The following list comes from Carl Martin, projectionist and keeper of the Bay Area Film Calendar.
the rep scene is not healthy, and i saw far fewer films than in years past (and read far more books). but i saw enough that i still had to do some winnowing to get down to ten. except for Shura in 16mm, all were screened in 35mm. once again i broke a rule and included a private screening. it was part of a curated series, just not a public one. these days film is being driven underground.
january 19, pfa: China 9 Liberty 37. the red-herring title comes from a mile-marker sign glimpsed in this ultra-obscure late classic-era monte hellman film. a film needs a title, you know, for marketing purposes. beyond that, hellman doesn't give a f-star-star-k! endless foul-mouthed quotability. faded (unique?) print.
february 24, pfa: Shura - the 48th Ronin. an audacious formal exercise. what is real, what is not? it is all cinema.
april 11, roxie: The Witch Who Came From The Sea. whether intentionally or not, a bizarre millie perkins performance meanders through narrative holes to weave a concise, tragic portrait of a very messed-up dame. we had to bring this back later in the year as a film on film show. shot by dean cundey!
april 26, castro: Duel. i would come across spielberg's debut when it played on tv years ago and be transfixed, but had never caught the beginning where some of the subtext is clarified. a complete and proper screening confirms its brilliance. life in the twentieth century has left dennis weaver unmanned, un-humanned even. his malaise takes the shape of a gnarly big rig he can't shake. hellish. hellman-ish.
august 15, roxie: Vice Squad. wings hauser unchained! shot by john alcott.
september 15, castro: Carnival of Souls. i'd been wanting to see this for years. the print was to die for. such contrast, such sensuous tones! low-budget poetry.
october 25, pfa: Fear of Fear (angst der angst). i failed to appreciate this one when i first saw it back in '97. it's fassbinder at his most sirkian. when you peel the onion, tears come.
december 3, private screening: Tough Guys Don't Dance. an outrageous, lurid potboiler from the machismo-addled mind of norman mailer (who helmed as well). you never saw such lines delivered with straight faces by ryan o'neal, isabella rossellini, lawrence tierney, penn jillette, WINGS HAUSER, and a couple of palookas with the most ineptly overblown southern accents in cinema. "ah just whasn't maaade for this kahnd of imbrohglio!"
december 18, castro: Blast of Silence. i saw a triple feature one day back in the nineties at the uc theatre. first, a quite excellent noir, i forget which one. then, one of those amazing, unforgettable, genre-defining noirs, can't remember the title. and then, Blast of Silence. from that day on (one of the best days of movie-watching i've had), i've enshrined allen baron as a genius in my mind, despite never seeing any of his other work. he came to the castro. everybody loved him. i was moved. my only regret is that i couldn't bring him home with me.
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