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~~~~~~~ Upstairs ~~~~~~~

The End of the Tour

6:30 & 8:30 each evening
Ends Thursday, September 3

Rated R; 105 minutes


Kate Erbland, Film School Rejects (excerpted)

Based on David Lipsky’s memoir, Although Of Course You End Up Being Yourself and beautifully translated to the screen, The End of the Tour opens with David Foster Wallace’s death, announced to Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg) in the most impersonal ways imaginable: with a phone call, and then a Google search.

Twelve years earlier, Lipsky went out on the road with Wallace (Jason Segel) for a Rolling Stone article. At the time, Lipsky was a writer with two books and a promising gig at the magazine under his belt. Despite his own modest accomplishments, Lipsky couldn’t help but feel inferior to the newly launched star power of David Foster Wallace, whose Infinite Jest riveted the literary world just as Lipsky’s latest all but whimpered through it. Lipsky’s admiration and fear of Wallace were not unique to him or to other writers of his generation, but his reaction was – instead of running from Wallace, he embraced him, pitching a long-form profile of the writer to Rolling Stone and ultimately going out on the road with Wallace for the final five days of his latest book tour.

Wallace, notoriously reticent for attention, approved the interview, and Director James Ponsoldt’s unexpectedly moving and richly rewarding film follows the duo as they make their way around the final leg of the tour, as Lipsky attempts to turn what is essentially one long-running conversation into some kind of journalistic endeavor. Segel, in an unabashed star turn and major pronouncement of his dramatic talents, effectively translates Wallace’s written personality to the big screen, first through sardonic wit, eventually through sharply drawn pain and biting honesty. Segel isn’t doing some kind of aping impersonation here (though he nails Wallace’s cadences and speech patterns in ways that are almost eerie), he simply embodies the role. It’s not mimicry, it’s impression, and the impression is a lasting one.

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Senior Members.......$7.50
Children ~ Under 12......$7.50
Matinees (all seats)......$7.50
VISA M/C Accepted
Checks payable to: “Savoy Theater”

~~~~~~~ Downstairs ~~~~~~~


6:00 & 8:15 each evening
Ends Thursday, September 3

Rated PG-13; 98 minutes
In English & German w/subtitles


A.A. Dowd, The Oninon A.V. Club (excerpted)

Glancing down into the rubble of a collapsed building, Nelly Lenz catches her own reflection in a shard of broken glass and is shocked to discover that she doesn’t recognize the stranger staring back at her. It’s 1945, and Nelly, a Jewish chanteuse emerging from the living hell of Auschwitz, has lost her career, her family, and now her very appearance to the Nazis. The surgeons warned that the disfigured visage they reconstructed—a word of multiple meanings in postwar Germany—might look as unfamiliar to her as the bombed-out Berlin she’s returned to. But there’s really no preparing someone for the shock of unraveling rolls of bandages, only to find someone new waiting underneath. “I don’t exist,” is about all this traumatized survivor can stammer on first glimpse.

That face, so foreign to the character wearing it, belongs in our reality to Nina Hoss, willowy star of the new new German cinema. Phoenix is the sixth film Hoss has made with director Christian Petzold—the others include Jerichow and Barbara—and it’s very much the culmination of their collaboration, rewarding the trust these two artists have placed in each other. Conflating personal and national identity in the aftermath of the war, this classically efficient psychodrama nods to movie history without slavishly imitating it. For what it sets out to accomplish, across a brisk 98 minutes, Petzold’s film feels perfectly judged. And it builds to an ending that’s just plain perfect.

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