Vampir-Cuadecuc (Pere Portabella, 1971)

cuadecuc2

In 1970, Jesús Franco made Count Dracula, a vampire movie starring Christopher Lee, Klaus Kinski and Herbert Lom. It was a mostly faithful telling of Bram Stoker’s story: a naive and handsome man travels to Transylvania to conduct a real estate deal with an aged Count, becomes trapped and escapes back to England just as the Count arrives and begins sucking the blood of a young woman, who happens to be the best friend of the young man’s fiancée. Led by a scientist named Van Helsing, the young man and three other men figure out what the Count is, kill the woman who has herself been turned into a vampire and then go back to Transylvania to kill the Count. Franco was a director of notorious reputation, one who frequented the low-budget, pornier corners of European cinema for most of the 160+ films he directed. Count Dracula is the only one of his movies I’ve seen, and it isn’t terrible, but neither is it particularly good: Lee is terrific, as always, and there are some nice atmospheric moments. But the movie progressively becomes dumber as it goes along, either straying from Stoker’s original or cutting out the connective tissue that in the novel help the characters’ actions make some kind of sense. By far the best thing about the movie, though, is that Catalan experimental filmmaker Pere Portabella was there to chronicle its making.

Far from a conventional behind-the-scenes documentary, however, Vampir-Cuadecuc is more like a stealth remake of the same movie, using not only the same actors, but the same takes. It’s shot entirely in black-and-white, with a creepy soundtrack composed almost entirely of drones and ambient noises (passing trains or airplanes, workers hammering away): the world as it might sound from inside a coffin. The black-and-white is grainy and high contrast, with brilliant whites and deep blacks, bringing an eerie edge to scenes that in the conventionally flat-lit, color photography of the original are bland and somnolent.

The film follows the chronology of the original almost exactly, cutting out some of the more useless parts (including the entirety of Kinski’s one-note performance as the lunatic Renfield), filming the scenes as they are being filmed, but from unintended angles, such that we see the lights or cameras or behind the stage walls. Similarly we see the actors before and after their performances, getting into and out of character or simply walking around the set looking beautiful (Soledad Miranda lights up the screen in a way she just can’t as the zombified Lucy in the Franco film), often accompanied by jaunty elevator music. At the most basic level, the difference in quality between Franco and Portabella’s films can be seen in the fact that (in the version I saw, there are different cuts) Franco’s runs a seemingly endless 96 minutes, where Vampir-Cuadecuc is a very nice 69 minutes long.

By removing all of the dialogue and stripping out the extraneous plotting, Portabella captures the fundamental anxiety of horror cinema, spooky sounds and images that harken all the way back to Murnau’s Nosferatu and Dreyer’s Vampyr. The only spoken words come at the end, with Lee reading from Stoker’s book itself, a far better conclusion than Franco’s limp and silly climax. It’s the stripped down, elemental adaptation of Stoker’s text counterpart to Francis Ford Coppola’s blown-up, operatic version. Taken together, there’s no reason for anyone to ever make another Dracula movie.

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Friday October 27 – Thursday November 2

Featured Film:

Halloween Week at the Grand Illusion

No theatre in town has more fun come Halloween season than the Grand Illusion. Their second week of oddball grindhouse rarities and bona fide classics continues this week with an eclectic mix of cult favorites and obscurities, playing on everything from actual 35mm film (The Hidden and a mystery triple-feature program called “Nature Gone Amok” and Peter Jackson’s Bad Taste) to VHS (Terror on the Menu) to digital (Ganja & Hess, Effects, Otto; Or, Up With Dead People). The highlight is probably the new digital restoration of Mario Bava’s Kill Baby Kill, playing Saturday and Sunday, which if nothing else should whet your appetite for the Northwest Film Forum’s Giallo series, which also kicks off this week with Bava’s Blood and Black Lace on Wednesday). The week wraps up with another must-see, Takashi Miike’s Dead or Alive, leading-in to their opening of Miike’s latest film, Blade of the Immortal, next Friday.

