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SAN FRANCISCO — The highlights of the Stephen Curry 3-pointers, Robert Williams’ blocked shots and, now, Andrew Wiggins‘ dunks, continue to run as the premier moments in the 2022 NBA Finals.

Celtics coach Ime Udoka keeps trying to tell everyone they’re missing the point.

The Golden State Warriors are one win from claiming another title after a 104-94 Game 5 victory over the Boston Celtics Monday night. But the Warriors are not ahead 3-2 because they’re winning the anticipated battle of the series — Boston’s relentless and expertly constructed No. 1 defense going against the historic shooting wizard and his brothers in arms — but because of the exact opposite.

These Finals are being won at the other end of the court, the Warriors’ defense suffocating the Celtics and negating Boston’s game plan.

And that’s how fans who were pouring out of Chase Center Monday night explained it, too, after watching Curry go 0-for-9 on 3-pointers, the first time in four years and 233 games he didn’t make a triple.

“I know that’s the thing people notice at first, consistently, how well I shoot my ball, how I shoot my shots, that flair,” Curry said. “I can’t control the narratives however people talk about the game. When you watch the game, it’s not just about that. … I think we are [the] No. 2 defense for a reason.”

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Udoka, the Celtics’ first-year coach, did make some adjustments to his defensive game plan against Curry, namely having his big men crowd him more after screens and employing more switches to discourage the kind of shooting Curry had been displaying in the series.

But he spent more time before Game 5 worrying about Boston’s offense. And as he and his team take the five-hour flight back to the East Coast on Tuesday, he’ll be working on those issues more intently as he prepares for Game 6.

“Again,” Udoka said, repeating himself from last week when he was peppered with questions about Curry. “I don’t know if it was our defense as much as offensive struggles that hurt us tonight.”

When Curry scored 43 points in Game 4 … the Warriors had 107 as a team. Wiggins put up a sublime 26-point effort Monday, which probably could be classified as the best game of his pro career considering the stakes, and the Warriors scored … 104.

In Game 2, their other win, they scored 107. They are averaging 105 points per game in this series, 10 fewer than they scored in the Western Conference finals against the Dallas Mavericks. Golden State is shooting 45% in the series, which is good, but 7% less than the last round.

The Celtics aren’t shutting down the Warriors, but they are managing on that end.

When the Celtics lost Game 2, they scored … 88 points. In Games 4 and 5, they didn’t crack 100.

The defensively potent Celtics are on the verge of costing themselves a title … on offense.

The Warriors have dedicated themselves to playing rough — and not just because Draymond Green did some minor pushing during dead balls in the first few games. They are refusing to give Jayson Tatum and Jaylen Brown, the Celtics’ primary ball handlers, much space.

The crowding is frustrating Boston. The turnovers, meanwhile, continue to come in droves.

In Game 5, Boston had 18. In a stat that has become ubiquitous, the Celtics are now 1-7 when they turn it over 16 times or more in the postseason and 13-2 with fewer.

The Golden State Warriors lead the Boston Celtics 3-2 in the Finals, with Game 6 Thursday (9 p.m. ET, ABC) in Boston.

GAME 5: GS 104, BOS 94
o Whatever it takes: How Warriors won G5

GAME 4: GS 107, BOS 97
o Curry’s epic game changes series
o Celtics, Warriors need their big men

GAME 3: BOS 116, GS 100
o C’s use size, quickness to regain control
o Curry in unfamiliar underdog territory

GAME 2: GS 107, BOS 88
o Steph was a problem for the Celtics
o C’s lament more third-quarter woes

GAME 1: BOS 120, GS 108
o Boston’s win one year in the making
o Celtics beat Dubs at their game

o Series keys | Experts’ picks | Odds

Every Boston player knows this; Udoka has displayed it in bold type on the scouting reports. Still, they cannot stop themselves.

“We’re hard to beat when we don’t turn the ball over,” said Tatum, who is closing in on the playoff turnover record after adding four to his total Monday to make it 95 in 23 games. “Clearly, we’re easy to beat when we do.”

When the Celtics get sloppy on offense, they regularly look to the officials for answers. Regardless of the accuracy of the calls, it’s not a trend that typically helps them. On Monday, they drew two technical fouls, including one from Udoka, who usually tries to get his players to stop whining and get back on defense after they don’t get a preferred whistle.

