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Two Takes On ‘Immersive Cinema,’ From the Nightclub to the Museum

Little Cinema's The Fifth Element (photo: StudioMadness)

Little Cinema’s The Fifth Element (photo: StudioMadness)

While some would rather #Netflixandchill, there are ways to go out and experience film that stretch above and beyond your typical movie theater or home viewing experience. Some will even “immerse” you in your favorite film, or at least they will try.

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Week in Film: Herzog’s Inferno, Mayan Prophecy Collides with Screen-Zombie Apocalypse


Videofilia (And Other Viral Syndromes)
Friday December 2 through Thursday December 8 at Spectacle, $5

As we’re constantly reminded these days, technological progress is hurdling faster and faster toward the speed of light. These days, we don’t even have to get off our asses and schlep it to the dollar store for toilet paper– we can simply press a button and the butt paper shows up like magic, encased in an obscenely large cardboard box.  Then again, there are times when you’re riding the subway and you’re overwhelmed by an apocalyptic dread, having realized that every single human on board is playing Candy Crush. These things serve to remind us that End Times are nigh, and these phone zombies will be the beginning of a very dark, totally uncool end.

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Week in Film: Pooh-Pooh the ‘Sad Exigencies of Plot,’ and a ‘Mind-Numbing’ Satanic Crime Caper

(Via Light Industry)

(Via Light Industry)

Projective Life 
Tuesday November 22, 7:30 pm at Light Industry: $8 at the door

Light Industry is billing next week’s screening event as a reading (“broadly defined”), which sounds interesting but also begs the question: lol what?

As you may or may not know, Light Industry is more or less a cinema and film discussion forum, but with Projective Life they’re opening up the floor to some good old-fashion poetry and prose, setting the stage for an interesting dialogue between the oral/literary and their usual video and projection modes and getting rid of the “sad exigencies of plot” altogether: “Under these conditions, a film can act as a reading and reading may become a kind of film.”

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Week in Film: a Handmaiden’s S&M Tale and Prison Twelve Ways


The Prison in Twelve Landscapes
Friday November 4, 7 pm and 9:15 pm and through Wednesday November 9 at Anthology Film Archives: $11

This documentary explores the far-reaching consequences of incarceration across the United States, without ever setting foot inside the prison proper. It’s a fascinating take on the impact of the prison system from a different perspective than the one we’re used to, in which the cameras are literally being behind bars. Instead, the subject is approached through absence and invisibility, from the parallel infrastructures that bring food and supplies into penitentiaries to women prisoners fighting forest fires in California.

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Park Slopers Say Goodbye to Pavilion Theater, Now in Nitehawk’s Talons

(Photo: Nicole Disser)

(Photo: Nicole Disser)

As of this morning, the beloved Pavilion is officially no more. Even visiting the Park Slope movie theater’s website early this morning turned up a ghostly message in washed-out grey: “http://www.paviliontheater.com/ has been disabled.”

It’s only appropriate, given that Nitehawk cinemas–the proud new owners of the ratty old Art Deco theater that’s been in decline for several years now– threw a proper New Orleans-style jazz funeral for the place.

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Week in Film: See the Stooges Have a Real Cool Time and Get Shrieked at a Spooky Film Streak


Gimme Danger
Friday October 28 through Thursday November 3 at IFC Center: $14.50

I’m hoping at least a few of you out there, like me, are cursed/blessed by a bizarro Pavlovian response to the words “No Fun”– whenever they’re uttered, even in passing, you immediately drop whatever or whoever you’re doing, wherever you may be, and start thrashing around like a seahorse at the tail end of his week-long soak in a Benzedrine bath.

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Near Future in Film: Lambchop’s Under There and Trumplandia

Yeah, he still doesn't comb his hair (Film still from "Michael Moore Goes to Trumpland")

Yeah, he still doesn’t comb his hair (Film still from “Michael Moore in Trumpland”)

Michael Moore in Trumpland
Monday October 24 through Thursday October 27 at IFC Center: $14

Yeah, yeah we know, Michael Moore is… well, he’s Michael Moore. His particular way of showing outrage feels almost obsolete by now, a bit like a relic of the Bush ere, or worse– like an old white dude who insists on putting himself at the center of his films for some reason that seems to have disintegrated long ago. For his latest film, you might expect that Moore has aimed his camera squarely at “Trumpland” aka underemployed, undereducated white men in flyover America. But that’s not the case at all, actually.

