With this year’s 60th edition of the Chicago International Film Festival in the books, I’ve completed my screenings for 2024. I viewed seven films in all, which is considerably fewer than in recent years, for a variety of reasons (ballooning ticket costs, venue choices, programming selections and the inclusion of a wealth of films going into general release in the near future). However, unlike last year’s disappointing event with its less than satisfying staging and filmography, I must admit that I’m coming away from this year’s festival very pleasantly surprised. I apparently chose my movie selections well. The organizers still have some work cut out for them on pricing and logistics, but, on balance, this edition was a marked improvement over the 2023 event.

With that said, then, here’s what I screened and what I thought of those films:

“The Missile” (“Ohjus”) (Finland/Estonia) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), Imdb.com (8/10), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site, Trailer

Who would have thought that a reserved, homespun single mother of two married to an abusive imprisoned husband could turn her life around by writing about the dangers of nuclear proliferation? But, if you’re Niina Kuittinen (Oona Airola), a young housewife living in rural Lapland, that’s precisely what happens when she takes a reporting job with a local newspaper and unwittingly stumbles into a story that almost any intrepid journalist would kill for – the crash of an off-course Soviet missile in the Finnish wilderness in 1984. She eagerly investigates the incident, despite limited experience as a reporter, little knowledge of nuclear weapons and resistance from her publisher (Hannu-Pekka Björkman), who doesn’t want to upset the locals with such depressing talk, insisting instead on running only upbeat but innocuous human interest stories. Niina is undeterred, however, throwing herself into a story that garners international attention, regardless of the challenges she faces. In doing so, she grows and matures, finding her footing as a newly empowered woman, as well as finding new love in a handsome, adoring and attentive military man (Pyry Kähkönen). Niina’s transformation gives her purpose and helps her to prepare for the impending release of her incarcerated toxic husband (Tommi Eronen), who returns home promising he’s changed, despite evidence to the contrary. Niina’s new life thus begins, ironically, thanks to her immersion in a devastating subject – but one that ultimately imbues her with a healthier, more realistic outlook on the wider world and the nature of her existence. Writer-director Miia Tervo’s fact-based third feature outing is another of those unexpected cinematic gems that effectively mixes genres in coming up with a delightful and enlightening film. Much of the first half presents a colorful portrait of the protagonist’s hometown, family and neighbors, featuring ample humor that’s decidedly quirky, deliciously deadpan and superbly understated, not unlike the folksy, unassuming laughs prevalent in movies like “Fargo” (1996). But, as Niina’s story unfolds, it takes on more serious overtones as viewers witness the character develop into someone who leaves behind the crippling naivete and obsequiousness that have long been holding her back. Admittedly, the film begins to drag a bit in the last act, needlessly stretching out material that’s easy to predict without having to belabor it. Nevertheless, “The Missile” is one of those pictures that audience members are likely to come away from feeling as though they’ve been warmly welcomed into a community of loving family and friends whom they’ve known for a long time but without the unduly burdensome trappings of schmaltz and sentimentality. And there’s a lot to be said for that, even if it takes a little taste of Armageddon to get us there.

“Transamazonia” (Brazil/France/Germany/Switzerland/Taiwan) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), Imdb.com (8/10), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site, Trailer

The power of faith can be quite incredible when we witness it at work. That’s especially true when miracles occur involving seemingly hopeless cases, outcomes that often vanquish any remaining doubts among even the most implacable skeptics. And it’s interesting to note that those who wholeheartedly embrace this notion and are then able to make use of it in highly practical ways are often themselves the beneficiaries of such divine grace, as the sole survivor of a plane crash in the Amazon rainforest discovers for herself in this engaging morality play. The young girl who miraculously escapes with her life eventually goes on to become a proficient, effective and renowned faith healer (Helena Zengel) who cures the sick of all manner of health conditions at the remote outpost of her charismatic missionary father (superbly portrayed by Jeremy Xido) in the depths of the Brazilian jungle. But can she have the same kind of impact in areas that go beyond our physical well-being? That question arises when the land of local indigenous residents is illegally impinged upon by avaricious, exploitative loggers, resulting in a contentious conflict into which father and daughter are unwittingly drawn. A complex set of circumstances thus emerges that leaves all concerned potentially compromised, especially when mixed motivations and ambiguous revelations surface. Director Pia Marais’s latest feature thoughtfully explores these questions from a variety of angles, judiciously dispensing the diverse elements of this complicated scenario with even pacing and without ever becoming muddled, an accomplishment that simultaneously and solidly retains viewer interest. The film also shines a bright light on the spectacular grandeur of the Amazon ecosystem, as well as the unconscionable environmental atrocities being committed against it, through visuals that are both stunningly beautiful and truly troubling. Admittedly, there are a few story elements and narrative transitions that could have been handled a tad more skillfully, but, on balance, Marais has otherwise meticulously crafted a fine piece of filmmaking that covers a lot of ground without ever feeling as though the picture is trying to do too much. It gives us much to think about, both as spiritual beings and as stewards of the earth, as well as how these two lines of thought intertwine with one another, providing a holistic look at life and our world from both ethereal and practical standpoints. My expectations for “Transamazonia” were most definitely exceeded, and I’m sure many audience members will come away from this one feeling the same way.

