Local & Repertory
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The Bicycle Thief Launching SAM’s The Golden Age of Italian Cinema series, The Bicycle Thief had a million-dollar budget (in today’s money) and was the Gone With the Wind of Neorealism, winning the 1949 foreign-film Oscar and influencing everyone from the French New Wave to the latest Iranians. Director Vittorio De Sica, who refused to cast Cary Grant, beautifully uses real-life manual worker Lamberto Maggiorani as his broke hero questing through Rome for a lost bike, with his ageless child (Enzo Staiola) in tow. It plays as true as life, and some say this is Rome’s greatest performance onscreen. (NR) TIM APPELO Seattle Art Museum, 1300 First Ave., 654-3100, seattleartmuseum.org, $63-$68 (series), 7:30 p.m. Thurs., Jan. 16. Series runs through March 13.
Big/A Clockwork Orange You try to create your own connections to these two repertory titles (with separate admission). First up is Tom Hanks in the 1988 boy-in-a-man’s-body-com, directed by Penny Marshall. Following and much darker is Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 treatment of the Anthony Burgess novel. Malcolm McDowell’s performance is an unhinged, bratty marvel, and part of the movie’s cautionary accomplishment is to make us feel sympathy for this thug—and contempt for the politely authoritarian society that bends him to its will. Central Cinema, 1411 21st Ave., 686-6684, central-cinema.com, $6-$8, Jan. 17-20, 7 & 9:30 p.m.
Fire in the Blood Big Pharma and restrictive drug patents are the target in this new doc by Dylan Mohan Gray. William Hurt narrates. Discussion follows. (NR)
Northwest Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave., 829-7863, nwfilmforum.org, $6-$10, Sat., Jan. 18, 7 p.m.
The Punk Singer After bursting onto the early-’90s scene with the Evergreen College–spawned riot-grrrl band Bikini Kill, then later shifting to a mellower key with Le Tigre, Kathleen Hanna seemingly dropped out of music in 2005. Why, apart from her marriage to the Beastie Boys’ Adam Horovitz, did she stop performing? More a fan than a director, Sini Anderson mostly gets to the bottom of such questions in The Punk Singer. Back in the day, Hanna was wary of the male-dominated rock press, and she’s now in full control of Anderson’s access. Generously sourced with testimonials from the likes of Joan Jett, Corin Tucker, and Kim Gordon, the doc is less a career assessment than a companion reel to Hanna’s relaunch as a performer. But if The Punk Singer partly feels like an infomercial, full of praise for Hanna, it also has a medical, service-y aspect on the dangers of Lyme disease, which led to her health collapse. In a down moment, she asks her husband, “Do I look horrible?” “No,” Horovitz quickly shoots back. You’d like to see more of these domestic scenes, as when Horovitz recalls meeting Hanna on tour in the ’90s: “Kathleen was like a force—a car accident, but a good car accident.” (NR) BRIAN MILLER Grand Illusion, 1403 N.E. 50th St., 523-3935, grandillusioncinema.org, $5-$8, Fri., Jan. 17, 10 p.m.; Sat., Jan. 18, 10 p.m.
The Sprocket Society’s Saturday Secret Matinees The 1949 serial Batman & Robin will be screened in weekly installments. January’s surprise features will have a superhero theme. (NR)
Grand Illusion, $5-$8 individual, $35-$56 pass, Saturdays, 2 p.m. Through March 29.
