Thu

7/19

Fri

7/20

Sat

7/21

Sun

7/22

Mon

7/23

Tue

7/24

Wed

7/25

Today

Thu

7/19

Music

Jupiter & Okwess

Photo: Florent De La Tullaye

The feverish highlight of last winter’s Globalfest, Jupiter & Okwess brought fresh, brash regional rhythms from the Democratic Republic of Congo to blustery Times Square. Laughing, growling Jupiter Bokondji fronts the group, which he took over in the early Eighties. (Okwess means “food” in the Kibunda tongue.) Drums, bass, and electric guitars provide galloping beats and stuttering funk-rock architectonics on the group’s recent album, Kin Sonic, on which Bokondji condemns corruption, poverty, kleptocracy, and inequality in the Lingala, Mongo, Tetela, and Tshiluba languages. Bokondji was born in the Sixties and has processed his country’s various stages throughout the decades. In that light, “Nzele Momi” demands respect and security for women to an increasingly urgent four-on-the-floor beat, while “Benanga” mocks monarchs and all other forces of exploitation.

Richard Gehr

Film

The Leopard

There are many historical films, but Luchino Visconti’s The Leopard (1963) is, to my mind, one of the rare movies that is genuinely about history. That is to say, it depicts, through its drama, its character interactions, and its visual style, an actual historical process, in all its messiness, contradiction, and ridiculousness: the replacement of one class by another, the consolidation of a scattered land of fiefdoms and nation-states into one country. Even the most intimate scenes seethe with a sense of change, of a society transforming before our very eyes.

—Bilge Ebiri

Film

The Damned

In 1969’s The Damned, the heady, twisted decadence with which Luchino Visconti films the lives of a family of German industrialists during World War II is an effort to reimagine the world that bred (and was bred by) Nazism. The behavior in the film is monstrous, with just about every imaginable sin depicted — murder, molestation, incest — and the picture fit perhaps too easily into the late-Sixties/early-Seventies fashion of Nazisploitation films. But Visconti wants to plunge us into the textures and postures of this world, however gruesome they may be, so as to help us better understand how it came to be.

—Bilge Ebiri

Film

Get Out

Jordan Peele’s Get Out is the most trenchant studio release in years, a slow-building, often hilarious horror thriller built upon a dead-serious idea: that a black man walking alone through white suburbs is in as much danger as any slasher-flick teenager. Peele opens with that image, showing us, in a long and tense single take, a young man making his way down a sidewalk at night, studying the interchangeable homes for an address. A car eases up behind him, moving too slow, and the revelation — a sick joke you might choke on as you laugh — is that Get Out needs none of the phantasmagoric trappings of its genre to terrify. What’s the usual restless spirit or chainsaw maniac got on a paranoid white dude with a concealed carry?

Alan Scherstuhl

Dance

Batsheva — The Young Ensemble

Straight from a run at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Massachusetts comes Batsheva — The Young Ensemble, the junior offshoot of Tel Aviv’s leading troupe Batsheva. The outfit brings with them Naharin’s Virus, a Bessie Award–winning piece by Ohad Naharin, who recently announced that he’s stepping down as the company’s director but will continue to choreograph. Adapted from Peter Handke’s play Offending the Audience, the deeply ambiguous work, which had its U.S. premiere in 2002, includes sections of Handke’s text, a huge blackboard at the back of the stage, and other deeply theatrical strategies.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Fri

7/20

TV

In Search Of

Photo: Courtesy History Channel

OH HELL YES ZACHARY QUINTO BACK ON THE AIRWAVES. The fionest man in all of TV is back to ignite our loins and perplex our brains as he revives this investigative series from the 1970s. Fun fact: Leonard Nimoy (a/k/a Spock) (a/k/a excellent photographer of awesome fat women) hosted the original, and now Zachary (also a/k/a Spock) is taking over the reins. They’re just two wonderful men gracing our TVs and bringing us all sorts of shock and awe and good vibes. Maybe the world isn’t total garbage after all!! (Sike: It is! But these two dudes are A-OK!)

Laura Beck

Film

Dance on Camera Festival

A co-production of the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Dance Films Association, this year’s festival — its namesake’s 46th — offers sixteen programs encompassing ambitious features and quirky shorts from seventeen countries. In addition to the programs at the giant Walter Reade Theater, free screenings and discussions take place in the FSLC’s Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center Amphitheater across the street. Grab an all-access pass, another discount package, or single tickets and enjoy the comfy, commercial-free cinema environs.