Udoka was nearly ejected in the fourth quarter when he pointed at referee Tony Brothers in anger and Brothers confronted him instead of tossing him.

“Probably something we shouldn’t do as much,” Udoka said of the complaining. “And we all did too much.”

The Warriors were routinely in the top five in defensive efficiency between 2015 and 2017 when they won their first two titles with this core. But they finished outside the top 10 in three of the previous four seasons, even when they reached the Finals in 2018 and 2019. They rededicated themselves to it over the past year, with current defensive coordinator and newest Sacramento Kings head coach Mike Brown leading the effort.

The defensive push includes improvement from Wiggins, who has proven to be a potent stopper since getting traded to Golden State, and from Curry, who has gone from being a defensive weak spot to a player who can more than hold his own. This has been a common discussion point over this season, but has never been more valuable than these past two weeks.

It seems the Curry matchup the Celtics are having more difficulty with isn’t when he has the ball, but when the Warriors guard is on defense.

“They were trying to attack [Curry] over and over again and he held up pretty well,” Warriors coach Steve Kerr said. “The key to our game is defense.”

Fatigue could be playing a role, too. After going seven games the past two rounds, the Celtics will have to do it again to win the title. In a telling stat, Tatum is shooting 56% in the first quarters during the Finals but just 24% in the fourth, including 2-of-10 over these past two losses.

But Boston’s issues go deeper than that. The Celtics often have struggled to execute under pressure offensively throughout the season. It’s a flaw that has been frustrating for a team that is so close to its ultimate goal. It’s dangerously close to being a fatal one.

“We’ll regroup and bounce back,” Tatum said, referencing a tone he has gone to as the Celtics have faced elimination games throughout this run. “I’m sure of it.”

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Chicago group Meth are known for their big and burly scorched-earth mash-up of mathcore, noise rock, and ambient music, which they execute with surgical precision. At the center of their dissonant sprawl is vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Seb Alvarez, who started Meth as a solo project before developing the current six-piece iteration. The band put out a compilation of old B sides and demos two years ago, but they haven’t released an album of new material since 2019’s Mother of Red Light. Since 2020, Alvarez has turned his focus toward a new vision: Virgin Mother. As he did with Meth, he launched the project on his own before transforming it into a full-on band, but that’s where the similarities end. Virgin Mother is an experimental-leaning beast whose glitchy maelstrom swaps Meth’s calculated sensibilities for punch-drunk ecstasy.

That anything-goes mindset is at the heart of the three EPs Alvarez plans to self-release this year. The first, last month’s Marrow, is a breakneck slice of buzz-saw hardcore that recalls east-coast peers Full of Hell; it features Alvarez on guitar in a lineup that includes members of Frail Body and the Number 12 Looks Like You. The second and latest, Dialect, which Alvarez describes to me over email as a “complete step out of my comfort zone,” stays true to Virgin Mother’s MO of experimenting with new genres. Its four songs transport you to a whole other plane of brutal sound, a warped mind-meld built on propulsive programmed beats, miscellaneous junkyard samples, and a gnarly array of textures, tones, and patterns designed for eardrum-bursting effect. For Dialect, Alvarez leaves the speak-scream vocalizations to friends from Knoll, Retirement Party, and Sender/Receiver while he wrangles knob-twiddling din and synth splatter. The aural horror of “Sunder” (with its nails-on-chalkboard squeal) and “The Thing About the Quiet Man” recalls the harrowing clatter and shriek of early Wolf Eyes; on the beats-driven “Prominent Person(s) Dead in Plane Crash” and “Melt,” Alvarez and company channel the thumping techno-damaged doom-and-gloom grind of the Body. With the third EP, Woe, slated for August release and a full-length, Mourning Ritual, set for late September, Virgin Mother are becoming a force to be reckoned with in the noise and metal communities—and they’re doing it at a furiously prolific clip.

Virgin Mother’s Dialect is available through Bandcamp.

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SAN FRANCISCO — One game after an epic 43-point and 10-rebound performance, Stephen Curry watched his all-time streak of 233 consecutive games with a made 3-pointer come to a stunning end in Game 5 of the NBA Finals on Monday night.

Curry went 0-for-9 from 3, but the Golden State Warriors picked their star up and secured a pivotal 104-94 win over the Boston Celtics at Chase Center.

