nielsen ratings people gave away the best T-Ball Rolling Writers.

Joe Antelo, our producer at Tribune Entertainment, told us, "Boys, I'll let you walk around on the floor for half an hour. But always side by side. Together, you're stars. Separately, you don't mean shit."

Walking the floor, we met Soupy Sales, Regis Philbin, and Hulk Hogan, promoting a new show named Georgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

An older man told us, "Boys, I wish you all the best. I hope you have half the success in syndication that I've had over the years."

"Thank you very much," I said.

He smiled at us, a big smile. Almost too big. "You don't recognize me, do you? Bozo the Clown. It was Larry Harmon.

Gene and I had been foisted on the organizers as the emcees of their annual awards, the Oscars of syndication. ("And the winner is... Fishin' Fever!"). The headliner of the show was Joan Rivers. We were taken by a publicist and a security guard through the bowels of the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center, to the Green Room backstage. There was a lot of money in the room. Security was tight. The guard ushered us into the Green Room. The bartender was Jerry Berliant.

How did he do it? How does he do anything? Reporters over the years have hurled themselves at his barricades and lost. He does it. There he is. He must have done it. All right then, how does he afford to do it? It's one thing to infiltrate the grand opening of MGM-Disney, or the Green Room of NATPE. It's another thing to fly there.

If Berliant has a means of income, no one has ever identified it. He was a practicing attorney until he was disbarred during the Operation Greylord sting into traffic court fixing. Siskel speculated, "He's a spy for either the CIA or the IRS." Yeah, like they're trying to infiltrate the Stanley Paul Orchestra's opening night at the Pump Room. Stanley is a nice guy, he knows everybody, and he's a helluva of a piano player. But as far as the feds are concerned, he's is not a security risk or a bank embezzler.

When you fly somewhere, you're supposed to have an airline ticket. I know from Spielberg's "Catch Me If You Can" that it's possible to impersonate an airline pilot. But to impersonate a passenger with a valid ticket and a reserved seat? You've flown. Tell me how you'd do it. He has been thrown out of restricted areas at All Star Game, Super Bowls, the Indy 500 and the Kentucky Derby, Don King's party after a championship boxing match in Las Vegas, and White Sox spring training in Sarasota.

Berliant at Cannes 1998 (Ebert)

At the 2003 Cannes Film Festival, security was unusually tight. 9/11 was on everybody minds. A terrorist strike at Cannes would be a blow against Western decadence. Outside of town at the Hotel du Cap 'Antibes, a high security obstacle course had been set up. That's the hotel so exclusive that it has a policy of not accepting credit cards or checks. Payment was by cash only. Moguls checked in with briefcases stuffed with Benjamin Franklins.

Chaz and I went to dinner with our friends Anant and Vanashree Singh from South Africa. We motored along the coast, following a route known to Scott Fitzgerald's Dick and Nicole Diver, and dined on the shore overlooking the sea. The moon lay fair upon the sea as the rented Mercedes hummed along.

"There was a stickup along here last night," Anant told us as we returned. "Robbers stopped a sheik and took a fortune in large bills." We pulled up to the gate of the hotel grounds. Two men in uniforms asked for our identification. "I'm a guest," Anant said. He gave his room number. Oui, au, peut etre, mais... Anant produced his passport and a guard checked it with the hotel desk. "I've never seen it this tight," Anant said.

We mounted the steps and crossed the lobby. Narrow-eyed men held German shepherds on chains. At the entrance to the bar, Jerry Berliant greeted us. He looked resplendent in evening dress.

"Come in, have a drink! Clint was just asking about you." he said. He called across the room, "Clint! Look who's here for you!"

"I heard you were just asking about us," I said to Eastwood.

"I was?" said Eastwood. "Is that your friend? He just told me you were asking about me."

Jerry knew that we knew each other. That's how he enters the conversation. He is the emissary from the absent party. This is not the same as name-dropping. It is doing a favor for one person who didn't request it for a second one who doesn't desire it. He isn't precisely lying. He's passing along an unsent message. He can put two and two together and get Jerry Berliant.

He never overstays his lack of welcome. Already as he's greeting you, he's looking over your shoulder, scanning the room. Like a concupiscent Casanova in the act of passion, already searching for his next conquest. He's not looking for conversation. He's playing tag.

But still. Assume he got into the Hotel du Cap 'Antibes, as he surely did. Did he have a room there? You can't find one during Cannes anyway, but if you could, it would set you back $2,000 a night. He can't sleep on the hotel grounds; that immaculate tuxedo may be needed every night this week. It's eight miles back to town. A taxi will cost at $50. Did he eat at the hotel, or earlier, at a studio reception? I don't know. I just don't know. He doesn't drink. It is perhaps just as well.

His family for 99 years owned a pharmacy on S. Michigan Avenue. The window still bears the family name in gilt letters on an elegant brass store front. Chicagoans know that at the right season, you might see a hand-lettered sign tapped inside the window: Live leeches. It's hard to find live leeches, and if you need one, nothing else will do.

He knows little fear, certainly none of violating social customs. One weekend my stepdaughter Sonia was staying at our country house with her children. A car pulled into the drive, and Jerry emerged.

"You must be Chaz's daughter," he said. "Are you visiting with your kids? Yeah, I happened to be in the neighborhood and took the chance to stop by."

"Who are you?"Sonia asked.

"I ran into them at the Cubs game. They were there in the Sun-Times box. I was glad to see Roger looking so well. How's he been doing?"

"I very much doubt they asked you to stop by. And I'm real busy now, so I'm afraid you'll just have to leave."

"He bounced right back from that surgery."

"Or I'll have to call the police. Raven! Emil!"

"So I was just on my way over to Berrien Springs to see Ali. Be sure to say hello."

As far as I know, Jerry is unmarried. But then I wouldn't know, would I? I have seen him walking the red carpet into the Academy Awards. On TV, in a ringside seat, at world championship bouts. Next to Michael after Bulls championships, his neatly combed hair plastered with champagne. He is white, middle-aged, presentable and neat. He looks like he belongs. He will crash a party, avoid a scene or two, deferential, glad to be of use, politic, cautious, and meticulous, but a bit obtuse; at times, indeed, almost ridiculous; almost, at times, a fool.

On election night, there he is on TV, standing behind the victorious Mayor Richard M. Daley. "How does he do that?" Chaz and I asked Da Mare one night. "Nobody knows," Daley said. "In Chicago," his wife Maggie said, "it wouldn't be an Election Night. Not that Rich wants him there..."

I didn't see this myself, but a friend said he saw it on TV. One of our current senators from Illinois, Roland Burris, wasn't even elected. He was appointed, to Barack Obama's vacated seat by our colorful Gov. Rod Blagojevich. You may have heard about him on the news. After the Blajivevichp-Burris press conference, my friend said he saw Jerry holding open the door of his limousine, as police held back crowds of cameramen.

"Did he get into the limo, too?" I asked.

"I didn't see."

Makes TV news after being arrested in Denver, 2007

Chaz says I encourage him. I use the theory of good value for money. I confess I am intrigued. When my star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was unveiled in front of the El Capitan theater, it was sort of a thrill to see him among those in the roped-off area for invited guest. I had good reason to know he wasn't an invited guest. I've searched the photographs from that day, hoping to see him smiling at the camera right there between Virginia Madsen and Joe Mantegna. No luck. But he was somewhere just out of camera range. I know, because he told me, "Yeah, Wolfgang Puck was asking about you last night."

Daley, a man who knows how everyone in Chicago does everything, told us he doesn't know how Jerry does it. Nobody does. My mind goes back to the grand opening and ribbon-cutting of Chicago's new Disney Quest, a five-story emporium of video games and virtual rides.

Plans called for the ceremony to begin just after dusk, so that a giant film montage could be projected against the wall of a building across the street. As talent on a program syndicated by Disney, I was behind red velvet ropes in the VIP area, along with Sammy Sosa, Joan Cusack, Jerry Springer, and other local luminaries. As the sun slowly sank down at the end of Ohio Street, suspense mounted. All eyes were focused on the front doors of the Experience. Slowly they opened, a security guard survey the scene and gave the all-clear, and Jerry Berliant ushered Michael Eisner onto the stage.

I guess he did know Michael after all.

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A terrific 1986 Chicago Sun-Times column about Jerry by Pulitzer Prize-winner Tom Fitzpatrick, who BTW saved me by yanking me out of the path of a reversing squad car during during the Days of Rage in Chicago's Old Town during the 1968 Democratic Convention.

Gate Crasher Jerry subdued by tax rap .

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Jerry's brother Norman leaves the drug store business. Article from the
Chicago Sun-Times in 1999 by Dave Hoekstra.

Time stands still at Loop pharmacy .

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Berliant was cited in 2007 as a scofflaw with $29, 627 in unpaid tickets.
You can never find a ticket fixer when you need one. Chicago Sun-Times
article by Stefano Esposito and Annie Sweeney

Most say they have no plans to pay up anytime soon .

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Brother Andy plays the all three: the Host, the hypnotist Dante the Great, and
the Woman. As I write, only 128 views. Be among the first to see...and believe!

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A movie summarized in its delightful credits: Spielberg's "Catch Me if You Can"

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Tony Curtis stars in "The Great Imposter".

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Full 102-minute version streaming legally:

"Attack of the Giant Leeches".

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.29128 2009-11-05T20:52:34Z 2009-11-08T22:07:15Z

Today, fifteen years after I first saw it, I believe "Hoop Dreams" is the great American documentary. No other documentary has ever touched me more deeply. It was relevant then, and today, as inner city neighborhoods sink deeper into the...

Roger Ebert Today, fifteen years after I first saw it, I believe "Hoop Dreams" is the great American documentary. No other documentary has ever touched me more deeply. It was relevant then, and today, as inner city neighborhoods sink deeper into the despair of children murdering children, it is more relevant. It tells the stories of two 14-year-olds, Arthur Agee and William Gates, how they dreamed of stardom in the NBA, and how basketball changed their lives. Basketball, and this film.

Photo copyright by Roka Walsh. Used with permission

"Hoop Dreams" observed its 15th anniversary Wednesday night at the Gene Siskel Film Center. Agee and Gates were both there. Gates, now a minister, observed that in one period of time he buried 20 victims of gang violence, 16 of them under 16. Agee said when he looks at his friends in the film today, "ten of them are no longer with us." Yet there they sat, men of around 40 now, articulate, thoughtful, and spoke about how their lives began to change on a Chicago playground 22 years ago when a movie camera showed up.

"We started out to make a little 30-minute documentary about a kid who had basketball dreams," Steve James, the director of the film, said Wednesday night. This was at a benefit for Kartemquin Films, the 40-year-old Chicago documentary group that produced the film.

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"A talent scout for suburban high schools led us to Arthur. Through that we met William. We kept right on filming. We ended up five years later with 250 hours of film. We edited it down to just under three hours. We only had enough money to shoot a half-hour film. We never did get much more, but we kept on filming.

How could they stop filming? "Hoop Dreams" unfolds as a human drama so powerful it seems crafted from fiction, and arrives at a climax more exciting than any other sports film. And it's about so much more than that. It's about two young men who we follow from grade school to college. About the poor neighborhoods they grow up in, and about the wider society they hope to enter. About their families. About life and death. About the elusive dream of stardom in professional sports. And about the indomitable human spirit.

Arthur Agee after a big Marshall win in the state high school finals

''Do you all wonder sometimes how I am living?'' Arthur's mother, Sheila, asks the filmmakers at one point, turning directly to the camera. ''How my children survive, and how they're living? It's enough to really make people want to go out there and just lash out and hurt somebody.'' Yes, we've wondered. Her family is living on $268 a month in public aid; when Arthur turned 18, his $100 payment was cut off, although he was still in high school. Their gas and electricity had been turned off in the winter. The family was using a camp lantern for light.

During the course of the film Sheila's husband leaves and gets into trouble, she suffers chronic back pain, she loses a job and goes on welfare, Arthur can't meet the tuition and is dropped by St. Joseph's, the suburban high school that recruited him. After the school actually refuses him a copy of his transcript for not paying bills his family wouldn't have if St. Joseph's hadn't foraged in his neighborhood for a winning team, he transfers to the public Marshall High School, and leads them to the state finals. Take that, St.Joe's.

Then, in the film's most astonishing revelation, we see Sheila graduating as a nurse's assistant, with the top grades in her class. We didn't even know she was taking classes. Gene Siskel told me, "Arthur and William are applauded by hundreds or thousands of sports fans. When you see that nurses' graduation day ceremony, most of the folding chairs are empty. She's the one who deserves the standing ovation."

William Gates playing for Marquette

Gene and I saw the film early. We were approached by a friend of ours, the Chicago publicist John Iltis, who didn't ask us to see a screening, he told us this was a film we had to see. We believed him. We were the only people at the first screening outside Kartemquin. Iltis rented the original auditorium of the Film Center of the School of the Art Institute -- which has become, fittingly, the new Siskel Center. When the movie was over we remained in our seats for a minute or two before speaking. Neither one of us had ever seen anything like it. It didn't have distribution. It had been accepted at Sundance. We decided to break the rules and review it before Sundance, hoping that more people would see it. It won the Audience Award,

The way seemed clear for an Academy Award as best documentary. Then a shameful thing happened. It wasn't even nominated by the Academy's documentary committee. We learned, through very reliable sources, that the members of the committee had a system. They carried little flashlights. When one gave up on a film, he waved a light on the screen. When a majority of flashlights had voted, the film was switched off. "Hoop Dreams" was stopped after 15 minutes.

There was such outrage that the Academy, under attack led by the great Oscar-winning documentarian Barbara Kopple, rewrote its rules for the documentary selection process. "Hoop Dreams" wasn't nominated, but it changed the Academy rules, it is still widely seen, and the reforms are its lasting legacy. None of this was even mentioned at the tribute on Wednesday. Many people assume it didwin the Oscar? Who remembers what the 1994 winner was? (It was "A Strong, Clear Vision," a worthy winner in any other year, but still...)

Over the years I'm repeatedly asked, "Whatever happened to those to kids in 'Hoop Dreams?' " People get invested in their lives. Gates and Agee reflected on the 22 years since they first saw Steve James and his Kartemquin collaborators Peter Gilbert and Frederick Marx, and the 15 years since the Sundance premiere. Today they're university graduates with satisfying jobs (William a minister, Arthur running the Arthur Agee Role Model Foundation, funded by his line of Hoop Dreams sporting wear).

Arthur Agee playing for Arkansas State

When they were 14, things weren't headed that way. "You see my father one time in the film," William Gates said. "That's probably how many times I saw him. Arthur had both parents at home, but his father fell into drug abuse and his mother kicked him out. He got clean and sober, and returned home. When Arthur was being courted with scholarship offers, his parents told him, "Do what you want to do." His father said, "We'll support you. If I have to steal paint to do it, I'll do it." William's girl friend Catherine got pregnant. He was offered a scholarship to Marquette and felt he had it accept it, but his decision caused them troubled times -- even though he made the list of Marquette's all-time basketball letter winners.

