In anticipation of the November 8, 1939, Nazi rally in Munich presided over by Adolph Hitler, Johann Georg Elser planted a bomb with a timer set to detonate the explosive during Hitler's address. As the title of director Oliver Hirschbiegel's 13 Minutes signals, Hitler left the building thirteen minutes before the explosion that killed eight people and injured sixty-two.

Quickly tracked down, Elser was arrested, tortured, and confessed after Nazis rounded up and threatened his ex-fiancé and relatives. His inquisitors and the Fuhrer refused to believe that Elser constructed and executed this event alone. 13 Minutes shows how and why he did, flashing back and forward, dramatizing the Nazis increasingly oppressive victimization of German citizens that prompted Elser, a musician, carpenter, and eventually steelworks employee, to devise and plant the bomb. It is here that the interest resides, watching events of the late 1930s in small German villages as the Nazis ruthlessly retaliate against any opposition. 

Ironically, one of the Nazi officers does come to believe Elser is the sole agent after Georg diagrams his invention. The German officer is overruled and also becomes a victim, showing the effect of the despotic Nazi culture on even its more reasonable participants who get caught up in repression of any reasoned responses. This officer is equally powerless, adding complexity to what is usually a monochromatic depiction. Similarly, Elser's love Elsa, married to an alcoholic brute, provides a subplot highlighting ways the Nazis enabled cruel citizens to indulge their malice.

Technically Hirschbiegel shows a keen eye for fresh, effective compositions that add tension and convey emotions. He moves the camera elegantly and sparingly, tracking in or retreating with authority. Similarly, he refrains from overuse of music and sound, adding such additions only when necessary. As Elser, Christian Friedel has a charismatic presence, often merely observing, inviting our identification with his outrage, an emotion easily summoned. Upsetting torture scenes confirm the Nazis inhumanity but, once established, the film doesn't wallow in the barbarity. 13 Minutes particularizes the inhumanity through one man's action. The narrowness of the focus brings into sharp relief the lead up to Hitler's mass murders to follow. At Landmark's Tivoli Theatre.

To read of family dysfunction, an alcoholic father slapping his child, an artsy mom not feeding her bairn is one thing. To see it on the screen is so painful as to be avoided. That is the case with The Glass Castle, based on the 2005 memoir by Jeannette Walls.

Rex Walls was charming, a talker and a dreamer. He was also a drinker. Rose Mary Walls was an artist, who'd rather paint than mother. He dreamed of building a glass castle for his children; she thought about him working so they could have indoor plumbing. Their four children could think of little else but surviving by holding each other against these loving but insupportable adults.

Jeannette Walls wrote about growing up like Topsy in Welch, West Virginia, in her memoir, but when Destin Daniel Cretton directed her story from his own co-written screenplay, he exploited the physical, psychological, and sexual abuse Walls described in her words. Unlike his earlier and more laudable film, Short Term 12, Cretton created "The Glass Castle" as little more than a battle ground. Yes, it seems that everything turns out okay, but enduring the road to that okay tortures the viewer.

Again, Cretton works with Brie Larson as he did in Short Term 12. Larson stars as the adult Jeannette, a gossip columnist, graduate of Barnard, and wife of a rich man. She embodies that Jeannette, especially when she confronts her manipulative father at her engagement party. The child Jeannette is portrayed so well by Ella Anderson and Chandler Head. 

Naomi Watts plays Walls' mother against Woody Harrelson as her dad. Neither actor looks as shop-worn as the real parents did. Watts fades into the background, but Harrelson has the vicious look needed for such a wrecked man. Anyone who has grown up with a man with that look knows it well.

The Glass Castle tortures more than graces.


Concentrating on the deep-rooted dissent of local citizens to persistent, unrelenting racism, the documentary Whose Streets? chronicles the aftermath of the killing of 18-year-old Michael Brown Jr. in Ferguson, August 9, 2014. Directors Sabaah Folayan and Damon Davis set the scene citing a U.S. Supreme Court 1857 opinion for the Dred Scott v. Sandford court case. 

In a suit that began in 1846 at St. Louis' Old Courthouse, the final Supreme Court decision denied that Scott was legally free, defining him as property. Chief Justice Roger B. Taney further asserted that men "imported as slaves . . . had no rights which the white man was bound to respect." Footage over the next one and half hours will implicitly and explicitly argue that not much progress has occurred. 