Playing This Week:

AMC Alderwood:

The Fortress (Hwang Dong-hyuk) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs

Central Cinema:

Army of Darkness (Sam Raimi, 1992) Fri-Tues
Hocus Pocus (Kenny Ortega, 1993) Fri-Tues

SIFF Egyptian:

The Florida Project (Sean Baker) Fri-Weds Our Review Our Other Review

Century Federal Way:

Bhalwan Singh (Param Shiv) Fri-Thurs
The Fortress (Hwang Dong-hyuk) Fri-Thurs
Secret Superstar (Advait Chandan) Fri-Thurs
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001) Sun, Mon & Weds Only Subtitled Mon Only

Grand Cinema:

Lucky (John Carroll Lynch) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs
Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) Sat Only
Garbage Warrior (Oliver Hodge, 2008) Thurs Only

Grand Illusion Cinema:

Effects (Dusty Nelson, 1980) Fri Only
The Hidden (Jack Sholder, 1987) Fri Only 35mm
Kill Baby Kill (Mario Bava, 1966) Sat & Sun Only
Ganja & Hess (Bill Gunn, 1973) Sat & Mon Only
Terror on the Menu (Bud Townsend, 1972) Sat Only VHS
Nature Gone Amok 35mm Triple Feature Pizza Party Sun Only 35mm
Otto; Or, Up With Dead People (Bruce LaBruce, 2008) Mon Only
Bad Taste (Peter Jackson, 1987) Tues Only 35mm
Dead or Alive (Takashi Miike, 1999) Thurs Only

Cinemark Lincoln Square:

The Florida Project (Sean Baker) Fri-Thurs Our Review Our Other Review
Loving Vincent (Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman) Fri-Thurs
Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
Secret Superstar (Advait Chandan) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs
Mersal (Atlee Kumar) Fri-Thurs
Vunnadi Okate Zindagi (Kishore Tirumala) Fri-Thurs
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001) Sun, Mon & Weds Only Subtitled Mon Only
Little Shop of Horrors (Frank Oz, 1986) Sun & Tues Only

Regal Meridian:

Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos) Fri-Thurs Our Review
The Nightmare Before Christmas (Henry Selick, 1993) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001) Sun, Mon & Weds Only

Northwest Film Forum:

Rat Film (Theo Anthony) Fri-Sun
Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977) Fri Only Live Soundtrack
Out of State (Ciara Lacy) Sat Only
Therapy for a Vampire (David Rühm, 2014) Sat Only
Mary Lou Williams: The Lady Who Swings the Band (Carol Bash, 2015) Sun Only
Blood and Black Lace (Mario Bava, 1964) Weds Only
Vampir-Cuadecuc (Pere Portabella, 1971) Thurs Only
Mama Africa (Mika Kaurismäki, 2011) Thurs Only

Regal Parkway Plaza:

Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
Wind River (Taylor Sheridan) Fri-Thurs Our Review
Seven Sundays (Cathy Garcia-Molina) Fri-Thurs

AMC Seattle:

The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos) Fri-Thurs Our Review
Human Flow (Ai Weiwei) Fri-Thurs
The Heyday of the Insensitive Bastards (Various) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs

Seattle Art Museum:

The Naked Alibi (Jerry Hopper, 1954) Thurs Only

SIFF Film Center:

25th Seattle Polish Film Festival Sat-Sun Full Program

Regal Thornton Place:

The Nightmare Before Christmas (Henry Selick, 1993) Fri-Thurs
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001) Sun, Mon & Weds Only

SIFF Uptown:

Loving Vincent (Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman) Fri-Thurs
Lucky (John Carroll Lynch) Fri-Thurs No Shows Tuesday
The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos) Fri-Thurs Our Review
The King’s Choice (Erik Poppe) Fri-Thurs
Kedi (Ceyda Torun) Sun Only National Cat Day

Varsity Theatre:

Leatherface (Alexandre Bustillo & Julien Maury) Fri-Thurs
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001) Mon Only Subtitled

In Wide Release:

Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve) Our Review

VIFF 2017: BC Spotlight

Still8—Luk_Luk'I

Personal stories are the province of the emerging filmmaker and every year the BC Spotlight competition at VIFF is filled with a fresh batch of intimate debuts. This iteration is no exception, but this year the new arrivals have landed within a climate that has shifted somewhat. Earlier this year, TIFF artistic director Cameron Bailey penned an op ed in The Globe and Mail bemoaning a certain tendency among Canadian indie features to favour small, personal stories – “coming of age, family tensions, falling in and out of love” – over more ambitious and widely aimed socially and politically minded works. Shocking as it was, coming from perhaps the single most powerful individual in the Canadian festival scene, this contemptible lecture thankfully received pushback from filmmakers. It remains to be seen whether anyone will take Bailey’s complaints to heart – perhaps it is too early to be reflected in the debuts of 2017 – but it remains one of the questions haunting Canada’s mounting national debate over what exactly lies ahead for its cultural industries.

Luk’Luk’I, the feature debut of Wayne Wapeemukwa, seems initially well-positioned to answer Bailey’s challenge for a more socially conscious cinema. Even if it weren’t emerging from a mostly vacuous and Hollywood-chasing local film scene, it’s audacious concept would still be just as striking and original. Set over the course of the last day of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics, it follows the plights and paths of five marginalized residents (played by four non-actors and one professional) of Vancouver’s rapidly gentrifying Downtown East Side as they navigate a fevered city counting down the hours to the gold medal hockey final.

Continue reading

Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946)

(Authorship Note: We are pleased to publish this essay, written by Sarah Hunter, a fabulous writer and brilliant student of film. Formerly a student at Whatcom Community College, where she received the discipline award in film in 2016-17, Sarah will be entering the filmmaking program at New York Film Academy Los Angeles in 2018.  ~MT)

Alicia in doorway

To many, famed director Alfred Hitchcock is known fondly as the “Master of Suspense,” whose enduring films have terrified and delighted audiences for decades (and who irreparably tainted the act of showering for an entire generation.) To others still, he is the quintessential auteur, a forefather of modern cinema whose methods have had a lasting impact on the craft of filmmaking – his disciples include the likes of Martin Scorsese and David Fincher. There is, however, another understanding of Hitchcock that, while perhaps possessing less of our collective consciousness, is no less significant or worthy of study: that of the capacity within his oeuvre for provocative and profound feminist analysis. In the words of scholar Tania Modleski, “Feminists have found themselves compelled, intrigued, infuriated, and inspired by Hitchcock’s works.” To be sure, feminist opinion of Hitchcock is undeniably split; many consider his persistent depictions of victimized women to be indicative of blatant misogyny. Yet others persuasively advocate for a more nuanced and open-minded examination, one which potentially suggests a richer depth to his representations of both women and men. Feminists, critics, and cinephiles alike would be remiss to ignore the subversive, oftentimes even progressive, approach to gender evident throughout Hitchcock’s body of work.

As Modleski argues in her seminal 1988 anthology The Women Who Knew Too Much, a number of Hitchcock’s films “reveal some of the difficulties for women in becoming socialized in patriarchy,” and that “despite the often considerable violence with which women are treated in [his] films, they remain resistant to patriarchal assimilation.” This indomitable spirit is best exemplified by Notorious’s brave, brazen Alicia; Shadow of a Doubt’s freethinking young Charlie; Rear Window’s daring, multifaceted Lisa; and Marnie’s titular bandit, a survivor of sexual assault. Furthermore, Modleski illustrates Hitchcock’s pattern of “putting the blame on violence against women where it belongs,” that is to say, on the male abusers and, by extension, the patriarchal system which enables them. This sentiment is echoed by biographer Donald Spoto, who points out that Hitchcock “describes the devastating effect of crime on the victim; his real contempt is for the victimizer, in every case a man.” Moreover, the men in his films (Notorious’ Devlin and North by Northwest’s Thornhill, most pointedly) typically can only achieve resolution by identifying with their female peers and gaining a more compassionate understanding of their struggles. Ultimately, it is incumbent upon the men to change – first themselves, and then the system.