“Turning Tables” (“Klandestin”) (Germany) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), Imdb.com (8/10), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site

Movies that tell the same story from multiple standpoints are among my personal favorites. With each retelling, new information is revealed that, when considered collectively, provides viewers with an intriguing tale, almost as if it were a case of putting together the pieces of a puzzle. And that’s precisely what writer-director Angelina Maccarone has expertly accomplished in her latest feature, a thriller told from the perspectives of four characters set against the backdrop of a terrorist bombing in the heart of Frankfurt’s financial district, an incident that hangs over all of them despite not having anything directly to do with any of them. The picture follows the experiences of a young Moroccan refugee (Habib Adda) seeking a better life in Europe who’s unwittingly illegally smuggled onto the continent from Tangiers by his would-be lover (Lambert Wilson), a renowned English painter getting ready for a gallery opening in Frankfurt. As this unexpected, clandestine episode unfolds, the artist seeks the discreet help of his longtime friend, a powerful, influential, and often-cold and roundly disliked conservative German politician (Barbara Sukowa), and her savvy executive aide (Banafshe Hourmazdi), the German-born daughter of Moroccan immigrant parents who’s an expert in European Union law. Their individual stories are presented in chapters devoted to each of them, with a concluding sequence that ties them all together. The film’s masterfully penned screenplay keeps viewers on their toes as the narrative unfolds, leaving us riveted and wondering how events will ultimately play out, particularly the impact that the outcome will have on each of them and a host of supporting players in the shadow of the larger story that has all of Frankfurt on edge. That’s true on multiple levels, too, given that revelation of the picture’s often-public ramifications are driven by highly personal concerns relating to interpersonal affairs, national and ancestral identity, political clout, sexual orientation, and various other considerations, making for complex, multidimensional characters who are effectively brought to life by this offering’s superb ensemble cast. “Turning Tables” is a genuine knock-out, one on par with any of the best thrillers produced by major Hollywood studios and clearly illustrating that many of the contemporary challenges faced by Europeans aren’t all that different from what many of us might like to think of as purely American concerns. Give this one a look, and don’t be surprised if it takes your breath away.

“Two to One” (“Zwei zu eins”) (Germany) (4/5); Letterboxd (4/5), Imdb.com (8/10), TMDB.com (8/10); Web site, Trailer

Stories based on the notion that “truth is stranger than fiction” often provide a great foundation for comedy, and writer-director Natja Brunckhorst’s second feature is evidence of that. This fact-based tale set in 1990 during the transitionary days of German reunification follows the newly uncertain lives of a group of working class residents in the city of Halberstadt as they seek to cope with the emerging social, economic and political paradigm that has been thrust upon them. As their East German homeland is absorbed into its Western counterpart, the socialist nation begins evolving into a new capitalist enclave. But this process is fraught with serious fiscal consequences with hard-hitting impact on East Germany’s citizens, many of whom now find themselves without work and a source of income, prospects that are likely to persist for at least a year, if not longer. And, unless they swap their soon-to-be-worthless East German currency for Deutsch Marks by a fast-approaching deadline, they’ll be without savings and working capital, too. So, in the face of these pressing circumstances, it’s truly ironic that a quartet of financially strapped locals should stumble into a huge stash of East German money that’s been casually disposed of in an underground (and surprisingly easily accessible) bunker, left to decay – and available for the taking. They impulsively grab as much as they can carry, but they’re nevertheless left with the question of what to do with it in the face of the impending exchange deadline. The answer lies in a creative money laundering scheme cleverly cooked up with a host of similarly situated community residents who seek to not only trade in the newly acquired cash without drawing undue attention, but also to expand upon the legitimately scrubbed reserves to build an even larger mutually held nest-egg. Doing so has its share of challenges, though, both economically and personally, yielding more than its share of surprises, conflicts and hearty belly laughs. While the film is a little slow to get started and has a few moments that either could have been eliminated or executed more deftly, “Two to One” otherwise delivers on all fronts. The picture’s fine ensemble cast, crisp writing, catchy soundtrack and spot-on period piece production values mesh well, spinning an inspiring, touching and humorous underdog yarn about hard-pressed everyday folks rising up to address extraordinary circumstances. It’s also a feel good, family-oriented tale told in an unlikely setting under unlikely conditions that are probably little known to those outside of Germany, but one that effectively proves once again that the truth really is often stranger than fiction.

