Showing posts with label 70mm Film Festival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 70mm Film Festival. Show all posts

Friday, July 07, 2017

Spartacus, Newly Relevant in the Time of Trump, two rare 70mm showings at the Music Box

Spartacus in 70mm will be shown twice at the Music Box Theater, Saturday, July 8th at 6;00 p.m., and 2:00 p.m., Thursday, July 13th.

"As those slaves have died, so will your rabble... if they falter one instant in loyalty to the new order of affairs. Arrests are in progress. The prisons began to fill. In every city and province, lists of the disloyal have been compiled. Tomorrow, they will learn the cost of their terrible folly."     -Marcus Licinius Crassus 

It's not only the most overtly political of the great Hollywood epics, it's also newly relevant - a film created in the shadow of McCarthyism, being revived in a time of authoritarian restoration via the alt-right and its bouffanted Crassus, the current President of the United States.

When the Kirk Douglas/Stanley Kubrick film Spartacus returns to Chicago as part of this year's edition of the Music Box Theatre's always incredible 70mm Film Festival, it will to the best of my knowledge be the first time it's been shown in 70mm here since the picture's original 1960 release. (A short run of the restored version ran at Piper's Alley in the 1990's, but not in 70mm.)

I was lucky enough to be in L.A. back in 1991 when the million dollar restoration premiered, and was able to see it with a demonstrably appreciative audience at a Century City cinema.  Before the 1960 release, censors had forced numerous cuts, and even more were made for reissues and television.  The original negatives had decayed to the point of being useless, and the restoration had to be created from color separations.

The 2010 Blue-ray transfer was infamously flawed. A 2015 4K version supervised by Robert A. Harris appears to be much better, but here's a chance to see it - maybe for the last time? - in the original 70mm.  Why pass it up?

As with Lawrence of Arabia, Spartacus is made up of two very distinct halves.  The first is largely made up with extended set pieces - Spartacus becoming a Gladiator, the climatic match between Spartacus and Draba, the takeover and escape from the compound, the assembly and training of the slave army.  The emphasis is on action.

The second act, again as with Lawrence, is much more telescoped, with a strong counterpoint between the march of the slave army and the politics in Rome, reaching a climax in cross-cut scenes of Olivier's speech his character Crassus has been made dictator by a fearful Rome, and Spartacus addressing his followers on the eve of battle.  Crassus speaks in the Forum, with all the pomp and architectural Rome as his backdrop.  Spartacus speaks from a bluff overlooking a seemingly boundless array of people in which Kubrick's sure use of 70mm makes the crowd not anonymous but a sea of individuals.

Saul Bass not only designed the film's striking title sequence, but also served, as he often did with Hitchcock, as the film's visual consultant, designing the gladiator school and storyboarding the climatic final battle between the armies of Spartacus and Rome.  The massing of the opposing armies across a vast physical expanse can truly only be fully appreciated in 70mm.  The ultra-wide shots of the movement of clotted masses of humanity seen from a great distance rare a visual representation of the appreciation of abstraction that both Bass and Kubrick shared.


 It is the political maneuverings of the second half of Spartacus that give it its lasting character.  The book on which the film was based was written by Howard Fast, whose renunciation of his flirtation with communism did nothing to dim his radical sensibilities.  Very early on, when it became apparent that the screenplay Fast was hired to write was essentially unfilmable, Dalton Trumbo was brought on as a rush replacement.   Trumbo would write the screenplay under the name Sam Jackson, one of a series of pseudonyms he used to continue a (diminished) living as a blacklisted radical banned from working in Hollywood (including, as Robert Rich, winning an Academy Award he couldn't show up to collect for 1956's The Brave One.) . It was Trumbo's Spartacus script the helped Douglas get the cast of British acting royalty he was looking for - Laurence Olivier, Charles Laughton, and Peter Ustinov.  (In the original concept, the slaves would all have American accents, the Roman patricians would all be - and sound - British.)

But there were still more changes to the script to come.