Wednesday night, he introduced Catherine in the audience, "My wife of 17 years. She was determined to get a college degree, but we couldn't both be in school at once. We made an agreement: I promised when I got mine, I would work to help put her through school. Today we have two college graduates in the house."

We'd just seen clips from the film showing them at 14. "What did we know then about what we wanted?" Arthur asked. "I plan to study communications." He was mimicking himself sounding serious at 14. "Yeah, communications. What is that? It's easy, that's what. All the athletes study it."

"Hey, I have a degree in communications!" William said.

"Me too," Arthur said. "Don't mean I wanted to!"

"Hey, so do I!" said Steve James.

Gates and Agee said that as the filmmakers following them for five years, they became mentors and role models. They met each other's families. Their ideas of possibilities were broadened. They lived in desperate neighborhoods. When they were both recruited on scholarship by St. Joseph's High School in west suburban Westchester, they commuted there daily by public transportation. "I saw there was a line," Arthur said. "Out there, I saw nice lawns. The homes were well-tended."

22 years after they met: William Gates, Arthur Agee, cinematographer Peter Gilbert and director Steve James. Acting as co-producers were Gilbert, James and Frederick Marx, not present, who was also co-writer. (Photo by Ruthie Hansen)

"I'm the same person inside as that confident 14-year-old," William said. "I was so gifted. Basketball came naturally to me. It was like walking. But I've had a better life than if I'd gone into the NBA. As a pastor, I can talk to the young people. They see the film, and know I came from where they're coming from. If I'd been an NBA star, they'd need an appointment to see me."

After the panel discussion, the speaker was Alex Kotlowitz, author of There Are No Children Here: The Story of Two Boys Growing Up in The Other America, the heartbreaking best-seller about of two boys growing up on Chicago's West Side. He is currently writing and producing on "The Interrupters," a new doc being directed by Steve James for Kartemquin, about former gang members and convicts. They've formed a Chicago organization that tries to anticipate gang violence and personally intervene. Speaking after a clip from the work in progress, Kotlowitz quoted Nelson Algren: "American literature is a woman standing in a courtroom and asking, Isn't anyone on my side?"

One noble purpose of documentaries, he said, is to be on the side of the kinds of people asking that question. Then he quoted words by Studs Terkel that summarized the spirist of William Gates, Arthur Agee, the makers of "Hoop Dreams" and the film itself: "I live in a community, and if the community isn't in good shape, neither am I."

On Monday, 11/9/2009, the IFC Center in New York will have an anniversary screening and a Q&A with Peter Gilbert.

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Siskel & Ebert's review of "Hoop Dreams." Gene and I both put it #1 on our year's best 10. I selected it as the best film of the 1990s. Gene died on Feb. 20, 1999, but if there's one thing I'm sure of...

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"Hoop Dreams," the complete film online.

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"Hoop Dreams," streaming instantly on Netflix.

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"Hoop Dreams: Serious Game," an essay on the Criterion site by John Edgar Wideman..

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My review of "Hoop Dreams" in the Great Movies Collection.

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Whatever happened to that coach in "Hoop Dreams?"

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.28810 2009-10-26T01:59:28Z 2009-11-09T02:40:05Z

One day not long ago in the country I gathered a small pile of dried leaves and started a little fire. Then I closed my eyes and remembered. The aroma was a trigger as intense as the taste of Proust's...

Roger Ebert One day not long ago in the country I gathered a small pile of dried leaves and started a little fire. Then I closed my eyes and remembered. The aroma was a trigger as intense as the taste of Proust's madeleine, the little cake from childhood that summoned his remembrance of time past. It evoked nostalgia but it also evoked curious excitement and desire.

For me it is not spring but autumn that is the season of new beginnings. Spring, in school, is a time of taking final exams and saying goodbye to friends. Autumn is the start of a new year, and for me at least it always held the promise of new romance. I was now a freshman, or a sophomore, or whatever, and had left behind childhood things, and perhaps Marty would be at the Tiger's Den on Friday night and we could slow-dance to "Dream" by the Everly Brothers.

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There's something stirring about new schoolbooks and three-ring binders and dressing in a fresh pair of chinos and a plaid shirt from Penney's. In high school I was a sports writer for our local paper and would attend the first football practice, with coach Warren Smith running drills with kids I went to grade school with, who now looked proud and self-conscious in their shoulder pads. After practice I would pull out my Reporter's Notebook and interview Smitty about the "prospects," and he would invariably say this was potentially the best team he'd ever coached. I'd take my notes back to the News-Gazette, type my story, and hand it in to Bill Schrader, the cigar-smoking 30-year-old sports editor who always called me, and everybody else, "Coach."

Football season opened at the University of Illinois, too, and I worked the home games in Memorial Stadium as a spotter for Curt Beamer, the paper's top photographer. Standing on the sidelines in front of 60,000 fans, watching the Illini running onto the field, hearing the Marching Band, I felt empowered to--do what? To feel empowered, essentially. Beamer gave me my instructions: "You're not here to enjoy the game. Your number one duty is to grab my belt and yank me out of the way if I'm about to get creamed by a player I can't see through the view-finder. Number two, make a list starting with "Roll 1, Shot 1" and write down the players in every shot I take, because when they get muddy they all look the same."

After the game, I'd go back to the paper to write "Big Ten briefs," revised from the AP and UPI wire stories. Michigan. Ohio State. Then across the street with my pal Hal Holmes to Vriner's, a greasy spoon unchanged from its origins as an ice cream parlor at the turn of the century, where high-stakes poker games were said to unfold in the back room. Tyke Vriner, chain-smoking over the grill, was a Champaign High School sports legend, because he played football for an unbeaten Maroon team that had to forfeit every one of its games when it was discovered Tyke was over-age. Hell, nobody told him nothing'.

And then to the Tiger's Den. A brick store front a block from Main Street in Urbana. Customized cars cruising slowly past, thought to contain sexual predators from alien high schools on the hunt for our Urbana girls. Inside, only one chaperone, Oscar Adams, who was also the high school basketball coach and Driver's Ed instructor, and who I have described earlier as possibly the best-known and most popular man in town. Oscar's chaperoning duties consisted largely of sitting in the lounge with the crowd watching "Gunsmoke" on TV.

There was a small dance hall with a stage at one end and a soft drinks bar at the other, and chairs around the walls, and the sexes eying each other uneasily, for nothing is easier for a teenager to imagine than rejection. If you knew what to look for, you'd catch guys cupping their hands in front of their mouths and sniffing to test for halitosis, at that age more feared, and more likely, than VD. The cautious among us worked through Plen-T-Paks of Spearmint, or if we were really insecure, Dentyne. Halitosis was far worse than dandruff. The only thing more to be feared was an untimely erection on the dance floor, especially if you'd been dancing close and at the end of the dance your buddies were watching you like hawks, ready to point and go, Yuk! Yuk!

Marty (or Judi, or Sally, or Carol, or Jeanne) might be there, studiously not noticing me. You could spend half an hour deliberately not making eye contact. It was a form of pre-dance foreplay. The evening began with rock and roll, the girls dancing with each other, and then a guy would sidle up to the deejay and ask for a "slow song." And now it was crunch time. With all of your courage you approached the girl of your dreams.

It might be that you were too slow, and another guy would get there first. Was that the faintest shadow of a hint of a sidelong teasing look of regret that Marty-Judi-Sally-Carol-Jeanne sent your way? Or had she forgotten you even existed? Halfway across the floor toward her, you saw her taken into the arms of a rival, and made a studious course correction as if you'd only been walking across the room to get to the other side.

When I enrolled as an Illinois freshman, the challenge of autumn was like a jolt to my being. This was the big time. At 8 a.m. of my first day, I walked into a class taught by Daniel Curley, which I am essentially still taking. He handed out mimeo'd copies of "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," which is now so beloved by me and was then, as far as I could tell, hardly even written in English. And poems by e. e. cummings that seemed written on a broken typewriter. I believed I had entered at last into the realm of Great Writers, where Thomas Wolfe had told me I belonged.

It was late on a crisp autumn evening, after walking a girl home, reciting "anyone lived in a pretty how town, with up so many floating bells down," that I made love for the first time. And then walking home, always in the air, the knowledge that someone, somewhere, was burning autumn leaves.

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

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Photos of central Illinois leaves taken in recent weeks by Randy Masters at Lick Creek Photography, (Enlarge by clicking)

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Yves Montand in his springtime: "Les Feuilles Mortes," in
"Parigi è sempre Parigi" (1951) by Luciano Emmer

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Yves Montand in his autumn: a concert at Olympia Hall in Paris

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Iggy Pop, "Les Feuilles Mortez"

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"Autumn Leaves," by Eva Cassidy

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"Injun Summer," by John T. McCutcheon, appeared on the front cover of the Chicago Tribune Sunday magazine every autumn from 1907 until 1986, looking exactly as it does here

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.28751 2009-10-22T23:45:28Z 2009-11-07T06:43:10Z

It has been argued that universal health care is an offense against individual liberty. I've been told by readers that they'll deal with their own health care, thank you very much, and have no interest in government interference. At root...

Roger Ebert It has been argued that universal health care is an offense against individual liberty. I've been told by readers that they'll deal with their own health care, thank you very much, and have no interest in government interference. At root this is a libertarian argument; conservatives are more likely to oppose it on the grounds that it undermines the free enterprise system. They warn of a Nanny State.

But what, I ask libertarians, about your families? Your children? What if the day comes that you lose your job-based health insurance and can't afford your own? What if you're denied coverage? That's their business, they tell me. I should butt out.

But it won't remain their business if a family member suffers a major illness. I know from personal experience that few people have the financial resources to deal with such an illness, and I suspect no one reading this is ready to deal with two. You and I will end up paying for them, even though they were unwilling to help pay for us.

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Conservatives are willing to shoulder the burden, but through private insurance companies. The problem as I see it is that insurance companies are driven by the profit motive. Did you see the stories on TV about one baby denied coverage because it was too fat and another because it was too thin? Will infant weight become a "preexisting cause?" What is the weight range within which insurance companies are willing to write policies? At a time when many Americans are losing jobs they considered secure, will insurance companies continue coverage for those suddenly not part of a group? At present 14,000 American a day are losing their health coverage.

The freedom of speech (Norman Rockwell)

Here's a story about a man named Bill Caudle, who lost his job at the age of 39. His wife Amy had been suffering from ovarian cancer for two years, and needed continuing chemo treatment. To get insurance for them, he joined the Army and was assigned to a base far from home. His insurance started the moment he entered basic training, and his wife is continuing chemo. Bill Caudle is brave and loving, but if you know anything about chemo you know it's hard to weather it apart from your spouse. There's not a conservative who would deny health coverage to members of the military -- it continues lifelong in the VA hospitals -- but what about the rest of us?

It seems only fair that society as a whole must be concerned with the health of its members. If one of my loved ones requires treatment for a serious condition and I can't afford it, I'm not comforted by a libertarian's idea of his individual liberties, or a conservative's ideas about the free enterprise system. I want something I can tell the doctor.

Yes, in an immediate crisis I can throw myself on the mercy of an Emergency Room, but what about surgeries (I had four) or extended physical therapy (again, four)? My job-based insurance policies were excellent, but one has tapped out and the other has a finite limit. In prudence I should not consider another surgery. One third of all personal bankruptcies in the U.S. are caused by medical costs.

But this isn't about me. It's about all of us. When the general population has access to medical care, problems are discovered sooner, chronic conditions are avoided, and treatment is not delayed. Our national life expectancy can be expected to rise. That's a good thing. Well, isn't it? Poverty becomes that much less burdensome. The desperate a little less desperate. This is a matter of simple human compassion.

It did not always seem so. Until the 1700s, people were left pretty much to fend for themselves. When they got sick they used folk medicines, cures and healers. Those who could afford physicians hired them. Few could. In some cases they were able to appeal to the charity of the church. A group of philosophers began to argue that it need not be like this. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, signing himself simply "a citizen of Geneva," wrote a broadside titled The Social Contract that argued that people should expect to give up some rights to government in return for a systematic rule of law.

The freedom from fear (Rockwell)

Rousseau lived at a time when the notion of the Noble Savage was also being much praised. In this view, man was born free and uncorrupted, and was good by nature until interfered with by civilization. In very broad terms, I believe libertarians defend themselves as noble savages, living unencumbered by the impositions of others. The question becomes, to what degree are we willing to trade personal liberty for the good of the general community? If I don't want universal health care, am I fully prepared to grow sick and die as a consequence? Or will I undergo a sickbed conversion?

Until the 1700s the only class in society that was completely unfettered was the ruling class. A king had the right to do as he chose. Huey Long ran for office on the platform "Every Man a King," and I sometimes believe libertarians subscribe to that. The problems begin when the Kings require Subjects.

Rousseau didn't believe the rights he called for existed in our natural state. They became necessary when we began to live in large groups. It is necessary to trust that men will have the same general values if we travel a mile from home, or a hundred miles. We hope not to be robbed or murdered. We hope a system of trade allows us to earn a living and obtain what we need. We hope those we find there treat each other, and strangers, decently. We hope our boat hasn't landed us on the shores of a libertarian nation.

The ideas of Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau led logically to the American and French Revolutions. The preamble to our Declaration of Independence could well have been dictated by any one of the three. Our revolution, like so many, is still underway. Universal health care happens to be its current battlefield.

I am naive enough to think that universal care is obviously good. I don't say how it should be implemented or regulated. I say we should implement it and regulate it as well as we can, and improve it through our votes and our legislature. This is something we owe to the future. The United States is shamefully the only Western democracy without universal health care. All of the nations that we inspired by our revolution, including France, have moved ahead on us on this.

The freedom of belief (Rockwell)

I am told we cannot trust the government. I believe we must trust it, and work to make it trustworthy. We are told the free enterprise system will sort things out, but it has not. When insurance companies direct millions toward lobbying and advertising against a health care system, every dollar is being withheld from sick people. When it goes to salaries, executive jets, corporate edifices and legislative manipulation, it isn't going to Amy Caudle.

The fallacy of the free enterprise argument is that there is a faith that corporations are motivated to bring about the public good. Corporations are motivated to maximize profits for shareholders. That is the primary mission of all corporate executives, and they retain their jobs by placing the bottom line and the stock price above all else.

If you doubt it, I recommend a current documentary named "Crude," by Joe Berlinger. It relates the story of a group of Indians who have occupied the Ecuadorean rain forest since time immemorial. They existed in unison with nature, living off the land and for the land, governed by themselves. They were, if you will, Noble Savages. Or perhaps they were an ideal libertarian state. They occupy the forest filmed by Herzog in "Fitzcarraldo."