Elizabeth Zimmer

TV

Last Chance U

Maybe there were more chances after all. The third season of this Netflix docuseries about junior college football moves from East Mississippi Community College to Independence, Kansas, where a new crop of NFL hopefuls balance school and sport while their coach screams obscenities in their faces. Watch it this Friday.

Village Voice staff

Film

The Living Idol

An uncredited repurposing of Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, with the action shifted to the pre-Columbian archeological sites at the Mexican pyramids, the sixth of six films by the preternaturally sophisticated and erudite American writer-director Albert Lewin (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Moon and Sixpence) suffers from most of the usual balderdash that hindered CinemaScope travelogue pictures of every stripe. There are one or two unproven young actors; camera placement certainty reset to zero thanks to the new formats; and a vague malaise in the production’s unity that executives sought to resolve with barrels of cash. (The more things change, etc.) All five of Lewin’s other movies are stronger by orders of magnitude, but The Living Idol, which Lewin scripted from his own novel, is every bit their equal for mystery and learned solidity. Very much worth your while.

—Jaime N. Christley

Film

The Spook Who Sat by the Door

This 1973 adaptation of Sam Greenlee’s novel (co-scripted by the author) is a martini-dry political fable, in which the first-ever black CIA agent abruptly quits and uses his acquired knowledge to plan and build a large-scale, anti-authoritarian insurrection. Crisply directed by TV veteran Ivan Dixon, and edited by Michael Kahn, who would go on to be Spielberg’s cutter of forty years, The Spook Who Sat by the Door is a superb example of having one’s cake and eating it, as it indulges the perspectives of the outsider and the insider as one. Blissfully divested of the kind of equivocation that kneecaps some of our contemporary discourse, the movie bears the thrills usually associated with banned art, making no bones about advocating for direct action. If it’s a fantasy, it’s in the same family as The Red Shoes, which still inspires people to strap on ballet slippers.

—Jaime N. Christley

Dance

Contemporary Dance Series

On Fridays at 6 p.m. this summer, Tiffany Rea-Fisher curates free outdoor concerts, with multiple dance companies performing nightly on an elevated stage. So far, the series — which has been running since June 22 — has hosted appearances by Graham2, the AThomasProject, Mindy Jackson, NOW Dance Project, the Peridance Contemporary Dance Company, and more. It all leads up to the concluding program, on July 20, of HopeBoykinDance, Julia Ehrstrand, Gabrielle Lamb, and Earl Mosley’s Institute of the Arts.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Dance

Batsheva — The Young Ensemble

Straight from a run at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Massachusetts comes Batsheva — The Young Ensemble, the junior offshoot of Tel Aviv’s leading troupe Batsheva. The outfit brings with them Naharin’s Virus, a Bessie Award–winning piece by Ohad Naharin, who recently announced that he’s stepping down as the company’s director but will continue to choreograph. Adapted from Peter Handke’s play Offending the Audience, the deeply ambiguous work, which had its U.S. premiere in 2002, includes sections of Handke’s text, a huge blackboard at the back of the stage, and other deeply theatrical strategies.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Performance

Boylesque Bullfight

For ten years, Austin McCormick’s peripatetic baroque-burlesque ensemble Company XIV has mounted stunning, raunchy versions of popular fairy tales and Petipa ballets. This summer, it offers an ingenious original piece, Boylesque Bullfight, in its own Brooklyn cabaret space. Eight shapely men, attired in little more than jeweled codpieces, corsets, and horned helmets, bring us a jaw-dropping version of Munro Leaf’s 1936 nursery story of Ferdinand, the bull who never learned to fight. The action comes ornamented with soprano Marcy Richardson singing arias from Bizet’s Carmen and a delightful playlist including Tom Waits, Yma Sumac, Gloria Gaynor, and tango tunes. A man-size honeybee rocks point shoes; the very talented performers work out on poles, spiral in Spanish dance styles with lace mantillas and fans, and climax, under a rain of glitter, in a kick-line wearing fake breasts. A blast for all is just about guaranteed.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

Lois Weber Program 1

By 1916, Lois Weber was reported to be the highest-paid director in Hollywood. She would later start her own company, Lois Weber Productions, which she operated in unconventional ways: shooting on location, experimenting with form in a way most major studios did not. Her repeated thematic concerns around motherhood, marriage, the confines of femininity, even birth control (Where Are My Children?, 1916) are an inevitable result of the creative freedom she enjoyed in a time before censorship. Weber reportedly took seriously what she believed to be the power of cinema, and her films, as such, focused on heavy subject matter. But formally, too, Weber was a trailblazer: She is credited with one of the first-ever uses of split screen in cinema, in her 1913 short Suspense.

