DOUBLE FEATURES
Trust us, you've got to see these two together.
Films in this Series
Hiroshi Shimizu
Jan de Bont
76 + 116 minutes
This double feature screening is dedicated to the spirit of community which inevitably forms on public transportation in all of its reluctant, dysfunctional and quiet glory. Sometimes you have to meditate on the transience of existence, sometimes you have to defuse a bomb. But when you’re all on the bus, you’re all in it together.
MR. THANK YOU
This charming road movie follows a genial local bus driver along his route as he transports a group of travelers, comprising a microcosm of Japanese society, from the far reaches of the Izu peninsula to the train station that links it to Tokyo. Rediscovered in the 1970s, Shimizu’s film, once judged as a failed experiment by a Kinema Junpo critic, is now recognized as a classic, incorporating all the hallmarks of his cinema: the tragicomic tone; the provincial setting; the loose, improvisational narrative; the naturalistic performances; the luminous plein-air cinematography; and the glancing but trenchant observation of social inequality. Shooting entirely on location in his cherished Izu, which he is said to have known “like the back of his hand,” and using a redressed Shochiku studio van, Shimizu fashions a tour of depression-era Japan that deserves mention in the company of Ford’s STAGECOACH and Renoir’s THE CRIME OF MONSIEUR LANGE.
“This chirpy, cheerful bus ride is the Shimizu film that comes closest to a full-scale social portrait of the 1930s. MR. THANK YOU is not a film that smiles through its tears but one that speaks out in anger behind the superficial good humor.” - Alan Stanbrook
SPEED
“Pop quiz, hotshot. There’s a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes 50 miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below 50, it blows up. What do you do?” Dennis Hopper’s psychopathic villain sums up the entire plot of SPEED to cop Keanu Reeves, impromptu bus driver Sandra Bullock, and the audience in one of the most pared-down, straight-ahead action-thrillers of the golden ‘90s. Full of manic exhilaration and iconic set pieces, SPEED will make you believe that a bus can fly.
“Films like SPEED belong to the genre I call Bruised Forearm Movies, because you’re always grabbing the arm of the person sitting next to you. Done well, they’re fun. Done as well as SPEED, they generate a kind of manic exhilaration.” – Roger Ebert
MR. THANK YOU
This charming road movie follows a genial local bus driver along his route as he transports a group of travelers, comprising a microcosm of Japanese society, from the far reaches of the Izu peninsula to the train station that links it to Tokyo. Rediscovered in the 1970s, Shimizu’s film, once judged as a failed experiment by a Kinema Junpo critic, is now recognized as a classic, incorporating all the hallmarks of his cinema: the tragicomic tone; the provincial setting; the loose, improvisational narrative; the naturalistic performances; the luminous plein-air cinematography; and the glancing but trenchant observation of social inequality. Shooting entirely on location in his cherished Izu, which he is said to have known “like the back of his hand,” and using a redressed Shochiku studio van, Shimizu fashions a tour of depression-era Japan that deserves mention in the company of Ford’s STAGECOACH and Renoir’s THE CRIME OF MONSIEUR LANGE.
“This chirpy, cheerful bus ride is the Shimizu film that comes closest to a full-scale social portrait of the 1930s. MR. THANK YOU is not a film that smiles through its tears but one that speaks out in anger behind the superficial good humor.” - Alan Stanbrook
SPEED
“Pop quiz, hotshot. There’s a bomb on a bus. Once the bus goes 50 miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If it drops below 50, it blows up. What do you do?” Dennis Hopper’s psychopathic villain sums up the entire plot of SPEED to cop Keanu Reeves, impromptu bus driver Sandra Bullock, and the audience in one of the most pared-down, straight-ahead action-thrillers of the golden ‘90s. Full of manic exhilaration and iconic set pieces, SPEED will make you believe that a bus can fly.
“Films like SPEED belong to the genre I call Bruised Forearm Movies, because you’re always grabbing the arm of the person sitting next to you. Done well, they’re fun. Done as well as SPEED, they generate a kind of manic exhilaration.” – Roger Ebert
Mervyn LeRoy
Gregory Jacobs
96 + 115 minutes
Come on gang, let’s put on a show. We celebrate the Beacon Cinema’s FIFTH ANNIVERSARY by recreating our opening night double bill. This piece of programming was our original gauntlet throwdown and we still believe in it as a statement of intent now more than ever. Two movies, made 80 years apart, that both have so much to say about pleasure and sex and the economy, GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933 and MAGIC MIKE XXL are going to turn the party vibes all the way up. Help us celebrate five years in the only way we know how: taking off all our clothes.
GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933
This pre-code Busby Berkeley musical features half-naked showgirls and leering men, the wrenching Depression anthem “Remember My Forgotten Man,” and the downright smutty “Pettin’ in the Park” number, promising a whole different vision of what the Hollywood dream factory could have been: adult in its portrayal of sex, socially relevant, and artistically on the bleeding edge. Things get tough for Joan Blondell and her showgirl pals when the Great Depression kicks in and all the Broadway shows close down. Wealthy songwriter Dick Powell saves the day by funding a new Depression-themed musical for the girls to star in, but when his stuffy high-society brother finds out and threatens to disown him, the gold-digging friends scheme to keep the show going, hooking a couple of millionaires along the way. This movie - and the show-within-a-show - are all about getting by, getting over, artistic self-expression, and building a creative community.
MAGIC MIKE XXL
Three years have passed since Magic Mike (Channing Tatum) left the crazy life of stripping behind. Teaming back up with the remaining Kings of Tampa for one last unforgettable show, they travel to Dirty Myrtle Beach for an exotic-dancer convention. Using the road-trip to see old friends and make a few new ones, the guys discover some new ways to spice up their bump and grind along the way. It’s a bare-bones premise on which to build some of the most ecstatically joyous pieces of male erotic performance we have ever witnessed. No movie made in Hollywood in this century understands pleasure quite like this one.
“This movie is so far ahead of its time. Its existence implies a surrounding film landscape that is completely antithetical to the one we're living in. One that values sound and vision over story and plot. One that stares captivated at the movement of the human form the way other films stare at fantastical CG action. One that invites all manner of people to partake in its pleasures, rather than putting down some for the enjoyment of others. I almost can't believe this got made.” - Esther Rose
GOLD DIGGERS OF 1933
This pre-code Busby Berkeley musical features half-naked showgirls and leering men, the wrenching Depression anthem “Remember My Forgotten Man,” and the downright smutty “Pettin’ in the Park” number, promising a whole different vision of what the Hollywood dream factory could have been: adult in its portrayal of sex, socially relevant, and artistically on the bleeding edge. Things get tough for Joan Blondell and her showgirl pals when the Great Depression kicks in and all the Broadway shows close down. Wealthy songwriter Dick Powell saves the day by funding a new Depression-themed musical for the girls to star in, but when his stuffy high-society brother finds out and threatens to disown him, the gold-digging friends scheme to keep the show going, hooking a couple of millionaires along the way. This movie - and the show-within-a-show - are all about getting by, getting over, artistic self-expression, and building a creative community.
MAGIC MIKE XXL
Three years have passed since Magic Mike (Channing Tatum) left the crazy life of stripping behind. Teaming back up with the remaining Kings of Tampa for one last unforgettable show, they travel to Dirty Myrtle Beach for an exotic-dancer convention. Using the road-trip to see old friends and make a few new ones, the guys discover some new ways to spice up their bump and grind along the way. It’s a bare-bones premise on which to build some of the most ecstatically joyous pieces of male erotic performance we have ever witnessed. No movie made in Hollywood in this century understands pleasure quite like this one.
“This movie is so far ahead of its time. Its existence implies a surrounding film landscape that is completely antithetical to the one we're living in. One that values sound and vision over story and plot. One that stares captivated at the movement of the human form the way other films stare at fantastical CG action. One that invites all manner of people to partake in its pleasures, rather than putting down some for the enjoyment of others. I almost can't believe this got made.” - Esther Rose
Jamie Meltzer
Ike Sanders
58 + 71 minutes
Before you could drop a prompt into an A.I. generator and get back an algorithmic slop of uncannily remixed stolen property with too many fingers, there were other better ways of generating art-on-demand. This is a double feature about the people who dared to dream even when they knew they couldn’t realize their dreams on their own. And it’s also a double feature about the people who labored to realize those dreams for others, struggling to understand the vision but serving it with unwavering devotion. Whether you have an idea for a novelty song or a porno movie, you’ve come to the right place. We’re going to help you get it made.
