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In Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s hallucinatory trip to the land between life and death, Amazon is buying Baja California, and you can have a philosophical discussion with the conquistador Hernán Cortés atop a hillock of corpses. You meet your long-gone father in the bathroom of a large hall filled to capacity with your peers who want to give you an important prize and shrink down to the size of a boy while retaining middle-aged features. Your dead infant son keeps reappearing, often from between your wife’s legs, still very much alive.

These and dozens of other dream images are filmed in a seamless wide-screen format that fish-eyes toward its outer edges. They are what Silverio Gama, a stand-in for the director, sees in his last days after suffering a massive stroke on a subway train in LA. 

Whether you will be entranced, confused, or put off by Iñárritu’s latest deep dive into his own subconscious depends on whether you prefer your movies logical or lyrical, as well as how high your tolerance for unlikable and unrelatable protagonists is. Gama is a self-absorbed narcissist, and his visions are mostly self-serving, but I can’t deny their sweep and all-pervasive ambition. As long as you don’t think too long about some of the implications of what flashes past your eyeballs, this is a film to be dazzled by and lost in. In Spanish with subtitles. R, 159 min.

Netflix

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December is obviously the time when dance companies dust off the old chestnut that, according to a 2017 Dance/USA survey, accounts for around 48 percent of their annual revenues. If you’re interested in The Nutcracker, we’ve got a round-up here. But there’s also more afoot in Chicago dance this month than the beloved Tchaikovsky ballet (based on E. T. A. Hoffmann’s 1816 story, “The Nutcracker and the Mouse King”).

For movement aficionados, there’s no better way to cap off the Year of Chicago Dance than visiting with some local companies and artists for their year-end productions. With so many selections to choose from, you’re sure to find something to suit your taste and leave you feeling full of holiday cheer.

For Nutcrackeroptions, there’s always the Joffrey version by Christopher Wheeldon, set during the construction of the 1893 Chicago World’s fair. (The Joffrey moved to the Lyric, 20 N. Wacker, last year after years of residency at the Auditorium.) The Nutcracker is running through 12/27; tickets at joffrey.org. Ballet Chicago takes over the mainstage at the Athenaeum for the 20th year, running 12/9-12/18; see balletchicago.org. If your plans take you out to the suburbs, Salt Creek Ballet’s Nutcracker runs 12/17-12/18 at McAninch Arts Center at College of DuPage; tickets at saltcreekballet.org. Or if you’re heading north, Ruth Page’s The Nutcracker (long a local favorite originally created by the legendary dancer and choreographer, whose name lives on in the Ruth Page Center for the Performing Arts on North Dearborn) runs two performances on 12/17 at the James Lumber Center at College of Lake County in Grayslake; visit ruthpage.org.

Two versions of The Nutcracker with a slightly different approach are happening this weekend; Hyde Park School of Dance combines ballet, modern dance, and hip-hop, as well as a new African dance section this year for their performance at Mandel Hall, running 12/9-12/10; see hydeparkdance.org. And Music Institute of Chicago returns with its annual presentation of Duke It Out!, which combines Tchaikovsky with the jazz score created by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn. That’s happening tomorrow at 2 PM at Nichols Concert Hall in Evanston; tickets at musicinst.org.

And now for the nontraditional:

Jessica Kick presents Read to Me, a dance performance that explores “our early childhood literacy experiences and the effects they have on our relationship with reading in adulthood” at the Athenaeum. Through 12/11: Fri- Sat 7:30 PM, Sun 2 PM, Athenaeum Theater, 2936 N Southport, 312-820-6250; $10 children, $25 adults, athenaeumcenter.org.

Opening this weekend is Christmas Pageant, a performance devised by the Hot Kitchen Collective, “celebrating the overindulgence and mass-produced joy of the biggest holiday over the year and the sadness that lies underneath.” The collective, which is known for its edgy takes on “exploring stupidity at its core,” dedicates this show to everyone “who feels alone in a roomful of family members during the holiday season.” Through 12/17: Thu-Sat 7:30 PM, Ravenswood Fellowship United Methodist Church, 4511 North Hermitage. Tickets on Eventbrite, or Hotkitchencollective.com, $25.

Priestess of Twerk Credit Paula Court

Also this weekend is Nia Witherspoon’s Priestess of Twerk series at Links Hall. Priestess of Twerk is a work in progress from Witherspoon, a National Theater Project Award-winning theatermaker, vocalist, and composer. Hailed as a “Black feminist temple of pleasure,” the pieces are inspired by the “bad bitches” of hip-hop, the reproductive justice movement, and sacred sex workers of Egyptian temples. 

