Isabelle Huppert: World’s greatest actor

The French star vaults to the top ranks with recent performances in "Elle" and "Things to Come."

May as well just say it: Isabelle Huppert is the best screen actor working in the world today.

To support this somewhat bold contention, I present two pieces of compelling evidence, both showing in Portland theaters right now.

One, “Things to Come,” is, in outline, a fairly ordinary middlebrow drama. It centers on a French high school philosophy teacher (yes, they have those in France) whose orderly life is upended on numerous fronts. The health of her elderly mother (played by screen icon Edith Scob) is failing; she discovers that her husband her been unfaithful to her; and her career momentum stalls. We’ve seen this sort of midlife-crisis, “I Am Woman” story in the past–remember all those Jill Clayburgh movies?–but what elevates “Things to Come” is Huppert’s smooth, lived-in performance, which manages to communicate a controlled facade and a rich interior life without resorting to anything resembling acting (at least as we’re used to seeing it in Hollywood dramas).

Isabelle Huppert (Nathalie) and Roman Kolinka (Fabien) in Mia Hansen-Løve’s THINGS TO COME

The director of “Things to Come” is Mia Hansen Love, who based the main character on her own mother. Hansen Love, making her fifth feature, is part of a new generation of French female filmmakers who are demonstrating the wide range of stories women can contribute when allowed to infiltrate the typically male-dominated industry. And Huppert’s appearance in her movie is something of a stamp of approval, placing her in the ranks of other greats the actress has graced with her inimitable talents.


FilmWatch Weekly: “Evolution” director Lucile Hadžihalilović, interviewed

This eerie fable about adolescence and isolation returns months after its screening at PIFF

One of strangest and most memorable films from this year’s Portland International Film Festival makes a belated return to town for a regular engagement this week at Cinema 21. “Evolution,” the second feature from the French director Lucile Hadžihalilović, is set on a rocky, isolated island populated entirely by women and young boys, including Nicolas (Max Brebant) and his…mother?. It’s sort of a fable, sort of a horror film, and plays like a strange admixture of Jean Cocteau and David Cronenberg.

There are mysterious medical facilities, bizarre treatments and injections, and a raft of visual and narrative metaphors circling around notions of reproduction, birth and water. Mostly, “Evolution” is a sensory, sensual experience, moody cinematography and all-encompassing sound design transporting the viewer to a place that is both familiar on some limbic level and utterly alien at the same time.

A scene from “Evolution.”

I first saw “Evolution” as part of the Rendezvous with French Cinema event I attended in Paris in January of this year. At that time, I was able to interview Hadžihalilović (whose surname isn’t as hard to pronounce as you’d guess) in a hotel suite, where she proved to be a graceful, almost reticent presence. Nearly a year later, I’m very pleased that Portland audiences will have a chance to experience the film on the big screen. What follows are excerpts from our conversation.

MM: The film has been described as a horror movie, which to me seems reductive. How do you feel about having that label applied?

LH: I think there are many kinds of horror movies. I really wanted the horror to be attractive, appealing. I wanted to be more elliptic, more allusive. I think it’s more playful to do it like that. It’s ok if people say that [it’s a horror movie], but I can see how that makes it a bit more narrow somehow. If people ask what genre of film it is, I don’t know what to say. In French we say “film fantastique,” which is more appropriate perhaps.


Home Movies: “Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams,” “Lone Wolf and Cub” series, and lots more

A pair of Japanese releases from The Criterion Collection are among the reasons to stay home and watch movies.

With the Portland area still thawing out from what passes for a winter storm in these parts, this seems like as good a time as any to launch what will hopefully be a new weekly feature on movies you can watch without leaving the warmth and comfort of your home.

Even with Portland’s abundance of independent and art house cinemas, there are worthy films that never make it into local theaters. And between streaming services like Fandor, Hulu, Netflix, MUBI, and the brand-new Flimstruck, the options for discovering unseen classics are boundless. Plus, they do still make movies on disc, and a good Blu-ray edition remains the best way to watch a film in your pajamas.

The Northwest Film Center’s annual Japanese Currents series is wrapping up this weekend, but if you can’t make it down to the Whitsell Auditorium, a couple of recent Blu-ray releases from The Criterion Collection can help you satisfy that yen for Japanese cinema. One is a late effort from one of the nation’s grand masters, the other a chance to dive into the gloriously stylized, narratively compelling, and thoroughly bloody swordfight genre.

