‘The Leopard’
Three hours of wide-screen cinematic beauty, Luchino Visconti’s “The Leopard” has been through the mill and under various hatchets since its 1963 premiere. Now, thanks to the efforts of Martin Scorsese’s preservation foundation, it has been restored to near-optimum condition. Last year at the Cannes Film Festival, Scorsese and two of the film’s stars, Claudia Cardinale and Alain Delon, were given a heroes’ welcome. You can see what the fuss was about through Feb. 9 at the Gene Siskel Film Center.
The crucial star of “The Leopard” was absent from last year’s Cannes extravaganza. Burt Lancaster was hired for the role of the 19th century Sicilian nobleman (created originally by novelist Giuseppe di Lampedusa) coping with inevitable changes to his land, lifestyle, nation and psyche during the Garibaldi revolution. The film’s producers made the hire behind Visconti’s back and against his wishes (Visconti wanted Laurence Olivier to head the international ensemble; he was unavailable). But Lancaster, even an Italian-dubbed Lancaster, turned out to be splendid, the aesthetic dislocation oddly in sync with the character’s own sense of dislocation.
“The Leopard” culminates in a famous, nearly hourlong grand ball sequence, in which Lancaster’s conflicted prince seems to be swallowed up by the extravagant decor. Everyone has said it: This is an essential passage in the history of movies, in which the steady swirl of movement becomes the swirl of history the nobleman cannot vanquish. It’s as majestic a ball sequence as the one in “The Magnificent Ambersons,” or the linked sequence of ever-more-intimate dances in “The Earrings of Madame de…” Lancaster, who modeled his performance after the Marxist aristocrat Visconti, was never better than in his 20-second close-up (another justly famous highlight), in which the prince gazes at himself in a mirror, his eyes welling up at all he has seen, both around him and in himself. Scored by the peerless Nino Rota, “The Leopard” blends bittersweet romance with the winds of political change. The Cannes festival got it right the first time: The 1963 jury awarded “Il Gattopardo” the Palme d’Or, while that year’s Oscar went to a somewhat more strenuous period picture, “Tom Jones.”
Plays Fri.-Wed. at the Gene Siskel Film Center. In Italian with English subtitles. Running time: 3:06
— Michael Phillips
‘Louder Than a Bomb’ 1/2
A genuinely stirring hometown chronicle, this propulsive documentary by Greg Jacobs and Jon Siskel (nephew of Gene, the longtime Tribune film critic) follows a familiar competitive framework, as four teams representing four very different area high schools compete in the annual “Louder Than a Bomb” teen poetry slam. The filmmakers take just enough time to heighten the personal stories of a few key talents, among them the spectacularly gifted Nova Venerable from Oak Park and River Forest High School, whose poetry cuts like a knife on the subject of errant fathers and a special-needs brother; Nate Marshall, a spoken-word guru from Whitney Young High School; and Adam Gottlieb, the wizard of Northside College Prep, dealing with poetry itself and his Jewish heritage. As these and other writer/performers collaborate with their colleagues, mentors and notebooks en route to the competition, “Louder Than a Bomb” becomes an ode to Chicago’s diverse voices. Irresistible.
Plays Fri.-Thu. at the Siskel Center. Running time: 1:39
— M.P.
‘Breath’
A prisoner on death row and a woman who’s drawn to his plight go through their own spring, summer, fall and winter of love in “Breath,” a typically quirky chamber drama by director Kim Ki-duk.
Jang Jin (Chang Chen), who’s on death row, tries to commit suicide by stabbing himself in the neck with a sharpened toothbrush handle. The news is seen on TV by Yeon (Ji-a Park), a sculptor who seems to walk around in a permanently catatonic state. Yeon, who lives in an immaculate, soulless apartment on the edge of Seoul, has a perky young daughter she adores and a boring husband (Ha Jeong-woo) to whom she never speaks. On impulse, she takes a cab to the prison one night and asks to see Jang.
Yeon “themes” her subsequent visits by season, bringing wallpaper and other accouterments to decorate the visiting room and entertaining Jang with a seasonal song each time. As each visit ends in closer physical contact — like a year’s relationship compressed in time — Yeon’s husband becomes suspicious.
Plays Fri.-Thu. at Facets Cinematheque. In Korean with English subtitles. Running time: 1:24
— Derek Elley, Variety
‘Winston Churchill: Walking With Destiny’ 1/2
Richard Trank’s old-fashioned documentary “Winston Churchill: Walking With Destiny” casts its titular icon as the sole savior of Great Britain, Europe and the free world. The film benefits greatly from Ben Kingsley’s brilliantly nuanced reading of frankly bombastic narration, and from the cavalcade of well-edited newsreel clips that propel its hindsight-determined story arc.
Swell footage of some 300,000 Allied troops under heavy bombardment on the beaches of Dunkirk, improbably rescued by a motley British fleet of battleships, destroyers, yachts and fishing trawlers, loses none of its pathos over time; viewers can readily comprehend the galvanizing effect of this Churchillian maneuver on England’s resolve to stubbornly resist Nazi rule.
Opens at the Wilmette Theatre. Running time: 1:41
— Ronnie Scheib, Variety