Ongoing
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All Is Lost Playing an unnamed solo yachtsman shipwrecked in the Indian Ocean, the 77-year-old Robert Redford represents an old-fashioned tradition of self-reliance and competence. Writer/director J.C. Chandor (Margin Call) withholds any personal information about our near-wordless hero, whose sloop is damaged by an errant floating shipping container full of shoes. His radio and electronics are flooded, so he calmly and methodically goes about patching his boat while storm clouds gather in the distance. Like Gravity and Captain Phillips, this is fundamentally a process drama: Character is revealed through action, not words. Here is a small man adrift, stripped of technology, surviving by his wits. Here, too, is Redford without any Hollywood trappings—no chance to smile or charm. All Is Lost is a simple story, but so in a way was that of Odysseus: epic, stoic, and specific. (PG-13) B.R.M. Crest
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American Hustle The latest concoction from David O. Russell is full of big roundhouse swings and juicy performances: It’s a fictionalized take on the Abscam scandal of the late 1970s, in which the FBI teamed with a second-rate con man (here called Irving Rosenfeld, played by Christian Bale) in a wacko sting operation involving a bogus Arab sheik and bribes to U.S. congressmen. Along with the FBI coercing him into its scheme, Irving is caught between his hottie moll Sydney (Amy Adams) and neglected wife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence). Even more complicated for Irving is that one of the targets of the undercover operation, a genially corrupt yet idealistic Jersey politico (Jeremy Renner), turns out to be a soulmate. Equally unhappy is the presiding FBI agent (Bradley Cooper, his permed hair and his sexual urge equally curled in maddening knots), who’s developed a crush on Sydney that is driving him insane. Russell encourages his actors to go for it, and man, do they go for it. (R) ROBERT HORTON SIFF Cinema Uptown, Big Picture, Sundance, Bainbridge, Ark Lodge, Kirkland Parkplace, Lincoln Square, Pacific Place, Thornton Place, others
August: Osage County Tracy Letts won a Pulitzer for this play and now writes the screenplay, yet there’s almost no evidence of how this display of canned yammering could possibly have won a high literary honor. Osage County is in Oklahoma, where the lemony matriarch of the Weston family, Violet (Meryl Streep), has gathered the clan in the aftermath of tragedy. She has three daughters, and while she treats sensible Ivy (Julianne Nicholson) and silly Karen (Juliette Lewis) badly enough, she saves her special venom for her favorite, Barbara (Julia Roberts). Barbara’s marriage to an academic (Ewan McGregor) is unraveling, so she’s in the mood for a tussle, and we’re going to get one. While Streep is the savvy, surgical Muhammad Ali to Roberts’ blunt-punching Joe Frazier in that match, there’s a sense that even Dame Meryl is coasting on technique here. The gotcha dialogue is just a little too easy, and director John Wells encourages everybody to bop their lines right on the nose. (R) R.H. Alderwood 16, Guild 45th, Lincoln Square, Pacific Place, Southcenter, Thornton Place, Bainbridge, Kirkland Parkplace, SIFF Cinema Uptown, others
Captain Phillips Tom Hanks is hijacked and held hostage by Somali pirates, as actually happened to Richard Phillips in 2009, upon whose book this film is based. If you read that account or the newspapers, there’s nothing surprising here, though expert director Paul Greengrass—of the Bourne movies and United 93—adds as much tension as he can, chiefly through jittery cameras, screaming pirates, and the late-film addition of lethal Navy SEALs. But if I may jump to the end of the movie first: Greengrass and screenwriter Billy Ray do make the interesting decision not to treat that ending triumphantly. What we could not guess is that after more than two days of cool thinking, protecting his crew, calm negotiating, and even coaching his captors, Captain Phillips would finally lose his shit. Before that point, however, he flatters the chief pirate, Muse (Barkhad Abdi), by treating him as an equal. If not quite cogs, they’re bit players in the global nexus of commerce and power. And if they don’t like the job, plenty of others will take their place. (PG-13) B.R.M. Sundance, others
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Dallas Buyers Club Making a straight white Texas homophobe the hero of a film about the ’80s AIDS crisis doesn’t seem right. It’s inappropriate, exceptional, possibly even crass. All those qualities are reflected in Matthew McConaughey’s ornery, emaciated portrayal of Ron Woodroof, a rodeo rider and rough liver who contracted HIV in 1985. Fond of strippers, regularly swigging from his pocket flask, doing lines of coke when he can afford them, betting on the bulls he rides, Ron has tons of Texas-sized character. Directed by Jean-Marc Vallee, the unruly Dallas Buyers Club goes easy on the sinner-to-saint conversion story. As Ron desperately bribes and steals a path to off-label meds, he’s aided by the transvestite Rayon (an excellent Jared Leto); they’re fellow gamblers who delight in beating the house. (R) B.R.M. Sundance, Meridian, others
