7 p.m., Egyptian
Every Little Step
In 1974, 18 years before MTV first assembled a group of comically mismatched 20-somethings and videotaped them being real, choreographer Michael Bennett gathered 22 Broadway dancers late one night, set a tape recorder running, and asked them to talk about their lives. They did, telling moving tales of their career struggles, troubled childhoods, and sexual awakenings. Those stories, shaped by Bennett and his collaborators, became A Chorus Line, which opened at the Public Theater the next year, soon transferred to Broadway, and ran there for a then-unprecedented 15 years. James D. Stern and Adam Del Deo's documentary juxtaposes the casting process for the 2006 revival with the affecting story of A Chorus Line's creation. Following several performers as they audition for the revival, the doc's approach is designed, one presumes, to attract a wider audience in the era of reality entertainment. But while that meshes nicely with the arc of the musical itself—about dancers going through a grueling interview process to earn a spot on the line—we never learn enough about the individual subjects to care about their stories. For Chorus Line fans, though, the documentary—executive produced, it's worth noting, by theatrical superlawyer John Breglio, who also produced the revival and controls Bennett's estate—is a singular sensation, filled with behind-the-scenes backstory and archival clips of Bennett himself dancing, gorgeously. Then there are those original interview tapes, kept under lock and key for 35 years, with the dancers speaking the words that, up until now, you've known only as lyrics. (PG-13) JESSE OXFELD
Courtesy of SIFF
OSS 117: Lost in Rio
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10 p.m., Harvard Exit
Kaifeck Murder
Imagine our beloved former Sonics mascot Squatch stripped of his jersey and equipped with oversized wooden choppers and bells dangling from his ass. You'd get something like the Perchta, a hairy monster of Bavarian folklore (and the brothers Grimm) that's supposed to scare the devil out of German villages. Answering only to his wife, Frau Perchta, this mythical creature may be real in Kaifeck Murder. Or it may just be a costume worn by the villagers of Kaifeck during tourist season. Or it may be the unhinged imagination of visiting photographer Marc (Benno Fürmann), who arrives with his 10-year-old son in foggy midwinter, when the village is essentially closed down. But at night the Perchta appears in Marc's dreams, along with bloody murders and mysterious figures roaming the woods. Could they all be connected to an abandoned old farmhouse whose inhabitants were slain there 80 years earlier? Kennen sie nicht der Novellen von Stephen King? Of course you do, but Kaifeck Murder is a pale imitation of the master. With an easily guessed plot, there's not enough gore, suspense, or Wicker Man pagan mischief to make this movie worth the bother. But I'm glad Squatch has found a new gig. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: 4:30 p.m. Sun., June 14.
Sunday, June 14
6:30 p.m., Cinerama
PICK: OSS 117: Lost in Rio
Considered as a film alone, this sequel to the delightful French 2006 retro-spy romp now wears its premise rather thin. But add the closing-night gala party at the nearby Pan Pacific Hotel... well, it's just barely a pick. Agent OSS 117 (Jean Dujardin) is back, but he's stumbled forward from the early Cold War espionage period (James Bond) to the late '60s (perilously close to Austin Powers). Dispatched to Brazil to retrieve some damning microfilm from Nazis, our blithely arrogant dimwit hero encounters hippies, Jews (including a sexy Mossad agent played by Louise Monot), Chinese assassins, and loud-mouthed CIA bullies. And, yes, Hubert manages to offend them all with his oblivious, De Gaullist notions of patriarchal French superiority. But we got that joke the first time. After a ski-lodge dance party intro, Hubert's antics—and all the split-screen Thomas Crown Affair montages—become progressively less hilarious, allowing you to study the perfect period costumes and background decor. Hubert's lapels are wider, ladies' skirts are shorter, men's hair is longer, and strange new polyester fabrics now come in burnt oranges, bright mustards, and startling mauves. Much to his chagrin, the world is changing around Hubert. Still, he clings to the old ways. When the Mossad hottie lists his many imperfections—"You're old, full of yourself, borderline racist..."—he hears only one criticism, and sounds genuinely hurt by it: "A tacky dresser?" (NR) BRIAN MILLER
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