Coral Gables Art Cinema

A charming, involving first feature, Clandestine Childhood muscles its familiar coming-of-age material into something more vibrant and urgent than the usual. Through sharp editing and director Benjamín Ávila's moment-making brio, this '70s period... More »

A charming, involving first feature, Clandestine Childhood muscles its familiar coming-of-age material into something more vibrant and urgent than the usual. Through sharp editing and director Benjamín Ávila's moment-making brio, this '70s period piece charts a young boy’s attempts to carve out something like a childhood despite being the son of wanted revolutionaries in the Argentina of General Jorge Rafael Videla, whose brutal government "disappeared" millions just like them. The film is obliged, then, to counterpoint its scenes of pubescent flowering, all delicate and affecting, with those of police-state paranoia: adults overheard in fierce consultations, a cold panic settling in when sirens sound in the street. So when Juan—the young lead played with wounded boyishness by Teo Gutiérrez Romero—is greeted by his teacher and schoolmates with a cheery "Happy birthday," he's even more mixed up about the attention than most kids would be. After all, he’s pretending to be named Ernesto, and he has never looked at Ernesto's fake documents closely enough to know he even had a birthday. His family's enemy-of-the-state reality intrudes again and again on his growing up, most affectingly when the intensity of the first bleeds into the second, inspiring Juan to push too hard with a crush that he might not have time to let play out. Also commendable: Ávila's cutting to harsh, garish illustrations the few times the film gets violent. This fresh technique has an impact de rigueur movie mayhem has lost. « Less

9:00 PM

A charming display of auto-critique, In the House is a cocktail of one part Shadow of a Doubt, one part Rear Window, and two parts Jacques Derrida: It's not so much a thriller as a playful deconstruction thereof, allowing characters to comment on... More »

A charming display of auto-critique, In the House is a cocktail of one part Shadow of a Doubt, one part Rear Window, and two parts Jacques Derrida: It's not so much a thriller as a playful deconstruction thereof, allowing characters to comment on their own roles in the narrative. Most of the commentary comes from Germain (Fabrice Luchini), who teaches literature at a suburban French high school, where his students might be characterized as barely sentient. But one, Claude (Ernst Umhauer), has a gift for storytelling. Claude's writings detail his increasingly creepy involvement with his friend Rapha's (Bastien Ughetto) family. Claude spies on Rapha's gorgeous mom (Emmanuelle Seigner) and as his behavior approaches stalking, Germain thrills at Claude’s account of all this, urging him to proceed with his story-- and, by proxy, his behavior toward Rapha's family. "It lacks a conflict," Germain tells Claude, sounding like an exasperated filmmaker. In the House creates something far more original than the same old heart-pounding. Germain's meta-narrative commentary ensures an alienating effect, and therein lies the refreshing uniqueness: Since Hitchcock's films are perpetually analyzed by film theorists, why not provide the space for such analysis within a thriller itself? As the narrative gamesmanship ramps up—Germain becomes the audience’s surrogate and advocate, demanding more conflict; Claude begins to criticize Germain's criticism from within the stories themselves-- In the House investigates a far tougher riddle than what makes Claude tick-- it's trying to figure out why, exactly, voyeurism and mystery delight us so. In the process, it delights. « Less

4:00 PM, 6:30 PM