Curry, who finished the night with 16 points and eight assists, amassed his all-time streak of 233 games with a 3-pointer made over the regular season and playoffs. Now he returns to Boston for Thursday’s Game 6, looking to clinch another world championship and start a new 3-pointer streak.

“Whether Steph gets 43, 10, 4, or whether he finishes with 16-for-22 shooting — a win is a win,” teammate Draymond Green said.

“… He was 0-for-9 from 3. He’s going to be livid going into Game 6, and that’s exactly what we need.”

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Since 2013, Curry has had only nine games in which he failed to hit a 3-pointer. But his track record has been to bounce back big time from rare outings like these. The most prolific 3-pointer shooter in NBA history has averaged 4.4 3-pointers per game and 46% 3-point shooting in the next game after not making a 3, according to ESPN Stats & Information research. That includes a then-NBA record 13 3-pointers in November 2016 against the New Orleans Pelicans.

The last time Curry did not make a 3 in a game was on Nov. 8, 2018, against the Milwaukee Bucks.

“Keep shooting,” Curry said of his mentality when he comes off games like this one. “Very simple. Like there’s never — I’m not afraid to go 0-for-whatever because I’m going to keep shooting and taking shots that you normally feel like you can make. And I’ve responded well when I’ve had games like that from the 3-point line.

“But I’ve never — I don’t think I’ve ever been happier after a 0-for-whatever type of night, just knowing the context of the game, the other ways you tried to impact the game and the fact that you had four guys step up in meaningful ways to help us win offensively.”

Curry will trade the streak for a win in the NBA Finals that puts the Warriors one victory away from their fourth title in eight seasons.

He was thrilled to watch Andrew Wiggins produce a critical double-double for the second straight game, finishing with 26 points and 13 rebounds. And Klay Thompson picked up the 3-point shooting slack by making five and finishing with 21 points.

“We’re never stressed or worried about No. 30,” Thompson said. “He has done so much and elevated this franchise to a place where it was hard to even imagine that he has leeway, and he can have a bad night. I just know he’ll respond. He’s one of the greatest competitors I’ve ever been around. And he’s a perfectionist, like myself. I know he’ll be thinking about the shots he missed. And that’s a good thing, because Thursday, hopefully, most of the time, he regresses to the mean, and it’s scary when he does.”

Curry owns the two longest streaks of consecutive games with a made 3-pointer in the regular season and playoffs at 233 (2018-22) and 196 (2014-16). Jordan Clarkson is third all-time with 101 consecutive games (2020-21).

“The man is a magician with the ball in his hands,” Thompson said. “He just redefined what the point guard position is capable of … he really is a transcendent talent that we’ll never see again.”

Even though Curry’s streak was snapped, he was still sending a message in his postgame news conference when he arrived to the podium in a T-shirt that read “Ayesha Curry CAN Cook.” That was in response to a Boston establishment that had written the message “AYESHA CURRY CAN’T COOK” on a board outside its doors.

What Boston really doesn’t want to see in Game 6 is Chef Curry cooking again. Curry said “there’s a fire burning” after Game 5.

“Of course it bothers me as a shooter,” Curry said. “You want to impact the game that way. But thankfully that’s not the only thing that you do out there on the court.”

“Obviously, track record says I shoot the ball better the next game,” Curry added. “Looking forward to that bounce-back.”

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Models Omani Cross, Noxteli, Regina Rodriguez, El Wettig, Soi Sauce, Micah Sweezie, Francis Carter, Lex Wooley, and Casey Knepley wear Knepley’s designs on a set also designed by Knepley. Credit: Sarah Gaglione

The long-awaited School of the Art Institute of Chicago fashion show was back in May after a two-year hiatus brought on by COVID-19. In the previous pandemic years students presented their work in beautiful highly-produced videos, but nothing substitutes the experience of seeing their garments IRL—especially so up close and personal. And this year’s show at the Chicago Athletic Association, with a particularly diverse slew of models, did not disappoint. Though each senior student presented their own collection—comprising eight head-to-toe looks—an overall theme of the show seemed to be “No Labels,” or better yet, “Labels? Who cares?” Many of the lines were blurred, which added to the impressive sophistication presented by the young designers. 