Picking up with the immediate aftermath of Brown being shot, Lezley McSpadden (Michael's mother) and other eyewitnesses react to the indignity of Michael's body left on the pavement for four and a half hours. The documentary then samples from national and local coverage -- CNN, NBC, KSDK, KMOV, Fox News, etc. -- but its focus is the outrage of the community for this as well as past and on-going oppressive treatment. The comments of several observers and activists punctuate the film: David, Kayla, Brittany, Mama Cat, Ashley, and Tory, among others. We're invited into homes, barbershops, cafes, and confrontational meetings to listen. Brief excerpts include pronouncements by President Obama, Attorney General Holder, Missouri Governor Nixon, Ferguson Police Chief Jackson, Ferguson Mayor Knowles, and St. Louis Prosecutor McColloch.

Chronicling action up to one year after the non-indictment of Officer Wilson, Whose Streets? uses well-chosen, succinct formal and informal statements to reveal the racial divide that defines perspectives distressingly different. Divided into five chapters, Whose Streets? features quotes from past leaders: from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., "A riot is the language of the unheard," and from Frantz Fanon, Sojourner Truth, Langston Hughes. A poignant encouragement comes last from Dr. Maya Angelou, "You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated." This is the clarion call that echoes throughout Whose Streets? and inspires all who love and support each other in the continuing fight against racism. At Landmark's Tivoli Cinema, the Marcus St. Charles Stadium 18 Cinema, AMC's Creve Coeur 12, and the Regal St. Louis Mills Stadium 18.


The title's reference to a fading form of communication suggests the decade for Landline, that is, the Nineties. But it says nothing about the chief literary device, that of irony, which each of the characters has to deal with in the course of this multi-generational look at cheating.

Landline, which seems so much simpler  than it is, starts in 1995 on Labor Day. Well, it actually starts with sex in the woods, but once that's over to no one's satisfaction, we move on to the family that's leaving the summer home for the school year ahead in Manhattan. The family comprises Mother and Father and two daughters, the latter far enough apart to seem to have little in common besides judgment.

Ali is the younger sister, part eye-roll, part tempest. Dana is the older sister, wild yet protective. Mother is snarky, especially regarding Dad, and Dad is Dad, that is, until Ali discovers that he's having an affair. Dad?! That old man?! Should she tell him she knows? Should she tell her mom? She tells her sisters.

That titbit of info starts to bring them closer, and watching the two cleave unto one another is certainly sweet but not icky. Jenny Slate works the Dana role well, but she is well matched by Abby Quinn as Ali. Quinn is also in the upcoming Radium Girls, and Slate was so good in Obvious Child.

Landline is co-written and directed by Gillian Robbespierre, who also directed Obvious Child, a sleeper film from 2014. Robbespierre was not able to keep John Turturro from over-acting as the dad, at least, acting beyond what the rest of the cast does here, but she was able to direct Edie Falco as the crushed mother with a mouth on her.

Landline is not so clean-cut as "Obvious Child," and, partly, it seems to barely bear its own weight. But it's one of those movies that has something to say about cheating -- by cheaters.


The documentary City of Ghosts details the resistance activities of RBSS, which stands for Raqaa is Being Slaughtered Silently. After March 2014 ISIS controlled this previously beautiful, joyful Syrian city with a proud heritage, very briefly described in opening footage. As atrocities increased, ordinary citizens responded with resistance, including RBSS dedicated to exposing nothing short of barbaric treatment.

City of Ghosts focuses on three co-founders of RBSS: Aziz, 25, previously a college biology student and now dubbed the spokesman; Mohamad, 34, a high school math teacher and now RBSS's reporter; and Hamoud, 23, a filmmaker. Secondarily, we learn also about Hussam, 27 and an RBSS co-founder who writes and publishes articles. Through a variety of strategies, these men and fellow resisters sent photos, reports, and video to the outside world, stories, as they show, "unlike anything the world had seen before." 

When one of their friends is brutally murdered, they flee to Turkey and later Germany, knowing nowhere is safe with terrifying death threats following them. And yet they continue to reveal events: the banning of satellite dishes to prevent video footage from getting out even as RBSS reporters know to immediately erase footage after transmission as checkpoint searches endanger them and their families. Failing to capture these RBSS representatives, ISIS assassinates Hamoud's father and one of his brothers, posting the horrific, graphic video. As an emotional Hamoud watches it, he says it only strengthens his resolve. 

Speaking about the decision to include this and other gut-wrenching footage, producer/director Matthew Heineman argues that we outsiders can only begin to comprehend Raqaa's tragedy by confronting reality. He notes that every second was debated before inclusion. Abstract description would fail to convey the truth, but be aware that some content is extremely difficult to watch.

As in his Cartel Land, Heineman immerses his viewers in the lives of these truly courageous individuals, even as they flee to safe houses. Ironically and sadly, in Germany they face off against an anti-immigration group. And yet RBSS continues to advocate for freedom. "City of Ghosts" adds a powerful immediacy to the Syrian catastrophe. In English and in Persian with English subtitles. 

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