Martin Scorsese as Vincent Van Gogh in “Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams”

“Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams” came out in 1990. It was the first of Kurosawa’s movies I saw in a theater on its initial release, and it was the last of his films to approach greatness. (He only made two more features before his death in 1998.) It’s the sort of personal, impressionistic project only a legend could get away with. Literally based on the director’s recurring dreams, the movie is comprised of a series of vignettes, often imbued with a mixture of nostalgia, despair, and wonder. All are stunningly shot, but the most memorable features none other than American director Martin Scorsese as Vincent Van Gogh. It’s Scorsese’s most adept piece of acting (which isn’t saying much) and a testament to his admiration for Kurosawa that he appears at all.

“Dreams” looks astonishing on Blu-ray, and the Criterion release comes with enough extra goodies to get you through an entire snow day. First off, there’s a two-and-a-half hour documentary shot during the making of “Dreams” that provides as intimate a look at how a cinematic genius in full flower operates on a daily basis than you’re ever likely to find. Then there’s another fifty-minute doc, made in 2011,  featuring interviews with Kurosawa’s collaborators and colleagues, including Bernardo Bertolucci, Hayao Miyazaki, and Scorsese. A couple of freestanding interviews with the movie’s production designer and assistant director offer even more insight into its making. And, to top it all off, there’s a brand-new, full-length audio commentary track (a rarity these days even on Criterion releases) from film historian Stephen Prince. Prince, a Kurosawa expert, has contributed commentaries to past Criterion releases of nine other of the master’s works.

If “Dreams” is too artsy and respectable, though, Criterion has in its other hand the three-disc, six-film “Lone Wolf and Cub” set. No film industry could churn out genre series like the Japanese, and, other than “Zatoichi,” the “Lone Wolf and Cub” films might be the pinnacle of that trait. Made between 1972 and 1974, they follow the travelling adventures of Ogami Itto, an unjustly disgraced executioner in the Tokugawa Era who wanders the countryside pushing a perambulator containing his three-year-old son. Trouble follows them everywhere, so it’s a good thing Ogami has outfitted the baby cart to contain all manner of hidden weapons and deadly devices.

Tomisaburo Wakayama stars in the “Lone Wolf and Cub” series

Although the quality slumps a bit as the series goes on, the films are all stunningly shot, and star Tomisaburo Wakayama strikes the perfect tone as the curmudgeonly, ascetic, ultimately humane warrior who stands up for the little people and carves the bad guys into so much sushi.

The “Lone Wolf and Cub” movies are more than just samurai action flicks, with stories involving and complicated enough to hold your interest even before the blood and viscera begin to flow.

But, hey, maybe you’re just not in the mood for Japanese movies. It happens. Here’s a rundown of some other stuff that became available this week:

“Frank & Lola”: Michael Shannon is hot these days, by which I mean both that he’s a sought-after actor thanks to performances in films such as “Nocturnal Animals” and “Midnight Special,” and that he’s incredibly pissed about Donald Trump’s electoral victory. For some reason, no Portland theaters chose to run this relationship drama in which he plays a Las Vegas chef who falls in love with a younger woman (Imogen Poots, “Green Room”). She’s got secrets in her past, or at least claims to, as well as a dysfunctional mother (Patricia Arquette). He’s got anger issues and professional ambition. Writer-director Matthew Ross’ debut feature isn’t anything groundbreaking, but it’s involving enough to be worth a look. (available to rent via Amazon, Vudu, Cinema Now)

“Howards End” Blu-ray: The Cohen Film Colletion has made impressive strides in recent years to become an important player in the art house and repertory scene, and their biggest move yet was the recent acquisition of the Merchant Ivory film library. The first fruits of that deal came with the theatrical re-release of “Howards End” (locally at Cinema 21) and now its appearance in this luxurious Blu-ray release. It’s probably the most visually stunning film in the Merchant Ivory oeuvre, and there’s a making-of documentary, a Q&A session from earlier this year, and an audio commentary.

“Mad Max: Fury Road” Black & Chrome Edition: Director George Miller had initially intended to release the best action movie of 2015 in black-and-white, but obviously that ain’t gonna happen in today’s world. Now he’s finally been able to set his preferred version of the film loose on the world, and it’s available for streaming rental or on a Blu-ray. Can’t wait to check this out.

“Children of Divorce” Blu-ray/VOD: The company Flicker Alley is one of the unsung heroes of the film preservation movement. (Not that there are any terribly sung heroes of the film preservation movement.) Their latest effort is this 1927 comedy starring Clara Bow and a very young Gary Cooper. Judging from the trailer, it looks magnificently restored, and includes an hour-long documentary on Bow on the Blu-ray.

