Kommende visningerapril

My wife cries

Angela Schanelec
2026
93 min.
Tyskland
DCP
Tysk tale / engelske undertekster

Seneste skud på stammen fra den dobbelte vinder af Sølvbjørnen i Berlin: Angela Schanelec. En minimalistisk og elliptisk fortælling om misforståelser og to menneskers søgen efter et fælles sprog.

Det er endnu en dag i den 40-årige kranfører Thomas’ liv højt hævet over det snavsede mikrokosmos, der er byggepladsen og verdenen under ham. Men så modtager han et opkald og får at vide, at hans kone, Carla, er på hospitalet, og han må komme og hente hende. Så det gør han. Da han når hen til hospitalet, finder han Carla siddende på en bænk uden for hospitalet i stedet. Han sætter sig ved siden af hende på bænken og spørger, hvad der er i vejen. Og så begynder hans kone at græde.

Græde og fortælle.

Og jo mere hun græder og fortæller, jo tydeligere bliver det, at Thomas og Carla måske slet ikke taler det samme sprog. My Wife Cries er grundlæggende en film om misforståelser. En romantisk tragedie om to personers søgen efter et fælles sprog og menneskets generelle behov for at forstå (en anden). En pointe, der understreges af, at Carla spilles af franske Agathe Bonitzer, mens Thomas spilles af serbiske Vladimir Vulević. Deres tyskkundskaber giver dialogen et pudsigt staccato-præg, hvor ikke bare det, der siges, men også måden det siges på, bliver en del af Angela Schanelecs filmiske projekt. Det er, som om det er vigtigere at tale om følelserne end det er rent faktisk at føle dem.

Angela Schanelecs værk er minimalistisk og er ofte blevet sammenlignet med franske Robert Bressons i kraft af hendes forkærlighed for elliptiske fortællestrukturer samt karakterernes meget præcise og afmålte bevægelser og talte sprog, der placerer sig et sted mellem recitation og prosa. I hendes senere film bliver forbindelsen til den japanske filmskaber Yasujiro Ozu imidlertid mere eksplicit, blandt andet gennem deskriptive titler og gennem motivet med den grædende kvinde.

På et dybere plan peger forbindelsen til både Bresson og Ozu mod en filmisk praksis, hvor billedet ikke blot er noget, man ser ind i, men også en flade med sin egen sanselige tilstedeværelse og tænkning. Når man først accepterer dette, begynder elementer som lysindfald, kropsbevægelser, lyd og det stillestående kamera langsomt at træde frem og tale fra sig. Lige pludselig bliver lyden af vindens susen i trækronerne eller billedet af en kvinde, der ligger på en sten, kilden til en afgrundsdyb følelsesstrøm. Schanelec bruger hverken Bresson eller Ozu som en skabelon, men som et afsæt for en egensindig og vital udforskning af menneskelige relationer og af det, der ligger mellem det sete, det sagte og det sansede.

Få film er i sidste ende så levende som Schanelecs.

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Empire Bio.
Kopi: SBS Productions

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

09. April
19.00
EMPIRE (Guldbergsgade 29F, 2200 København N)
Køb billet

tea and sympathy – vises på 35mm

vincente Minnelli
1956
122 min.
USA
35mm
Engelsk tale / spanske undertekster

Vincente Minnellis farvestrående melodrama om længsler og maskulinitet i efterkrigstidens amerikanske middelklasse.

17-årige Tom Lee sendes på en drengekostskole af sin far. Faren, der selv engang var skolens mønsterelev, håber, at den tilpasningsvanskelige Tom dér kan formes til en rigtig mand og en dydig samfundsborger. Men Tom, som godt kan lide at brodere, dyrke havearbejde og synge, falder hurtigt uden for skolens machokultur og bliver et oplagt mobbeoffer for de andre drenge, der stigmatiserer ham med et øgenavn.

I sin ensomhed finder Tom nærvær hos Laura, forstanderens kone. I en fælles følelse af isolation blomstrer en platonisk fortrolighed mellem de to outsidere, der for Lauras vedkommende måske rummer mere, end hun først vil indrømme.

Tea and Sympathy er en af de film fra 1950’ernes Hollywood, som kom tættest på at handle om homoseksualitet uden at handle om det direkte. I én og samme bevægelse tager instruktør Vincente Minnelli fat i og viger bort fra det dengang tabuiserede emne. Som den amerikanske kritiker Michael Koresky beskriver i sin bog Sick and Dirty: Hollywood's Gay Golden Age and the Making of Modern Queerness (2025), er filmen en mærkværdigt kodet – og derfor dybt rørende – oplevelse, der aldrig indtager en klar position, men i stedet skaber et særligt rum for fintfølende tvetydighed.

