Seven Chances (Thu., July 11, 9 p.m., 40th Street Field, 40th between Walnut and Locust, www.voicenet.com/~jschwart) Secret Cinema’s series of movies under the stars continues with a presentation of Buster Keaton’s matrimonial farce, in which he’s promised a million smackers, but only if he weds by that evening. The outdoor screening will also feature live accompaniment by SC mainstay Don Kinnier.

French Pop Festival (Fri., July 12, 8 p.m., Fri., July 19, 7:30 p.m., $5, International House, 3701 Chestnut St., 215-895-6575, www.voicenet.com/~jschwart) Love the French or hate them (OK, does anyone love them?), you can’t deny that they’ve given us some pretty swell movies, and some pretty goofy music, over the years. And what with Bastille Day fast approaching, what better time to celebrate both (and maybe offer some apologies for that whole Vivendi mess as well). Secret Cinema’s two-day festival of all things frog aims both high and low, though you’ll have to make your own decisions about which night is which. This Friday, it’s Jean-Luc Godard in the spotlight, with screenings of his Masculin-Féminin (a fairly battered print) and the obscure short All the Boys Are Called Patrick. M-F offers a window into Godard’s obliquely didactic later years, with its series of loosely connected vignettes and erudite digressions.

All the Boys… is a genuine curiosity, a 1959 collaboration between Godard and Eric Rohmer, whose later work could not have gone in two more disparate directions. At this early stage, Rohmer, who wrote the script, seems like the clear victor; the cuts are neat and orderly, the dialogue precocious, the romantic betrayal -- the story concerns a young draguer who picks up two roommates on the same day -- played for laughs. But hints of Godard’s pop obsession creep through, like the prophetic pop tune on the radio in the first scene, or the James Dean poster prominently featured in the girls’ apartment. That obsession blossomed of course, not least in M-F, which stars chanteuse Chantal Goya and features cameos by Françoise Hardy and Brigitte Bardot, whom Godard had already exploited as a pop icon in Contempt. (He mysteriously neglects to make a metaphysical issue of her ass here.) Tickets for the film get you $3 admission to the White Dog Cafe’s Bastille Day block party.

The following week, it’s a reprise of SC’s popular Scopitone program, which resurrects reels from what was essentially a film jukebox in use in France in the early- to mid-’60s. Theoretically, these filmed clips are precursors to the rock video, but in practice they’re even more bizarre, since not even their commercial logic always lines up. A handful of well-known performers like Hardy, Sylvie Vartan and Johnny Hallyday make appearances, and then there’s a Tijuana Brass clip directed by none other than Robert Altman. (This is way before his theatrical film career, so don’t expect any elaborate tracking shots or gliding zooms.) The best entries, though, are those that make the least amount of sense, including a handful of performers whose identities remain as unfathomable as the fact that people once spent money to hear them. The screening is followed by a free night of French pop, Ye Ye and otherwise, at L’Hexagone (1718 Sansom St.) featuring the turntablism of DJ Silvia.

Rediscovering William Wyler and Fred Zinnemann (begins Sun., July 14, County Theater, 20 E. State St., Doylestown, 215-345-6789, www.countytheater.org) Neither William Wyler (The Best Years of Our Lives, Ben-Hur) nor Fred Zinnemann (High Noon, From Here to Eternity) exactly qualifies as a forgotten director, but they’re both Hollywood loyalists whose self-effacing craftsmanship proved a tad resistant to the auteur theory. (They’re the kind of studio royalty whose reputations auteurism helped diminish.) The program includes screenings of Wyler’s The Letter (Sun., July 14, 4:15 p.m.; Wed., July 17, 7 p.m.; Thu., July 18, 4:15 p.m.) and Zinneman’s A Man for All Seasons (Wed., July 17, 4:15 p.m.; Sun., July 21, 4:15 p.m.; Mon., July 22, 7 p.m.), along with a lecture by County regular Warren Day on Mon., July 15 at 7 p.m. (Day will also introduce and lead discussions after the July 17 and 22 screenings.) Wyler’s over-baked Letter seems in particular like a strange film to represent a director most frequently acclaimed for his naturalism, but individual films deserve rehabilitation just as much as directors do.

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September 23, 2004
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