Performers include DREEEMY (aka Reem Abdou), Jenn Freeman (aka Po’Chop), Shelley Nicole, and Witherspoon, along with cellist/performer Serena Ebony Miller. With music and sound by Jack Fuller and Justin Hicks and costumes by Brandi Holt, the experience promises both ritual concerts and immersive temple experiences devised in collaboration between creatives from New York and Chicago and sponsored by both Links Hall and the Ragdale Foundation. 12/9 8 PM, 12/10 3 and 8 PM, Links Hall, 3111 N. Western, 773-281-0824, linkshall.org, $10-$40 (12/10 performances limited to ten participants).

On Monday, 12/12, the Chicago Human Rhythm Project brings you Holiday Rhythms 2022 at the Jazz Showcase in the South Loop. This one-night-only performance features live jazz music with The Jazz Hoofing Quintet, featuring Isaiah Spencer on drums, Marlene Rosenberg on bass, Brent Griffin Jr. on alto saxophone, Justin Dillard on piano, and Jumaane Taylor on taps. Special guests include vocalist Amyna Love, Stone Soup Rhythms, and more. The event benefits The Mayfair Art Center, a new arts incubator space on the south side. Mon 12/12 7 PM, Jazz Showcase, 806 South Plymouth Ct., 312-360-0234, chicagotap.org or jazzshowcase.com, $50-$75.

Mary, a Holiday Dansical Credit Jordyn A. Bush

Coming up on 12/18 at the Reva and David Logan Center is Mary, a Holiday Dansical, brought to you by Black Girls Dance, a company that empowers Black girls to pursue professional dance. Choreographed, written, and directed by founder Erin Barnett, Mary, A Holiday Dansical is a modern twist on Langston Hughes’s Black Nativity, told through ballet, hip-hop, tap, and contemporary dance. Sun 12/18 7 PM, Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts, 915 E. 60th Street, 773-702-2787, blackgirlsdance.org or arts.uchicago.edu/explore/reva-and-david-logan-center-arts, $20 kids, $40 adults.

And finally, we already previewed and reviewed this show, but we have to give yet another nod to The Buttcracker: A Nutcracker Burlesque. With its naughty premise and featuring some of the hottest burlesque, drag, and performance artists in Chicago, this send-up of the traditional Nutcracker breaks all stereotypes with its sex- and body-positive spin on the Tchaikovsky classic. Through 12/31: Thu-Sat 8 PM, Sun 3 PM; also Sat 12/31 9 PM, no performances Sat-Sun 12/24-12/25; Greenhouse Theater Center, 2257 N. Lincoln, 773-404-7336, thebuttcrackerburlesque.com or greenhousetheater.org, $30-$50 general admission (industry and SRO $20, VIP $75-$100, which includes stageside table, private VIP bar, meet and greet with artists, and show merchandise); NYE $60-$100 general admission, $150-$200 VIP. 18+ (21+ to drink) with a “pole booty drop” at midnight.

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West-side rapper Philmore Greene has been crafting a catalog of mature, unfussy boom-bap since he dropped his 2018 debut, Chicago: A Third World City. His new fourth full-length, Cost of Living (released by esteemed hip-hop indie Mello Music Group), builds on his established elements—relaxed, sample-based instrumentals and thoughtful ruminations about the systemic unfairness that has historically afflicted Black people (and the frustrating new ways it manifests itself thanks to modern technology). But the album also feels rejuvenated, as though Greene’s creativity has been reborn and he’s newly excited to be doing the same work. This is no doubt in part because he’s found a collaborator who can supersize his vision: veteran Detroit beat maker Apollo Brown, who’s also worked with established MCs such as Guilty Simpson, Skyzoo, and Ghostface Killah. The producer populates Cost of Living with tracks built from lightly dusty samples that accentuate the crispness in his understated percussion. This music has a self-consciously throwback feel, but as much as Greene shows his deference to hip-hop history, he doesn’t let it distract him from focusing his songs on the present. He’s an unflashy rapper who delivers frank descriptions with a workingman’s confidence and care. His voice functions as a sturdy element in the album’s instrumentation; he ends his lines with exclamation points, so that each one lands like a rim shot in a drum break, and he smooths out the flow of his songs with a subtly soulful, melodic touch. On “Steep Life,” Greene reflects on the bleak socioeconomic outlook for young Black men, delivering his lyrics with his whole chest—he raps like he wants you to believe that even when the world blocks your path, you can make your own way where no one expects it.

Philmore Greene & Apollo Brown’s The Cost of Living is available through Bandcamp.