OFF THE CHARTS: THE SONG-POEM STORY
Maybe you’re familiar with the concept of song poems—a typically not-tunefully inclined person writes lyrics and hires a studio player to set it to music, promising a profit share should the song become a hit. The results are a soundtrack worthy of the Uncanny Valley—songs with titles like “I Like Yellow Things” and “Blind Man’s Penis (Peace and Love)”. In 2003, the delightful documentary OFF THE CHARTS: THE SONG-POEM STORY introduced several hopeful song writers along with some of the music makers who brought their words to life.
Enticed by ads that suggest this could be a big break into the music industry, these dreamers answer the call. Common subjects include religion and Elvis, but every so often a special individual puts an unexpected combination of words to paper to express their particular set of interests. This documentary presents a few of these people with affection, even creating makeshift music videos to accompany the songs. We meet Caglar Juan Singletary, who favors songs about martial arts, ladies, religion and sci-fi, swirled together nicely in his “Non-Violent Taekwondo Troopers”. Then there is Gary Forney, who is so pleased with his output, he and his son go on a one-day only tour to perform, overcoming his jitters as he takes the stage to sing before a sparse crowd.
On the receiving end, we see the array of styles each studio offers. Nashville-based Ramsey Kearney has that classic country twang; Art Kaufman at Magic Key Productions is your synth-pop guy, and Sunburst Recording Studios will get you more of a Sinatra sound. Kaufman takes us through the process from first look at the lyrics to crafting and recording the song—it clocks at 48 minutes. He’s at an advantage being a one-man band. Ego brush-ups occur with more are involved, as seen when the Sunburst Recording Studios players disagree on a beat, singer Gene Merlino breaking off after the lyrics “I couldn’t get out in any crowd / People said I smelled too loud!” All of these are musicians who had their own stalled careers, falling into the song-poem business to pay the bills, never quite reaching their own glory.
Reminiscent of early Errol Morris films VERNON, FLORIDA and GATES OF HEAVEN, OFF THE CHARTS doesn’t feel exploitative of the unusual personalities it portrays, but rather seems to celebrate their inimitable qualities. Fair warning, there are some earworms there. “Jimmy Carter Says Yes” has been circling my brain for a good fifteen years. (CRISTINA CACIOPPO)
FINAL FLESH
In the early 2000s, Vernon Chatman (co-creator of WONDER SHOWZEN and XAVIER: RENEGADE ANGEL) wrote a screenplay. It was about a family who lives adjacent to the Ground Zero of a thermonuclear disaster. Instead of sending the finished script to Hollywood, Chatman divided it up into four segments. He then sent them to four different companies that specialize in custom fetish porno videos. And FINAL FLESH was born. Like the custom song poem craze of the 1970s, this shot-on-video brain-stabber is an outsider miracle of Biblical proportions. Filled with nudity, regrettable tattoos, metaphysical musings, inventive toilet humor, and no sex, FINAL FLESH is unlike anything else you’ve ever seen — on Earth or other places.
OFF THE CHARTS: THE SONG-POEM STORY
Maybe you’re familiar with the concept of song poems—a typically not-tunefully inclined person writes lyrics and hires a studio player to set it to music, promising a profit share should the song become a hit. The results are a soundtrack worthy of the Uncanny Valley—songs with titles like “I Like Yellow Things” and “Blind Man’s Penis (Peace and Love)”. In 2003, the delightful documentary OFF THE CHARTS: THE SONG-POEM STORY introduced several hopeful song writers along with some of the music makers who brought their words to life.
Enticed by ads that suggest this could be a big break into the music industry, these dreamers answer the call. Common subjects include religion and Elvis, but every so often a special individual puts an unexpected combination of words to paper to express their particular set of interests. This documentary presents a few of these people with affection, even creating makeshift music videos to accompany the songs. We meet Caglar Juan Singletary, who favors songs about martial arts, ladies, religion and sci-fi, swirled together nicely in his “Non-Violent Taekwondo Troopers”. Then there is Gary Forney, who is so pleased with his output, he and his son go on a one-day only tour to perform, overcoming his jitters as he takes the stage to sing before a sparse crowd.
On the receiving end, we see the array of styles each studio offers. Nashville-based Ramsey Kearney has that classic country twang; Art Kaufman at Magic Key Productions is your synth-pop guy, and Sunburst Recording Studios will get you more of a Sinatra sound. Kaufman takes us through the process from first look at the lyrics to crafting and recording the song—it clocks at 48 minutes. He’s at an advantage being a one-man band. Ego brush-ups occur with more are involved, as seen when the Sunburst Recording Studios players disagree on a beat, singer Gene Merlino breaking off after the lyrics “I couldn’t get out in any crowd / People said I smelled too loud!” All of these are musicians who had their own stalled careers, falling into the song-poem business to pay the bills, never quite reaching their own glory.