It was their misfortune that oil was discovered beneath their forest. Texaco, later called Chevron, moved in with the permission of the national government, which had previously ignored them. It laid waste to square miles of forest, struck oil, had an oil spill that blighted the river highway of the Indians, and pumped billions of gallons of toxic waste into the river. One independent estimate is that remediation should cost Chevron $27 billion.

We meet a man whose little daughter went splashing in the river one day and was dead within 24 hours. The water is lethal to drink. Many others died. Vegetation was destroyed. Fish disappeared. The Indians are represented by a determined local lawyer and an American lawyer working pro bono. Chevron has deployed a legal team that prevented the complaint from even coming to court for ten years. There is still no resolution. The corporation is prepared to fight this forever.

The freedom from want (Rockwell)

But wait, you ask: At the moment of the oil spill, why didn't the oil company act immediately to clean it up? Why did it knowingly pump tainted water into the river? I don't know. My best guess is: Cleaning the spill and treating the water would have cost money. That money would be charged against profits. The corporation had the national government on its side, and the Ecuadoran share of the oil was good for the national treasury. Local officials were plied with gifts and trips. The corporation thought it could get away with it.

For many years the insurance industry has gotten away with policies that place coverage out of the reach of many Americans. Their mission is not to sell health insurance. It is to sell profitable health insurance. If the experience of every other Western democracy teaches us anything, it is this, oddly enough: Providing it for everyone would cost less than our current system.

But there is a more compelling argument. We owe it to ourselves. It is the right thing to do. It will promote the general welfare. It will assist in our pursuit of life and happiness. The arguments against it come disguised in ideology designed to conceal their common motivation: Selfishness.

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Trailer for Joe Berlinger's Crude"

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The medieval alms house at Beaune in France. They couldn't do much for you, but at least your pillow was placed to face the altar

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"The Social Contract," a short film. The guy at the head of the line is a libertarian.

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Rousseau's "The Social Contract,"complete

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.28615 2009-10-18T17:47:30Z 2009-11-09T04:53:01Z

I met a man who didn't sleep. This was in the summer of 1988. I was in Toulouse, France, to visit a friend I'd made some years earlier in London, Dominique Hoff. Her sister, Marie-Christine, told me: "There is a...

Roger Ebert I met a man who didn't sleep. This was in the summer of 1988. I was in Toulouse, France, to visit a friend I'd made some years earlier in London, Dominique Hoff. Her sister, Marie-Christine, told me: "There is a man you must meet. He's the smartest man I know. He was my professor in dental school. He invents dental tools, and he can fix anything with his hands. He and his wife have converted a big old barn in the country into a home and workshop and a place for his collection." His collection? I said. The sisters laughed. "You'll see."

Les toits de Toulouse à partir de la fenêtre d'Hervé

Paul Delprat and his wife Danielle Moog did indeed occupy a vast old barn somewhere in the countryside. They called it Cambolevet. They were a jolly middle-aged couple, waiting for us in the farmyard. A dog came to investigate. They exuded that sense of two people who know they belong together.

I was struck by her calm and Paul's restless energy, darting about to lead the way, opening doors, explaining the sights, agreeing with the slightest statement. Nodding. He was always nodding and smiling. Not as a nervous affectation. As a welling up of inner merriness. He had six words of English and my French was laughable, but the Hoff sisters served as translators.

The barn interior was a cavernous place with tall ceilings and spaces reaching out into the shadows. Near the entrance a stairway led to the living areas on the second floor, but we stopped for a look at the ground floor. This hadn't been rehabbed extensively, and some areas were essentially the same as Paul and Danielle must have found them. A lot of overhead lights had been installed. On every wall there were racks and shelves of tools and parts.

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A large part of this level was occupied by Paul's antique automobile collection. I saw at once that he was not an accumulator of pristine old cars. He was a rescuer. Most of his cars looked as if they might been found in neighboring barns, abandoned when their owners died and the heirs neglected them. I know little about French cars, but from my movie memories most of them were from around 1915 to the 1940s. The newest one looked to be an early Citroën CV2, circa 1950, the classic deux chevaux,that admirable working-class vehicle with the seats that could be removed for use with a picnic, the hinged windows, and the roll-back canvas top. A car I have always desired. It would solve all of our present automobile problems, including speeding.

L'ancienne grange de Paul et Danielle (Drawings by Ebert; all clickable)

It was explained that Paul repaired and rebuilt these cars by hand, and that they were almost all in running condition. I noticed overhead blocks and tackle, a grease pit dug into the floor, one of those trolleys you use to slide under a car."Will you sell these?" I asked through my translators. Non, non! He was nodding his head as if that meant "Yes! Yes!" He would keep them! Danielle, behind him, smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, C'est Paul pour vous .

We were moving on. Paul smiled and nodded and lifted a finger as if to promise greater miracles. We entered a part of the barn given over to countless mechanical music machines: Calliopes, robot orchestras, automated one-man bands, wind-up music boxes. One was the size of a New York bagel wagon and was open so you could see keyboards in action, drums and cymbals, wind instruments powered by a bellows below. Small figures, like those on a clock, would appear and strike chimes. Paul wound it up and it performed a march.

Les musiciens arrivent pour un concert en plein air à Moissac

These, too, he rescued from abandonment in old barns, garages and storage rooms. Often he would exhibit one at a local fair. The children liked them. I could imagine that. There is no wonderment in a digital source of music. At least with a turntable you can understand what's happening. But this! Here was a miraculous machine designed only to create delight. It didn't play music. It performed it.

Now it was time to mount the stairs into the living quarters. Paul and Danielle lived in comfort. You could sink into the chairs and sprawl on the sofas. Like all the best living spaces, their great room looked as if it had designed itself, or grown organically. I remember reading somewhere that in an English country house, nothing should look like it has been purchased in this generation. There were books everywhere. Danielle explained almost apologetically, Mais j'aime lire! Sparkling water and vin blanc appeared, and we walked out onto a large covered veranda that overlooked the late Toulouse afternoon.

Paul still practiced as a dental surgeon, I learned, to keep his hand in. More of his time was occupied by his position on the medical faculty. Marie-Christine said he was a famous teacher, and she was one of a legion of his students. It was clear she stood in good favor with the couple, so good that we visitors could drop into their lives and as twilight gathered be served a magnificent country meal prepared by Danielle. Mushroom soup, lamb stew, haricots verts. A tart with fresh cream for dessert. Little cups of strong coffee. We angled our chairs to regard the last of the sunset.

Nous visitons un club de jazz de Montauban

Vous avez encore rien vu! You've seen nothing yet! Paul sprang to his feet and beckoned for us to follow him. We ascended another flight of the circular staircase and found ourselves in one of the most extraordinary rooms I've ever seen, up there under the high eaves. This was a workshop for the hand-manufacture and repair of small mechanical devices. Here Paul worked on his dentistry inventions. He restored small toys -- mechanical banks, coin dispensers, Punch and Judy shows, music boxes. And above all, he repaired watches.

He pulled out the gooseneck lamp above his workspace and showed us the antique pocket watch he was working on, its occult secrets laid bare to the world for perhaps the first time in a century. He used tiny tools and a big magnifying glass that swiveled out over the watch. He carefully selected a tiny part and inserted it meticulously into its place. He stood and regarded it with pride, almost impatient to continue. He lifted a cautioning finger: Vous avez encore rien vu.

We moved into a space containing rows of wooden cabinets. He slid open a drawer. Inside, each in its small space, were dozens of watches. The next drawer held dozens more. I had the impression he had every watch he had ever repaired. He explained, "I remember every one."

La Place du Capitole à Toulouse

The sisters said it was late enough that we really should be getting back to town.

"I want to ask Paul where he finds the time to do all of this work," I said. This was translated. His eyes twinkled as if he had been awaiting such such a question. Dominique and Marie-Christine smiled because they already knew the answer.

Je ne dors pas. I don't sleep.

"You don't sleep?"

Je ne dors pas un clin d'oeil.

Not a wink!

I was having trouble comprehending this. "You mean you stay up all night?" I asked as if he didn't understand what he was saying.

Oui, he stayed up all night. And all day, too.

Un quatuor de chambre dans Mosiaac

"And Madame?" I asked. The sisters were delighted now at my astonishment.

Je vous assure que je dors! Danielle Moog said emphatically. I assure you that I sleep!

"But Paul, how do you stay up all night?"

"I like to."

"Is it insomnia?"

"I'm never sleepy," he explained.

"But...don't we all require sleep?"

"Well, so it is said. But not for me. It's always been that way."

We began to leave. Danielle said she would show us the way. "I'll just stay up here," Paul said, eyeing the unfinished pocket watch almost restlessly.

On the drive back into Toulouse, I told Dominique and Marie-Christine I had just spent an evening I would never forget.

"But do you believe he really doesn't sleep?"

"It seems impossible," Marie-Christine said. "But that's what he says. And Danielle agrees with him."

"All the same," I said, "Danielle sleeps. She's not up all night. Maybe he gets a nap when she's not watching."

"That's always possible. She says he always wakes her up with her morning coffee."

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The sun sets over the fields of Paul and Danielle, as seen from their veranda

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"To Sleep," a prayer by John Keats during insomnia

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A automaton orchestra in Renoir's "Rules of the Game"

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How to stay awake

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This will lull you to sleep

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TV Commercial for the Citroën 2CV

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How to change a watch battery

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My question is, how did Paul get the music boxes into the barn?

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.28544 2009-10-15T04:08:23Z 2009-11-09T22:31:27Z

In 1975 an artist named Chris Burden announced that he would lay down on the floor beneath a large sheet of plate glass on the floor of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. He did not say what he...

Roger Ebert In 1975 an artist named Chris Burden announced that he would lay down on the floor beneath a large sheet of plate glass on the floor of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. He did not say what he would do then. I covered that story for the paper, not because it was assigned, but because the concept held an eerie fascination for me. It still does. I have no idea what he was trying to prove. But, surely, he was proving something?

I recently had occasion to read The Hunger Artist, by Franz Kafka. It involves a sideshow performer who goes without food for long, long periods of time. This becomes a futile exercise, because while he's starving there's nothing much to see, and most people assume he isn't really starving; a man need only be thin to lock himself in a cage and say he is fasting. Who watches him at night or when the show is moving to another town? The story has a famous ending that is savage in its implacability. I've linked to it below.

Bloodletting man, from the Calendar of Regiomontanus (1475)

Reading Kafka, I was reminded of the article I wrote about Chris Burden, and looked it up. It engaged and perplexed me. I will quote from it here, and then in italics I will think some more about Chris Burden.

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¶ At 8:20 p.m., the body artist Chris Burden entered a large gallery of the Museum of Contemporary Art, did not look at his audience of 400 or more, set a clock for midnight, and lay down on the floor beneath a large sheet of plate glass that was angled against the wall. So commenced on April 11 a deceptively simple piece of conceptual art that would eventually involve the imaginations of thousands of Chicagoans who had never heard of Burden, would cause the museum to fear for Burden's life, and would end at a time and in a way that Burden did not remotely anticipate.

The piece began in a sense a month earlier, when I was interviewing Burden at the Arts Club of Chicago in the company of Ira Licht, the museum's curator. At that time Burden had just completed a piece in a New York art gallery that involved his living for three weeks on a triangular platform set so high against one of the gallery's walls that no one could see for sure if he was really up there. He took no nourishment except celery juice. The piece had been spooky, mystical, Burden was saying. There had been something infuriating, for some of the visitors to the gallery, in the notion that a human presence was up there in the shadows under the ceiling, not speaking, not doing anything, just waiting.

Some of the visitors tried to take running jumps up the wall in an attempt to see Burden, or a hand, or a shoe, or a couple of eyeballs in the darkness. Others took it on trust that he was there. Burden heard one young man telling his friend that the feeling in the gallery was almost spiritual: "He can hear us, and he doesn't answer, but he can't help listening...it's like God."

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It is like God, in a way, in its detachment. It is also infuriating. There was no way to see is Burden really was up there. He could have slipped away the first night and checked into a hotel, and the piece would have been precisely the same from the point of view of the gallery visitors. So, too, is the presence or absence of God. What difference does it make? If there were God, would there be more good in the world? If there were not a God, more evil? What we believe is sometimes more important than what we can see. Visitors to the gallery believed that Chris Burden was out of sight on the shelf.

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Burden had been invited to Chicago to participate in an exhibition of "conceptual art" at the museum. Earlier that morning, he'd visited the gallery where he'd be performing, and now at lunch he said he wasn't sure yet what he would do, but he had a few ideas.

"Would it be fair," Ira Licht asked, "to ask for some rough estimate of how long the piece might last?"

"No", Burden said, "it wouldn't." A piece lasting 45 seconds might be richer than one lasting two hours.

Licht said there might be a problem if some of the museum's members arrived a few minutes late and the piece was already over. Well, Burden sighed, he couldn't please all of the people all of the time. And it was at that moment that the idea for his April 11 performance came to him.

Our conversation moved on to some of Burden's earlier pieces, and inevitably to the performance by which he earned his master's thesis at the University of California at Irvine: He had himself locked into a locker measuring 2-by-3-by-3 feet for five days; there was a five-galloon jug of water in the locker above him and, with admirable logic, an empty five-gallon container in the locker below him. Word of the piece spread all over the campus, and hundreds of students came to talk to him through the locker's grillwork.

The beauty of the piece, Burden said, was that, of course, he had to listen: "I was a box with ears and a voice."

¶

This, too, placed Burden in a godlike role. If God is omnipotent, he must hear not only our prayers but our most fleeting thoughts. Was that what he was doing, playing God? I don't believe it was. The pieces were about himself. In a way, both of those pieces were saying, Me! Me! Me. He, Chris Burden, was on the shelf or in the locker, and the focus of his thought was his solitary experience. If others jumped to see if he was really there, or talked through the door, they were focused on him, his situation, his choice, his pain or pleasure. If they thought he was brilliant or insane, an artist or a fake, no matter what they thought, he was in the locker or on the shelf, and they were thinking about him.

¶

On another occasion, Burden had himself manacled with brass rings to a concrete floor, and flanked by two buckets of water with live electric wires in them. The audience was admitted, and it had to be trusted not to knock over a bucket and electrocute the artist. "I had absolute faith that they wouldn't," Burden said. "After all...I'm not suicidal."

For other works Burden had himself nailed to the roof of a Volkswagen, and shot in the arm with a rifle ("It was supposed to be a graze wound, but the marksman missed"). These more violent pieces tended to attract more attention, he said, but some of his quieter pieces were perhaps more interesting. The idea in conceptual art is that the artist causes experiences to happen to himself, and then ruminates on the interaction between the self and the experience; an audience may be permitted to observe, but is not essential.