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Week in Film: Slippery Suffocaters and a Skin-tastic Japanese Pink Film Redux

(Flyer via Spectacle)

(Flyer via Spectacle)

Daydream
Saturday October 14,  midnight at Spectacle: $5

Throughout the month of October, Spectacle is running a series on Pink Film, a Japanese cinematic movement that began in the groovy ’60s– a time when counterculture thrived in Japan and, just like the U.S. and France and other countries across the world, ideas about free love and experimental art-making began to take hold.

According to the theater, this is “the largest and most comprehensive [retrospective] of its kind in North America” and covers Pink’s evolution from start to present. Sick.

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Week in Film: Love Like ’70s Pulp Revenge Cinema, an Idiotic Prophecy Most Accurate, and More


What’s Revenge?
Saturday October 8 and Saturday October 15, 10 pm at Spectacle: $5

I trust that most of us here can agree that far too many films about sex and relationships are heteronormative, replete with sexist tropes, gender binarism, the male perspective, and/or female archetypes that are just godawful and tend to make those of us with brains in our heads question whether we are just totally insane for feeling zero identification with these boring storylines and banal characters. So we either play along, grumble and complain, laugh darkly, develop a self-depleting tick like methodically tearing out each and every hair on our heads, or avoid any sort of TV/film portrayals of romance and relationshits as if they were a postulating butt rash.

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Week in Film: Punk Rock’s Golden Daddy and ‘Ludicrous’ Janis Joplin Remixes


Danny Says
Friday September 30 through Thursday October 6 at IFC Center: $14

Danny Fields was the music manager “at the pulse of the underground,” the man behind the best rock n’ roll to come out of the ’70s New York City scene and actually some of the most influential rock of all time. Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and the Ramones were just a few of his associated acts and though all of this stuff is standard by now, back in Danny’s glory days it was nothing short of insanity.

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Mono No Aware Aiming to Bring Motion Picture Film Lab to the Masses

Mono No Aware festival (Photo via Mono No Aware Facebook)

Mono No Aware festival (Photo via Mono No Aware Facebook)

For a long time we’ve heard that analog film formats– for both making and viewing– are on the verge of mass extinction and very soon will be swallowed up by digital photography and filmmaking, never to be seen again. Recent events seem to confirm this prediction– in July, the last manufacturer of VHS players announced that it was quitting the game and shortly after, the Chinese factory where the clunky, black plastic boxes were made for Sanyo ceased production. The end came quietly, and some people were surprised that VHS consoles were still being made at all, since it had been nearly a decade since Eragon, an elf/fantasy movie, was the last ever to be released on VHS. Even before that, Fujifilm had stopped manufacturing motion picture film. As somebody once (pretentiously) told me, books, which are a lot like film in this context, are “nothing more than fetish objects” nowadays.

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White Girl Recalls Disco Dust-Fueled ‘Crazy Times’ in Ridgewood


Elizabeth Wood may be a young filmmaker, still soaking up directorial lessons and figuring it all out, but she knew exactly what she was doing when she decided to call her first full-length feature, a semi-biographical film set in Ridgewood, White Girl. The label is alluring, gnawing, and sorta yucky all at once. Hilton Als wrote an entire collection of essays, White Girls, devoted to decoding the concept, which he determines is somewhere between an actual state of being and a mirage, both an all-powerful fantasy and the ideal object to be controlled : “Once I lived in a perpetual state of disbelief: How could one be a white girl and hate it? Wasn’t she— whoever she was— everything the world saw and wanted?”

It’s a pejorative, a term commonly attached to catcalls that’s less poetic than, say, “snowflake.” It’s “white girl wasted.” It’s a spoiled, naive little girl. It’s complaining too much. It’s traveling abroad and refusing to eat a stew made with chicken broth. It’s infantilizing, condescending, and rarely a compliment. It’s also a nickname for cocaine.

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