Tag Archives: American Cinematheque


Everyone remembers Fritz Lang’s 1931 masterpiece M—the story of a Berlin child-killer pursued by the police but brought down by the mob—but few have seen Joseph Losey’s 1951 remake, set amidst the vanished streets of Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles.

This weekend, as part of the American Cinematheque series Noir City—Hollywood (now in its 22nd year), Losey’s M will screen in a triple bill, after Lang’s original and before the brilliant 1953 Argentine version EL VAMPIRO NEGRO / THE BLACK VAMPIRE (directed by Román Viñoly, and presented in a new DCP restoration).


Saturday, March 7, at 5 pm.

Egyptian Theatre

6712 Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles.

Joseph Losey, M (1951), from top: David Wayne; M scene; Wayne; M, European poster; Wayne; Raymond Burr (standing left) and Luther Adler (standing right, gesturing at Wayne), Images courtesy and © the filmmakers and actors estates, Superior Pictures, and Columbia Pictures.


This week in Santa Monica, Kelly Reichardt will present her highly anticipated new film FIRST COW and participate in a post-screening discussion.

As part of the American Cinematheque’s salute to the filmmaker, additional screenings include a double-bill of OLD JOY (2006) and RIVER OF GRASS (1994), introduced by the director.

On Sunday, Kenji Mizoguchi’s UGETSU (1953)—a film that inspired Reichardt’s new work—will screen with Jean Rouch’s PETIT À PETIT (1970).


Thursday, February 27, at 7:30 pm.


Friday, February 28, at 7:30 pm.


Sunday, March 1, at 7:30 pm.

Aero Theatre

1328 Montana Avenue, Santa Monica.

Kelly Reichardt, First Cow (2020), from top: John Magaro; Orion Lee (left) and Magaro; U.S. poster; Toby Jones; Magaro. Images courtesy and © the filmmaker and A24.


After the election of 1960, my friend Howard Austen and I moved to Rome not far from the classical library of the American Academy, where I daily worked on a novel about Julian the Apostate. Also during our first Roman years, in the Via Giulia and later in the Largo Argentina, movie production was at its peak, and, for a few years, many movies were made at Cinecittà, the principal Roman studio. During the late 50s I had worked on the script of Ben-Hur in an office next to that of the producer Sam Zimbalist. Farther down the corridor from my office, Federico Fellini was preparing what would become La Dolce Vita. He was fascinated by our huge Hollywood production. Several times we had lunch together in the commissary. Soon he was calling me Gorino and I was calling him Fred…

Suddenly, one day in 1971, there was Fellini on the terrace of our Largo Argentina flat. “I make film about Roma. I want you and Alberto Sordi and Anna Magnani and Marcello Mastroianni.” I asked Why? This was Fred’s least favorite word. He was a droll and inventive liar and his verbal arabesques were for the most part entirely wasted on flat-footed showbiz interviewers. He blinked his eyes as if in thought: Why? We were in the restaurant of the Grand Hotel, where he would establish himself at a special table set in what looked to be an opera box. “Because,” he said, “you all live in Rome and you are all from outside.” I laughed. “Magnani is Rome.” He realized his mistake. He waved his hands. “She is from everywhere. Like the sun. The moon. The … I have one question I will ask each of you, who can live anywhere, Why you live in Roma?”…

My scene was shot in a small square off Via dei Coronari. It was a freezing February night, but we were all dressed in summer clothes, pretending it was the August Trastevere festival of Noantri. Tables and benches were scattered around the square. Huge plastic fish were on display in tubs. Howard and I sat at a table with three or four American friends. I was fascinated to find that Fellini worked much the way Picasso did in the documentary where he paints on a sheet of glass while the camera shoots from under the table so that we can see what he is painting as he erases, transforms, re-structures. Plates of food kept arriving. Wine bottles. More plastic fish. Some tourists sit at a table opposite us. Fred directed his cameraman as he kept filling in the background with people, food, decorations. When Fellini Roma was released, in 1972 (Fred’s name was part of the title), he was also ready by then to tell the world why he had picked his four stars. “I pick Mastroianni because he is so lazy, so typical. Alberto Sordi because he is so cruel.” An odd characterization: Sordi was a superb comic actor whom one did not associate with cruelty, but then, at the core of comedy, there is indeed a level of sharp observation that the ones observed might easily regard as cruel. “I chose Anna Magnani because she is Anna and this is Roma. Vidal because he is typical of a certain Anglo who comes to Roma and goes native.” As I never spoke Italian properly, much less Roman dialect, and my days were spent in a library researching the fourth century A.D., I was about as little “gone native” as it was possible to be, but Fred clung to his first images of people.Gore Vidal*

This weekend at the Egyptian, the American Cinematheque celebrates Fellini’s centenary with a screening of the 4K restoration of the director’s surrealist documentary ROMA, preceded by a program of clips and photographs presented by Cineteca di Bologna director Gian Luca Farinelli.


Sunday, February 16, at 7 pm.

Egyptian Theatre

6712 Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles.

*Gore Vidal, Point to Point Navigation (New York: Random House, 2006).

Fellini’s Roma (1972) stills (6) and Italian poster. Black and white photograph: Gore Vidal (left) and Federico Fellini. Images courtesy and © the filmmaker’s estate, the participants, the photographers, the graphic designer, the producers, and Park Circus/MGM.


The finest achievement yet made by cinema… Unquestionably the greatest film ever made. — David Shipman

This weekend the American Cinematheque presents an all-day 35mm screening of Masaki Kobayashi’s epic trilogy THE HUMAN CONDITION.

Part of the Cinematheque’s Visions of a Pale Horse—Antiwar Cinema series at the Aero, the film’s first part—No Greater Love—will begin at 1 pm, with intermission breaks before parts two and three.


Saturday, February 8, at 1 pm.

Aero Theatre

1328 Montana Avenue, Santa Monica.

Masaki Kobayashi, The Human Condition (1959–1961). Images courtesy and © the estates of the filmmakers and actors, and Janus Films.


Jérémy Clapin will be in town to present his acclaimed animated drama I LOST MY BODY, the point-of-view story of an errant hand and its trip across Paris.

For this free American Cinematheque program, the director will also participate in a post-screening discussion of his work.


Wednesday, January 29, at 7:30 pm.

Aero Theatre

1328 Montana Avenue, Santa Monica.

Jérémy Clapin, I Lost My Body / J’ai perdu mon corps (2019). Images courtesy and © the filmmaker and Netflix.