October 21–28, 1999

movies

Screen Picks

Other People’s Movies in Concert (Fri., Oct. 22, doors at 7:30 p.m., show at 8 p.m., The Print Center, 1614 Latimer St., 215-735-6090) Continuing its evolution from cinematic trash-picker to multimedia impresario, Secret Cinema presents another installment in its series of "abandoned home movies," this time with a five-piece band. Dubbed "The Secret Cinema Symposium," the ad hoc orchestra represents a singular meeting of the minds: Where else would you see a Wishniak hit the stage with a Dead Milkman? (The full lineup: Andrew Chalfen, Joe Genaro, Dave Schneck, Joseph Siwinski and Ed Urmston.) Like you, we have no idea what to expect from this unique event — but it’s worth going to find out.

The Winslow Boy(Sat., Oct. 23, 7 p.m., Film Forum, 509 S. Broad St., 215-732-7704) Fans of David Mamet’s recent adaptation will want to check out this original screen version from 1948. Starring Robert Donat, Margaret Leighton, Sir Cedric Hardwicke and Frank Lawton, the script was expanded by playwright Terence Rattigan for the film version. With The Man in the White Suit at 9:30.

Les Vampires (Sun., Oct. 24, 8 p.m.-4 a.m., Turner Classic Movies) (pictured) As a prelude to its "Week of Terror," TCM presents this rare airing of Louis Feuillade’s 1915 10-part serial in all its glory. An inspiration for everyone from Fritz Lang to Charles Ludlum to Olivier Assayas, the series details the adventures of a gang of Parisian criminals (not actually vampires, but creepy nonetheless) led by the menacing, mysterious Irma Vep (try rearranging those letters). Full of beheadings, poison pens, secret passages and intrepid reporters — which means get an 8-hour tape and set your VCR.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Sun., Oct. 24, 11 a.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St., 215-569-9700) The first in a series of "Classic Film Brunches" at the Prince. Perhaps the greatest girl-meets-cat love story ever filmed, Breakfast is notable for being the only half-decent movie Blake Edwards ever directed. Seeing it a year ago, I was struck by two things: Mickey Rooney’s mind-bogglingly offensive caricature of a Chinese landlord, and the subtle blend of stylization and heartbreak in Audrey Hepburn’s performance. Her Holly Golightly is a delicate creature, teetering on the brink between dreaming dreams and withdrawing into them, but she’s more than a lovelorn lost soul. She’s an idealist, and a woman who sets her own terms. Take that, Ally McBeal.

—Sam Adams