According to SAIC associate professor Abigail Glaum-Lathbury, who co-taught this year’s fashion design seniors along with adjunct assistant professor Yoshiko Fredisdorf, most students “almost dispensed with categories altogether.” Glaum-Lathbury points out: “Historically, in some ways, fashion is simultaneously about rules and then breaking those rules and subverting them. You used to see collections of evening wear, and that had a certain definition to it. Evening wear was for women, and it was understood that women were cisgender, probably heterosexual. There were all of these different assumptions that I think were being made. Our students now are just not interested in these categories. It’s not even that they’re fighting against it, because to fight against something is to, in a way, accept the terms of the argument. All these other categories are like a dead language for a lot of students, which I think is beautiful.”

So instead of outdated classifications, seniors focused on themes they truly cared about. Casey Knepley, for example, based her “What We Have” collection on the 1970s novel The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell and Ned Asta. Knepley says that “the book speaks on queer survival through collective resourcefulness, community, and love.” She adds that “the belief that beauty and glamour can be made simply using what I have to work with was core to this project, leading to every piece in this collection being created with affordable, secondhand materials sourced around Chicago. Every look was made specifically for and in collaboration with each model, all members of the local queer community and arts scene that I met during my time in this city. Providing tailored clothes for each individual was like making love letters for each of them.” 

Micah Sweezie in Casey Knepley’s designs Credit: Sarah Gaglione

Knepley’s collection was festive yet gentle, featuring earthy and pastel tones on a wide array of body types. Other highlights of the show were the designs presented by Iyomi Ho Ken and Andrew Bohlin. Ho Ken’s collection explored the development of her own emotional world, showcasing garments that change color over time in progressively revealing silhouettes. Alluding to a broader kind of evolution, Bohlin’s creations—inspired by the Ediacaran and Paleogene periods—tell the story of life on Earth, with fascinatingly complex shapes and prints. The fact that Bohlin does every single step of their work all by themself makes it even more impressive. 

Sabriah Abdul-Wahid and Iyomi Ho Ken in Ken’s designs Credit: Gracie Hammond

“At SAIC a lot of the work that we make is really experimental,” says Glaum-Lathbury. “A lot of what we’re doing is teaching people how to think creatively, to have confidence in their own research and their own ideas. When you look at the collections and the runway show, each one couldn’t be more different than the next—there’s just not the accidental trend overlap. All of the collections really take radically different forms, which is not so much about distinguishing yourself amongst your peers, but about focusing on individual research and investment. 

Andrew Bohlin in his own garments Credit: Andrew Bohlin

“The question is: how do you communicate ideas and what is it that you’re trying to communicate? It’s a very intense and complete process and I could not be more proud of this class,” she says. Not surprisingly, the pandemic made their arduous job even more challenging. “It was really hard for these students,” she adds. “This whole class spent the majority of their education in either online or some hybrid form of learning. And [fashion design] is a haptic skill—it is about touch and craft, which is hard to do online. So one more reason to give them credit.”

Casey Knepley
caseexe.com and instagram.com/casedotexe
Iyomi Ho Ken
iyomi.co and instagram.com/iyomi.co
Andrew Bohlin
instagram.com/andrew.bohlin

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Models Omani Cross, Noxteli, Regina Rodriguez, El Wettig, Soi Sauce, Micah Sweezie, Francis Carter, Lex Wooley, and Casey Knepley wear Knepley’s designs on a set also designed by Knepley. Credit: Sarah Gaglione

The long-awaited School of the Art Institute of Chicago fashion show was back in May after a two-year hiatus brought on by COVID-19. In the previous pandemic years students presented their work in beautiful highly-produced videos, but nothing substitutes the experience of seeing their garments IRL—especially so up close and personal. And this year’s show at the Chicago Athletic Association, with a particularly diverse slew of models, did not disappoint. Though each senior student presented their own collection—comprising eight head-to-toe looks—an overall theme of the show seemed to be “No Labels,” or better yet, “Labels? Who cares?” Many of the lines were blurred, which added to the impressive sophistication presented by the young designers. 

According to SAIC associate professor Abigail Glaum-Lathbury, who co-taught this year’s fashion design seniors along with adjunct assistant professor Yoshiko Fredisdorf, most students “almost dispensed with categories altogether.” Glaum-Lathbury points out: “Historically, in some ways, fashion is simultaneously about rules and then breaking those rules and subverting them. You used to see collections of evening wear, and that had a certain definition to it. Evening wear was for women, and it was understood that women were cisgender, probably heterosexual. There were all of these different assumptions that I think were being made. Our students now are just not interested in these categories. It’s not even that they’re fighting against it, because to fight against something is to, in a way, accept the terms of the argument. All these other categories are like a dead language for a lot of students, which I think is beautiful.”