“The Exterminating Angel” Blu-ray: Another Criterion job, this Blu-ray debut of Luis Bunuel’s 1962 surrealist classic about a high-society dinner party that just won’t end includes the same supplementary material as their previous DVD issue, including a comprehensive, feature-length 2008 documentary about Bunuel’s career.

“Aquarius” provides a career peak for iconic Brazilian star Sonia Braga

Forty-plus years into her career, Braga exudes dignity, panache, and sensuality as much as ever

Forty years ago, Sonia Braga starred in “Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands.” The Brazilian movie, a soft-focus but smarty skewed sex comedy, became an international hit and launched Braga’s career. (She was nominated for a BAFTA as Best Leading Newcomer.) Nearly a decade later, she became a familiar figure to American art house audiences in a double role opposite Oscar-winning William Hurt in “Kiss of the Spider-Woman.” In both roles, Braga exhibited an unapologetic, earthy sensuality and a self-conscious dignity, traits that don’t often easily mix.

Now, however, the 66-year-old Braga embodies them once again in “Aquarius,” a textured, impressive drama that provides the iconic star with her best role in decades, and puts the lie once again to the fact that great (or at least near-great) movies can’t be centered on performances from mature female actors.

Sonia Braga in “Aquarius”

Braga plays Dona Clara, a widowed, retired music critic living in a fantastic apartment across the street from the beach in the coastal city of Recife. Her apartment is, and has been for some time, the last remaining occupied unit in the building, but Clara refuses to sell to the development company intent on tearing it down and replacing it. This makes “Aquarius” sound like a straightforward social-issue drama, but it’s just as much a character study, as Clara reflects on her life while interacting with her adult children, her nephew, her friends, and her trusty housekeeper Ladjane (Zoraide Coleto, very endearing).

There’s a bittersweet nostalgia to much of “Aquarius,” but moments of sharp humor as well. When the developers decide to hold a blaring rave/porn shoot in the apartment above Clara’s to intimidate her, she fires up her phonograph and blasts them back with Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls.” Clara, and Braga, both boldly embrace things that others might think them too old for, like relaxing at the end of the day with a joint or hiring a well-endowed male prostitute to ease a lonely night.

I’ve seen recent performances from Annette Bening (“20th Century Women”), Isabelle Huppert (“Elle,” “Things to Come”), and Braga that put Hollywood’s treatment of mature women to shame. At the same time, these films prove that the roles are out there, if you know where to look.

“Aquarius” was directed by Kleber Mendonça Filho, whose work I hadn’t been familiar with (this is only his second feature). But he does more than just allow Braga to work her magic. He handles several group dialogue scene with clarity, conjures memorable supporting characters without taking up too much screen time, and imbues the locale–especially the all-important location of Clara’s apartment–with personality and depth.

The movie gained some notoriety when members of its cast and crew held up signs at May’s Cannes Film Festival protesting the then-suspension of Brazil’s President, Dilma Rousseff. Following Rousseff’s impeachment, “Aquarius” was initially slapped with the equivalent of an NC-17 rating, and was passed over by the country’s selection committee as its submission for the Best Foreign Language FIlm Oscar. (In an odd bit of irony, the committee was chaired by veteran filmmaker Bruno Barretto, who directed Braga way back when in “Dona Flor.”)

Perhaps inspired by their protagonist’s perseverance, the makers of “Aquarius” didn’t back down, and the ensuing controversy, as it so often does, has only helped the film’s domestic box office, turning it into a symbol of art’s willingness to stand up against political oppression. (Are you listening, Hollywood?) While it may not be eligible for the Foreign Language prize, there are whispers that Braga could be a dark horse candidate for Best Actress. That seems unlikely, especially considering the strong field this year, but should a nomination come to pass, it would be an honor thoroughly deserved for a performer of stamina and panache.

(“Aquarius” opens Friday, Dec. 9, at Cinema 21)

142 minutes, not rated, in Portuguese with English subtitles. GRADE: B+


FilmWatch Weekly: “Japanese Currents” run strong and swift at the Northwest Film Center

The annual harvest of cinema from across the Pacific is bountiful thanks to films by veterans Sion Sono and Kiyoshi Kurosawa

America may have the most globally popular cinema. Indian may take the cake when it comes to sheer quantity of films released.