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Looking at the promo poster alone—airbrushed and very winter-in-New-York-City—Something From Tiffany’s is striving for that classic romantic comedy feel. And the movie, at times, does hold some of the feel-good, memorable vibes of rom-coms past. It is pretty predictable, even if guessing what comes next in a movie isn’t your strong suit, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that Something From Tiffany’s is a cozy, comforting holiday watch.

As is appropriate based on the title, the movie starts at a New York Tiffany’s, with the locale not being the only nod to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The two sides to the story are established right away: There’s single dad Ethan Greene (Kendrick Sampson) and his young daughter Daisy (Leah Jeffries), in search of the perfect engagement ring for Ethan’s fiance, Vanessa (Shay Mitchell). They briefly come in contact with the other side, which includes tattoo artist and lame boyfriend Gary (Ray Nicholson), who’s at Tiffany’s to find a small and fast gift in a well-known blue box for his upbeat girlfriend Rachel (Zoey Deutch). To top it off, Terri (Jojo T. Gibbs), Rachel’s restaurant business partner, steals scenes often thanks to her ability to be hilariously honest. 

Even though it’s taking notes from While You Were Sleeping in more ways than one, Something From Tiffany’s doesn’t exactly have the same effortless flow and authentic sweetness, but it does lean into its corny bits and heartfelt plot points. “Chemistry” is often thrown around, but the whole cast seems to have it in this one. The acting isn’t over-the-top or cheesy, and the romance that blossoms between Rachel and Ethan is sweet. It’s not overly Christmas-oriented—Rachel is Jewish, by the way—which makes for a pleasant winter rom-com perfect for a chill, holiday movie night. PG

Prime Video

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It’s been said that bad books make good movies. Adapting a celebrated book for the screen is often a recipe for disaster because if the writer is doing their job, the picture a reader makes in their mind trumps anything the greatest filmmaker can come up with. Happily for Noah Baumbach, he’s chosen a flawed novel by a great writer and added a joyful sensibility absent from Don DeLillo and most of his previous films.

I reread the book just before seeing the movie and found the book disjointed. After the Airborne Toxic Event—the disaster at its center—the story paradoxically loses steam and never recovers. In 2022 it’s impossible to watch or read anything with a cataclysmic event and not relate it to COVID. Baumbach reportedly read and reread the book during lockdown. While the rest of us baked bread or quit our shitty jobs, he made this movie. 

All his films are about family dysfunction in one way or another, and the Gladneys certainly don’t lack issues. But they’re somehow not doomed, despite a worldwide disaster, a serious betrayal, and a collection of tics and eccentricities that would send a therapist screaming. 

The structural problems remain: there’s a campus comedy, a disaster flick, and a crime caper that never cohere, but I liked Baumbach’s Gladney family much more than DeLillo’s. The story is still about the hollowness of American consumerism, but there’s nothing in the book that rivals the joyful supermarket dance sequence that goes on and on and on as the credits roll. Perhaps if DeLillo had published his book post-plague, he’d have imbued it with a similar sense of relief. R, 136 min.

Music Box Theatre, streaming on Netflix December 30

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Jerzy Skolimowski’s EO is a haunting, tear-jerking epic about the futility and cruelty of modern life. The octogenarian director demonstrates how easily mundane existence can slip into either anguish or cheerfulness as we follow the title character through a tumultuous odyssey across the Polish countryside. And, yes, Eo is a donkey. But do not mistake EO for a fairytale, because Skolimowski abandons the fantastical depictions of animals in favor of a harsher reality that is, at the bottom line, undeniably authentic. Instead, EO reimagines the brutal absoluteness of Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar. 

Skolimowski’s first film in seven years delivers a visionary commentary on the anxieties of permanence, memory, and hopelessness in modern life. But instead of a typically human, easily accessible narrative, Skolimowski chooses an unassuming, gentle, and watchful donkey to experience the multifaceted spectrum of life, adorning Eo with more personality than any Disney special. Eo stumbles into a tense soccer game, escapes from hunters, and even attends a party. In short, Eo lives a dynamic, exciting life before he faces an unsettlingly familiar fate. But most of all, Eo is innocent. 

EO is a tender film, filled with close-ups of our melancholic donkey, boiling over with emotion that might solely come from the audience. There is a depth to Eo’s eyes, but more than anything, there is room for projection. Eo is a donkey caught in a tumultuous sequence of violence, celebration, and regularity; most importantly, he is an animal Skolimowski compels us to see. And often, Skolimowski pans away as the story is consumed by these peripheral human vignettes. Suddenly, we wonder, where is our donkey? Eo’s innocence is irreducible and his story is honest. Skolimowski illustrates the inexplicable life of a donkey, a life frequently ignored, but in his courageous endeavor, his inventive and engrossing film strikes an emotional core and pulls viewers into Eo’s observant eyes. 86 min.