Reminiscent of early Errol Morris films VERNON, FLORIDA and GATES OF HEAVEN, OFF THE CHARTS doesn’t feel exploitative of the unusual personalities it portrays, but rather seems to celebrate their inimitable qualities. Fair warning, there are some earworms there. “Jimmy Carter Says Yes” has been circling my brain for a good fifteen years. (CRISTINA CACIOPPO)
FINAL FLESH
In the early 2000s, Vernon Chatman (co-creator of WONDER SHOWZEN and XAVIER: RENEGADE ANGEL) wrote a screenplay. It was about a family who lives adjacent to the Ground Zero of a thermonuclear disaster. Instead of sending the finished script to Hollywood, Chatman divided it up into four segments. He then sent them to four different companies that specialize in custom fetish porno videos. And FINAL FLESH was born. Like the custom song poem craze of the 1970s, this shot-on-video brain-stabber is an outsider miracle of Biblical proportions. Filled with nudity, regrettable tattoos, metaphysical musings, inventive toilet humor, and no sex, FINAL FLESH is unlike anything else you’ve ever seen — on Earth or other places.
Robert Zemeckis
Eckhart Schmidt
98 + 92 minutes
This double feature is all about idol worship at its most ECSTATIC.
I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND
On February 9, 1964, the Beatles made their first live appearance on American television on The Ed Sullivan Show, ratcheting up the frenzy of a fan base whose ecstatic devotion to the band heralded an explosive new wave of youth culture. I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND looks back to that fateful weekend, following six New Jersey teenagers, each with different reasons for wanting to see the Fab Four, on a madcap mission to Manhattan to meet the band and score tickets to the show. This frenetic and madcap debut from Robert Zemeckis showcases the comedic and pop culture-conscious sensibility that underpins and grounds the director’s subsequent career as a master of large-scale, high-concept, and special effects-driven spectacles.
“I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND is a kinetic peek into the world of celebrity-hysteria at its finest, and a major showcase for this first time director, who comes out swinging with the technical prowess of a seasoned professional. Anchored by the great Nancy Allen, who delivers a show-stopping scene involving Paul McCartney's bass guitar, I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND remains to this day a chaotic wallop of a debut that announced the arrival of one of America’s greatest cinematic treasures, Robert Zemeckis.” - Oscarbate
DER FAN
An essential art-horror experience. Simone (the magnetic Désirée Nosbusch) is a teenage runaway who is obsessed with the pop singer known as "R." Soon, that obsession takes over her life. When "R" uses Simone with machine-like coldness, she plots her revenge with an unholy ceremony that's equally romantic and horrifying. Fueled by a killer minimalist synth soundtrack from Rheingold and a gorgeous design aesthetic, DER FAN is a subversive and electric shocker that goes harder than you’d ever expect it to go.
“If there were a film version of what German New Wave actually feels like when you listen to it, DER FAN is it.” - Annie Choi, BLEEDING SKULL
I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND
On February 9, 1964, the Beatles made their first live appearance on American television on The Ed Sullivan Show, ratcheting up the frenzy of a fan base whose ecstatic devotion to the band heralded an explosive new wave of youth culture. I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND looks back to that fateful weekend, following six New Jersey teenagers, each with different reasons for wanting to see the Fab Four, on a madcap mission to Manhattan to meet the band and score tickets to the show. This frenetic and madcap debut from Robert Zemeckis showcases the comedic and pop culture-conscious sensibility that underpins and grounds the director’s subsequent career as a master of large-scale, high-concept, and special effects-driven spectacles.
“I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND is a kinetic peek into the world of celebrity-hysteria at its finest, and a major showcase for this first time director, who comes out swinging with the technical prowess of a seasoned professional. Anchored by the great Nancy Allen, who delivers a show-stopping scene involving Paul McCartney's bass guitar, I WANNA HOLD YOUR HAND remains to this day a chaotic wallop of a debut that announced the arrival of one of America’s greatest cinematic treasures, Robert Zemeckis.” - Oscarbate
DER FAN
An essential art-horror experience. Simone (the magnetic Désirée Nosbusch) is a teenage runaway who is obsessed with the pop singer known as "R." Soon, that obsession takes over her life. When "R" uses Simone with machine-like coldness, she plots her revenge with an unholy ceremony that's equally romantic and horrifying. Fueled by a killer minimalist synth soundtrack from Rheingold and a gorgeous design aesthetic, DER FAN is a subversive and electric shocker that goes harder than you’d ever expect it to go.