This dynamic – the persecuted woman who boldly resists the patriarchal structure, and the unenlightened man compelled, both by transparent self-interest and a larger sense of justice, to empathize with her – is at its most distilled in 1946’s surprisingly sincere romantic-thriller Notorious. Unconventional leading lady Alicia Huberman (Ingrid Bergman) is a binge-drinking Miami playgirl and estranged daughter of a convicted Nazi spy. A covert American agency interrupts her decadent lifestyle to recruit her for a unique mission: infiltrate a Nazi cell by seducing its ringleader, Alex Sebastian (Claude Rains.) Their established history – Alex had once been in love with Alicia, though his advances were spurned – coupled with Alicia’s promiscuous reputation makes her, in the eyes of the exclusively male agency, the ideal candidate for such an unsavory assignment. “She’s good at making friends with gentlemen,” one operative explains suggestively. Continue reading

VIFF 2017: Top of the Lake: China Girl (Jane Campion, 2017)

Robin on beach

Jane Campion’s most recent project, Top of the Lake: China Girl, a follow-up to Top of the Lake (2013), is a 6-hour, episodic journey that premiered, variously, at Cannes, on the Sundance channel, and, played, most recently, at the Vancouver Film International Festival. It is, as its length and as its screening venues suggest, difficult to pin neatly into a category. Is it a gorgeously shot TV show? A very long film? Campion and her work, as usual, resist tidy classifications of all sorts.

Does her work represent “female annihilation in bonnets,” as BBC Radio 5 film critic Mark Kermode once suggested, or is she definitely a feminist director, her work “emphasiz[ing] and almost perverse figuration of female strength” as Professor of Film Studies at University of East Anglia, Yvonne Trasker has said? Campion herself has championed women and women filmmakers, quoted as saying in an 1993 Cahiers du Cinema piece, “I think I know things about women that men cannot express.” And yet she “bridles” Virginia Wright Wexman notes in Jane Campion: Interviews, “at being narrowly identified as a feminist filmmaker,” and Wexman cites Campion as saying, “‘I think it’s quite clear in my work that my orientation isn’t political or doesn’t come out of modern politics.’” Continue reading

120 BPM (Beats Per Minute) (2017, Robin Campillo)

pride

There is a key scene located someplace in the last third of the immensely moving and rousing activist drama 120 BPM (Beats Per Minute) involving that most intimate of moments: a conversation about the past. There have been many such discussions between boyfriends Sean (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart), a HIV-positive founding member of ACT UP Paris, and Nathan (Arnaud Valois), a HIV-negative new member, but this is the first to take place during one of ACT UP’s meetings. As one of the speakers talks to the group at large, the two men turn to each other and slowly, considerately discuss how Nathan has managed, at the height of the AIDS crisis in a group comprised almost exclusively of HIV-positive gay men, to stay negative. The content is moving enough, but the context, of moving from this purposefully public forum into a private space, makes it all the more vital.

120 BPM is built on breaking down this foundational dichotomy, of making public activism a deeply personal mission and vice versa. Not one member of ACT UP is less than totally committed to their mission of fighting for better treatment, prevention, and medicine for HIV-positive people, and this sense of urgency pulsates from the screen in both the overtly political scenes and the ones motivated a less obvious purpose.

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VIFF 2017: Sami Blood (Amanda Kernell, 2016)

measuring elle marja

Sami-Swedish writer-director Amanda Kernell’s debut feature, Sami Blood, opens on a black screen and the sound of a lonely, whistling wind. Then, we hear a knocking, as the introductory credits, white on black, appear, and a man’s voice speaks: “Mom?” More knocking, then the same man’s voice: “Christina?” The first image appears, an elderly woman, alone, in close-up profile, lighting a cigarette, looking out a window, ignoring the voice.

It’s a haunted space with that blackness, the wind, the disembodied voice, and the woman who is turned away, hiding from both the voice of her son and our public prying eyes. It’s a space that sets the stage for the film to follow, the story of the girl who becomes that woman, a woman who is, indeed, haunted, hiding, and alienated from those closest to her and from the larger world, too, a world, she fears, might stare at her too much and too long.

