I’m always delighted when films across various sections of a film festival end up tackling the same ideas in different genres. There was a trio of basement-themed thrillers (“Good Boy,” “Bad Apples,” and, of course, “The Man in My Basement”) and no more than three films related to William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (two of which starred Joe Alwyn). Exploring similar subject matter through different genres allows audiences to be impacted in various ways by the same idea. In this dispatch, films from Gala, Centrepiece, and Special Presentations all explored how our pasts, if not reckoned with properly, can return to haunt us in pugnacious ways.

Director Yaniv Raz’s “Eternal Return” wasn’t the only high-concept romance film exploring what happens to the love of our lives once they pass. However, it’s worth singling out as the only one that fully capitalizes on Naomi Scott’s singing abilities and her ability to infuse a soulful melancholy into any line delivery. This is an old school fantasy film that doesn’t try to reshape the conventions of the genre it’s a part of, and that isn’t afraid to get saccharine to tug at the heartstrings. That works mainly in its favor as it’s obvious that talent behind and in front of the camera understands why this genre can be so successful.

Scott stars as Cass, who’s reeling from the death of her partner and bandmate, Julian (Jay Lycurgo), who perished after a horrific plane crash. She’s mired in grief until a chance encounter with cartographer Virgil (Kit Harington) and his mentor, Malcolm (Simon Callow), gives her hope she might be reunited with her lover. Virgil and Malcolm are convinced that they can craft a map of emotional landmarks of a person’s life; once someone steps back into an old location that holds significance, portals can open that allow people to re-experience formative moments for them. It’s a literal take on the ways stepping back into a place of significance can seemingly transport us to another place, and as Cass embarks with the two men on their journey, Virgil wrestles with his blossoming feelings for her.

It doesn’t always make for exciting viewing, as the tropes this film will embody are evident well before we reach the final destination. However, if anything, narrative familiarity allows the character work to shine. It’s striking to see Harington play against type as an awkward and bookish map specialist. The charm is there, but his intensity is softened due to his quirky spirit, which makes for a great foil to Scott’s driven Cass. Callow also shines as a wingman to Virgil and brings a spirited “can-do” attitude that helps the audience buy into the believability of the gimmick the characters are chasing after. In contrast to Cass and Virgil, who are optimistic but cautious, Malcolm brings a palpable zeal.

At its core, the film reminds us that “moving on doesn’t have to mean forgetting” and that the past, while important to remember, is something to make peace with instead of trying to recapitulate its greatest hits in the present. There’s a strength to this core message, which makes the film’s diversions into some questionable plot twists by the film’s end or certain erratic characterizations feel as if Raz was trying to overcompensate for a standard narrative. He should have had more faith that sometimes, a familiar story well-executed with charming stars is all we need to come back home.

On a more serious note is James Vanderbilt’s “Nuremberg,” a film of prescient urgency and distinguished importance, but whose rote manner of delivery occasionally stifles its ambitions. Nonetheless, it’s an enlivening and compelling courtroom drama, filled with performers who imbue their proceedings with gravitas and skill. Sometimes the strength of a film warrants a straightforward approach to how it tells its story. Still, given that this isn’t the first film made about what transpired (Stanley Kramer’s 1961 film “Judgement at Nuremberg” also dramatized the trials, while Roger reviewed the documentary “Nuremberg: Its Lesson for Today”), it would have benefited from an approach that didn’t just try to preach to its audience.

To Vanderbilt’s credit, rather than fall into the temptation to make what’s happened more melodramatic than needed, he places viewers right into the heart of darkness, trusting his actors to deliver the needed gravitas. When the film opens, it’s 1945. Hitler is dead, and in a strategic victory, the Allied Forces have captured the highest-ranking Nazi official left alive, Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe). While it would be far easier to simply hang Göring and the other imprisoned Nazi officials, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson (Michael Shannon, in one of his best performances) wants to put Göring and his posse on trial. Jackson believes that by trying the Nazis on a global stage and framing their sentencing as a legal victory, it strips the glory that would come with an execution. In a moving monologue, Jackson articulates how, after Germany was forced to “crawl” following World War I, it provided the country with an opportunity to grow not only in strength but also in animosity. If they’re not beaten the right way, Jackson worries the world wouldn’t be able to beat them a “third time.”

