
I do have friends there. And I was happy to have a new Fallada novel, having been in thrall of his writing since I first read his brilliant and devastating autobiographical novel The Drinker, which was composed by Fallada while he was incarcerated in a Nazi insane asylum. It haunted my dreams.
Piccoli again plays a lonely, calculating professional who comes to plot a crime, though the similarities end there. Max was cold and emotionally distant; Simon Léotard, as the title character notes, wants to be loved by everyone. A modestly successful investor, Léotard has devoted his life to the family business, enjoying the camaraderie of his partners as well as the respect (and occasional favors) of district judges. He may have only experienced emotional intimacy with high-priced mistresses, but that's better than nothing, and staying single has given him more time to work.
Tomorrow night at 6 PM the Italian Cultural Institute offers a gentle reminder of Ozpetek's existence by screening his 2001 drama The Ignorant Fairies, which was originally released here as His Secret Life. The movie follows a widow after she discovers her doctor husband has been carrying on an affair with another man. The screening is free, but reservations are encouraged. You can reserve a spot here.
In the Mood for Love and Happy Together both screen this weekend—the former on Wed 12/5 at 3 PM, the latter on Mon 12/3, 8 PM. After the jump, check out my five favorite Wong films.
There's a lot to unpack about this, not least of all the exchange between the Twitter spokesman for the Israeli Defense Force and Hamas's Al-Qassam Brigades:
@idfspokesperson Our blessed hands will reach your leaders and soldiers wherever they are (You Opened Hell Gates on Yourselves)
— Alqassam Brigades (@AlqassamBrigade) November 14, 2012
Those jabs from across the world's most contentious wall drew lots of commentary, much of it on the pit-bull aggressive posts by @IDFSpokesperson. This is a new wrinkle on military propaganda because its reach is limitless—what an illustration of globalized war—and it's a chilling addition to the on-the-ground war reports that Twitter's been heralded for. These accounts aren't the inconsequential mutterings of out-of-the-way armies, either; as Buzzfeed's John Herrman says, "at least in the information war, tens of thousands of nearly instantaneous enlistments is significant." That Zionist you know won't refrain from hitting the retweet button; your friend who compares Palestine to apartheid can now bombard you with newfound and disturbing (and possibly faked) videos of a one-sided war's gruesome collateral.
All this strikes me as worthy of study, or at least a gloss. What follows is roughly in line with what a TA for a college course called "The Ethics and Practice of Social Media" might receive in a weekly response paper, and if the name Habermas automatically triggers some kind of stress reaction, there's no need to continue reading.
In any case, that engagement party number makes Sardaar worth the price of admission. Vibrant in its colors and its filling-out of the wide-screen frame, it should satisfy anyone looking for old-fashioned Bollywood spectacle. The rest of the movie isn't bad either, though the cartoonish energy gets a little wearying after a while (imagine a Bugs Bunny cartoon stretched out to 140 minutes). Thankfully the movie's playing at River East, so there are long hallways just outside the theater where you can stretch your legs now and then.
To learn about Mostra's selection process—and the aspects of Brazilian life it aims to inform Chicagoans about—I chatted recently with festival director Ariani Freidl. A partial transcript of our conversation follows the jump.