But for innovation, quality, and sheer creativity, over a span of decades, it’s hard to top the output of the Japanese film industry. During the 1960s heyday of international cinema, the country kept pace with European hot spots such as France, Sweden, and Italy. And while the era of Japan’s grand masters–Akira Kurosawa, Yasujiro Ozu, Kenji Mizoguchi, etc.–has long passed, filmmakers with vision, craft, and chutzpah continue to carry the torch, as exemplified by the selections in this year’s “Japanese Currents” series at the Northwest Film Center.



A couple of names familiar to dedicated followers of filmdom pop up among the fourteen features screening at the Whitsell Auditorium between December 2nd and 11th. Kiyoshi Kurosawa (no relation to Akira) made his name as part of the New Japanese Horror movement of the late 1990s and early 2000s with films such as “Pulse” and “Cure.” Now he’s back with another foreboding single-word title, “Creepy.”

The star of this year’s “Japanese Currents” series, prime for broader discovery as a one-man cult-film factory, is Sion Sono. Active since the early 1990s, he also gained notoriety as a “J-Horror” auteur, before expanding his horizons somewhat with 2008’s four-hour-long “Love Exposure.” In recent years, he’s only gotten more prolific, and has nearly fifty films under his belt as a director, including five released last year alone in Japan.

The Film Center’s series includes a pair of those 2015 films, each bizarre in its own inimitable manner, as well as a documentary profile, “The Sion Sono,” which, frankly, makes him out to be a rather pretentious, difficult persona in real life. Energy, talent, and originality, which he possess in spades, can make up for a lot, but I’m glad I don’t have to work with him.

Sono is clearly the heir to a tradition of Japanese outlaw cinema that winds from 1960s renegades Nagisa Oshima and Seijun Suzuki through Kinji Fukasaku (“Battle Royale”) to the similarly productive and bizarre Takashi Miike. But his recent output has demonstrated a willingness and ability to move beyond the grand guignol of genre freakfests to someplace that, obscured perhaps by attention-getting shenanigans, there lies a soul.

Here’s a rundown of the five best titles, including Sono’s and Kurosawa’s, in this year’s “Japanese Currents” series:

“Love and Peace”: If you only see one Japanese film in the next 10 days, make it Sono’s bizarre fable about a failed punk rocker now stuck in a humdrum office job. When he gets another shot at the limelight, he won’t succeed without the help of the pet turtle that he flushed down the toilet and has now been enlarged thanks to a magical hobo who lives in the sewers. It’s all really rather heartwarming. (Wednesday, Dec. 7, 7 p.m.)

“The Shell Collector”: A blind old man lives alone on a remote island, perusing and studying the conches, bivalves, etc., that wash up on shore. One day a woman washed up on shore as well, suffering from a mysterious, incurable malady that’s apparently sweeping the globe. When one of his supposedly poisonous shellfish stings her an unexpectedly cures the disease, the old man’s life gets more complicated than he’d hoped. Based on a short story by American author Anthony Doerr (“All the Light We Cannot See”), this is an enigmatic and potent drama. (Saturday, Dec. 3, 5 p.m.)

“Creepy”: Kurosawa’s first out-and-out genre film in several years centers on a retired police detective, who now teaches criminal psychology but gets drawn back in to a six-year-old case about a family that mysteriously disappeared. Meanwhile, his wife encounters some, well, creepy neighbors, who of course turn out to be connected to the case. The movie lives up to its title, and then exceeds it with a third act that moves from creepy to downright disturbing. (Friday, Dec. 9, 8 p.m.)

“The Whispering Star”: Sono’s other film in the series is as spare and elegant as “Love and Peace” is extravagant and colorful. An android with the appearance of a human woman travels through the galaxy in her charmingly retro spaceship, delivering packages to some of the few remaining humans in the universe. One such planet bears an uncanny resemblance to the abandoned landscapes affected by the 2011 Fukushima earthquake and reactor meltdown; in fact, those scenes were shot there, as shown in the documentary “The Sion Sono.” (Sunday, Dec. 4, 7 p.m.)

“Assassination Classroom”: The misfit, delinquent teen students in class 3-E have a new teacher. He’s a yellow-bodied, sphere-headed, smiley-faced, tentacled monster who has destroyed the moon and plans to do the same to the Earth at the end of the school year–unless the kids manage to kill him first. Matching “Peace and Love” in absurdity, if not heart, this adaptation of a popular manga is chockablock with bizarre visuals, insane slapstick violence, and enough gun-toting, uniform-wearing moppets to put “Battle Royale” to shame. (Sunday, Dec. 11, 4:30 p.m.)