So instead of outdated classifications, seniors focused on themes they truly cared about. Casey Knepley, for example, based her “What We Have” collection on the 1970s novel The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions by Larry Mitchell and Ned Asta. Knepley says that “the book speaks on queer survival through collective resourcefulness, community, and love.” She adds that “the belief that beauty and glamour can be made simply using what I have to work with was core to this project, leading to every piece in this collection being created with affordable, secondhand materials sourced around Chicago. Every look was made specifically for and in collaboration with each model, all members of the local queer community and arts scene that I met during my time in this city. Providing tailored clothes for each individual was like making love letters for each of them.” 

Micah Sweezie in Casey Knepley’s designs Credit: Sarah Gaglione

Knepley’s collection was festive yet gentle, featuring earthy and pastel tones on a wide array of body types. Other highlights of the show were the designs presented by Iyomi Ho Ken and Andrew Bohlin. Ho Ken’s collection explored the development of her own emotional world, showcasing garments that change color over time in progressively revealing silhouettes. Alluding to a broader kind of evolution, Bohlin’s creations—inspired by the Ediacaran and Paleogene periods—tell the story of life on Earth, with fascinatingly complex shapes and prints. The fact that Bohlin does every single step of their work all by themself makes it even more impressive. 

Sabriah Abdul-Wahid and Iyomi Ho Ken in Ken’s designs Credit: Gracie Hammond

“At SAIC a lot of the work that we make is really experimental,” says Glaum-Lathbury. “A lot of what we’re doing is teaching people how to think creatively, to have confidence in their own research and their own ideas. When you look at the collections and the runway show, each one couldn’t be more different than the next—there’s just not the accidental trend overlap. All of the collections really take radically different forms, which is not so much about distinguishing yourself amongst your peers, but about focusing on individual research and investment. 

Andrew Bohlin in his own garments Credit: Andrew Bohlin

“The question is: how do you communicate ideas and what is it that you’re trying to communicate? It’s a very intense and complete process and I could not be more proud of this class,” she says. Not surprisingly, the pandemic made their arduous job even more challenging. “It was really hard for these students,” she adds. “This whole class spent the majority of their education in either online or some hybrid form of learning. And [fashion design] is a haptic skill—it is about touch and craft, which is hard to do online. So one more reason to give them credit.”

Casey Knepley
caseexe.com and instagram.com/casedotexe
Iyomi Ho Ken
iyomi.co and instagram.com/iyomi.co
Andrew Bohlin
instagram.com/andrew.bohlin

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When filmmakers Saul Williams and Anisia Uzeyman created Neptune Frost, they imagined telling a limitless story that stretched the depths of time and place, while being representative of people across the Black diaspora. But also, like a Burundian elder told them during the filming process, it’s a story that’s more like a full circle.

“We told her the story of the film, thinking that we were telling something that was really modern and provocative,” Williams says. “And her response was, ‘That’s a very old Burundian folktale: We know this story, I know that story.’”

Although the heart of the story is traditional, the creators’ storytelling approach lands far from what is often seen. The film, which opened June 10 at the Gene Siskel Film Center, takes place in Burundi in east-central Africa. It’s a sci-fi, Afrofuturistic story that is also a musical that takes place in the past, present, and future, while also spanning the wide depths of identity and innovation.

That theme of expansive representation extends to the film’s language and music. Uzeyman, who is Rwandan, and Williams, who is American, worked as co-directors and collectively decided to create a film that would embody a meshing of language and culture. Characters speak in Kinyarwanda, Kirundi, Swahili, French, and English—paired with English subtitles.

“Anisia and I began conceptualizing this project, basically, in response to the question of what we dream of seeing on screen,” Williams says. “And that, of course, means the kind of story, the kinds of faces, the subject matter.”

For the duo, everything from the costumes and makeup to the music leans on that imagination.

Courtesy Kino Lorber

“It was the desire to see ourselves as we see ourselves out there, to dream ourselves as we dream ourselves from all vantage points of view, how we project ourselves into storytelling . . . and also capturing what matters to us,” Uzeyman says.

Still, as new as the idea may seem, there is an intentional connection to make the film feel familiar.

“The film is a celebration of love and music, through the power of understanding the connections between our present selves and our ancestral selves, and the connections between that and technology and realizing that we are the technology that moves things,” Williams says.