In the opening scenes, the elderly Christina (Maj-Doris Rimpi), reluctantly guided by her son and accompanied by her granddaughter, attends the funeral of her long estranged sister. It is a Sámi funeral, following the traditions of that complex and internally diverse people group indigenous to Sweden, and it is clear that Christina, living in Swedish dress and speaking the Swedish language, feels deeply uncomfortable within the Sámi community. She speaks to no one and shields her face with her hand while she sits silently at the post-funeral meal, apart from her son and granddaughter, who are eating and talking with ease with those around them. The intimacy of family-community bonds juxtaposed with the individual isolation of Christina, separate and silent, is what strikes us most immediately. It is one thing to feel alone among strangers, wholly another to be alone among kin.

Christina

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VIFF 2017: 24 Frames (Abbas Kiarostami, 2017)

ocean poles

The frame holds me.
Straining to see beyond,
I sleep,
caught between
tension & peace.

In the sleep, I dream,
The dream, a window
into what is
and what could be. 
      –(Adapted from the original tweet, 9/29/2017)

An inevitable sort of melancholy hangs over a beloved filmmaker’s last film, and one feels a certain pressure to love it, whatever it is. Going into the screening of the final film of Abbas Kiarostami (1940-2016), 24 Frames, I couldn’t ignore the nostalgia associated with the endeavor. I am not sure, ultimately, if it will ever be possible for me to disassociate the film from the cinema experience of sitting in the dark, grieving a film lover’s grief and thinking, “This 120 minutes will be the last new footage I will ever see.”  But sitting there, even so intensely aware of the experience as a memento mori, Kiarostami’s film–flickering relentlessly forward through those precious minutes–took on its own weight. Like all of his films have done for me, it slowly removed me from self-consciousness and immersed me in itself.

24 Frames is certainly unique within Kiarostami’s oeuvre. It’s the sort of thing you might expect to find in an exhibition at the MoMA, where you can study an art piece for a while and then wander away. It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect to sit in the dark and watch for two hours. But then, Kiarostami has always been playing with the idea of cinema, his films so often reflecting back on themselves and on the act of filmmaking, and in these reflections, he has continually made his audiences consider again what cinema is and what it could be.

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The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2017)

the-killing-of-a-sacred-deer-1200x520

This is the first movie I’ve seen from celebrated Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos, and it’ll likely be the last. A bearded Colin Farrell plays a surgeon whose patient dies during an operation. The patient’s son (Barry Keoghan, super creepy) first tries to get Farrell to hook up with his mother (Alicia Silverstone, sad and sadly underutilized) to take the dead father’s place, but when that doesn’t work out, begins supernaturally torturing his family in an attempt to force Farrell to choose which one of his two kids should die as compensation for the boy’s dead father. It’s an adaptation of the story of Iphigenia, the daughter of Agamemnon who is commanded to be sacrificed after her father kills a deer beloved of the goddess Artemis. But in adapting the story into the bleak world of Euro-art house cruelty, Lanthimos drains the story of its humanity and its tragedy, leaving instead a deeply cynical, and exceedingly dumb, black comedy. Farrell and Nicole Kidman, playing his wife, speak and relate with an affectless precision, which is funny and weird when playing up their bizarre oversharing at parties or depressing bedroom antics, but serves no other apparent purpose. A satire of bourgeois zombiism dressed up with a classical education. Lacking belief in either the cause or the tragedy of Iphigenia’s sacrifice, all that’s left is a cheap mockery of humanity. An adaptation of myth from the point of view not of the people who strive and suffer, but through the eyes of an imperious god, tormenting foolish, hubristic mortal souls. A film almost wholly lacking empathy.

Friday October 20 – Thursday October 26

Featured Film:

The Florida Project at the SIFF Egyptian and the Lincoln Square

Normally I’d use this space to highlight the Northwest Film Forums presentation of an unearthed, uncut 35mm print of Dario Argento’s classic horror film Suspiria, with star Jessica Harper in attendance. But they’re playing it one night only and both shows have been sold out for weeks. So if, like me, you’re shut out of the movie event of the fall, you should go see what is quite probably the best American film of 2017 so far, Sean Baker’s The Florida Project. We like it so much, we reviewed it twice in a single day. Here’s Ryan’s take on it and here’s mine.