I et essay om 1950’ernes melodramaer skriver den britiske kritiker og filmskaber Laura Mulvey, at “styrken i den melodramatiske form ligger i den mængde støv, som en historie kaster op undervejs; den sky af uforenelige elementer, der modsætter sig at falde fint på plads i løbet af de sidste fem minutter med en lykkelig slutning.” I Tea and Sympathy bruger Vincente Minnelli det brede, farvestrålende cinemascope-format og en evigt innovativ koreografi af karakterernes bevægelser til at hvirvle så meget støv op i denne fortælling om undertrykte længsler, at det altsammen bliver hængende i luften, længe efter at rulleteksterne er tonet frem.

Det siges ofte, at Vincente Minnelli anvendte farver til at forstærke sine tematiske interesser; at de farvemættede billeder – den pudderblå himmel, de smaragdgrønne haver, de brændende røde kjoler – spejler karakterernes indre liv. Men spørgsmålet er, om det ikke forholder sig anderledes. Er det ikke snarere fra farvernes ekspressivitet, at alting udspringer? Er det ikke dem, der former begæret frem for blot at afspejle det?

I Tea and Sympathy lader Minnelli efterkrigstidens forstadsliv vibrere med farveglød, sensommerdufte og fuglesang, og den melodramatiske kraft ligger ikke kun i deres symbolske potentiale, men i deres håndgribelige tilstedeværelse. Det er i billedets konkrete sanselighed, at filmens følelsesmæssige spændinger opstår.

Derfor viser vi selvfølgelig også filmen på 35mm.

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Cinemateket.
Rettigheder og kopi: Park Circus/Classico Films.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

23. April
19.15
Cinemateket (gothersgade 55, 1123 København)
Køb billet

Kommende visningermaj

dying

Michael roemer
1976
82 min.
USA
DCP
Engelsk tale

Rørende dokumentarisk observation af tre mennesker, der alle er terminalt syge. Nænsomt fortalt af den tysk-amerikanske instruktør Michael Roemer, der selv gik bort den 20. maj, 2025.

Sally er 46 år gammel og siger, at hun plejede at leve et aktivt liv, hvor hun blandt andet besteg bjerge.

Bill er 33 år og gift med Harriet. Sammen har de to drenge på henholdsvis otte og ti år.

Bryant er 56 år og præst. Han planlægger at tage sin familie med til de amerikanske sydstater for at vise dem det sted, hvor han voksede op.

Fælles for dem alle tre er, at de er terminalt syge.

Sally har kræft i hjernen og er lam i den ene side af kroppen, og da behandlingen af hende ikke længere har en effekt, flytter hun hjem til sin aldrende mor. Bill har hudkræft og får stadig behandling, men hans hustru er bange for at miste sin mand og er i panik over at skulle sørge for familien alene. Derfor er hun allerede begyndt at tale om at gifte sig igen efter Bills død. Bryant har kræft, der har spredt sig til leveren, men selvom det medicinske håb er ude for ham, nægter han selv at miste håbet. Han sætter sin lid til, at uanset hvordan det hele ender, er det en del af Vor Herres plan.

Sally, Bill og Fader Bryant holder alle sammen til i Boston-området i USA. Og sammen med deres nærmeste er de omdrejningspunktet i Michael Roemers rørende dokumentarfilm Dying.

Det er fortællingen om tre mennesker, der står midt i deres livs ultimative krise, og om de tre vidt forskellige måder, de tackler det på. Det er en film om at dø, men det er også en film, der er lavet til at blive set af dem, der endnu er i live. Og den er et testamente over tre liv, der ikke længere er. Gennem sin sensitive og observerende undersøgelse minder Michael Roemer os med Dying om, at vi alle skal dø, men i høj grad også, at vi skal huske at leve, mens vi stadig kan.

Michael Roemer (f. 1928) gik selv bort den 20. maj, 2025.

*

Michael Roemer om at dø og om Dying:
“I became involved with the film, because ever since childhood I have been terrified of death.”

“Dying is personal. You don’t die someone else’s death. You die. Dying isn’t something you are apt to generalize about - not if you are the one who is dying. Like sex, it is a direct and personal experience, and the fact that it is happening to others also - that your experience may be typical of one thing or another - isn’t of much help or interest to you.”

” I know now that there are certain resources within me, if I can only tap them. I have seen them in others. The thought of death may make me small, but it also makes me one with all others and with creation itself.”

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Empire Bio.
Rettigheder og kopi: The Film Desk.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

20. maj
19.00
Empire Bio (Guldbergsgade 29F, 2200 København)
Køb billet