—Christina Newland

Film

Violence Voyager

Following in the footsteps of 2013’s The Burning Buddha Man, the artist Ujicha once again incorporates his “gekimation” style of 2-D animation, employing cardboard dioramas reminiscent of a pre-digital world to deliver a wildly imaginative childhood adventure. But this film is by no means meant for youngsters. It’s a story of friendship and parenthood no doubt, but one told through a grotesque lens. American student Bobby (Aoi Yuki) and local chum Akkun (Shigeo Takahashi) already exist in an uncanny world, marked subtly by the effects of nuclear power; Ujicha’s hand-painted cutouts are garish even when depicting the mundane. Yet things grow stranger still after the boys venture into the mountains and stumble upon a makeshift theme park known as Violence Voyager. It seems like a low-budget scam at first but soon reveals a rabbit hole of biomechanical body-horror concealing a tragic tale — a past whose present has mutated beyond repair. Rife with nods to B-horror and kaiju fare, Violence Voyager is a brutally inventive nightmare born of a singular, disturbing vision.

—Siddhant Adlakha

Sat

7/21

Music

Brimstone & Glory   With Wordless Music Orchestra and Sonido Gallo Negro

Photo: "Brimstone & Glory"

Spare yourself a long, hot, dusty trip to the playa and see some real burning men when the Wordless Music Orchestra performs producer-composer Benh Zeitlin’s score to director Viktor Jakovleski’s 2017 documentary Brimstone & Glory. Filmed in the Mexican town of Tultepec during a week-long celebration, Brimstone focuses on a pair of elaborate annual fireworks displays that inevitably lead to injuries and worse. It also chronicles the unsafe and thoroughly unscientific production of the shells and skyrockets used in these spectacularly colorful pyrotechnic feats. Equally spectacular in its own way, vintage Mexico City psychedelic cumbia combo Sonido Gallo Negro (Black Rooster Sound) gives cha-cha-cha, porro, mambo, and danzón a sci-fi spin with surf guitars, Farfisa organ, and Theremin. Their latest album, Mambo Cósmico, offers a space-age bachelor-pad update of Sun Ra’s sonic spaceways.

Richard Gehr

Film

Dance on Camera Festival

A co-production of the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Dance Films Association, this year’s festival — its namesake’s 46th — offers sixteen programs encompassing ambitious features and quirky shorts from seventeen countries. In addition to the programs at the giant Walter Reade Theater, free screenings and discussions take place in the FSLC’s Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center Amphitheater across the street. Grab an all-access pass, another discount package, or single tickets and enjoy the comfy, commercial-free cinema environs.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

Lois Weber Program 2

By 1916, Lois Weber was reported to be the highest-paid director in Hollywood. She would later start her own company, Lois Weber Productions, which she operated in unconventional ways: shooting on location, experimenting with form in a way most major studios did not. Her repeated thematic concerns around motherhood, marriage, the confines of femininity, even birth control (Where Are My Children?, 1916) are an inevitable result of the creative freedom she enjoyed in a time before censorship. Weber reportedly took seriously what she believed to be the power of cinema, and her films, as such, focused on heavy subject matter. But formally, too, Weber was a trailblazer: She is credited with one of the first-ever uses of split screen in cinema, in her 1913 short Suspense.

—Christina Newland

Dance

Batsheva — The Young Ensemble

Straight from a run at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Massachusetts comes Batsheva — The Young Ensemble, the junior offshoot of Tel Aviv’s leading troupe Batsheva. The outfit brings with them Naharin’s Virus, a Bessie Award–winning piece by Ohad Naharin, who recently announced that he’s stepping down as the company’s director but will continue to choreograph. Adapted from Peter Handke’s play Offending the Audience, the deeply ambiguous work, which had its U.S. premiere in 2002, includes sections of Handke’s text, a huge blackboard at the back of the stage, and other deeply theatrical strategies.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

Alice Guy-Blaché Program

Alice Guy-Blaché was among the first filmmakers in history to complete a narrative film (1896’s La Fée aux Choux); she also maintained an East Coast–based production company, Solax, that housed a state-of-the-art facility in the early 1910s. With A Fool and His Money (1912), you can see unfold the oldest surviving film featuring an all-black cast. That same year’s Algie, the Miner appears to depict thinly veiled homosexuality with a light comedic touch. The apotheosis of this Guy-Blaché program — and the longest film, at forty minutes — is The Ocean Waif (1916), which explores female empowerment via the drama of a young woman desperate to escape her abusive stepfather. This was Guy-Blaché’s project for William Randolph Hearst’s studio, and therefore a good deal more conservative than her other pictures, but it nonetheless crackles with a tremendous performance from gorgeous lead actress Doris Kenyon.

