Hello, reader. I am once again requesting you go to the movies, and here’s why: This month, we’ve got Soviet sci-fi, eerie animation, and some of the 20th century’s directorial greats represented (Robert Altman, Akira Kurosawa, Abbas Kiarostami, and the list goes onnnn). Also, have you read Suzette Smith’s picks for the upcoming Portland Panorama Festival (April 9-19)? Several fall loosely beneath the repertory label, like the presentation of manually processed 16mm films and Barbara Forever, which surveys Barbara Hammer’s experimental output. Cinema perseveres; we are blessed.
Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel
For fans of Disco Elysium, Wendy Carlos’ gloomy synth theme for Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980), Nicolas Roeg’s The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976).
Grigori Kromanov’s Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel (1979) is a catch-all of genres that would intrigue practically anyone, like “locked-room mystery,” “giallo-coded,” and “neo-noir inspired by a Soviet sci-fi novel.” (Arkady and Boris Strugatsky wrote Dead Mountaineer’s Inn–they also penned Roadside Picnic, which Andrei Tarkovsky loosely adapted for the 1979 film Stalker.) Estonian synth composer Sven Grünberg’s space-prog soundtrack strikes a cool, creepy chord; shadowy lighting evokes The X-Files paired with weird ’70s glamour.
The titular hotel, a labyrinthine ski lodge in the Alps, turns claustrophobic when an avalanche strikes. As paranormal occurrences stack up, police inspector Peter Glebsky wanders the halls, speculating with sweat on his brow. The downsides of Dead Mountaineer’s Hotel are that it’s a little confusing, and tends to coast on aesthetics. But the Space Age set design—Kromanov was also a theater director, and it shows—and the inclusion of a beefy Saint Bernard named Lell <3 makes it worth a visit. (Hollywood Theatre, 4122 NE Sandy, Fri April 3, 9:30 pm, $10-$12, more info, not rated)
Nashville
For fans of Richard Linklater’s Slacker (1991), James Szalapski’s Heartworn Highways (1976), ensemble casts.
Robert Altman could have been a novelist. His film Nashville (1975) demonstrates a literary understanding of interlocking character arcs—each of its 24 characters lead strange, memorable lives that braid together and fray apart in the run-up to a populist presidential candidate’s benefit concert. Altman’s a director who trusts his actors. Some wrote their own music for this film, and all were encouraged to ad-lib their dialogue.
The deeper you look into the construction of Nashville, the more you’ll discover surprises. Yes, Shelley Duvall wears proto-Spice Girls platform boots, and Elliott Gould plays himself. But past Nashville’s familiar faces and country gospel jangle is a critique of American apathy that’s so deeply embedded, it almost seems to stumble upon itself. Without giving away the tragic irony of the film’s closing scene, know this: It drew an authentic Nashville crowd, enticed simply by 10-cent hot dogs. This is the kind of restless, chaotic authenticity Altman does very well. Plus, the songs are good! (Whitsell Auditorium, 1219 SW Park, Sun April 12, 2 pm, $15, more info, R)
Waiting for Guffman
For fans of Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman’s Theater Camp (2023), the rat musical episode of Joe Pera Talks with You.
Catherine O’Hara’s recent death is a monumental loss, as evidenced in no small part by everyone’s obsession with her song “God Loves a Terrier” in Christopher Guest’s faultless mockumentary Best in Show (2000). But we know this. I’m here on important business: to make sure that you’ve also seen O’Hara’s performance in Guest’s 1996 mocku-musical Waiting for Guffman.
The film follows Corky St. Clair, a theatre director who’s busy staging his masterpiece–a musical on the history of Blaine, Missouri, the “stool capital” of the United States. A gang of locals who can only be described as ragtag—including our Best in Show friends/freaks Parker Posey, Eugene Levy, and Bob Balaban—join in, as does O’Hara. Her audition scene is earnest and weird and passionate, capturing the tone that made O’Hara’s comedy, and Guest’s directing, so effective. (Tomorrow Theater, 3530 SE Division, Sun April 19, 7 pm, $15, more info, and Hollywood Theatre, 4122 NE Sandy, Sat April 25, 2 pm, $12, more info, R)
Also worth it:
Animation April
Sure, I could use this space to discuss Clinton Street’s upcoming screening of FernGully: The Last Rain Forest (1992). But wouldn’t you rather soak up the gothic tale of Countess Elizabeth Báthory, the 16th century Hungarian noblewoman and alleged serial killer who bathed in blood?? If so, Slovak cartoonist Viktor Kubal’s The Bloody Lady (1981) is your pick for the theater’s recurring Animation April series. Indie experimenter claire rousay scored the new restoration. (Clinton Street Theater, starting April 2, more info)
Dersu Uzala
Cinemagic’s Akira Kurosawa series includes several lesser-sung films by the Japanese director, like Dersu Uzala (1975). The story requests your patience, but pays off with its depiction of deep camaraderie between an Indigenous taiga hunter and a Russian explorer in the Siberian forest. (Cinemagic, April 12 and 16, more info)
The Cinema of Jafar Panahi
Panahi, the Iranian neorealist behind last year’s Palme d’Or winner It Was Just an Accident, has navigated censorship and imprisonment in pursuit of his politically charged, critical point of view. This series screens seven of his films, including Golden Bear winner Taxi (2015), in which the director takes on the role of a Tehran taxi driver and records his passengers’ stories. (Hollywood Theatre, April 16-May 28, more info)
Close-Up
Abbas Kiarostami, also an Iranian director and Palme d’Or winner for Taste of Cherry (1997), directed this unclassifiable film most closely described as docufiction. Close-Up (1990) follows working-class cinephile Hossein Sabzian’s real-life trial for impersonating the filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalbaf. Kiarostami stages reenactments of the preceding events with the actual people impacted, including Sabzian. The documentary’s plot revolves around the role of cinema in our lives, yet it also wonders how each person involved—judge, plaintiffs, defendant—might have reacted if a camera had never entered the room. (Academy Theater, April 17-23, more info)