Playing This Week:

AMC Alderwood:

The Fortress (Hwang Dong-hyuk) Fri-Thurs
The Bachelors (Kurt Voelker) Fri-Thurs

Ark Lodge Cinemas:

Death Bed: The Bed that Eats (George Barry, 1977) Thurs Only

Central Cinema:

Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946) Fri-Mon   Our Review
The Cabin in the Woods (Drew Goddard, 2012) Fri-Mon
The Nightmare Emporium (Various) Tues Only

SIFF Egyptian:

The Florida Project (Sean Baker) Fri-Weds Our Review Our Other Review

Century Federal Way:

The Fortress (Hwang Dong-hyuk) Fri-Thurs
Secret Superstar (Advait Chandan) Fri-Thurs
A Nightmare on Elm Street (Wes Craven, 1984) Sun & Weds Only

Grand Cinema:

Lucky (John Carroll Lynch) Fri-Thurs
The Last Dalai Lama? (Mickey Lemle) Fri-Thurs
Dolores (Peter Bratt) Fri-Thurs
Young Frankenstein (Mel Brooks, 1974) Sat Only
The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973) Sat Only
California Typewriter (Doug Nichol) Tues Only
Turn It Around: The Story Of East Bay Punk (Corbett Reford) Thurs Only
The Road to Nickelsville (Derek Armstrong McNeill) Thurs Only

Grand Illusion Cinema:

The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932) Fri, Sat, Mon & Weds
The Witch (Robert Eggers, 2015) Fri-Thurs Our Review
Rawhead Rex (George Pavlou, 1986) Sat & Thurs Only
2nd Annual Scarecrow Video Weirdo Horror Triple Feature Sun Only VHS
Damsels of Doom: Horror B-Movie Double Feature Tues Only 16mm

Cinemark Lincoln Square:

The Florida Project (Sean Baker) Fri-Thurs Our Review Our Other Review
Loving Vincent (Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman) Fri-Thurs
Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
Secret Superstar (Advait Chandan) Fri-Thurs
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis) Fri-Thurs
Mersal (Atlee Kumar) Fri-Thurs
Raja the Great (Anil Ravipudi) Fri-Thurs
Tokyo Ghoul (Kentarô Hagiwara) Sat Only
A Nightmare on Elm Street (Wes Craven, 1984) Sun & Weds Only

Regal Meridian:

Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
Wind River (Taylor Sheridan) Fri-Thurs Our Review
Mother! (Darren Aronofsky) Fri-Thurs Our Review

Northwest Film Forum:

4 Days in France (Jérôme Reybaud) Fri-Thurs
King of Jazz (John Murray Anderson, 1930) Sun Only
Rat Film (Theo Anthony) Starts Weds
Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977) Thurs Only Jessica Harper in Attendance Sold Out

AMC Pacific Place:

Never Say Die (Yang Song & Chiyu Zhang) Fri-Thurs

Regal Parkway Plaza:

Golmaal Again!!! (Rohit Shetty) Fri-Thurs
Wind River (Taylor Sheridan) Fri-Thurs Our Review

AMC Seattle:

Dina (Antonio Santini & Dan Sickles) Fri-Thurs
The Departure (Lana Wilson) Fri-Thurs

Seattle Art Museum:

Kiss of Death (Henry Hathaway, 1947) Thurs Only

SIFF Film Center:

Night of the Living Dead (George Romero, 1968) Fri-Sun

SIFF Uptown:

Loving Vincent (Dorota Kobiela & Hugh Welchman) Fri-Thurs
Lucky (John Carroll Lynch) Fri-Thurs
Seattle Polish Film Festival Fri-Sun Full Program
Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) Fri, Mon & Tues Only
Night of the Living Dead (George Romero, 1968) Mon & Tues Only
The Fall (Tarsem Singh, 2006) Weds Only

Varsity Theatre:

Jungle (Greg McLean) Fri-Thurs
Walking Out (Andrew J. Smith & Alex Smith) Fri-Thurs
Leatherface (Alexandre Bustillo & Julien Maury) Fri-Thurs

In Wide Release:

Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve) Our Review