—Christina Newland

Performance

Boylesque Bullfight

For ten years, Austin McCormick’s peripatetic baroque-burlesque ensemble Company XIV has mounted stunning, raunchy versions of popular fairy tales and Petipa ballets. This summer, it offers an ingenious original piece, Boylesque Bullfight, in its own Brooklyn cabaret space. Eight shapely men, attired in little more than jeweled codpieces, corsets, and horned helmets, bring us a jaw-dropping version of Munro Leaf’s 1936 nursery story of Ferdinand, the bull who never learned to fight. The action comes ornamented with soprano Marcy Richardson singing arias from Bizet’s Carmen and a delightful playlist including Tom Waits, Yma Sumac, Gloria Gaynor, and tango tunes. A man-size honeybee rocks point shoes; the very talented performers work out on poles, spiral in Spanish dance styles with lace mantillas and fans, and climax, under a rain of glitter, in a kick-line wearing fake breasts. A blast for all is just about guaranteed.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

The Spook Who Sat by the Door

This 1973 adaptation of Sam Greenlee’s novel (co-scripted by the author) is a martini-dry political fable, in which the first-ever black CIA agent abruptly quits and uses his acquired knowledge to plan and build a large-scale, anti-authoritarian insurrection. Crisply directed by TV veteran Ivan Dixon, and edited by Michael Kahn, who would go on to be Spielberg’s cutter of forty years, The Spook Who Sat by the Door is a superb example of having one’s cake and eating it, as it indulges the perspectives of the outsider and the insider as one. Blissfully divested of the kind of equivocation that kneecaps some of our contemporary discourse, the movie bears the thrills usually associated with banned art, making no bones about advocating for direct action. If it’s a fantasy, it’s in the same family as The Red Shoes, which still inspires people to strap on ballet slippers.

—Jaime N. Christley

Sun

7/22

Film

Dance on Camera Festival

Photo: Still from "American Tap" courtesy of Mark Wilkinson

A co-production of the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Dance Films Association, this year’s festival — its namesake’s 46th — offers sixteen programs encompassing ambitious features and quirky shorts from seventeen countries. In addition to the programs at the giant Walter Reade Theater, free screenings and discussions take place in the FSLC’s Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center Amphitheater across the street. Grab an all-access pass, another discount package, or single tickets and enjoy the comfy, commercial-free cinema environs.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Theater

Peter Pan

In 1950, a production of Peter Pan — using the J.M. Barrie text, but tricked out with eight Leonard Bernstein songs and a buzzy, jazzy score — sprinkled its fairy dust on Broadway. It had its ups (critical acclaim and more than 300 performances); it had its downs (Bernstein seems to have hated it, nobody remembers it, and it sank beneath the waves like a croc with a concrete tail). And yet for five decades it’s been almost completely forgotten. The Bard SummerScape mission includes rescuing such odd objets and putting them in glamorous high-end vitrines. Director Christopher Alden’s production — impressive and assured and not always pleasant — gives Pan the Germanic theater treatment, setting it under harsh fluorescent lights and a haze of intentional bad feeling.

Helen Shaw

Dance

Batsheva — The Young Ensemble

Straight from a run at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Massachusetts comes Batsheva — The Young Ensemble, the junior offshoot of Tel Aviv’s leading troupe Batsheva. The outfit brings with them Naharin’s Virus, a Bessie Award–winning piece by Ohad Naharin, who recently announced that he’s stepping down as the company’s director but will continue to choreograph. Adapted from Peter Handke’s play Offending the Audience, the deeply ambiguous work, which had its U.S. premiere in 2002, includes sections of Handke’s text, a huge blackboard at the back of the stage, and other deeply theatrical strategies.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

Toward a Common Tenderness

Kaori Oda’s Toward a Common Tenderness would feel right at home alongside Kirsten Johnson’s Cameraperson. Oda uses the lens and memory of her DSLR to journey backward through time, inspecting her use of the camera as both an aggressor and a tool of understanding. Whether revisiting her first short, Thus a Noise Speaks, a vessel for coming out to her mother; her time as a foreigner in Bosnia and Herzegovina under the tutelage of Béla Tarr; or the various films she’s made in the interim (Aragane captures the daily lives of Bosnian coal miners), Oda investigates the ethics and impulses behind her desire — and occasional lack thereof — to document life on a cinematic canvas. She stares her subjects in the face once more, revisiting old footage and stills of labor and poverty while questioning her choices as a filmmaker. She’s unable to move forward until she confronts her decisions, as if deconstructing not only the craft behind cinema, but the existential drive underlying art itself. We document in order to be remembered.