As Jackson and his team, including the likes of lawyer David Maxwell Fyfe (Richard E. Grant, ever reliable in any film he’s in)  prepare for the trial, the army has psychiatrist Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek) speak with the prisoners before their trial to evaluate if they’re not only fit for trial, but also to get to the heart of Nazi psychology.

In this regard, the film is a series of conversations and debates, whether in sessions or as we witness various permutations of the film’s all-star cast debating each other (Kelley debates Göring, Jackson grills Göring on the stand, etc.). It’s a showstopping showcase for all involved. Crowe gives a towering, subtly frightening performance as Göring. He’s dangerously charming, humble, and suave, even while his egotistical nature is so baked in that he can’t imagine a possibility where he’s convicted and on trial. There’s also a seductive layer to his confidence, as if he’s beckoning all those cross-examining him to consider the appealing aspects of Nazi ideology.

Malek does serviceable work as Kelley, as the character is meant to act as a vessel to Göring’s sentiments. Kelley’s work is two-fold, as he hopes to write a book about his experience eventually. His naked ambition for fame clashes with the ethics of his vocation. He thinks he can dance with the devil because he has him on a leash, not realizing that he’s already been devoured by an adversary who’s thinking ten moves ahead.

During the titular trials, Vanderbilt opts to include real footage of the horrors of the concentration camps. We become, for a moment, just like those in the trial room as we witness photo after photo and video after video of the truly barbarous and inhumane extermination enacted by the Nazis. It’s the most uncomfortable part of the film and one of the most moving, and while I see its necessity, it’s one of the few times where such unvarnished brutality is too content with recapitulation. As Jackson says during the trial, “what happened cannot bear to be ignored because it cannot bear to be repeated.” Vanderbilt’s film ensures that we can’t ignore what happened, but what’s missing is space for reflection on how what we see has, in fact, already happened again and again. There’s an urgent, timely, and powerful message “Nuremberg” offers; I just wonder how many more it will convince through its stilted approach who aren’t already on Jackson’s side.

Then there’s “Carolina Caroline,” a romantic crime thriller whose unique blend of sexiness and tragedy sizzles off the screen. Of the three projects featuring Samara Weaving that have been released this year, this is by far the strongest, as director Adam Carter Rehmeier and writer Tom Dean finally gift her material that takes full advantage of her ability to shift between vulnerability and vigor at a moment’s notice. Throw in a scene partner like Kyle Gallner and a smooth-as-whiskey score from Christopher Bear, and it all makes “Carolina Caroline” a film that sucker punches you from its first frame.

When we meet the titular Caroline, she embodies the restlessness of feeling obligated to one’s hometown while desiring to escape it. While caring for her single father (Jon Gries), she finds her ticket to freedom in Kyle Gallner’s Oliver. The two strike up a romance as Oliver teaches her his criminal ways; as their love crescendos, so does the scale of their crimes.

“Carolina Caroline” is full of stick-ups, shoot-outs, and heists, but Dean’s script and Rehmeier’s direction give us characters we care about. At the emotional center of Caroline is her reeling with abandonment by her mother, and the film calls into question the health of her trying to fill that void through seeking violence and thrills. There’s a grainy, hand-held camera aesthetic as the film progresses, almost as if Oliver and Caroline are recording home videos of their crimes to pass on to family members later. We know watching that as much as Caroline and Oliver are riding high on their robberies, the crash has to come somehow, and there’s a skittish tension as we wait for their downfall to come.

Weaving dazzles in one particular sequence, where, after someone is killed, Caroline realizes the terrifying endgame of the life of crime she’s embarked on. She’s reached the point of no return, and that disillusionment is harrowing and disquieting. It’s these moments of character development amidst the spectacle that make “Carolina Caroline” a rip-roaring, tragic, joyride.