Gene Siskel Film Center

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In Alejandro G. Iñárritu’s hallucinatory trip to the land between life and death, Amazon is buying Baja California, and you can have a philosophical discussion with the conquistador Hernán Cortés atop a hillock of corpses. You meet your long-gone father in the bathroom of a large hall filled to capacity with your peers who want to give you an important prize and shrink down to the size of a boy while retaining middle-aged features. Your dead infant son keeps reappearing, often from between your wife’s legs, still very much alive.

These and dozens of other dream images are filmed in a seamless wide-screen format that fish-eyes toward its outer edges. They are what Silverio Gama, a stand-in for the director, sees in his last days after suffering a massive stroke on a subway train in LA. 

Whether you will be entranced, confused, or put off by Iñárritu’s latest deep dive into his own subconscious depends on whether you prefer your movies logical or lyrical, as well as how high your tolerance for unlikable and unrelatable protagonists is. Gama is a self-absorbed narcissist, and his visions are mostly self-serving, but I can’t deny their sweep and all-pervasive ambition. As long as you don’t think too long about some of the implications of what flashes past your eyeballs, this is a film to be dazzled by and lost in. In Spanish with subtitles. R, 159 min.

Netflix

Read More

Jerzy Skolimowski’s EO is a haunting, tear-jerking epic about the futility and cruelty of modern life. The octogenarian director demonstrates how easily mundane existence can slip into either anguish or cheerfulness as we follow the title character through a tumultuous odyssey across the Polish countryside. And, yes, Eo is a donkey. But do not mistake EO for a fairytale, because Skolimowski abandons the fantastical depictions of animals in favor of a harsher reality that is, at the bottom line, undeniably authentic. Instead, EO reimagines the brutal absoluteness of Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar. 

Skolimowski’s first film in seven years delivers a visionary commentary on the anxieties of permanence, memory, and hopelessness in modern life. But instead of a typically human, easily accessible narrative, Skolimowski chooses an unassuming, gentle, and watchful donkey to experience the multifaceted spectrum of life, adorning Eo with more personality than any Disney special. Eo stumbles into a tense soccer game, escapes from hunters, and even attends a party. In short, Eo lives a dynamic, exciting life before he faces an unsettlingly familiar fate. But most of all, Eo is innocent. 

EO is a tender film, filled with close-ups of our melancholic donkey, boiling over with emotion that might solely come from the audience. There is a depth to Eo’s eyes, but more than anything, there is room for projection. Eo is a donkey caught in a tumultuous sequence of violence, celebration, and regularity; most importantly, he is an animal Skolimowski compels us to see. And often, Skolimowski pans away as the story is consumed by these peripheral human vignettes. Suddenly, we wonder, where is our donkey? Eo’s innocence is irreducible and his story is honest. Skolimowski illustrates the inexplicable life of a donkey, a life frequently ignored, but in his courageous endeavor, his inventive and engrossing film strikes an emotional core and pulls viewers into Eo’s observant eyes. 86 min.

Gene Siskel Film Center

Read More

West-side rapper Philmore Greene has been crafting a catalog of mature, unfussy boom-bap since he dropped his 2018 debut, Chicago: A Third World City. His new fourth full-length, Cost of Living (released by esteemed hip-hop indie Mello Music Group), builds on his established elements—relaxed, sample-based instrumentals and thoughtful ruminations about the systemic unfairness that has historically afflicted Black people (and the frustrating new ways it manifests itself thanks to modern technology). But the album also feels rejuvenated, as though Greene’s creativity has been reborn and he’s newly excited to be doing the same work. This is no doubt in part because he’s found a collaborator who can supersize his vision: veteran Detroit beat maker Apollo Brown, who’s also worked with established MCs such as Guilty Simpson, Skyzoo, and Ghostface Killah. The producer populates Cost of Living with tracks built from lightly dusty samples that accentuate the crispness in his understated percussion. This music has a self-consciously throwback feel, but as much as Greene shows his deference to hip-hop history, he doesn’t let it distract him from focusing his songs on the present. He’s an unflashy rapper who delivers frank descriptions with a workingman’s confidence and care. His voice functions as a sturdy element in the album’s instrumentation; he ends his lines with exclamation points, so that each one lands like a rim shot in a drum break, and he smooths out the flow of his songs with a subtly soulful, melodic touch. On “Steep Life,” Greene reflects on the bleak socioeconomic outlook for young Black men, delivering his lyrics with his whole chest—he raps like he wants you to believe that even when the world blocks your path, you can make your own way where no one expects it.

Philmore Greene & Apollo Brown’s The Cost of Living is available through Bandcamp.

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