When he returned to Chicago in April, Burden told the museum he would require the large industrial-style clock, the sheet of plate glass, and nothing else. The clock was fastened to the wall and the sheet glass was leaning against it at a 45-degree angle when the museum's doors were opened at 8 p.m. An unusually large crowd filed in, attracted perhaps by publicity about Burden's previous performances. There was a slight carnival atmosphere. The tone was muted somewhat because of a large number of spectators who were seriously interested in body art, but all the same a definite feeling existed in the room that some people had come to see blood.

¶

Were these people all frequent visitors to the museum, or to art exhibitions in general? Five years after the 1960s ended, were they now drawn to a man whose work seemed to negate love and music and flowers and--anything at all? Burden was not of the Woodstock Generation. His art perhaps said that art was a mockery. That it was about the artist, who when fully committed was not engaged in life at all, but was on Pause.

¶

At 8:20, Burden entered the gallery, set the clock for midnight and laid down under the glass. He was wearing a Navy blue sweater and pants, and jogging shoes. He let his hands rest easily at his sides and looked up at the ceiling, blinking occasionally. He could not see the clock.

The audience perhaps expected more. There was a pregnant period of silence, about 10 minutes, and when at the end of it nothing else had happened, there were a few loud whistles and sporadic outbursts of clapping. Burden did not react. At various times during the next two hours, audience members tried to approach Burden with advice, greetings, exhortations, and a red carnation. They were politely but firmly kept away by the museum attendants. A girl threw her brassiere at the glass; it was taken away by a smiling guard. At 10:30 p.m., when I left, the crowd had dwindled down to perhaps 100. I came back to the Sun-Times to write a mildly quizzical article, and then called Alene Valkanas, the museum's publicist, to ask if Burden was still on the floor.

"Yes, he is," she said. "It's a really strange scene here right now. There are about 40 people left, and they're all very quiet. Burden doesn't move. It was more like a circus before; but now it's more like a shrine...very mysterious and beautiful."

I returned to the office and filed the story with a pre-written editor's note: "At (fill in the time and day), Chris Burden ended his self-imposed vigil." The editor's note was never to run. I left to meet some friends for a drink, and we talked about Burden and what he was up to. There was the suggestion that this was another of his danger pieces, that eventually someone would become impatient enough to throw something at the plate glass and break it, that Burden's immobility was an impudent invitation of violence toward himself. Nobody had a better idea.

O'Rourke's Pub was crowded, happy and noisy, but I felt my thoughts being pulled back to that vast, empty gallery with the sheet glass leaning against one wall. At 1:15 a.m., I went to the pay telephone and called Alene. She said Burden was still on the floor. I said the hell with it and drove back downtown to the museum. Burden had not moved.

Two of the museum guards still remained. One of them, Herman Peoples, would become so involved in the piece that he would voluntarily share the vigil with Burden, vowing not to leave until it was over. There was a television reporter, Rich Samuels of WMAQ, sitting on a mat of foam rubber, and a young couple who left soon after I arrived. Two banks of spotlights illuminated Burden against the wall, and the other lights had been turned out; a zaftig nude by Gaston Lachaise lounged in the shadows.

"He doesn't move except for what look like isometric flexings," Alene Valkanas said "He flexes his fingers sometimes, and once in a while you can see his toes flexing." Burden seemed removed to a great distance. He was not asleep. There was no way to tell if he was in a meditative trance, or had hypnotized himself, or was fully aware of his surroundings. After an hour, I left very quietly, as if from a church.

The next day I planned to drive down to Urbana. Before I left I called the museum. It was noon; Burden had still not moved, the museum said. Fifteen hours and 40 minutes. During the drive downstate, my thoughts kept returning to him, and I wondered what he was thinking and how he felt, and if he was thirsty, and if he had to piss. The radio stations had picked up on the piece by now, and were inserting progress reports on their newscast. Disc jockeys were finding the whole thing hilarious.

On Sunday, driving back to Chicago, I stopped at the Standard Oil truck stop in Gilman to call the museum. Burden had not moved. The time was 2:30 p.m. Forty-two hours and ten minutes. I came into the office, where I learned that Ira Licht and other museum authorities were consulting specialists to determine whether Burden's life was in danger. A urologist said no one could go more than perhaps 48 hours without urinating and not risk uremic poisoning. Burden hadn't had anything to drink, but that was not a problem at the moment, apparently; since he was not exercising he would not dehydrate dangerously in only two days.

Alene Valkanas called at a little before 6 p.m.

"The piece ended at 5:20," she said. Forty-five hours. "We felt a moral obligation not to interfere with Burden's intentions, but we felt we couldn't stand by and allow him to do serious physical harm to himself. There was a possibility he was in such a deep trance that he didn't have control over his will. We decided to place a pitcher of water next to his head and see if he would drink from it. The moment we put the water down, Chris got up, walked into the next room, returned with a hammer and a sealed envelope, and smashed the clock, stopping it."

The envelope contained Burden's explanation of the piece. It consisted, he had written, of three elements: The clock, the glass, and himself. The piece would continue, he said, until the museum staff acted on one of the three elements. By providing the pitcher of water, they had done so.

"I was prepared to lie in this position indefinitely," he wrote. "The responsibility for ending the piece rested with the museum staff but they were always unaware of this crucial aspect." The piece had been titled "Doomed."

The idea for the piece, Burden explained later, had come during our lunch with Licht: "I thought, if he's concerned about how long the piece will be, I'll do a piece in which he has complete control over the length."

"My God," Alene Valkanas said. "All we had to do was end it ourselves, and we thought the rules of the piece required us to do nothing."

¶

About Chris Burden I have little doubt. He was fully prepared to remain prone under the glass for an indefinite period of time. Like the Hunger Artist, his performance was life itself. He has removed his own choice from the equation. If he had remained on the floor for days or weeks and then died, well, that would have been how the piece ended. He had turned over his life and will to exterior forces.

So do we all, but we rarely think of that as a choice. A vast engine of fate and genetics, coincidence and desire, propels us helplessly in a direction we choose to think is ours. The clock ticks until something breaks or some eternal force does something to us. Then we die, and the piece is over.

¶

During the 45 hours, Burden had been in psychological danger, perhaps, but not in physical danger; he had urinated, but the museum staff had not noted the signs on his navy-blue dungarees. He had been thirsty and hungry, Burden said, and he had been completely conscious at all times except for some fleeting periods of sleep. He had not used a self-imposed trance, or yoga, or anything else except self-discipline to keep himself lying there.

"I thought perhaps the piece would last several hours," Burden said. "I thought maybe they'd come up and say, okay, Chris, it's 2 a.m. and everybody's gone home and the guards are on overtime and we have to close up. That would have ended the piece, and I would have broken the clock, recording the elapsed time.

On the first night, when I realized they weren't going to stop the piece, I was pleased and impressed that they had placed the integrity of the piece ahead of the institutional requirements of the museum.

"On the second night, I thought, my God, don't they care anything at all about me? Are they going to leave me here to die?"

¶

In gathering art and video for this entry, I discovered something that rather surprised me. Burden had made no particular effort to photograph or film his performance pieces. The photos that exist are of low quality, suggesting snapshots by casual visitors. Some of the video was done by news organizations. When David Blaine is frozen into a block of ice or buried alive, he is always visible, and takes care that his performance is documented. For Chris Burden, I believe, the experience is what remains. His experience, and ours. Continuing as an artist, he eventually ended his body art, and became a teacher. For some years he has refused to discuss that period in his life.

¶

Crawling through glass: Burden explains a TV ad

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"The Flying Steamroller." Photo below, video here.

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"Big Wheel"

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The performance piece "Shoot"

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Read Franz Kafka's "The Hunger Artist" here.

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Painting by Shawn Yu; this link is to the artist's blog.

¶

Davd Bowie sings "Joe The Lion," which according to Wikipedia was inspired by Chris Burden. Thanks to reader Carlton Harris..

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]]> tag:blogs.suntimes.com,2009:/ebert//103.28447 2009-10-11T01:28:39Z 2009-10-23T21:58:19Z

Post your own CIFF feedback Tina Mabry's "Mississippi Damned," an independent American production, won the Gold Hugo as the best film in the 2009 Chicago International Film Festival, and added Gold Plaques for best supporting actress (Jossie Thacker) and best...

Roger Ebert Post your own CIFF feedback

Tina Mabry's "Mississippi Damned," an independent American production, won the Gold Hugo as the best film in the 2009 Chicago International Film Festival, and added Gold Plaques for best supporting actress (Jossie Thacker) and best screenplay (Mabry). It tells the harrowing story of three black children growing up in rural Mississippi in circumstances of violence and addiction. The film's trailer and an interview with Mabry are linked at the bottom.

Kylee Russell in "Mississippi Damned"

The winner of the Audience Award, announced Friday, was "Precious" (see below). The wins came over a crowed field of competitors from all over the world, many of them with much larger budgets. The other big winner at the Pump Room of the Ambassador East awards ceremony Saturday evening was by veteran master Marco Bellocchio of Italy, who won the Silver Hugo as best director for "Vincere," the story of Mussolini's younger brother. Giovanna Mezzogiorno and Filippo Timi won Silver Hugos as best actress and actor, and Daniele Cipri won a Gold Plaque for best cinematography.

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Andrea Arnold's "Fish Tank" (right) a British film about a young girl growing up in a public housing project, won a Silver Hugo as the winner of the Special jury Prize and a Gold Plaque for best supporting actor (Michael Fassbender).

A Gold Plaque for best art direction went to "Hipsters" (Russia) for its "infectiously colorful and imaginative sets and its stimulating counterbalancing of a modern generation set against Soviet darkness."

A Silver Plaque was given to "Backyard" (Mexico) for "its exposé of the horrible crimes of violence against women in Juarez."

A career achievement award was given to actor Martin Landau, who appeared with the screening of Hitchcock's "North by Northwest." "I have a fondness for this very room and Chicago itself," said Landau, who acted for Hitchcock in scenes (below left) shot at the Ambassador East. CIFF's feature film jury included president Jacqueline Bisset (UK), Shohreh Aghdashloo (Iran), Duane Byrge (US), Pablo Cruz (Mexico), and Bruce Sheridan (New Zealand).

In the New Directors' Competition, for debut films, the Gold Hugo was won by Adrian Biniez's "Gigante" (Uruguay). The jury wrote: "A humorous and poignant story of people striving to connect in a contemporary world of isolation and loneliness. The film and its charm center on the admirably conceived central figure of the gentle, vulnerable and lovelorn giant."

A Silver Hugo went to "Made in China" (USA), "an exemplary demonstration of guerrilla film-making, shot at speed but conceived and assembled with wit, charm, coherence and a distinctively wry view of 21st century entrepreneurism." The Gold Plaque as won by "Partners," (Switzerland/France), and its "brutal theme of the young trapped into commercial vice and violence without forfeiting affection for the victims or belief in their fundamental yearning for love and escape."

The New Directors Competition Jury included Charin Alvarez (USA),Chiara Arroyo Cella (Spain), Leonardo Garcia Tsao (Mexico), and David Robinson (UK).

In the Documentary Competition, the Gold Hugo went to Peter Kerekes' "Cooking History" (Austria/Slovakia/Czech Republic) "for its originality and humor, and for presenting a view of war from an unexpected angle, so as to shock, entertain, and educate." The Silver Hugo was won by "Racing Dreams" (USA) "for revealing in an unsparing yet sympathetic way the inner life of young people aspiring to break into professional sports." The Gold Plaque in Direction to went to "Soundtrack for a Revolution" (USA) "for its inventive combination of historical footage, interviews, and musical performance."

The documentary jury included John Russell Taylor (UK), Matt Irvine (USA), and Alison Cuddy (USA).

In the Short Film Competition, the Gold Hugo for best short film goes to Balint Kenyeres's "The History of Aviation" (Hungary), "with an unconventional story structure to illustrate a failure in aviation history."

The Silver Hugo Grand Jury Prize went to "Good Advice" (Sweden), "about a ten-year old who creates audio messages for his yet-to-be-born sibling."

The Silver Hugo for best animated short film was won by "Skhizein" (at left, France) and its "ingenious use of animation to tell the story of a man literally beside himself." The Gold Plaque for best experimental short film goes to "Photograph of Jesus," "which depicts interesting and, at times, bizarre requests for photographs from the Hulton Archive/Getty Images. The Gold Plaque for best student short film went to "Cherry on the Cake" (UK).

The Gold Plaque for best essay short film was won by "The Illusion" (Cuba)which "conveys a young woman's tumult in leaving her native Cuba for the first time to visit her estranged father in London. A Special Mention for best ensemble performances went to "Short Term 12" (USA), "which successfully rises above the conventions of the troubled teen and mental illness film sub-genres through its affecting and detailed performances." A Special Mention for animated short film goes to "Attached to You" (Sweden), for its stunning claymation, superb attention to detail, and compelling story line."

The short film jury included Jacinta Banks, John Bleeden, Gabe Clinger, and Armando Ibanez.

The Chicago Award winner was "Wet," "a beautiful metaphor for isolation and loneliness." Special mentions went to "Girls on the Wall" and "An Evening with Emery long."

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Following are our capsule reviews for the films in this year's 45th anniversary Chicago International Film Festival, which continues through Oct. 22 at the AMC River East, 322 E. Illinois. Reviews entirely in boldface are by Bill Stamets or me, and are signed. The lightface notices are provided by CIFF. Tickets are $12 for the public, and $9 for Cinema Chicago members. In a special attraction this year, all matinees starting before 5:05 p.m. are $5, except for special presentations. Tickets are at Ticketmaster or the AMC box office. Seats remain for many screenings, and for at least one movie at any time.

Stamets adds: "These are their nation's nominations as entries for Best Foreign film for 2009 Academy Awards that are also in the 2009 CIFF: "About Elly" (Iran), "Backyard" (Mexico), "Police, Adjective" (Romania), "Mother" (South Krrea).

Capsules are alphabetical. Click here for the complete festival schedule, which can be downloaded in an attractive calendar format, ideal for posting on the refrigerator door.

¶"About Elly" (Iran, 119 minutes) From the director of "Fireworks Wednesday" (winner of the Festival's 2006 Gold Hugo), this complex mystery launches with the lighthearted weekend reunion of a group of old college pals. Sepideh has brought along her new friend Elly, hoping she'll hit it off with Ahmad, newly divorced from his German wife and in search of an Iranian bride. But when Elly disappears from their seaside bungalow, compounding lies and deception quickly lead to catastrophe. Director: Asghar Farhadi. Oct 10, 3pm; Oct 12, 2:30pm, $5; Oct 20, 8:30pm.