For many years, Roger Ebert hosted an annual event at the Conference on World Affairs in Boulder, Colorado, called Cinema Interruptus. It was spread out over four days. On day one, the audience would watch a movie together in the usual way. Over the next three consecutive days, they would meet again and do a thorough re-examination of that same movie, with Roger in charge of playback. Anyone who wanted to ask a question or make an observation about any aspect of the movie could yell, “Stop” and raise their hand, whereupon Roger would pause the movie and the viewer would have their say, sometimes sparking additional comments from other viewers, or even a full-blown discussion. 

Cinema Interruptus fell dormant after Roger’s death, but Chicago-based film critic Josh Larsen revived it in 2017 and has been hosting it ever since. From 2017-2023, it was in Boulder. But last year, for the first time, Larsen brought Cinema Interruptus to Chicago, at the Siskel Film Center. It’s happening again at the Siskel August 11-14. This year’s movie is Robert Altman’s classic 1991 crime thriller/film industry satire “The Player.”

I spoke with Josh about the series as a whole, the different layers of the viewing experience, the various movies he has shown, and the idea that film criticism is something anyone can do with the right training, and that some people already do without realizing it.

How did you end up hosting Cinema Interruptus?

It was all thanks to Michael J Casey, a film critic for the Boulder Weekly who was also on the film committee for the Conference on World Affairs for many years, which is where Roger Ebert hosted it for decades and also participated in any other panels that the organizers asked him to do, which is something Roger was capable of doing because he was just so interesting and entertaining and smart. Michael had been on the committee in the years after Roger stopped doing Cinema Interruptus due to his illness, and then, after his death, Michael was on the committee that brought in critics from time to time to carry on the tradition. Michael knew me through my work on the Filmspotting podcast and extended the invitation. Chaz and I had chatted a bit over the years, and so when this opportunity arose, I ran it by her. 

Were you familiar with Cinema Interruptus prior to this?

I had been following Cinema Interruptus from afar since I was in high school, reading Roger religiously. He would always share dispatches from each year’s experience. And I just thought “Someday, someday, I’ll get to go to that event somehow,” but I never managed to do it. 

So the first time you hosted the event was also your first year going to the event? That’s wild.

I had always hoped to go as an attendee, not as the moderator, right? Michael was instrumental in helping me that first year. He was like, “Well, this is how it used to go,” but he was also very supportive in encouraging me to try some different things. There were people there in my first year who had been attending Cinema Interruptus with Roger, some of whom had been doing so since the 1970s. The idea was to serve the original, existing audience while also trying to attract new people. 

What was the first movie you chose for Cinema Interruptus?

I wanted to show something that I knew intimately already and loved and that I knew would hold up to scrutiny. So we went with Wes Anderson’s “Rushmore.”

Oh, that’s a good choice! 

As you know from his work, it’s tailor-made for this kind of event. And he’s probably my favorite working filmmaker. I also thought it might be interesting to go the comedy route. There’s a lot of pathos and more than just comedy going on in that film, but if you look at the movies that have been chosen over the years, there were a lot of classics that you could call “heavy lifting.”

Could you describe the event in more detail for those who are having a hard time imagining how it works?

Yes, I have fallen on the simplest phrase “four days of communal film criticism,” because what I’ve come to realize is that’s really what the moderator is there to do: to help folks who aren’t critics, but want to think about movies as a critic might, a chance to exercise those muscles. They bring their natural instincts for that to it, but they also learn a little bit about what to look for, how to notice it, how to talk about it, and how to put it in the context of the film in general, and a filmmaker’s career. 

Do you still do the thing that Roger did, where anybody can call out “Stop!” and ask a question or make an observation?   

That’s still the heart of it. That’s why it’s communal. We still watch the film in its entirety on the first day so that we can experience it as a movie, and then we come back the second day and start from the beginning. That’s where someone can yell “Stop!” within the first second if they want to. 

Do people really do that?

Oh, yeah! Some years it happens. It’s usually someone who, for years, has been dying to say something about the title card or the opening shot. In other years, people are a little tentative, and I have to be the first one to say, “Stop!” and then I usually say, “Yeah, we’re really going to do this!” 

