If anything, the story might have gone on longer, as the Tamimi project never entirely takes shape and the powerful forces let loose in Y’s desert epiphany fizzle out by the end credits.
In Lisa Hurwitz’s charming, informative film, the era of the Automat gleams anew, as everyone from Colin Powell to Ruth Bader Ginsburg to Brooks recall their appeal.
In a crowded field of lone-man operators-against-the-world action films, The Contractor doesn’t do anything well enough to finish the job.
Refreshingly, Phil Connell’s Jump, Darling breaks from many of the tropes we’ve come to expect from queer storylines.
There’s a Malickian quality to the film that’s cheesy at moments, and the disjointed chronology is more aggravating than affecting.
A north-side native who spent his youth frequenting Wrigley Field and following the gospel according to Del Close, Jake Johnson is Chicago to the core.
The Chicago Latino Film Festival poses a problem—a good problem, but a problem nevertheless. There are simply too many interesting programs to see, and as any cinephile is loath to admit, we’re but singular bodies unable to be in more than one place at the same time.
Through five films, the Film Center endeavors to shed light on the Ukrainian experience, both past and present. . . . The annual Asian American Showcase returns to the big screen with several films from the past two years about Asian American characters and subjects.
Due to the rise of the COVID-19 pandemic, the students were forced to put their show on hold. Now, a long two years later, students in the high school’s media arts program are premiering their television show pilot, Stitched Together, on the big screen at Music Box Theatre.
It’s surprisingly entertaining in its failings, and makes for a great date movie if your idea of a date movie involves frequently looking in utter disbelief towards your date for a shared moment of, “Wait, that really just happened?”
The film is a powerful exposé about how science is a tool of colonization, desecrating sacred lands, and marginalizing native Hawaiians.
Regardless of Sandra Oh’s spectacular lead performance, Umma is a lackluster horror film that gets caught between jump-scare tactics and a moving chronicle of generational trauma.
The problems with public schools seem like a broken record, but leave it to the NBC hit show Abbott Elementary, perhaps premiering at the right time . . . to make people think critically about the state of education in America’s major cities.
Grappling with familial instability, gender identity, and mental illness, the film has a lot on its mind but moves along with surprising lightness and grace.
The film is a bit smart for its own good, twisting for the sake of twists and leaning too heavily on the use of exposition and flashbacks to reveal surprising information.