"Against the Current" (USA, 99 minutes) Peter Callahan assembles fine indie talent for a letdown. Joseph Fiennes plays a New Yorker swimming down the Hudson River to the Atlantic Ocean. Playing his friends, Justin Kirk and Elizabeth Reaser upstage this glum widower with a fake-loking swim stroke. The surrounding talent is less than the sum of their promise: the producers of "The Hawk is Dying" and "Choking Man"; the cinematographer from "Zoo"; and the editor of "Day Night Day Night." Also stars JJustin Kirk (Angels In America), Elizabeth Reaser, Michelle Trachtenberg, and Mary Tyler Moore. Directed by Peter Callahan; Oct 15, 4:15pm, $5; Oct 20, 6:30pm. Director Peter Callahan scheduled to attend. Stamets

"Air Doll" (Japan, Oct 17, 3:30pm, Oct 18, 5:30pm, Oct 19, 3:00pm). Seems like quite a departure for the Japanese master Hirokazu Kore-eda ("After Life," "Maborosi") but is a parable about similar themes: Loneliness, seeking companionship, what it means to be alive. A waiter comes home every night to a life of contended domesticity with an inflatable doll. He treats her as if she were real, and amazingly one day she comes to life. As played uncannily by Bae Doo-na, she mimics others in learning who to behave, and begins a secret life of her own when her owner is away. Not a film about sex, but about the gulf between appearances and realities. -- Ebert

"Antichrist" (Denmark / Germany, 109 minutes) Without question drawing the most attention of this year's entries, Lars von Trier's controversial provides a club in its title: The hero of his film will be he enemy of the good. Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg co-star in courageous performances that take enormous chances. A married couple, they despair after their baby dies in the harrowing opening scenes, and then join in a bizarre descent into horror and physical pain. Read my blog entry about the premiere at the Cannes film festival, and my initial reflections on the film. (Gala Presentation Oct 12, 7:00pm - $25/$20; actor Willem Dafoe scheduled to attend). Ebert

"Astro Boy" (Hong Kong / USA, 94 minutes) A Hollywood voice cast in a first-rate version of a Japanese manga. Metro City circles in orbit above a devastated Earth, and faithful robots serve the every need of the inhabitants. A brilliant scientist harnesses energy from a star to provide unlimited "blue power" for the city and even the planet. But a politically ambitious politician wants to employ the anti-energy of "red power" to arm a weapon of war. The red-powered robot goes rogue, and it's up to Astro Boy, a newly-fledged robot with the memories of a real little boy, to save the day. With Freddie Highmore, Kristen Bell, Nathan Lane, Eugene Levy, Matt Lucas, Bill Nighy, Donald Sutherland, Charlize Theron, and Nicolas Cage. Gala, Oct 18, 4pm - $15/$12. Ebert

"Backyard" (Mexico, 122 minutes) The most chilling frame of this thriller, from the director of "The Crime of Father Amaro" may be the one that reads: "based on actual events." In the border town of Juárez, Mexico, hundreds of women have gone missing or turned up as sun-burnt corpses in the desert, but new police Captain Blanca Bravo (Ana de la Reguera) is determined to stop the savagery. Jimmy Smits also stars. Oct 15, 6:30pm; Oct 16, 9:15pm; Director Carlos Carrera scheduled to attend; Oct 20, 3pm, $5

"The Be All and End All" (UK, 100 minutes) Bruce Webb directs an unoriginal drama of best buddies Robbie (Josh Bolt) and Ziggy (Eugene Byrne.) The 15-year-old mates deal with a fatal heart muscle diagnosis. Another condition is more susceptible to treatment: virginity. Ziggy does his best to let his best friend Robbie lose his before Robbie loses his life. Mild adventures with nurses, classmates, pimps, hookers and cops make for a merely cute dodge of graver matters. Oct 13, 8:20pm; Oct 15, 8:45pm; Oct 18, 12:45pm; director Bruce Webb scheduled to attend all three. Stamets

"Bellamy" (France, Oct 9, 6 p.m.; Oct 10, 3:30 p.n., $5; Oct. 19, 8 p.m.) Gérard Depardieu stars in French New Wave veteran Claude Chabrol's 58th film, a playfully witty crime story centered around Paris police chief Paul Bellamy. While on holiday with his wife, the famed detective is approached by a stranger who "sort of killed" another man, and before long Bellamy becomes embroiled in a puzzle that boggles even his mind.

"Berlin '36" (Germany, 100 minutes) With Nazi-ruled Berlin facing boycotts of its 1936 Olympic Games if Jewish athletes aren't allowed to participate, party officials bully expatriate champion high jumper Gretel Bergmann (Karoline Herfurth) into training with members of a team that reviles her. At the same time, the Nazis use über-athlete Marie Ketteler (Sebastian Urzendowsky) as a pawn in a covert campaign to assure Gretel's defeat, thus allegedly proving the superiority of the Nordic race. Her loss would be fodder for Leni Riefenstahl's famous documentary. This powerful story, based on real life events, celebrates the small triumphs strong-willed individuals can win over tyranny and hatred. Oct 15, 6:30pm; Oct 16, 8:15pm; Oct 18, 11:30am; director Kaspar Heidelbach is scheduled to attend all three screenings

"Blue" (U.S., Oct 9, 3:15pm, $5; Oct 15, 6 pm) Oct 15, 2009 6:00 Murder. Robbery. Abandonment. Gary "Blue" Meekins' past is one he'd prefer not to remember. Even after surviving the rough streets of Harlem, Blue finds himself struggling to make it through the days. Now, with the help of an old coach and his emotionally damaged neighbor, this burgeoning prizefighter is finally getting his shot at the title. But after so much, will Blue make it to the fight of his life? Director Ryan Miningham and writer, producer and actor Don Wallace are scheduled to attend.

"Beyond Ipanema" (Brazil, 80 minutes) Starting in the '40s with Carmen Miranda and continuing ever since, Brazil's music has created waves across the globe. Featuring infectious samples of different musical styles and interviews with David Byrne, Devendra Banhart, M.I.A., Os Mutantes, Seu Jorge, Thievery Corporation, CSS, Creed Taylor, and many others, this vibrant documentary explores how the inimitable sound and spirit of Brazilian music has been adopted and transformed throughout the world. Directed by Guto Barra. Oct 11, 3:30pm; Oct 12, 6:15pm Producers Beco Dranoff and Sandro Fiorin scheduled to attend both.

"Case Unknown" (Poland, Oct 9, 4:00 pm, $5; Oct 12, 8:45pm; Oct 15, 5:45pm) Work is everything to young psychiatrist Konstanty Grot--something his wife often teases him about. But when he brings his patient Pawel home for treatment, Konstanty discovers hidden secrets from Pawel's past... and endangers his own family in the process. This thoughtful thriller paints a portrait of a man who risks his professional and personal life in the search for justice. Directed by Feliks Falk.

"The Castle." (Australia, 5 p.m. Oct 11, $15/$12) I was asked by Michael Kutza to present one of my favorite films from Ebertfest, and I chose this 1997 Australian comedy by Rob Sitch, which may be the funniest movie you've never seen. The happy Kerrigans proudly occupy a home only inches from a jumbo jet runway, and refuse to move. This leads to a courtroom battle, but hardly disturbs their serenity. When the family is served chicken dinner. Dad observes something on the chicken and asks his wife what it is. "Seasoning," she says proudly. Dad beams: "Seasoning! Looks like everybody's kicked a goal." And so life spins along in Melbourne, where the Kerrigan home sits surrounded by its built-on rooms, screened-in porch, greyhound kennel, big-dish satellite and carport. For Dad, it is not so much a house as a shrine to one of the best darn families in the universe, and he proudly points out the plastic Victorian gingerbread trim and the fake chimney. Read my full review here. Ebert

"Cedar Boys" (Australia, 106 minutes) For Tarek, a young Lebanese man living with his parents in suburban Sydney, everything he wants seems just out of reach--cash to help out his family, acceptance into mainstream Australian society, and the arm of a fetching girl from the wealthy 'burbs. When his best friend hatches a plan to rob a drug house, Tarek sees a quick way to get all three, but his desire to rise above his lot in life leaves him blind to the consequences of their caper. Director Serhat Caradee scheduled to attend all three screenings: Oct 10, 8:45pm; Oct 11, 3:15pm; Oct 13, 3:30pm, $5)

"Chicago Overcoat" (U.S., 7:30 p.m. Oct. 7, 12:45 p., Oct 9, 8:45 p.m. Oct 19) The title of this crime drama is vintage slang for a coffin. And a "Chicago typewriter" is a machine gun, explains Lou Marazano (Frank Vincent from "The Sopranos") to his grandson. This aging hit man misses the family values and professionalism of the old Chicago and Cicero mobs. Brian Caunter's directing debut sports a philandering alderman, a Chinatown crematorium and a fine turn by local actor Danny Goldring as an old-school cop. Overdone voiceovers and a soundtrack crowded with too much music of too many kinds. Stamets

"Claustrophobia" (Hong Kong, 100 minutes) Five coworkers cram into one car for their shared ride home. The tension churning through this tight space instantly intimates the clandestine office romances Claustrophobia will explore. Cleverly piecing together fragments of these often ambiguous relationships, this urbane, naturalistic drama reminds us that physical proximity and intimacy are two vastly different things. Directed by Ivy Ho. Oct 15, 9:30pm; Oct 20, 6pm.

"Coffin Rock" (Australia, 89 minutes) Evan (Sam Parsonson) is a receptionist at a fertility clinic. He stalks a patient (Lisa Chappell) to a small fishing town, and mistakes their drunken random act of unprotected sex for something more. Psychotic calls home- made with a phone unplugged from the wall- and cliched flashbacks to past trauma indicate where this young creep is coming from. Writer/ director Rupert Glasson grafts the horror genre onto an old-time "women's picture" about fidelity and fertility for a gripping art film. Directed by Rupert Glasson. Oct 16, 10:30pm; Oct 17, 9:30pm. Stamets.

"Cooking History" (Austria / Slovakia, 88 minutes) "Cooking History" (Austria/ Slovakia) Director Peter Kerekes interviews cooks who fed combatants in Algeria, Chechnya, Czechoslovakia, Germany, Hungary, Russia, Yugoslavia and the former Yugoslavia. Vets from diverse European conflicts relive memories. A Jewish baker poisoned hundreds of Nazis by adding arsenic to their bread. Honoring his drowned comrades, a Russian submarine cook prepares pork cutlets on shore as the tide rises. Beautifully shot and smartly edited, this documentary delivers an unusually moving view of cuisine in war-time. (5 p.m. both Oct 11, Oct. 13). Directed by Peter Kérekes. Oct 12, 5 p.m. ; Oct 13, 5 pm. Stamets

"Cropsey" (U.S., Oct 09, 11 pm; Oct 11, 5:30 p.m.) The directors, who both grew up on Staten Island, connect the urban myth of a child-snatching escaped mental patient that haunted their youth with the true stories of the kids who actually went missing in their community. This chilling horror documentary follows the filmmakers as they investigate the seedy underbelly of their borough, searching for answers only to unearth more mysteries. Director Barbara Brancaccio is scheduled to attend both screenings.

"Dear Doctor" (Japan, 127 minutes) Lies told in the name of love and compassion are the focus of this beautiful psychological drama about a country doctor whose good intentions outstrip his honesty. Universally beloved by his community for his kindness and diligence, he abruptly leaves town one day, throwing it into turmoil. Astonishing secrets about his background soon surface, and the villagers must come to terms with this new knowledge of the man they so admire. Directed by Miwa Nishikawa. Oct 19, 7:45pm: Oct 20, 5:30pm; Director Miwa Nishikawa scheduled to attend both.

Don't Let Me Drown" (U.S., Oct 09, 4:15pm, $5; Oct 18, 8:20 pm; Oct 19 9 pm) Two Brooklyn teens search for solace in a city brimming with hatred and trepidation in this comical and touching coming-of-age drama. A month after 9/11, Lalo and Stefanie meet at a birthday party. Lalo's father cleans up at Ground Zero, where Stefanie lost her sister in the attacks. As their friendship blossoms into a romance, they're forced to keep each other hidden from their families, each struggling with still-fresh wounds. Director Cruz Angeles is scheduled to attend on the 18th and 19th.

"Eastern Plays" (Bulgaria, Sweden). This multilayered debut is a fresh, honest, sensitively wrought portrait of two young men struggling with their existential ennui in different ways. Swept up in the Bulgarian capital's turbulent political climate, Georgi falls in with a violent gang of neo-Nazis while blackout drunk and all-around jerk Christo flounders in a dead-end job. Their roles in a racist beating will reveal the connections between them and alter their lives in unexpected ways. Director: Kamen Kalev Oct 10, 1:30pm; Oct 12, 4:15pm, $5; Oct 13, 9pm .

"Eclipse (Ireland, Oct 9, 8:30pm; Oct 10, 2009 10:50pm; Oct 16, 9:30pm). Michael (Ciarán Hinds, Munich) has been plagued by dark dreams and strange noises since his wife died. Volunteering at the local literary festival, Michael is drawn to supernatural fiction writer Lena (Iben Hjejle, High Fidelity) as much for her beauty as for her fascination with the otherworldly. Pop novelist Nicholas (Aidan Quinn) has also been enthralled with Lena since their one-night affair a year ago, but when he arrives to reclaim her, all three will be forced to deal with their own ghosts. Directed by Conor McPherson.

"Eccentricities of a Blond Hair Girl" (Portugal, 63 minutes). Lonely office-bound accountant MacÁrio, sees a captivating woman in the window across the street. Instantly smitten, he throws himself headlong into pursuit of her, only to discover that there's a long fall from the top of a pedestal down to solid ground. At 100, de Oliveira is still finding fresh perspectives on human nature and delivering them with a richness and visual poetry all his own. Oct 10, 1 pm; Oct 13, 3:15pm, $5; Oct 14, 6:30pm .

"An Education" (UK, Oct. 11, 6 p.m. Gala Presentation, $15/$12). One of the year's best films. Carey Mulligan in a career-changing performance as a precocious 16-year-old who falls in love with a man in his 30s (Peter Sarsgaard). Her father (Alfred Molina) doesn't approve but is handled like putty by the smooth-talking flatterer. We worry about her, but gee, this guy seems so nice. An he offers entre into a world of clubs and parties and lifestyle out of her reach and unimaginable to boys her age. Plus, he doesn't seem like a dirty old man but is always courteous and polite, and almost has to be talked into making a move. The film is subtly crafted to bring us along in the same way as it develops the teenage girl. Mulligan deserves a nomination. Director Lone Scherfig will be present at the screening. Ebert

"Effi Briest" (Germany, 118 minutes) In 19th-century Germany, 17-year-old Effi Briest sees her carefree life disappear when her parents marry her off to a man 20 years her senior. To find respite from her dull domestic existence, she begins an affair with a handsome young officer, but their dalliance carries a high cost.... This adaptation of the famous novel approaches the classic story through a post-women's-lib lens, allowing it to transcend costume-drama conventions. Directed by Hermine Huntgeburth. Oct 17, 12:30pm; Oct 19, 5pm, $5; Oct 20, 8:30pm .