In an interview for Criterion Collection, Ustinov - who would be the only person ever to receive an Oscar for acting in a Stanley Kubrick film -  says Olivier joined the shoot a week before the others, and had used the time to coral Douglas into rewrites.  When everyone assembled for the first table read, Ustinov and Laughton found themselves acting out a script far different from the one they had originally been given.  Laughton, believing that his part was being diminished, was enraged.  He threatened to sue Douglas, and Ustinov says he walked through the production essentially "waiting to be offended."

As a placation, Ustinov and Laughton were allowed by Kubrick to rewrite the scenes in which they appeared.  Steven Spielberg has said those scenes are his favorite part of the picture.  And they define the political content.  ""I'd rather have a little Republican corruption, with a little Republican freedom," Laughton's Gracchus proclaims to a Senate contemplating giving Olivier's Crassus dictatorial powers, "than rule by Crassus and no freedom at all!"  It is not the strongman Olivier but the amiably corrupt Gracchus - corpulent, indecently wealthy, indulgent of his own appetites and those of others, and comfortable with the mechanics of power and persuasion, who, second only to Spartacus himself, is the hero of the piece.  

If you have not seen Spartacus, do yourself a favor.  Stop reading here and go so it.  If you already seen it, proceed on.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Movie Lovers Paradise or Cornucopia Hell? 70mm at the Music Box, Leos Carax at the Siskel


A long time ago, 70mm represented the highest possible tech for making films. Capturing four times the image of a 35mm print, and projected on massive screens with state-of-the-art surround sound, 70mm films, especially when shot by a master like Freddie Young, created images as beautiful as anything you'd find at the Art Institute, 24 times a second.  The visceral kick of a masterwork  in 70 cannot be replicated on a home theater system, no matter how large the screen.

With few exceptions, the era of 70mm died forty years ago, when exclusive downtown bookings were replaced with wide releases in thousands of theaters simultaneously.  In the current era of high-res digital scans, rumors persist that the studios will be longer be distributing their remaining 70mm prints, and, at a cost of $50,000 on up, won't be striking new ones.
So this week's 70MM Film Festival at the Music Box could one of your last chances to see these films in the format for which they were made to be shown.  There are a number of omissions: no Cleopatra, Ben-Hur, Ryan's Daughter, Sound of Music, or Mad, Mad, World, but there's still Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (Saturday, Sunday and Thursday),  Hitchcock's Vertigo (Sunday and Tuesday), West Side Story (Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday), and, for the masochists, Chitty, Chitty, Bang Bang (look it up - I'm not going to encourage you.)
There's the rare opportunity to see Richard Brooks' Lord Jim, reteaming Lawrence of Arabia's Peter O'Toole and Freddie Young, Jacques Tati's masterpiece Playtime , , ,
 Branagh's visually splendid Hamlet, and a real oddity, Tobe Hooper's Lifeforce.  The festival will also offer the first opportunity to see Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master in 70mm since its sold-out preview at the Music Box last fall.
The Trib's Michael Phillips has a great overview of the festival and films here. You can view the entire schedule here.  This is is something not to be missed.

The Star-Crossed Visions of Leos Carax
As, in some kind of act of astral punishment, this very same week the Music Box has a festival of 70mm,  the Gene Siskel Film Center is offering up  a rare retrospective of the work of Leos Carax,  one of the most unique filmmakers of our time.  As I wrote about his latest film last November . . .
Holy Motors is, in turns, pretentious, incoherent, disgusting, sensationalist, raw - and all the better for it. . . .

We must disenthrall ourselves," Abe Lincoln said.  "Étonne-moi!" added Diaghilev, upping the ante. The curse of CGI is to make the fantastic as mundane as the every-day.  Says Leos Carax, "The problem is to find again that primitive power of cinema, that first shot of the train in La Ciotat. It’s harder and harder to do today. You have to reinvent that power, which is almost a mystical power, a magical power. 
In addition to Holy Motors, the Siskel is screening hard-to-find titles as Bad Blood (Mauvais Sang) with Juliette Binoche, Denis Lavant, Julie Delpy and Michel Piccoli . . .

. . . plus Boy Meets Girl, and the ineffably, darkly strange Pola X.   See the full schedule here.