“If there were a film version of what German New Wave actually feels like when you listen to it, DER FAN is it.” - Annie Choi, BLEEDING SKULL
Coen Brothers
Jerry Lewis
106 + 83 minutes
Two very important looks at American Jewish masculinity in the late twentieth century. Either one of these films alone poses many deep questions. Together, they may contain all the secrets of the universe.
A SERIOUS MAN
The Coen Brothers’ most personal film is a very funny piece of miserabilism about an angst-ridden Jewish professor seeking the answers to life's questions and getting a metaphysical pie in the face. Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a physics professor at a 1960s university, but his life is coming apart at the seams. His wife (Sari Lennick) is leaving him, his jobless brother (Richard Kind) has moved in, and someone is trying to sabotage his chances for tenure. Larry seeks advice from three different rabbis, but whether anyone can help him overcome his many afflictions remains to be seen. Has God abandoned Larry? Has God abandoned us all? We’ll let you know.
CRACKING UP aka SMORGASBORD
Jerry Lewis’s final directorial feature, from 1983, lives up to its title in ways that seem painfully intentional. Jerry stars as the nebbishy Warren Nefron, whose bleak identity is defined by the opening scenes, in which he tries and fails to commit suicide. (The attempts run throughout the film, in set pieces that are among Jerry's best ever.) In despair, Warren sees a psychiatrist whose lame and craven methods only deepen his abyss. The comic tragedy is a bourgeois nightmare: out of work, alone, unloved, physically defenseless, spiritually unmoored, clinically clumsy, devoid of charm, Warren is condemned to life with nothing but the weight of his dark memories. And it’s an absolute lock on any hypothetical Beacon ‘top five funniest films of all time’ list.
“The story of the film is not only impossible to narrate, it is, like poetry, impossible to sum up. It is disjointed, like the first Lewis films, but it is disjointed like any story that obeys the logic of the signifier (and not literary or psychological plausibility). CRACKING UP is a mechanical bachelor, happy to simply and energetically emit signals. It calls out no one. An example? The French translation of the title (“T’es fou, Jerry!”: Jerry, you’re mad!) says it all. But that is still someone – an intimate – observing this state of madness. Whereas CRACKING UP *is* madness.” - Serge Daney, Cahier du Cinema
A SERIOUS MAN
The Coen Brothers’ most personal film is a very funny piece of miserabilism about an angst-ridden Jewish professor seeking the answers to life's questions and getting a metaphysical pie in the face. Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a physics professor at a 1960s university, but his life is coming apart at the seams. His wife (Sari Lennick) is leaving him, his jobless brother (Richard Kind) has moved in, and someone is trying to sabotage his chances for tenure. Larry seeks advice from three different rabbis, but whether anyone can help him overcome his many afflictions remains to be seen. Has God abandoned Larry? Has God abandoned us all? We’ll let you know.
CRACKING UP aka SMORGASBORD
Jerry Lewis’s final directorial feature, from 1983, lives up to its title in ways that seem painfully intentional. Jerry stars as the nebbishy Warren Nefron, whose bleak identity is defined by the opening scenes, in which he tries and fails to commit suicide. (The attempts run throughout the film, in set pieces that are among Jerry's best ever.) In despair, Warren sees a psychiatrist whose lame and craven methods only deepen his abyss. The comic tragedy is a bourgeois nightmare: out of work, alone, unloved, physically defenseless, spiritually unmoored, clinically clumsy, devoid of charm, Warren is condemned to life with nothing but the weight of his dark memories. And it’s an absolute lock on any hypothetical Beacon ‘top five funniest films of all time’ list.
“The story of the film is not only impossible to narrate, it is, like poetry, impossible to sum up. It is disjointed, like the first Lewis films, but it is disjointed like any story that obeys the logic of the signifier (and not literary or psychological plausibility). CRACKING UP is a mechanical bachelor, happy to simply and energetically emit signals. It calls out no one. An example? The French translation of the title (“T’es fou, Jerry!”: Jerry, you’re mad!) says it all. But that is still someone – an intimate – observing this state of madness. Whereas CRACKING UP *is* madness.” - Serge Daney, Cahier du Cinema