"Eyes Wide Open" (Germany / Israel) Jerusalem's ultra-Orthodox community offers the comfort of belonging, but the conformity can be suffocating. Aaron, a devoted husband and father, is well respected in this world. Then he meets Ezri, a charismatic 22-year-old, who quickly steals Aaron's heart. Soon he's choosing this taboo love over his family. Guilt, torment, and pressure from the community will lead him to make a radical decision. Directed by Haim Tabakman. Oct 17, 8:30pm; Oct 18, 1:30pm; Oct 19, 4:30pm, $5.

"Face" (France / Taiwan, 141 minutes) A four-time award winner at the Festival, master Tsai Ming-Liang ("Goodbye, Dragon Inn;" "What Time Is It Over There?") returns with a sumptuously staged, boldly visual film about a Taiwanese filmmaker who casts French actors in his latest disaster-fraught film--despite not speaking a word of French. An artistic tip of the hat to Francois Truffaut's"Day for Night" and the spirit of the New Wave, "Face" stars Truffaut regulars Jean-Pierre Leaud and Fanny Ardant. Oct 14, 8:30pm; Oct 15, 8:15pm; Oct 19, 3:15pm, $5.

"Fish Tank" (UK. 124 minutes). Oscar winner Andrea Arnold ("Red Road") asserts her place at the pinnacle of contemporary British cinema with "Fish Tank," her keenly observed and unflinchingly realistic portrait of life in a rough-and tumble Essex housing project. The booze-swilling Mia (Katie Jarvis, a revelation in her first screen role) is an alienated, emotionally volatile teenager whose sluttish mother (Kierston Wareing) brings home a parade of anonymous one-night lovers. Mia's life is turned upside down by the arrival the latest man in the parade, the charming new boyfriend Connor (Michael Fassbender, named best actor at last year's Festival for "Hunger"). Winner of the Special Jury Prize at Cannes 2009. Oct 14, 8:40pm; Oct 15, 6:15pm.

"A Frozen Flower" (South Korea, 133 minutes). Set in 13th-century Korea, this sweeping epic tells the unconventional story of a taboo love triangle between the king of Goryeo, his male guard, and the queen. In the midst of nobles plotting to dethrone the king, the distraught commander of the royal guards must decide where his loyalties lie. This bold and provocative tale of blossoming desire is laced with bloody battles and betrayal, lust and forbidden love.Directed by Yoo Ha. Oct 11, 2:15pm; Oct 13, 8:30pm

"Gigante" (Uruguay, 84 minutes). "Gigante" (Uruguay) Writer/ director Adrian Biniez tells a delightful low-key romance via surveillance video: obsessive boy-observes-odd girl. Jara (Horacio Camandule) is a 35-year-old security guard on the night shift at a suburban supermarket. A sign over the mirror in the employee locker room states: "This Is the Image Customers Have of Me." Crippled by shyness and self-conscious of his overweight stature, Jara stalks and courts Julia (Leonor Svarcas), who works there on a cleaning crew. A mutual affection for heavy metal seals the deal for the misfit couple. (5:30 pm Oct 1; 8:40 p.m. Oct 13; 3:45 p.m. Oct 14) Oct 12, 5:30pm; Oct 13, 8:40pm; Oct 14, 3:45pm, $5. Director Adrian Biniez scheduled to attend. Stamets

"Girl on the Train" (France, Oct 8, 5 pm; Oct. 9 5:30 pm; Oct 10 12:45 pm.) French writer-director Andre Techine offers another intergenerational drama with an incisive social issue. His "The Witnesses" (2007) dealt with the early days of the AIDS epidemic, with Michel Blanc playing a gay doctor. This time, Blanc returns in this engaging ensemble piece as a Jewish lawyer representing the daughter of an old sweetheart (Catherine Deneuve). In this film, based on a news story about a woman falsely claiming she was attacked by anti-Semites, Jeanne (Emilie Dequenne) is a 22-year-old roller blader who cuts her face and draws swastikas on her stomach. Her story unravels, though, due to a business card. Jean-Marie Besset co-wrote the screenplay, based on her earlier stage play about the incident. Stamets

"Give Me Your Hand" (Oct 09, 9:00 pm; Oct 10, 2009; Oct 13, 2009 4:15pm) The journey is more important than the destination in this beautifully meditative film. Twin brothers--one gay, one straight--travel to the funeral of a mother they never met, equipped with only their rucksacks. Theirs is a close if combative relationship, but it is threatened by sexual entanglements and betrayal as they progress through the European countryside. Directed by Pascal-Alex Vincent.

"Green Waters" (Argentina, 89 minutes). Juan can't wait to start his family holiday at the beach, but a deep reserve of paternal paranoia is tapped when his teenage daughter meets leather-jacket-wearing, motorcycle-riding Roberto at a gas station on the way. Roberto resurfaces at the beach, and soon Juan's whole family is smitten by his charms. Subtle suspense--often hidden by sun-bright visuals and comedy--builds to a stunning climax in this offbeat debut. Directed by Mariano de Rosa. Oct 13, 6:15pm; Oct 14, 8:30pm; Mariano De Rosa scheduled to attend first two; Oct 16, 4:15pm, $5.

"Girls on the Wall" (USA, 61 minutes) In this affecting documentary, the girls of the Warrenville, Illinois prison are given a chance to tell their stories in a musical based on their lives. To do this, they must reach within themselves and reflect on the life choices they have made. With unprecedented access to the juvenile prison, director Heather Ross skillfully traces these young women's attempts to reclaim their humanity and ultimately their freedom. Oct 11, 1:30pm; Oct 16, 3:30pm, $5. Director Heather Ross and cast members scheduled to attend both.

"Henri-Georges Clouzot's Inferno" (France), ( 1 p.m. Oct 9, 6 p.m. Occt 13) This highly recommended documentary excavates an unfinished film from 1964 by French director Henri-Georges Clouzot ("Wages of Fear" and "Diabolique"). He wrote a 300-page screenplay and shot 13 hours of experimental footage for this folly about an insanely jealous man. Co-directors Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea Annonier may not diagnose Clouzot's creative impasse, but the evidence on view is amazing. "It all started with insomnia," the late Clouzot once stated in an interview. " I don't think I'm a pathological case." Perhaps not. Stamets

"Hipsters" (Russia), 6:30 p.m. Oct 7, 6 p.m. Oct 8, 12:30 p.m. Oct 9) Director Valery Todorovsky sets his high-energy musical in 1955 Moscow for a glossy retro look at the era's stilyagi scene. Hipsters model their outlandish styles after American fashions. Primping their pompadours, overspending on flashy outfits, dancing "The Atomic" and digging Charlie Parker discs are part of this politically incorrect counterculture. Mels (Anton Shagin) -- his name is an acronym for Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin -- is torn between the hip Polly (Oksana Akinshina) and the square Katya (Evgeniya Brik), his longtime Komsomol comrade. Todorovsky confects a classic Hollywood-style musical with little ideological irony. But he nods to Grigori Aleksandrov's kitschy commie musical "Circus" (1936) by casting an African-American to father a baby who's warmly embraced by the Russians. Stamets

"The House of the Devil" (U.S., Oct 9, 11 pm; Oct.10, 11:15 p.m., Oct 18, :30 p.m.) Desperate to earn money, a college student (Jocelin Donahue) accepts a babysitting job sight unseen. She's asked to come to a creepy mansion deep in a forest, where she's greeted by a exceedingly odd employer (Tom Noonan) who explains she's not needed for a baby, exactly, but for his elderly mother. But to to worry, she will stay upstairs and not cause any trouble. Escalates eerily into a situation more frightening than she--or we-- anticipate. Director Ti West is scheduled to attend the Oct. 9 and 10 screenings. Ebert

"Kanikôsen" (Japan, 109 minutes) The mononymic Sabu adapts Takiji Kobayashi's 1929 novel for an acidic parable of workers on a crab-fishing vessel. Brutalized by a cruel, limping overseer with a severe streak of nationalism, they see suicide as their only escape. The outrageous mise-en-scene borrows from "Battleship Potemkin" and "Metropolis" but Sabu's agitation is merely cynical and not insightful. Oct 18, 8:15pm; Oct 19, 6pm; Oct 20, 3:30pm, $5. Stamets

"I Know a Woman Like That" (USA, 103 minutes). Its description may sound innocuous, but Elaine Madsen's documentary is transformative in the way it regards life from the perspective of age. She talks intimately with 16 women in their 70s and above, who didn't put life on Pause but kept right on living. Barbara Hillary skied to the North Pole, and says women her age are expected to feel "mindless, useless and sexless." Lauren Hutton smiles, "I'm better in bed." Elaine Kaufman presides nightly over the most famous saloon in New York. Lorraine Morton was elected mayor of Evanston at 74, and is still mayor 14 years later. After a famous career in prose, Maxine Hong Kingston has returned to poetry, her childhood love. Gloria Steinem thinks maybe at 70 you understand who you really were at 14. Madsen doesn't ask celeb-trash questions, but is an adult talking to adults--even when she and Suzanne Adams (her daughter Virginia's drama teacher) are lying on a rug on their tummies, talking face to face like two seven-year olds. Extraordinary. (Oct 13, 5pm at Film Row Cinema at Columbia College in conjunction with CIFF's Reel Women panel, to be followed by a reception; Oct 15, 3:45pm, $5; director Elaine Madsen and Virginia Madsen scheduled to attend both. (Oct 13, at 5pm at Film Row Cinema at Columbia College in conjunction with CIFF's Reel Women panel, to be followed by a reception; Oct 15, 3:45pm, $5; director Elaine Madsen and Virginia Madsen scheduled to attend both. Read my interview with Elaine, Virginia and Michael Madsen.

"The Last Days of Emma Blank" (Netherlands, 89 minutes). The Dutch master of madcap misanthropy returns to the Festival with a precise, pitch-black comedy set in the country home of terminally ill Emma Blank. Her domestic servants have long submitted to her venomous attitude and irrational whims with an eye on an inheritance (van Warmerdam himself plays a character ordered to serve as the family dog... see it to believe it), but slowly the truth about this way-offbeat household is revealed. Directed by Alex van Warmerdam. Oct 11, 8:30pm; Oct 12, 5:30pm; Oct 15, 3:15pm

"The Long Night" (Syria, 93 minutes). This bold first feature tells the story of three men suddenly released after 20 years of imprisonment for political acts of conscience. When word of their freedom and imminent arrival reaches their families, old wounds are opened. What happens when duty to country conflicts with duty to family? Winner of the top prize at the Taormina Film Festival. Director: Hatem Ali. Oct 10, 4pm; Oct 11, 5:30pm; Oct 12, 4pm , $5.

"The Loss of a Teardrop Diamond" (USA, 102 minutes) How often do you hear about "the new Tennessee Williams film"? That's just what you get in this long-unproduced Southern Gothic tale Williams penned for Directed by Elia Kazan in the '50s. Bryce Dallas Howard stars alongside Ellen Burstyn and Ann-Margret as a free-spirited young heiress who falls for a handsome but humble guy in this 1920s-set story of jealousy, status, and good old-fashioned backstabbery. Directed by Jodie Markell. Oct 17, 7:45pm, $15/$12.

"Lost Times" (Hungary, 90 minutes) A car mechanic who moonlights as a smuggler, Iván Priskin finds himself wanting to chase his dreams but remaining rooted by his sense of obligation. Iván's autistic sister Eszter depends on him for survival, motivating him to strive for more while at the same time confining him to a countryside largely devoid of both hope and opportunity. When a tragedy befalls Eszter, Iván must renegotiate the relationship between his own self-interest and his love for his sister.Oct 14, 6pm; Oct 15, 8pm; director Áron Mátyássy scheduled to attend first two; Oct 20, 3:45pm, $5.

"Lovely, Still" (USA, 90 minutes) Christmas brings elderly Robert Malone (Oscar winner Martin Landau) an unexpected present: love. One evening when Robert returns to his lonely home, he finds a stranger (Oscar winner Ellen Burstyn) in his living room. She's his new neighbor, and it isn't long before a romance begins to blossom. Robert's on cloud nine--his only worry is whether his health can keep up with his heart. Directed by Nicholas Fackler. Gala, Oct 17, 5pm, $25/$20; Martin Landau expected to attend.

"Love & Savagery" (Canada/Ireland, 8:30 p.m. Oct. 7, 3 p.m. Oct. 9, 3:45 p.m. Oct.11) : Director John N. Smith andwriter Des Walsh, who collaborated on "The Boys of St. Vincent" (1992), offer an unremarkable romance set on the scenic Irish coast in 1969. Michael (Allan Hawco) is a rockhound and poet visiting from Newfoundland who fancies local pub waitress Cathleen (Sarah Greene). It turns out that at age 13, both made their own deals with God when their mothers were dying, but drew different conclusions from the answers to their prayers. Their spiritual paths trouble their love. Local hotheads supply the title's savagery by repeatedly beating the unwelcome foreigner. Closure occurs three years later with his poem and her letter, which are read over a soundtrack graced with fine traditional Irish music. Stamets

"Made in China" (U.S., 5:45 p.m. Oct 7; 8 p.m. Oct 9; 8 pm Oct 11) In Judi Krant's peppy indie, Johnson (Jackson Kuehn) learns the proper two-handed manner for presenting his business card in Shanghai. As this naive novelty-item entrepreneur from Texas goes to China to find a manufacturer for his idiotic product, Krant inserts little animated factoid segments about the real-life inventors of the Slinky, Pet Rock or other moneymakers. The stock footage is informative, though Johnson's narration irritates. Cinematographer Petter Eldin proves far more inventive in his lensing of Shanghai street scenes, without benefit of shooting permits. Recommended only for business-school students needing a study break. Stamets Winner of the festival's Silver Hugo in the New Directors Competition for "an exemplary demonstration of guerrilla film-making, shot at speed but conceived and assembled with wit, charm, coherence and a distinctively wry view of 21st century entrepreneurism."

"Made in Hungaria" (Hungary, 109 minutes) Like the fest's "Hipsters" from Russia, this chipper musical is set behind the Iron Curtain where kids dig American vinyl despite official bans. Director Gergely Fonyo's trite plot shows a rockin' teen who comes back to Hungary in 1963 after four years in America. Contraband Buddy Holly records could get him six years in prison for "anti-state agitation." But parents and commies see the error of suppressing youth. There's romance, stage rivalry, and a big talent show finale. Fonyo skips a chance to riff on state-sanctioned Socialist Realist musicals made in the sixties. Oct 17, 1pm; Oct 19, 8:30pm; Oct 20, 6:45pm ; Director Gergely Fonyó scheduled to attend last two. Stamets.