In the film, a group of escaped miners forms a computer hacker collective with the goal of taking over an authoritarian regime. There is a theme that people, themselves, are high-value resources and the regime is exploiting them as well as the region’s natural resources—a real-world issue, one that we see in our past and in our present. What feels very futuristic, though, is how a fight against power could be fought in an imaginative future, when advanced technology and cosmic forces collide.

Neptune Frost
105 min. Through June 23 at Gene Siskel Film Center, 164 N. State; $12 general admission, $6 Film Center members; www.siskelfilmcenter.org/neptune-frost

And in that vein, Neptune Frost is also a fairy tale—one that has characters who are vibrant and don’t fall into antiquated realms of gender and identity. It’s the opposite of what the filmmakers say is usually visible.

“We’re thinking of our children and what we’d like them to be able to see,” Williams says. “And I think that the world of storytelling has so much more to give than the traditional Disney narrative, or the traditional Hollywood narrative, or the traditional Western narrative.”

And this new narrative is one that is much more accessible to everyone.

“What’s very beautiful is that we feel that people see themselves out there,” Uzeyman says. “They see themselves in it, wherever they are, from wherever is their background, and to be invited into that community and to make community with that film is, I think, the most beautiful thing that we’ve seen.”

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When filmmakers Saul Williams and Anisia Uzeyman created Neptune Frost, they imagined telling a limitless story that stretched the depths of time and place, while being representative of people across the Black diaspora. But also, like a Burundian elder told them during the filming process, it’s a story that’s more like a full circle.

“We told her the story of the film, thinking that we were telling something that was really modern and provocative,” Williams says. “And her response was, ‘That’s a very old Burundian folktale: We know this story, I know that story.’”

Although the heart of the story is traditional, the creators’ storytelling approach lands far from what is often seen. The film, which opened June 10 at the Gene Siskel Film Center, takes place in Burundi in east-central Africa. It’s a sci-fi, Afrofuturistic story that is also a musical that takes place in the past, present, and future, while also spanning the wide depths of identity and innovation.

That theme of expansive representation extends to the film’s language and music. Uzeyman, who is Rwandan, and Williams, who is American, worked as co-directors and collectively decided to create a film that would embody a meshing of language and culture. Characters speak in Kinyarwanda, Kirundi, Swahili, French, and English—paired with English subtitles.

“Anisia and I began conceptualizing this project, basically, in response to the question of what we dream of seeing on screen,” Williams says. “And that, of course, means the kind of story, the kinds of faces, the subject matter.”

For the duo, everything from the costumes and makeup to the music leans on that imagination.

Courtesy Kino Lorber

“It was the desire to see ourselves as we see ourselves out there, to dream ourselves as we dream ourselves from all vantage points of view, how we project ourselves into storytelling . . . and also capturing what matters to us,” Uzeyman says.

Still, as new as the idea may seem, there is an intentional connection to make the film feel familiar.

“The film is a celebration of love and music, through the power of understanding the connections between our present selves and our ancestral selves, and the connections between that and technology and realizing that we are the technology that moves things,” Williams says.

In the film, a group of escaped miners forms a computer hacker collective with the goal of taking over an authoritarian regime. There is a theme that people, themselves, are high-value resources and the regime is exploiting them as well as the region’s natural resources—a real-world issue, one that we see in our past and in our present. What feels very futuristic, though, is how a fight against power could be fought in an imaginative future, when advanced technology and cosmic forces collide.

Neptune Frost
105 min. Through June 23 at Gene Siskel Film Center, 164 N. State; $12 general admission, $6 Film Center members; www.siskelfilmcenter.org/neptune-frost

And in that vein, Neptune Frost is also a fairy tale—one that has characters who are vibrant and don’t fall into antiquated realms of gender and identity. It’s the opposite of what the filmmakers say is usually visible.

“We’re thinking of our children and what we’d like them to be able to see,” Williams says. “And I think that the world of storytelling has so much more to give than the traditional Disney narrative, or the traditional Hollywood narrative, or the traditional Western narrative.”

And this new narrative is one that is much more accessible to everyone.

“What’s very beautiful is that we feel that people see themselves out there,” Uzeyman says. “They see themselves in it, wherever they are, from wherever is their background, and to be invited into that community and to make community with that film is, I think, the most beautiful thing that we’ve seen.”

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