Can you give us an example of something that might be said after an audience member yells “Stop”?

What’s fun is when it kind of becomes a group project, we latch on to something that maybe hasn’t ever been written or talked about before, but that we’ve become obsessed with. You remember the dog Pippet in “Jaws”?

Oh, yeah–his owner throws a toy into the water for him to fetch, then one time he doesn’t come back out, and that’s how you know the shark’s out there.

We got obsessed with tracking every time the dog appeared onscreen, and we asked, “Could there be reasons for that? What was the danger level for the poor dog?” That one sticks in my mind. 

Another one that always sticks was when we showed “Mad Max: Fury Road.” I always conduct thorough research and come prepared to contribute as much as possible to the experience while still allowing space for others. A young woman attended the event who knew everything about Mad Max lore, from the films and also from any peripheral media that had been produced. Whether it was fanzines or fan fiction, she had read it all! She devoured it all. And so she became our Mad Max expert. If there was a question about the world-building that I didn’t have answers for, we’d go right to her, and it got to the point where people would yell “Stop!” and they wouldn’t ask me. They’d just go right to her with a question like, “Did that car ever show up anywhere else in the Mad Max universe?”

Can you give me an example of something that you’ve never noticed in a movie that you thought you knew very well, but that somebody else called to your attention for the first time at one of these events?

“Phantom Thread” was the movie we showed last year, and it happened to be the first one Cinema Interruptus showed here in Chicago, at the Gene Siskel Film Center last December. On first watch, somebody had noticed the paintings in the background of the family cottage, where Reynolds Woodcock goes to kind of recuperate and re-energize. We identified the paintings in the background of these scenes and talked about what they might reflect about his family, his character, his upbringing, and his art.

The “Phantom Thread” screening is a good example of a movie that’s good to show at an event like this. It’s got a lot going on in all the different aspects, like art direction, set design, and production design. These aren’t things that standard reviews necessarily spend a lot of time on, but people spend their careers thinking about these things for the movies they work on, right? Let’s take 10 minutes to discuss what makes for good production design and art design, or why a painting was chosen and what it might reveal about a character.  

What is the most surprising thing that being the emcee of this event has taught you?

I would say I’m surprised by how many people can be good critics. You know, I think we like to think about a very particular passion and maybe even a skill set, and it is. But really, if you give anyone the space, time, and community to watch a movie closely, the inner film critic comes out. And by “critic,” I mean appreciator. It’s really about giving people the opportunity to exercise muscles that maybe they didn’t know they had.  

Since the pandemic ended, I’ve travelled quite a bit with my family. I’ve visited museums, historical sites, tourist attractions, landmarks, and a whole host of other things. I’ve found quaint little restaurants in out-of-the-way places, and connected with the places I’ve visited, sometimes on a very personal level. (See my previous blog on the specifics.)

As I’ve left many of these places, especially the ones that have had a profound effect on me, I always have to ask myself, “Will I ever return here?” The truth is that I don’t know. Travel is so dependent on having the money and the time all at once, and life is often filled with uncertainties.

But there’s something about the potential that you might, one day, be able to return to these places in the future. Some of them I can predict with a high degree of certainty, like the National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg, Texas, the hometown of Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz. That one is only a few hours away from where I live. The farther out the place is, however, the less certain I can be that I’ll get to go back.

Yet hope springs eternal, right? So, for this last blog post of the year, I thought I would share a few locations with you that I’ve visited in recent memory, places that I hope to return to at some point in my lifetime. With that in mind, let’s take a look.

National Museum of the Pacific War – Fredericksburg, Texas

This is the museum is the one I’ve visited the most, though the Perot Museum in downtown Dallas comes close. I’ve mentioned this museum a few times in previous blogs (here and here). It is a place that really hints at the enormous scope of the Pacific War and the lives that were affected on both sides. The museum itself, along with the Admiral Nimitz Museum and Japanese Peace Garden, make visiting this place sublime. As with all the entries on this list, I highly recommend visiting it if you have the chance.