"The Maid" (Chile, 94 minutes). Raquel has spent half her life as the live-in housekeeper and nanny for a family of six. Her iron-fisted, borderline-OCD behavior keeps things running smoothly, but lately her snappishness is creating a strange tension in the household. Hoping to relieve her stress, the family brings in a second maid, but Raquel is prepared to defend her territory at all costs. This unpredictable, naturalistic gem was a top winner at Sundance. (Oct 10, 4:30pm; Oct 11, 6pm; Oct 14, 4:15pm, $5 )

"Mammoth" (U.S. Sweden Oct 14, 6 pm; Oct 17, 8:45pm) A lovely, heartfelt film about parents whose jobs separate them from their children. A game designer (Gael Bernal Garcia) and his wife, a surgeon (Michelle Williams) are so busy that the raising of the their daughter is performed largely by their Filipino nanny. On a business trip to Thailand, he unknowingly comes across another mother apart from her son. The surgeon worries that her all-night E.R. shift alienates her from her daughter, and agonizes over a young boy in critical condition after being stabbed by his own mother. Williams excels as a bold, expert surgeon; the strength of her performance is in marked contrast to her wandering waif in "Wendy and Lucy." Her husband reaches a business and personal crossroads in Thailand and grows intensely restless on his business trip because he misses his family. Bad things happen to good people. The intercut plots build instead of, as can sometimes happen, distracting. Directed by Lukas Moodysson ("Lilja 4-ever"). Ebert

"Mary and Max" (Australia, 92 minutes) A lonely Australian girl and a middle-aged New Yorker form a lifelong friendship through letters in the alternately comic and tragic Mary and Max. Inventive and endearing stop-motion animation brings the eccentric characters to vividly expressive life. The dark, ironically humorous script is empathetically played by a strong voice cast, with Toni Collette and Philip Seymour Hoffman as the title characters. Directed by Adam Elliot. Oct 18, 6:15pm; Oct 20, 6pm.

"The Messenger" (USA, Oct. 10, 8:30 p.m., Oct. 11, 7:30 p.m.) One of the best Iraq War films to date, this stateside drama stars Ben Foster as Will Montgomery, a U.S. Army officer assigned duty on a Casualty Notification team with an officer played by Woody Harrelson. They inform next of kin about the deaths of family members. The protocol is precise and heartbreaking. Montgomery goes beyond the call of duty by befriending a young widow played by Samantha Morton. First-time director and co-writer Oren Moverman earlier contributed to screenplays for "I'm Not There" and "Face," which is in the festival. As Montgomery deals with trauma, Moverman indelibly maps the interior landscape of warriors. Willie Nelson's craggy rendition of "Home on the Range" is pitch perfect as a closing grace note. Stamets; Ebert agrees this film is very special

"Mother" (Oct 9, 9:30 pm; Oct 11, 8:45 pm; Oct 15, 3:30pm). One of the most-applauded performances at Cannes 2009 was by Kim Hye-ja, in Bong Joon-ho's "Mother," a small town tale set in South Korea about a mother who defends her slow-witted son against a horrifying murder charge. There is damning evidence against him, but she believes the boy is innocent, and is quiet but relentless and implacable on her mission. Kim Hye-ja completely dominates the film, which withholds enough information to make us wonder if she's on a fool's errand. All the time, the director embeds her in et fabric and routine of the neighborhood where she has long been a fixture. Ebert

"Motherhood" (USA, 90 minutes) Uma Thurman shines in this charming, high-energy comedy as a beleaguered Manhattanite just trying to survive another day of madness raising two young kids (and a husband and best friend) in the most frenzied city in the world. Between planning little Clare's birthday party, navigating a neighborhood under siege by tourists and film crews, and dealing with the neuroses of every other frazzled mom on the playground, can Eliza find the time to chase her own aspirations as a writer? Anthony Edwards and Minnie Driver round out this sharp-witted cast. Opening Night, Oct 08, 7:00pm, $150/$25, Director Katherine Dieckmann and actor Uma Thurman scheduled to attend.

"Mississippi Damned" (USA, 120 minutes). A heartbreaking, powerful drama about the generations of a small-town Mississippi family tortured by alcoholism, violence, poverty and abuse. A sad story redeemed by hope as a young girl, musically gifted, breaks loose for a different future. Audiences are deeply affected. "What happened to the young girl?" the actress Jossie Thacker was asked in a Q&A. "She grew up to become a great director," she replied. The story is closely based on the life of its writer-director, Tina Mabry. Winner of the Gold Hugo as the festival's best film. Mabry won the Hugo for best screenplay, and Thacker for best supporting actress. Mabry, Thacker and Producer Morgan Stiff all attended. Ebert

"No Hard Feelings" (Belgium / France, 104 minutes) It's 1955, and troublemaker Laurent finds himself at a Belgian boarding school, where a teacher there recognizes his intelligence and encourages him to write. As Laurent's talent develops, he adopts his inspiring teacher as a father figure, while at the same time wondering about his real father, who disappeared during the war. As Laurent investigates the past, he is forced to confront his present. Oct 18, 4:30pm; Oct 19, 6:30pm; Oct 20, 4pm, $5; director Yves Hanchar scheduled to attend all three.

"North by Northwest" The arrival of "North by Northwest" on Blu-ray is a landmark event in home video history, as it marks the very first of Alfred Hitchcock's films to become available on this state-of-the-art format. Celebrate the 50th anniversary of the famed Director's Oscar-nominated thriller with this special screening and retrospective conversation with Martin Landau and Hitchcock historian and biographer John Russell Taylor. The film has received a meticulous restoration and remastering for this release with Warner Bros. Motion Picture Imaging scanning the original VistaVision production elements in 8K resolution. The resulting presentation reveals a depth of field and clarity never before possible, serving to heighten every thrill-packed moment. Oct 18, 5pm, $15/$12; actor Martin Landau and British critic John Russell Taylor, a CIFF jury member from its earliest years, are scheduled to attend .

"Nothing Personal" (France, 90 minutes) The canapés are set, the string quartet is playing, and the champagne is flowing. The Muller pharmaceutical company is hosting a swank company banquet for its execs, but when the rumbling rumor of an imminent buyout and layoffs turns to a roar, suddenly it's survival of the fittest.... Cleverly constructed and darkly funny, Nothing Personal puts a fresh, timely spin on the cutthroat nature of corporate--and human--relationships. Oct 13, 6:15pm; Oct 14, 4:30pm, $5; director Mathias Gokalp scheduled to attend first two; Oct 20, 4pm, $5.

"Nymph" (Thailand, 94 minutes). A young couple with a marriage at risk camp out in the jungle, where a tree spirit kidnaps the husband. His wife returns to the city, where she breaks off an affair with her boss. The motive and the modus operandi of the elusive forest nymph may be opaque, but writer/ director Pen-Ek Ratanaruang is a wizard of light, sound and mood in this ghostly story. Cinematographer Chankit Chamnivikaipong and sound designer Akritchalerm Kalayanamitr merit special attention for creating the animistic mise-en-scene. 6:15 pm Oct 14, 9 p.m. Oct 15, 3:15 p.m. Oct.16. Stamets

"A Place of One's Own" (Hong Kong / Taiwan, 118 minutes). Lou Yi-an delights with this affecting tale of assorted Taipei residents seeking places to call home. A traditional artisan constructs detailed models of homes out of paper and bambo that are burnt in funeral rites. Developers covet the his undeeded land for its feng shui. A tapestry of characters includes a rock star couple, a ghost with a bank job tip, and homeless activists. This is a wry city-symphony of scams and family ties. Oct 12, 8 pm; Oct 14, 5:30pm; Oct 19, 3:30pm, $5. Actor Mo Tzu Yi scheduled to attend. Stamets

"Prank " (Hungary, 93 minutes). Peter Gardos sets this uneven tale of seventh graders in a 1912 Catholic boarding school. A new father conflicts with an old-timer about discipline. A regime of bemused cruelty rules. When students are not busy pulling mean tricks on each other, their teachers are channeling the intellectual currents of the day. Zoetropes are put to excellent use as a visual device whenever students imagine acts of violent impudence. The whimsical score and witty cinematography seem mistaken in light of where this tale unexpectedly ends. Oct 13, 4pm, $5; Oct 17, 6:15pm; Oct 18, 3:15pm.

"Plastic City" (Brazil / China / Hong Kong, 118 minutes) Yu Lik Wai directs this visually inventive drama set in Sao Paulo. A Chinese crook Yuda (Anthony Wong Chau-Sang) and his adopted son Kirin (Jo Odagiri) traffic in pirated knock-offs of high-end items. Their business plan is "Sell fake goods, make real money." "Yankee globalization" and corrupt politicians make for an intriguing backdrop, but this crime saga is more interested in inter-generational psychodrama with mystical leanings: an albino tiger looms as a totem to bond the murderous entrepreneurs. (6 p.m. Oct 11, 3:30 p.m. Tuesday) Directed by Yu Lik Wai. Oct 12, 6 pm; Oct 13, 3:30p, $5. Stamets

"Police, Adjective" (Romania, 115 minutes) From the writer/director of the internationally acclaimed "12:08 East of Bucharest" comes an austere cop drama that says a lot by doing a little. Young inspector Cristi's conscience is keeping him from sending a kid to jail for seven years on a dopesmoking charge, but his by the book boss has other ideas about the definition of "police." Affirming Porumboiu as a singular new talent, "Police, Adjective" is already the winner of two top awards at Cannes 2009. Directed by Corneliu Porumboiu. Oct 13, 6pm; Oct 17, 8:30pm.

"Precious: Based on the book 'Push' by Sapphire" (USA, 109 minutes) One of the most powerful films of the year. Set in Harlem in 1987, "Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire." tells the story of a fat, shy, 16-year-old African-American. The heroine, who never speaks in school, is insulted and bullied and sees herself as negligible, but has her intelligence spotted by a teacher (Paula Patton) and a social worker (Mariah Carey). Having escaped to a mental fantasy world where she's an Oscar nominee, she very slowly learns to value the person she is. Preciois is played by Gabourey "Gabby" Sidibe, whose screen presence and evocation of character in a difficult role make her a possibility for an Academy nomination. Also Oscar-worthy is Mo'Nique, who plays her abusive mother. Winner of the Audience Awards at both Sundance 2009 and Toronto 2009, it now adds the Chicago Audience Award for a triple play. Director Lee Daniels and Actor Gabourey 'Gabby' Sidibe were present; Oct 16, 6:15pm. Ebert

"Persecution" (France, 100 minutes) Daniel has a talent for making life go his way, but lately he's been put to the test by a stranger who follows him through the streets, to his job, to his apartment. And this strange relationship is not the only one wearing on him: His possessive attitude toward Sonia, his partner of three years, is slowly poisoning them both. Soon Daniel will discover how it feels to be both persecutor and persecuted.... Charlotte Gainsbourg, Romain Duris, and Jean-Hugues Anglade star in this psychological drama from provocative Directed by Patrice Chéreau (Intimacy, Queen Margot). Oct 17, 6pm; Oct 20, 8:15pm.

"Raging Sun, Raging Sky" (Mexico, 191 minutes). This strangely hypnotic tale follows a young man's quest for love through the seediest spots in contemporary Mexico City. Named best gay-themed feature at Berlin, the film creates a deeply sensual atmosphere by blending intense eroticism and arresting monochrome visuals. For art film lovers, the rewards are worth the challenge. Directed by Julián Hernández. (Oct 10, 9:15pm; Oct 12, 8pm)

"Rain" (Oct 9, 6:15pm; Oct 12, 3:45 pm, $5; Oct 13, 8:30pm ) When her grandma dies, 14-year-old Rain is sent to live with her drug-addicted mother in the poverty-stricken ghettos of Nassau. The irony of disease, drug addictions, prostitution, and poverty--set against the tourist-filled island backdrop--is difficult to ignore as these women struggle to find an inner strength to overcome their seemingly inescapable destiny. Directed by Maria Govan, produced by Nate Kohn, director of Ebertfest.

"The Rapture of Fe" (Philippines, 78 minutes) Caught between her violent husband and a dithering young lover, Fe's life takes a scary turn when baskets of fruit begin unexpectedly appearing at her door. At first the enigma is endearing, but Fe realizes someone (or is it something?) sinister is looking to join her love triangle. Blurring the boundaries between the mundane and the mysterious, "The Rapture of Fe" is the sexy supernatural tale of a woman's will to survive in the face of oppression. Director: Alvin Yapan. Oct 09, 10:30pm; Oct 13, 9:30pm; Oct 16, 11pm; producer Alemberg Ang scheduled to attend all three.

"Red Cliff" (Special presentation Oct 9, 7:30pm, with director John Woo scheduled to attend, Oct 10, 2:30pm, $12/$9 John Woo puts his singular stamp on the art of war in this Chinese box office smash. Based on the classic Chinese novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Red Cliff dramatizes the scandals, spies, and romance surrounding the epic battle that signaled the end of the third-century Han Dynasty. Spectacularly choreographed martial arts and heroic combat show the struggle of the southern alliance as they face off against the massive invading forces from the north, led by a corrupt prime minister bent on domination.

"Red Riding 1974" (UK, 102 minutes) The first in a film trilogy based on a David Peace's quartet of novels adapted by Tony Grisoni and aired by Channel 4 last March. Hotshot, chain-smoking crime reporter Eddie Dunford (Andrew Garfield "Boy A") links the murders of three little girls in gloomy West Yorkshire. Perversity is afoot: the killer stitches swan wings onto the backs of his victims. Director Julian Jarrold ("Becoming Jane") creates a chilly period piece about a murky conspiracy linking cops, reporters, priests and a developer displacing gypsies to build England's biggest shopping mall. From the director of "Becoming Jane," Julian Jarrold. 1:30 p.m. Sunday. Stamets.

Red Riding 1980" (UK, 93 minutes) This second entry in a trilogy can stand alone as solid genre fare about a clean Manchester cop (Paddy Considine) with issues checking out dirty Yorkshire cops without scruples. James Marsh ("Wisconsin Death Trip," "Man on Wire") directs this double investigation drama, as a serial killer targets young women and the police fail to catch him. Perhaps on purpose. Like the preceding and following films, there's a dense layering of links between characters. It all adds up to a sober dissection of corruption in the police force and the dodgy interests it serves and protects. Torture is standard procedure in this grim thriller. From the Oscar-winning Director of "Man on Wire," James Marsh. 3:45 p.m. Sunday. Stamets.