(Full disclosure: the new film from director Hirokazu Kore-Eda, “After the Storm,” wasn’t available for preview, and I didn’t get a chance to watch the five-hour drama “Happy Hour,” because you gotta sleep sometime. For a full schedule, visit


FilmWatch Weekly: “HyperNormalisation” is the first essential film of the Trump Era

The latest film by British documentarian Adam Curtis illuminates the conditions that allowed Trump's rise

The British documentary maker Adam Curtis has made a career out of mining the underside of modern history, revealing political connections that weave idiosyncratically together to create a fascinating, if generally foreboding, vision of the world. His latest film, “HyperNormalisation,” which premiered online through the BBC last month, is perhaps his most prescient and terrifying yet. It’s the first essential documentary of the Trump Era.

His two best-known films to American viewers are “The Power of Nightmares” and “The Century of the Self,” and even they have received scant stateside attention. The former traces the parallel growth of radical Islamism (as founded by Sayyid Qutb) and the American neo-conservative movement (as founded by Leo Strauss) in the decades leading up to the 9/11 attacks. The latter explains how the public relations industry (as founded by Sigmund Freud’s nephew, Edward Bernays) and the manipulation of mass opinion have been utilized as agents of subtle control over the populations of consumerist Western democracies.

A collage of images from Adam Curtis' documentary "Hypernormalisation."

A collage of images from Adam Curtis’ documentary “Hypernormalisation.”

Heady stuff, right? But Curtis’ films are addictively watchable. He’s a master at raiding the BBC’s almost Borgesian video archives, splicing together footage in masterful montages that would make Lev Kuleshov proud. These visual quilts are then embroidered with scores that alternate between ominous, trancelike tracks and occasional snippets of pop songs. The final, essential component is Curtis’ narration, his foreboding revelations leavened by dollops of dry, dark wit.

“HyperNormalisation” aims to demonstrate how Western democracies (specifically, the U.S. and Britain) essentially surrendered their desire to create a better world and opted instead to create what Curtis calls a “fake reality” where risks could be managed and stability maintained. As his prime example of this, he cites the evolving relationships with the leaders of Syria and Libya since the 1970s. Patti Smith, Henry Kissinger, and Jane Fonda show up, as does Grateful Dead lyricist-turned-cyberspace prophet John Perry Barlow.

The tragic hero of the piece, though, is Colonel Muammar Gaddafi, the tinpot Libyan dictator who became America’s chosen Middle Eastern bogeyman after it became apparent that dealing with Syria, Iran, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was simply too complicated and intimidating. Curtis posits that several acts of terrorism in the 1980s, including the Lockerbie airline bombing, were blamed on Libya despite evidence that Assad’s Syria was behind them.

Then, after 9/11, Gaddafi’s image was revamped when he announced that Libya was giving up all efforts toward creating weapons of mass destruction. But when the Arab Spring revolts spread to Libya, Gaddafi once again became, or was depicted as, an unstable tyrant. Throughout the process, Gaddafi played along for psychological and political reasons of his own, in much the same way Saddam Hussein did. 

Curtis’ wide-ranging method also incorporates the rise and spread of the tactic of suicide bombing, which of course reached its apocalyptic apotheosis (at least so far) on September 11, 2001. He also, in the final sections of “HyperNormalisation,” examines the way that Vladimir Putin and his chief political aide, Vladislav Surkov, took the concept of politics as theater to a whole new level. The logical conclusion to all this is, of course, the ascendancy of Donald Trump.

Trump makes a few cameos throughout “HyperNormalistion,” as a prime force in the transformation of New York City into a “city for the rich,” and as a player in the strange story of Japanese gambler Akio Kashiwagi. The film culminates, though, with his nomination as the Republican candidate for president and his personification of the post-factual world. The film debuted three weeks before the American election, but you get the sense Curtis was one of the few people who weren’t surprised a bit by his surprise victory.

For various reasons, including rights issues and the cowardice of American television networks, Curtis’ films have never received commercial release in the U.S. However, most, if not all, of them, are available online, if you know where to look. Curtis himself doesn’t seem to mind this alternate, “gray-market” method of distribution, but I’m still hesitant to post direct links here. Use your Googling skills and seek them out.

FilmWatch Weekly: Love will find a way

"Loving" and "The Love Witch" aim to inspire and amuse with tales of noble and desperate hearts

Love may not be in the air these days, but it makes its power known in a couple of very different movies opening this week in Portland. Director Jeff Nichols’ “Loving” tells the story of the couple behind one of the key legal decisions of the civil rights movement, while Anna Biller’s “The Love Witch” attempts a campy, feminist subversion of B-movie sauciness.