“Alpha.” (Slovenia/Switzerland/Netherlands) (3.5/5); Letterboxd (3.5/5), Imdb.com (7/10), TMDB.com (7/10); Web site

The dynamics of father-son relationships can assume a variety of forms. Some resemble the so-called “best buddy” bonds, while others can be quite toxic. And then there are those that are highly competitive, connections where father and son are constantly (and not necessarily consciously) engaged in an ongoing game of one-upsmanship as each strives to be top dog in the relationship, bonds that frequently (and curiously) exhibit both healthy respect and quiet disdain for one another. That’s very much the case in the relationship between Rein (Reinout Scholten van Aschat), a thoughtful, reserved snowboarding instructor and would-be composer living in the Swiss Alps, who’s paid a visit by his outgoing father, Gijs (Gijs Scholten van Aschat), an actor visiting from the Netherlands. It’s the first time they’ve seen one another since the death of their wife/mother three months earlier, so both are still dealing with their grief (although, admittedly, in very different ways). Nevertheless, there’s hope that this time together will promote a sense of reconnection, reconciliation and healing. However, as their reunion unfolds, the nature of their apparently longstanding competitive relationship gradually surfaces. Gijs unabashedly likes to think he’s the alpha male – a hard-drinking, adventurous, flirtatious man’s man – while Rein sees himself as more introspective, contemplative and politically correct, despite the fact that his passively assertive side routinely emerges, particularly when the two hit the slopes and embark on a challenging mountain climbing expedition. It’s almost as if Junior wants to show up the Old Man while still thinking of himself as the more cool, composed and mature one. But this generational competition takes a decidedly hazardous turn when father and son find themselves in serious danger from the extremes of the elements, conditions that are bigger than both of them. So what’s to become of their connection now, given that their mutual safety has been perilously threatened? Writer-director Jan-Willem van Ewijk’s latest tells a tension-filled tale that, regrettably, all too many fathers and sons have experienced for themselves – not necessarily in terms of the potential physical harm depicted in this scenario, but certainly in terms of the severe emotional disconnect shown here. “Alpha.” examines the contentious dynamics of this duo as they warily attempt to traverse the razor’s edge of their confrontational relationship, an exploration that strays from aggressively playful competition to something seriously dire. It accomplishes this goal with ample deftly handled nuance, successfully avoiding the temptation to become heavy-handed and preachy. In fact, there’s even an air of thought-provoking ambiguity that pervades the narrative, leaving lingering doubts in the minds of viewers as to what’s unfolding while simultaneously reinforcing the troubling nature of bonds like this. These elements are sublimely enhanced by an atmospheric original score and positively gorgeous cinematography, especially in its winter sports footage. While the film is generally economically shot, it tends to be a little stretched out in the final 30 minutes, becoming a tad redundant thematically and photographically. In addition, there are occasions where the back story could have used some shoring up, a tweak that might have helped bolster the picture’s character development. With that said, however, there’s much to compensate for these minor shortcomings, such as the pairing of an actual father-son acting duo in the lead roles, a masterful casting decision that lends an authenticity to the performances that’s undeniable. Indeed, “Alpha.” is one of those rare movies that rings true on so many levels that it may at times be hard to believe that this is a work of fiction, but it achieves that goal so convincingly that one can’t help but be affected by it, especially in the hopes that our own relationships work out better than the one profiled here.