"Red Riding 1983" (UK, 103 minutes) The third film in the "Red Riding" trilogy does not resolve all the mysteries posed in the first two films, but the screenplay revisits enough of the case history. One misstep by director Anand Tucker ("Shopgirl," "Hilary and Jackie") is overdoing the long doleful close-ups as detective Maurice Jobson (David Morrissey) recalls the error of his ways in a sordid scheme. A flashback to his wedding includes his superiors making a toast: "To the North, where we do what we want." This motto is heard again, as we dive into the foul muck of crimes against boys and girls. A hustler deft at word play narrates this arty procedural about righteous revenge. Anand Tucker ("Shopgirl," "Hilary and Jackie") directs the final installment in this engrossing trilogy. Oct 18, 5:45pm. Stamets.

"The Revenant" (USA, 105 minutes). An Iraq War vet (David Anders from "Heroes" and "Alias") climbs out of his coffin and discovers he needs human blood to stay on his feet. Asking for a bite in the neck, his pal embraces a nocturnal lifestyle upgrade as a vigilante. Writer/ director D. Kerry Prior ("Roadkill") offers an original zombie buddy lark with a kicker of political satire. This scattershot black comedy hits on Frantz Fanon, Daniel Pearl, and Scientology. Our hero is redeployed overseas as a military vector and tactical vampire. Director Kerry Prior scheduled to attend all three screenings: Oct 10, 11pm; Oct 16, 10:45pm; Oct 17, 11:15pm. Stamets.

"Revenge." Brazil, 105 minutes) A little boy walking by the river in the rural south of Brazil stumbles on a woman-raped, battered, left for dead. Six months later in Rio de Janeiro, a fiery take-charge beauty named Carol finds herself falling for Miguel, a steely-eyed "gaucho" from the country. As their affair intensifies, the secret circumstances of their meeting are slowly revealed, propelling this sexy, sophisticated thriller to a shocking finish. Oct 09, 8:15pm; Oct 12, 8:30pm; Oct 15, 3 pm; Oct 15, 3:00, $5)

"Ricky" (France / Italy) Writer-director: Francois Ozon begins this working-class family fable with a stressed out mom's (Alexandra Lamy) downbeat appointment with a social worker. The plot rewinds to happier times eight months earlier, and then shows what comes after her plea for assistance with her newborn Ricky. Regrettably, the festival's blurb gives away a key detail that emerges around the 40-minute mark. The two hits of horror-film music you hear before then are a ruse. So are Ricky's bruises suggesting abuse. Ozon births a real treat about premature "empty nesters." To block out overheard spoilers from other film-goers, wear your iPod earpieces until the film begins. 4 p.m. Oct. 14, 45 p.m. October 20. Stamets

"Shortchanged" (India, 97 minutes) Maybe something was lost in translation, but I can't see why Raja Menon calls his rather downbeat drama of underemployment in Mumbai "a comedy of real life." Somehow the government declared 48-year-old Shukla (Naseeruddin Shah) officially dead. Most of the film is about members of the upper-class humiliating Shukla and his two roommates. The trio starts kidnapping a few of those folks for cash. "I think there's a strong connection between being rich and stupid," opines one of Shukla's pals. Class consciousness does not ensue. Oct. 13, 9:15 p.m. . Oct 16, 7pm; Oct 17, 2pm; Oct 20, 9:15pm - Director Raja Menon scheduled to attend all three. Stamets.

"Shorts 1: Illinoi[s]emakers" (USA) 12:15 p.m.: Benjamin Kegan's topical "Team Taliban" profiles a local Muslim pro wrestler who dons a terrorist persona. Brad Bischoff's "Wet" (still photo at right) is a nicely weird sketch of a denizen of Lake Michigan who visits Chicago, all the while immersed in his own personal deluge. Alex Hans Hansen's "Public Speaking," a comic tale of an insecure oratory student, is an especially amateur effort compared to the more accomplished dramas in this otherwise recommended program of seven well-made shorts. 6:15 p.m. Oct 13. Stamets.

"Shorts 2: Animation Nations" (Canada, France, Ireland, Sweden, UK, USA) This international line-up of shorts includes "Logorama" (left), which could be either an apocalypse or a bonanza for corporate copyright lawyers. The French graphic studio H5 animates an action story zipping through a postmodern terrain of logos, brands, and mascots that goes extra-terrestial. In "Photograph of Jesus" Laurie Hill directs, shoots and edits a skewed tour of the Hulton Archive in London. Narrator and archivist Matthew Butson recalls idiotic requests for photos of Jesus Christ, dodo birds, and Hitler at the 1948 Olympics. 8:45 p.m.: Oct 14, 1:45 p.m.; Oct 18; 5:45 p.m. Oct. 19. Stamets

"Shorts 4: Escape and Rebellion" (Croatia, Cuba, Denmark, Hungary, Spain, Sweden) Several of these shorts are about lost children. By far the best is the 17-minute "The History of Aviation" by Balint Kenyeres. A little girl wanders away from a fancy seaside picnic and spots a flying machine. Superb cinematography by Matyas Erdely frames an odd flight off a Normandie cliff. Perhaps the most off-putting short is "The Illusion," Susana Barriga's documentary about traveling from Havana to London. She secretly records their first meeting. Likely their last. 3:30 p.m. FridayStamets.

"Spy(ies)" (France, UK, 99 minutes). With explosive tension and stark cinematography, Spy(ies) is an intense throwback to classic '70s thrillers. French heartthrob Guillaume Canet stars as a bright but underachieving airport worker who gets his hands on the wrong bag-and finds himself thrust into a dangerous world of international agents and life-threatening secrets. This sexy spy flick also echoes the real-life anxieties of French society and plays on the unjust social prejudices wrought from a world of fear. Oct 10, 12:15pm; Oct 17, 6pm; Oct 18, 2pm; Director Nicholas Saada scheduled to attend.

"Storm" (Germany / Denmark, 107 minutes) At the International Criminal Tribunal at The Hague, prosecutor Hannah Maynard takes on the trial of a general accused of atrocities committed in Bosnia. But when her principal witness crumbles on the stand, the rushed search for new evidence uncovers a story that political forces on all sides want swept under the rug. Justice is not a foregone conclusion in this globe-hopping courtroom drama. Directed by Hans-Christian Schmid. Oct 13, 6pm; Oct 14, 8:15pm (director Hans-Christian Schmid scheduled to attend); Oct 16, 3:45pm, $5.

"Straight to the Heart" (Canada, 109 minutes). "Straight to the Heart" (Canada) Montreal car thief Benoit (Pierre Rivard) works with Jimi (Keven Noel), a fatherless 14-year-old drop out who looks after his mentally ill mother. There's a hot market for white Jeeps in Lebanon. Stephane Gehami directs this insightful portrait of two men figuring out how to live and work on the margins, both economic and emotional. Most revealing is Jimi's jealousy of Benoit's two lovers. The ending nicely defies crime genre expectations. (8:30 p.m. Oct. 11, 5:45 p.m. Oct.13; 3:45 p.m. Oct. 16) Oct 12, 8:30pm; Oct 13, 5:45pm; director Stéphane Géhami and screenwriter Heloise Masse Scheduled to attend; Oct 16, 3:45pm, $5. Stamets

"Sweet Rush" (Poland, Oct 9, 4:30pm, $5; Oct 11, 8:15pm; Oct 12, 6:15pm ). Honorary Academy Award winner (lifetime achievement) Andrzej Wajda ("Katyn") memorializes another cinema colleague in another film weighing the aftermath of World War II. In "Everything for Sale" (1968), Wajda portrayed a Wajda-like director making a film. His key actor is missing. This was an homage to Zbigniew Cybulski, an actor Wajda cast in earlier films who had recently died. Wajda appears in person in "Sweet Rush" that honors his late cinematographer Edward Klosinski, whose widow Krystyna Janda ("Man of Marble") appears here in a double role. She plays a Polish actress playing a woman with terminal cancer who mourns her two sons killed in the Warsaw Uprising. This elegaic study is graced with a moving score by Pawel Mykietyn. Stamets

"Tales from the Golden Age" (Romania, 155 minutes). Romanian urban myths from the latter years of the Ceausescu regime come alive in this omnibus highlighting the absurdities of everyday life under the dictator. From doctoring a photograph to gassing a pig in the kitchen to stealing bottles of air, these legends reveal the humor used to survive in this surreal era. Written by Cristian Mungiu, the acclaimed Directed by Hanno Höfer of the Cannes Palme d'Or winner "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days." Oct 17, 3pm; Oct 19, 8:30pm.

"Tomorrow at Dawn" (France, 96 minutes) When a man loses himself in the escapist world of historical battle reenactment, his older brother, Mathieu, tries to rescue him. But to help, Mathieu must also immerse himself in a world where the line between role-play and reality is blurred. Denis Dercourt--who proved he can generate unnerving tension in even a piano recital in his debut The Page Turner--returns to the Festival with this compelling psychological thriller.Oct 11, 5:45pm ; Oct 12, 8:30pm; Oct 17, 1:45pm

"Videocracy" (Italy / Sweden, 80 minutes). "I believe there is no one in history to whom I should feel inferior," declared Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi last week. This vainglorious media mogul stars in Erik Gandini's understated expose of Italy's celebrity politics. Long clips, ironic cuts and an ethereal score reveal a toxic, corrupt fixation on TV shows and sexy "weather girls." A welder living with his mom seeks stardom as a hybrid of Ricky Martin and Jean-Claude Van Damme. Gandini, who dealt with Che and consumerism in his earlier documentaries, indicts Italy's masses as well as their manipulators. Stamets.

"Vincere" (Italy/France, 5:45 p.m.Oct 7, 6 p.m.Oct 10) Director Marco Bellocchio draws on Alfredo Pieroni's 2006 book The Secret Son of Il Duce for a ravishing portrait of Mussolini's lover. The future dictator (Filippo Timi) bewitches Ida Dalser (Giovanna Mezzogiorno) when she beholds the charismatic rabble-rouser deliver a bravura proof that God does not exist. Bellocchio traces Mussolini's path to power and Dalser's descent into madness. Like the recent "Il Divo," a biopic about former Italian Premier Giulio Andreotti, "Vincere" brims with cinematic excess. Key scenes are staged in cinemas: an epic with Christ's crucifixion, along with World War I newsreels and Charlie Chaplin's "The Kid." A fest highlight, "Vincere" recalls Joy Davidman's lefty critique of "Citizen Kane" for implying "the important thing about a public figure is not how he treats his country but how he treats his women." Stamets

"Who's Afraid of the Wolf?" (Czech Republic, 90 minutes) Writer/ director Maria Prochazkova attempts a child's view of her family in mild crisis. Her mother put aside her career as a classical singer to raise her daughter with a man who is not the child's true father. Terezka (Dorota Dedkova) figures the new man in her mom's life is an alien. This musician is her former accompanist, on stage and off. Prochazkova adds slight fantasy scenes to tap into Terezka's imagination, but the output is more pro-mommy pap like the fest's opening night "Motherhood." 4:15 p.m. Oct. 13. Stamets.

"Will Not Stop There" (Croatia / Serbia, 110 minutes) When private eye and Croatian war veteran Martin brings a Serbian porn star back to his Zagreb apartment, his plans for the night are clear only to himself. But twists and turns--and a little bit of humor--will gradually reveal Martin's motivations for this bizarre adventure. A dark satire with an unconventional romance, Will Not Stop There explores the devastation and heartbreak left in the wake of war. Directed by Vinko Bresan. Oct 17, 11:15am; Oct 19, 6pm; Oct 20, 9:15pm.

"A Woman's Way" (Greece, 113 minutes) Released from prison, Yiorgos (Yannis Kokiasmenos) looks for his long-lost son. Down the hall in his dumpy Athens hotel he meets Strella (Mina Orfanou), a pre-op transsexual prostitute. Their love grows. An untraditional family is born, accompanied by Maria Callas drag numbers and dreamy visits by a View-Master squirrel. The International Istanbul Film Festival billed this transgressive drama "a post-modern Greek tragedy." I cannot recommend it, but do credit director Panos H. Koutras for surpassing his earlier "The Attack of the Giant Mousaka." Oct 17, 8pm; Oct 18, 2:15pm; director Panos H. Koutras scheduled to attend both. Stamets.

"Women in Trouble" (USA, 94 minutes) A pregnant porn star, a couple of call girls, a scorned psychiatrist, a teenage goth, a flight attendant with a crush on a famous passenger... the troubles of this cluster of LA women couldn't be more different, but on one crazy day feminine compassion will alter all of their lives. Devilish humor, razor-sharp scripting, and a knockout ensemble of talented actresses (including Carla Gugino, Connie Britton, and Marley Shelton) turn Trouble into pure pleasure. Director: Sebastian Gutierrez. Oct 10, 1:45pm; Oct 16, 8 pm; Oct 17, 7 pm Director Sebastian Gutierrez scheduled to attend.

"The Yellow Handkerchief" (USA, 102 minutes) Gorgeous in its visual execution and sublime in its emotional resonance, The Yellow Handkerchief is a timeless story of trust, forgiveness, and love. After serving six years, Brett Hanson (William Hurt) is released from prison with quiet dignity and subtle remorse. Bound for home, but unsure if his wife (Maria Bello) will welcome him, Brett accepts a ride from two wayward teens (Kristen Stewart, Eddie Redmayne). At first, he keeps to himself, but in time he becomes a trusted father figure and begins to slowly reveal the secrets of his troubled past. As Brett watches young love blossom between his two new friends, he is reminded that true love is worth waiting for, and sometimes fate gives you a second chance. Directed by Udayan Prasad. Gala, Oct 18, 7pm, $25/$20.

"The Young Victoria" (UK / USA, 100 minutes) In The Young Victoria, Emily Blunt ("The Devil Wears Prada") delivers an incredibly appealing performance as Queen Victoria in the turbulent first years of her reign. Rupert Friend (Pride & Prejudice) portrays Prince Albert, the suitor who wins her heart and becomes her partner in one of history's greatest romances. This love story, set amongst all the intrigue of the court, also features Paul Bettany (Iron Man, The Da Vinci Code), Miranda Richardson (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire), Jim Broadbent (The Damned United, The Chronicles of Narnia), Thomas Kretschmann (Valkyrie), and Mark Strong (Sherlock Holmes, Tristan & Isolde). Closing Night Gala; Oct 22, 7pm, $100.

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[ Bill Stamets teaches cinema at the School of the Art Institute of Chicgago and Columbia College Chicago, and has long written on the arts for the Sun-Times. ]

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Trailer for Gold Hugo winner "Mississippi Damned"

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Interview with Tina Mabry, director of "Mississippi Damned"

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Trailer for "The Young Victoria"

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Trailer for "Fish Tank"

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Trailer for "Mother"