“Loving”: More love than outrage

In 1958, Richard and Mildred Loving were married in Washington, D.C. They had traveled there to tie the knot because doing so in their home state of Virginia would make them guilty of a felony. Richard was white; Mildred was “colored,” in the language of the day. (She was of African American and Native American descent.)

After being rousted from their bed in the middle of the night, the Lovings pled guilty to violating Virginia’s Racial Integrity Act and sentenced to a year in prison. The sentence was suspended, however, on the condition that they leave the state and not return, at least together, for 25 years. Eventually, with the help of the American Civil Liberties Union, the Lovings waged a legal battle that ended with a unanimous 1967 Supreme Court decision declaring anti-miscegenation laws nationwide to be unconstitutional.  (Such laws were still being enforced in 15 other states besides Virginia.)

Ruth Negga and Joel Edgerton in "Loving."

Ruth Negga and Joel Edgerton in “Loving.”

That’s the book-report version of the events depicted in “Loving,” and if a movie about the persistent, oft-postponed quest for a humane, tolerant society doesn’t seem relevant, then you haven’t been paying a lick of attention. Nichols, the rising talent behind “Midnight Express” and “Take Shelter,” takes an admirably low-key approach to the story. The focus is squarely on Richard (Joel Edgerton) and Mildred (Ruth Negga) and their durable, genuine, relationship.

This is a movie that could have been full of stem-winding courtroom speeches and sun-dappled paeans to equality and justice, especially after the ACLU attorney (Nick Kroll) gets involved. But Nichols, perhaps inspired by the fact that the Lovings didn’t even attend the announcement of the Supreme Court’s decision, barely even takes us inside the halls of justice. Husband and wife are both depicted as soft-spoken and humble, the polar opposite of rabble-rousers or activists.

In fact, the movie almost goes too far in tamping down its righteous fury. Edgerton’s performance, in particular, feels reduced to a series of grunts and grimaces at times, whether he’s tinkering with a hot rod or meeting with a lawyer. That said, this is still, inevitably, a potent tale, if only because it reminds us that less than fifty years ago, across a decent swath of the country, it remained illegal for interracial couples to marry. (In fact, even though it ceased to be enforced, Alabama’s statute remained on the books until 2000.) And, for what it’s worth, if you’re reading this and imagining that these laws were a vestige of the Confederacy, know that Oregon’s anti-miscegenation law wasn’t repealed until 1951.

“The Love Witch”: Stretching the joke

But maybe you need a laugh. If so, you may consider “The Love Witch.” Anna Biller, who designed the costume and sets and composed the score in addition to writing, directing, and producing the movie, has crafted a sly homage to 1960s exploitation fare. It looks great, from the vibrant colors captured on 35mm to the stunning star, Samantha Robinson, who’s gorgeous and definitely in on the joke.

She plays Elaine, who flees San Francisco after poisoning her husband and lands in a small, northern-California town. There, she meets up with some other witches and uses her psychopharmacological acumen to make a series of local men fall for her in a big way. It has the feel of a Russ Meyer film, but with more of a “pussy power” undertone, with Elaine as a turbo-charged example of the woman who’s willing to trade sex for love.

“The Love Witch” is a one-joke movie, though, and trying to stretch it out to nearly two hours is a mistake. Halfway through, you get the point, only to have it belabored over and over. Biller also edited the film, and that’s the only of her many hats she probably should have let someone else wear.

(“Loving” opens Friday, Nov. 18 at the Living Room Theater and expands to other screens on Nov. 23; “The Love Witch” opens Friday, Nov. 18 at the Living Room Theater and the Hollywood Theatre.)




“Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”: Before he donned blue body paint to play Yondu in “Guardians of the Galaxy,” Michael Rooker earned horrified plaudits for his 1986 portrayal of serial killer Henry Lee Lucas. For its 30th anniversary, director John McNaughton’s unrelenting look at pathological violence has been digitally restored. (Friday-Sunday, Hollywood Theatre)

Chantal Akerman: The Northwest Film Center’s intermittent retrospective of the work of the pioneering, feminist Belgian filmmaker, who died last year, continues with three programs this weekend. The most essential screening is Saturday’s: “Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles,” made in 1975, is a three-and-a-half-hour film that follows the quotidian domestic duties of a widowed housewife who lives with her teenage son. This is one of the ultimate stick-with-it movies in the history of cinema, and an immensely powerful statement on both dramatic and political levels.