—Siddhant Adlakha

Film

The Spook Who Sat by the Door

This 1973 adaptation of Sam Greenlee’s novel (co-scripted by the author) is a martini-dry political fable, in which the first-ever black CIA agent abruptly quits and uses his acquired knowledge to plan and build a large-scale, anti-authoritarian insurrection. Crisply directed by TV veteran Ivan Dixon, and edited by Michael Kahn, who would go on to be Spielberg’s cutter of forty years, The Spook Who Sat by the Door is a superb example of having one’s cake and eating it, as it indulges the perspectives of the outsider and the insider as one. Blissfully divested of the kind of equivocation that kneecaps some of our contemporary discourse, the movie bears the thrills usually associated with banned art, making no bones about advocating for direct action. If it’s a fantasy, it’s in the same family as The Red Shoes, which still inspires people to strap on ballet slippers.

—Jaime N. Christley

Performance

Boylesque Bullfight

For ten years, Austin McCormick’s peripatetic baroque-burlesque ensemble Company XIV has mounted stunning, raunchy versions of popular fairy tales and Petipa ballets. This summer, it offers an ingenious original piece, Boylesque Bullfight, in its own Brooklyn cabaret space. Eight shapely men, attired in little more than jeweled codpieces, corsets, and horned helmets, bring us a jaw-dropping version of Munro Leaf’s 1936 nursery story of Ferdinand, the bull who never learned to fight. The action comes ornamented with soprano Marcy Richardson singing arias from Bizet’s Carmen and a delightful playlist including Tom Waits, Yma Sumac, Gloria Gaynor, and tango tunes. A man-size honeybee rocks point shoes; the very talented performers work out on poles, spiral in Spanish dance styles with lace mantillas and fans, and climax, under a rain of glitter, in a kick-line wearing fake breasts. A blast for all is just about guaranteed.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Mon

7/23

Film

The Living Idol

Photo: Cohen Film Collection

An uncredited repurposing of Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, with the action shifted to the pre-Columbian archeological sites at the Mexican pyramids, the sixth of six films by the preternaturally sophisticated and erudite American writer-director Albert Lewin (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Moon and Sixpence) suffers from most of the usual balderdash that hindered CinemaScope travelogue pictures of every stripe. There are one or two unproven young actors; camera placement certainty reset to zero thanks to the new formats; and a vague malaise in the production’s unity that executives sought to resolve with barrels of cash. (The more things change, etc.) All five of Lewin’s other movies are stronger by orders of magnitude, but The Living Idol, which Lewin scripted from his own novel, is every bit their equal for mystery and learned solidity. Very much worth your while.

—Jaime N. Christley

Film

Dance on Camera Festival

A co-production of the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Dance Films Association, this year’s festival — its namesake’s 46th — offers sixteen programs encompassing ambitious features and quirky shorts from seventeen countries. In addition to the programs at the giant Walter Reade Theater, free screenings and discussions take place in the FSLC’s Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center Amphitheater across the street. Grab an all-access pass, another discount package, or single tickets and enjoy the comfy, commercial-free cinema environs.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Tue

7/24

Film

McCabe and Mrs. Miller

Photo: Photofest

Robert Altman’s languid western McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971) forsakes the gunfire and action theatrics typical of the genre in favor of somber grappling with the economics of the American Dream. Altman understood that constructing the West meant building it from the ground up, and with that came the mundane problems of the everyday. McCabe and Mrs. Miller finds its poetry in the quotidian images of Altman and the late cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond; shot with snowy, stately elegance and loaded with unspeakably beautiful images, the town that John McCabe (Warren Beatty) and others are constructing appears at once organic and otherworldly. It feels like it is being raised, heroically, up from the earth itself, and the workers expect their fair share and a chance to thrive for their hard labor. They achieve these things for some time, but, as in most every story about capitalism, there’s always a bigger predator waiting and willing to swallow up anything meeker in hopes of more power and capital. Altman’s West looks at the smaller man and how he tries to survive in spite of this harsh knowledge.