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Gravity George Clooney and Sandra Bullock are stranded in orbit, menaced by regular bombardments of space debris. Their dilemma is established in an astonishing 12-minute opening sequence, seamlessly rendered via CGI by director Alfonso Cuaron. (Here let’s note that the 3-D version is essential.) Dr. Stone (Bullock) at first can’t get her bearings; and the rest of the film consists of her navigating from one problem to the next. For all its technical marvels and breathtaking panoramas reflected in Stone’s visor, Gravity is both space-age and hugely traditional, though with a modern, self-aware heroine. (PG-13) B.R.M. Sundance, Oak Tree, others
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Her Spike Jonze’s unlikely romance is set in a smooth, efficient near-future Los Angeles. Everyone ought to be happy, and that’s the problem for mopey Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix). Gradually it emerges that he’ separated from his wife (Rooney Mara), but won’t sign the divorce papers. Impulsively deciding to upgrade his phone and home PC, Theodore opts for the new OS1. He chooses a female voice (Scarlett Johansson’s) called Samantha, which soon takes over his life. Before long they’re going on dates together—and more. (Meanwhile, Sam is evolving at a startling rate; “Tell me you love me,” she implores.) In this ingenious and unexpectedly touching story, both humans and programs worry about being alone. And both yearn to connect across the digital divide between sentience and software. (R) B.R.M. Alderwood 16, Sundance, Bainbridge, Southcenter, Ark Lodge, Kirkland Parkplace, Harvard Exit, Lincoln Square, Majestic Bay, Cinebarre, Thornton Place, others
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Inside Llewyn Davis While there are funny bits in this simple story of a struggling folk musician in 1961 Greenwich Village, very loosely inspired by Dave Van Ronk’s memoir The Mayor of MacDougal Street, the situation for Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) is fairly dire. He has no money, no apartment, and no real prospects in the music industry. The Coen brothers aren’t really making a comedy here, and you should temper your expectations to appreciate the movie’s minor-key rewards. Isaac can really sing and play guitar; the sterling soundtrack, by T Bone Burnett, is built around live music performances; and the catchiest tune—an astronaut ditty called “Please, Mr. Kennedy”—is a novelty song. As a man, Llewyn is a self-described asshole offstage; he’s only at his best onstage. If music can’t save him or provide a career, it’s also his only succor against life’s crushing disappointments. (R) B.R.M. Alderwood 16, Sundance, Ark Lodge, Oak Tree, Harvard Exit, Lincoln Square, others
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Nebraska Whether delusional, demented, or duped by a sweepstakes letter promising him $1 million, it really doesn’t matter about the motivations of Woody (the excellent and subdued Bruce Dern). What counts is the willpower of this cotton-haired, ex-alcoholic Montana geezer. His son David (Will Forte, surprisingly tender) becomes the enabler/Sancho Panza figure on their trek to Nebraska, where Woody expects to get his prize. There is a lifetime of regret and bad parenting to reveal in Alexander Payne’s black-white-movie, which makes it sound more bleak than it is. There’s both comedy and pathos as Woody makes his triumphant return to Hawthorne, en route to the sweepstakes office in Lincoln, Nebraska. Also visiting Lincoln is Woody’s wife (June Squibb, a hoot), the movie’s salty truth-teller. With its mix of delusion, decency, and dunces, Nebraska is a little slow for my taste but enormously rewarding in the end, one of the year’s best films. (R) B.R.M. Guild 45th, Meridian, Lynwood (Bainbridge), others
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12 Years a Slave Steve McQueen’s harrowing historical drama is based on a memoir by Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a free man from Saratoga, New York, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in 1841. One sensitive slave owner (Benedict Cumberbatch) gives Solomon—a musician by trade—a fiddle. Then he’s sold to the cruel cotton farmer Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender), who also owns the furiously hard-working Patsey (Lupita Nyong’o). Patsey, like Solomon, is caught inside the terror of not knowing how to play this hand. Do they keep their heads down and try to survive, or do they resist? This is no Amistad or Schindler’s List, tackling the big story, but a personal tale. The film’s and-then-this-happened quality is appropriate for a memoir written in the stunned aftermath of a nightmare. Along the way, McQueen includes idyllic nature shots of Louisiana, as though to contrast that unspoiled world with what men have done in it. The contrast is lacerating. (R) R.H. Varsity, Meridian, Kirkland Parkplace, others
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The Wolf of Wall Street Hugely, rudely entertaining, Martin Scorsese’s three-hour tale of rogue stock traders during the early ‘90s stars a ferociously funny Leonardo DiCaprio as Jordan Belfort, upon whose jailhouse memoir the movie is based. Wolf almost seems like a remake of Scorsese’s Goodfellas—or two of them, given its length. Here again are the crazed, colorful criminals, the mountains of blow, the army of hookers, the venal vitality of a life lived outside the law. The crucial difference, however, is the absence of mobsters and violence; this film is a greed-com, and the clowns include Jonah Hill, Rob Reiner, Matthew McConaughey, Jean Dujardin, and Spike Jonze. (R) B.R.M. SIFF Cinema Uptown, Sundance, Redmond Town Center, Southcenter, Lincoln Square, Meridian, Cinebarre, Thornton Place, Bainbridge, others