Mystic Seaport/U.S.S. Nautilus – Mystic/Groton, Connecticut

I’m grouping these into one listing since they are relatively close to each other. A dear friend recommended a visit to Mystic Seaport if I was ever in the area. Back in October, I had a chance to visit it, and I wish I’d had much more time to explore it. I had no idea the scope of it all when I went there. There are so many buildings and mini-exhibits scattered across the grounds. The masthead gallery in particular was a wonderful surprise, along with the presentation in the small lighthouse. There’s so much to see, and I barely scratched the surface of it. I want to go back when I have more time to give it a more thorough exploration.

The U.S.S. Nautilus Museum in nearby Groton was, unfortunately, closed when I got there. I was at least able to snap this photo of it from a nearby parking lot. It will have to wait until the next time I’m up that way to see them both — one in more detail and the other for the first time.

Graceland – Memphis, Tennessee

I wrote a whole blog about my trip there and mentioned how I connected with in this blog here. While I was there, I didn’t get to see the King’s famous collection of gold records and concert jumpsuits. I feel like that’s part of the whole Elvis experience that you want when you go to Graceland.

But beyond just the glitz and gold, the Graceland mansion itself has a peaceful vibe to it that I can’t wait to experience again. I was glad to find that the official lyric music videos on Elvis’ official YouTube channel have some pretty high-fidelity shots of the interior of Graceland and the aforementioned jumpsuits, such as in “Burning Love” and “A Little Less Conversation” and many others.

In short, Hail to the King, baby.

The Field Museum – Chicago, Illinois

Another place I got to visit this year, this classically styled museum is definitely one that needs a more comprehensive visit. I was able to visit Sue, perhaps the most famous (and complete) T-Rex skeleton in the world. Bones are not enough to give us an idea of the full scope of the animal any more than a medical skeleton gives us the full picture of a living, breathing human. Still, even with just her bones, Sue is magnificent.

The gems and minerals on display here are some of the best examples on display anywhere. There were so many little nooks and crannies to find, including a multi-level Egyptian exhibit, a display of traditional Tibetan clothing and accoutrements, and even an exhibit on the first monarchs of Europe, starting all the way back in the Bronze Age. As much as I love museums (as evidenced by this list), the Field Museum felt like coming home. I have no idea when I’ll be able to return to Chicago, but the Field Museum will be at the top of my list when I do.  

U.S.S. Constitution Museum – Boston, Massachusetts

I have a special weakness for sailing ships. The Age of Sail is one that lives rent-free in my mind. So, it should come as no surprise that the U.S.S. Constitution has a special place in my heart. She was on the original ships that formed the United States Navy, and the only one of those six to have survived to the modern day. She never lost a battle, always at the center of every major conflict of her day. I have no doubts that Gene Roddenberry was influenced by her when he created the Enterprise for Star Trek, which was a Constitution-class starship.

As is often the case, my latest visit to her was all too brief. I was about a week shy of her 225th birthday. It looked as though her sails and part of her mast had been dismounted, but she was still a sight to behold, and a paradigm of excellence even for modern navies. I miss her already.

Final Thoughts

Understand, I spent a considerable amount of money in the gift shops of each of these locations. I like having souvenirs, but I also like knowing that I’m helping to support the places and causes that I believe in. I’m particularly fond of lapel pins and challenge coins, but magnets, T-shirts, and other swag are on my list as well.

To me, these things aren’t trivial merch; they’re a part of the memory, a piece of the place that I take with me to tide me over until the next time I can visit, if such a return visit is indeed in the cards.

Still, to quote Captain Kirk (who was quoting Spock), “There are always possibilities.” In each case, I’ve felt drawn to these places for a variety of reasons, ranging from historical curiosity to personal intrigue. Visiting them has only heightened my interest.

Travel has a way of changing you, of teaching you something about yourself. By going back to those places that really speak to us, there’s always the possibility that there’s more to learn and discover, and that, my friends, is the promise of return.

Thanks for reading! The annual State of the Sector Address will land here on January 5, so be sure to tune in then.

In the meantime, have a happy and safe holiday season!