Willow Maclay

Film

Dance on Camera Festival

A co-production of the Film Society of Lincoln Center and the Dance Films Association, this year’s festival — its namesake’s 46th — offers sixteen programs encompassing ambitious features and quirky shorts from seventeen countries. In addition to the programs at the giant Walter Reade Theater, free screenings and discussions take place in the FSLC’s Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center Amphitheater across the street. Grab an all-access pass, another discount package, or single tickets and enjoy the comfy, commercial-free cinema environs.

Elizabeth Zimmer

Film

The Living Idol

An uncredited repurposing of Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, with the action shifted to the pre-Columbian archeological sites at the Mexican pyramids, the sixth of six films by the preternaturally sophisticated and erudite American writer-director Albert Lewin (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Moon and Sixpence) suffers from most of the usual balderdash that hindered CinemaScope travelogue pictures of every stripe. There are one or two unproven young actors; camera placement certainty reset to zero thanks to the new formats; and a vague malaise in the production’s unity that executives sought to resolve with barrels of cash. (The more things change, etc.) All five of Lewin’s other movies are stronger by orders of magnitude, but The Living Idol, which Lewin scripted from his own novel, is every bit their equal for mystery and learned solidity. Very much worth your while.

—Jaime N. Christley

Wed

7/25

Film

Mabel Normand Program

Photo: Still from "Mabel's Blunder" (1914) / Kino Lorber

During the early-Hollywood era, slapstick comedy and western two-reelers were the genres du jour, each allowing for the affordable recycling of sets, props, and costumes — not to mention talent. Chief among those talents was Mabel Normand, Mack Sennett’s slapstick queen. She was a beloved star, sometimes regarded as the female Chaplin for her pratfalling charms. Normand was fiercely independent and notoriously foulmouthed, a hard-living flapper girl whose reputation would later take a serious dive when she was (most believe falsely) implicated in the 1922 murder of William Desmond Taylor. At BAM, a series of films where the comedian directed herself will be screening — including one in which she appears alongside the fledgling Chaplin, entitled Caught in a Cabaret (1914).

—Christina Newland

TV

Castle Rock

From producer J.J. Abrams and Your Scary-Time TV Dad Stephen King comes this spooky-scary show set in one of the author’s beloved terrifying fictional Maine towns. Essentially, the place is possessed by a dark spirit — à la the ship in Event Horizon, the scariest fucking movie in the world. At least outside of Return to Oz and The Care Bears Movie. The only hope for any of these people is to move the fuck out of their town but they never will and so they’re all destined to live in fear and die horrific deaths. I don’t know; the times might be too dark for this show right now, seeing as how the president and his party are trying to Event Horizon us all. But maybe you like to go darker to get to the light. You gotta do you.

Laura Beck

Film

The Living Idol

An uncredited repurposing of Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People, with the action shifted to the pre-Columbian archeological sites at the Mexican pyramids, the sixth of six films by the preternaturally sophisticated and erudite American writer-director Albert Lewin (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Moon and Sixpence) suffers from most of the usual balderdash that hindered CinemaScope travelogue pictures of every stripe. There are one or two unproven young actors; camera placement certainty reset to zero thanks to the new formats; and a vague malaise in the production’s unity that executives sought to resolve with barrels of cash. (The more things change, etc.) All five of Lewin’s other movies are stronger by orders of magnitude, but The Living Idol, which Lewin scripted from his own novel, is every bit their equal for mystery and learned solidity. Very much worth your while.

—Jaime N. Christley

Film

Kushina, what will you be

The winner of the Japan Cuts Award at this year’s Osaka Film Festival, Moët Hayami’s poetic debut is an intimate story of mothers and daughters whose future rests on a knife-edge. Hayami’s vivid tale is set in an isolationist village of aging women escaping the sorrows of modernity. That is, except for preteen Kushina (Ikumi Satake), who was born in the forested community and has never ventured beyond its surrounding rivers. Kushina’s only connection to the outside world is her mother’s Walkman. Everything changes when detached anthropologist Soko (Yayoi Inamoto) and her male assistant, Keita (Suguru Onuma), stumble upon the arresting haven, bringing with them both curiosity and complications. Soko grows fond of Kushina, shedding her clinical approach and discovering the beauty at the core of her field. But the male presence Soko brings intrudes upon this separatist paradise, crafted carefully over decades, thus locking Kushina’s mother, Kagu (Tomona Hirota), and grandmother, Onikuma (Miyuki Ono), the community’s matriarch, in a riveting generational debate over the girl’s future.

—Siddhant Adlakha