“Párvulos”/a.k.a. “Párvulos: Hijos Del Apocalipsis” (“Toddlers”/a.k.a “Toddlers: Sons of the Apocalypse”) (Mexico) (3.5/5); Letterboxd (3.5/5), Imdb.com (7/10), TMDB.com (7/10); Web site, Trailer

It takes real talent for a filmmaker to successfully combine elements from several different genres in one picture and make the finished product work, but that’s precisely what Mexican writer-director Issac Ezban has done in his latest offering. This post-Apocalyptic sci-fi saga fuses elements of classic horror, smart horror, high camp and zombie tales into an entertaining guilty pleasure that features moments of frightfulness and comedy, as well as heartwarming nods to tender family togetherness (albeit not in the most typical sense). In a world where things have fallen apart due to the effects of an inadequately tested vaccine used in treating the virus behind a global pandemic (a timely touch), those who have managed to stay unaffected have taken refuge in remote hideaways, trying to stave off the diseased monsters that now roam the landscape. Such is the case with three brothers (Mateo Ortega Casillas, Leonardo Cervantes, Farid Escalante Correa) who have holed up in a remote forest house that they found in their wanderings. But, despite their ardent efforts to survive, there are still monsters all about, including in the basement of their new home. “Párvulos” is thus their challenge-ridden tale to stay alive, one filled with terror, as well as unexpected laughs (including a music video parody montage) and a host of strangers who cross their paths, making everyday life perpetually interesting. The story is effectively brought to life with fine performances by the three young actors and inventive cinematography featuring an intriguing palette of black-and-white images tinged with bleak red and green accents, a suitable color scheme befitting the nature of the film and its setting. The use of red, of course, is integral to the ample blood and guts on display here, so sensitive viewers may want to take heed, although such gratuitousness is wholly appropriate for the tenor of the narrative, often enhancing the campy aspects of this story. Perhaps my only issue with this release is that its script sometimes meanders somewhat more than I’d like, with certain plot developments seemingly emerging out of left field – not that they’re ill-conceived, but their appearance feels a little more happenstance than expected. Still in all, this multi-genre offering is a ghoulishly fun romp with a macabre sense of humor, good scares and a few surprisingly heart-tugging moments. And, with a combination of qualities like that, what more could anyone ask for?

“The Sparrow in the Chimney” (“Der Spatz im Kamin”) (Switzerland) (1/5); Letterboxd (0.5/5), Imdb.com (1/10), TMDB.com (1/10); Web site, Trailer

To be blunt, I really dislike arthouse films that give the genre a bad name, yet writer-director Ramon Zürcher’s third feature outing regrettably does just that. This pretentious, meandering exercise in allegedly profound cinema falls flat shortly after it begins and never recovers, growing ever more pointless, unfocused and self-important as it unfolds. Set in the rural childhood home of two very different and quietly combative sisters (Maren Eggert, Britta Hammelstein), the film follows the events associated with a birthday celebration involving the siblings and their families. As the festivities (if they can be called that) begin to play out, however, it quickly becomes apparent that this party will go anything but smoothly given its cast of largely reprehensible characters, nearly all of whom utter their hate-filled insults with stoically deadpan monotone delivery. This examination of a seriously troubled family, in turn, increasingly draws heavily from “The Big Book of Domestic Dysfunctional Drama,” with virtually every character possessing a crippling physical and/or psychological disorder, qualities that shape their pervasively ugly demeanors. This hodgepodge of elements is thus employed in a futile attempt to build some type of cohesive narrative, presumably in an effort to depict the descent into madness. But this goal is never adequately realized, thanks in large part to a wealth of superficial, pedestrian dialogue that tries mightily to pass itself off as enigmatically “meaningful” and several preposterous surreal segments that are all show and no substance, sequences that resemble scenes out of “Carrie” (1976) or “Firestarter” (1984) if those films had been directed by Ingmar Bergman. And, no matter how much the filmmaker seeks to cover up these innate weaknesses by embellishing them with stunning still life cinematography, the strains of atmospheric classical music and long, lingering facial close-ups, the overall mix of elements just doesn’t work, growing progressively more muddled, laughable and tedious as this tiresome offering wears on…and on…and on. To make matters worse, though, the film also incorporates some positively repugnant images, such as a young woman slicing up her bloody hand on a cheese grater and a cat being locked into a washing machine that’s subsequently switched on, a shamefully disgusting sequence that’s wholly uncalled for, regardless of how simulated it may have been. It’s beyond me how this disastrous project got the green light to begin with, but this is handily one of the worst films of 2024, one that doesn’t deserve whatever attention and accolades it may erroneously garner.

Copyright © 2024, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.