Theater Buzz Archives – Laemmle Theatres

The Architecture of Influence: Assayas’ ‘The Wizard of the Kremlin’

May 5, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Power rarely announces itself outright; more often, it is constructed—carefully, incrementally, and just out of view. In The Wizard of the Kremlin, director Olivier Assayas turns to the machinery behind modern political mythmaking, tracing how influence is shaped not only through force, but through narrative. Adapted from Giuliano da Empoli’s widely discussed novel, the film approaches recent Russian history less as a fixed record than as something actively being authored, revised, and performed. The result is a work that peers behind the curtain to examine the uneasy relationship between image and authority.

Tune into Inside the Arthouse to hear Assayas dissect his latest film with co-hosts Greg Laemmle and Raphael Sbarge, or catch it in theaters beginning May 15th at the Monica, Town Center, and NoHo 7.

At the center of the film’s world is Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano), a former artist whose creative instincts find an unexpected outlet in the realm of political strategy. Through his eyes, the film moves from the cultural upheavals of the late Soviet period into the consolidating power structures of the Putin era. Baranov is less an ideologue than an architect, someone who understands that, in a media-saturated age, perception can be even more decisive than policy.

If Baranov provides the film’s perspective, it is Jude Law’s Vladimir Putin who supplies its gravitational pull. Eschewing caricature, Law delivers a performance that captures the controlled, often inscrutable presence of a leader who communicates as much through restraint as through declaration. Small gestures—a pause, a glance, the measured calibration of distance—become telling indicators of authority. Rather than attempting to decode the man entirely, the film uses these moments to suggest how power can be projected through absence as much as through expression.

Assayas, whose previous films—from Clouds of Sils Maria to Personal Shopper—have explored identity and performance in more intimate contexts, here scales those concerns up to the level of geopolitics. His collaboration with writer Emmanuel Carrère foregrounds dialogue and ideas, particularly in the film’s extended exchanges between Baranov and the many oligarchs, financiers, and political operatives who orbit him. These conversations, often laced with dark humor, become the film’s engine, illustrating how competing ambitions gradually coalesce into a singular, rigid system.

In this sense, The Wizard of the Kremlin positions itself less as a definitive account than as an inquiry into how such accounts are formed. It suggests that the real story lies not only in what happened, but in how those events were framed, disseminated, and ultimately absorbed. For viewers drawn to political dramas that prioritize ideas alongside performance, the film offers a dense, thought-provoking exploration of power that resonates beyond its immediate setting.

“A sharply-written, and often surprisingly funny, look at power in one of the most unique nation-states in the world.” – Chris Harrison, Shifter Magazine

“Essential viewing for understanding the highly sophisticated workings of a totalitarian propaganda state.” – Travis Jeppesen, BFI

‘The Man Who Fell to Earth’ Returns to Big Screens Uncut

May 5, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Laemmle Theaters and the Anniversary Classics Series present two screenings of the provocative and lyrical sci-fi classic, Nicolas Roeg’s The Man Who Fell to Earth, which marked pop superstar David Bowie’s debut in a lead role on the big screen.

For the film’s 50th anniversary, it will screen Wednesday, May 20, at Laemmle’s NoHo at 7 p.m.; and Wednesday, May 27, at Laemmle’s Royal at 7 p.m. Oscar-nominated actress Candy Clark will appear at both screenings to share memories of her co-star, the director, and her long film career.

The film was adapted by Paul Mayersberg from the novel by Walter Tevis, who also wrote the novel that inspired Paul Newman’s classic, The Hustler. Rip Torn, Buck Henry, and Bernie Casey co-star in the film. Bowie plays a visitor from a distant planet who travels to Earth to find water for his dying planet. He quickly amasses great wealth as an industrialist, but his plans are scotched by a couple of devious antagonists as well as by his love affair with a good-hearted woman played by Clark.

Roeg did the celebrated 2nd unit photography on the Oscar-winning masterpiece from 1962, Lawrence of Arabia. He went on to be the chief cinematographer on such films as Roger Corman’s The Masque of the Red Death, John Schlesinger’s Far From the Madding Crowd, and Richard Lester’s Petulia, among other films. He made his directorial debut (sharing credit with Donald Cammell) on the 1970 cult favorite, Performance, which introduced another pop music icon, Mick Jagger, to dramatic filmmaking. Roeg made his solo directing debut on the exquisite Australian adventure, Walkabout, and followed with the classic thriller, Don’t Look Now, starring Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland.

Cinematographer Anthony Richmond, who worked with Roeg on Don’t Look Now, joined him again on The Man Who Fell to Earth. Shot mainly in New Mexico, the film was again notable for its striking visual style. The music for the film was coordinated by John Phillips of The Mamas and the Papas, with original score by Japanese composer Stomu Yamash-ta.

Most of Roeg’s films divided the critics, and this one was no exception, though it boasted a series of extraordinary reviews. At the time of its release, Richard Eder of The New York Times declared, “There are quite a few science-fiction movies scheduled to come out in the next year or so. We shall be lucky if even one or two are as absorbing and as beautiful as The Man Who Fell to Earth.” The New Yorker’s Pauline Kael wrote a mixed review of the film in 1976 but described Bowie as “the most romantic figure in recent pictures, the modern version of the James Dean lost-boy myth.” Years later, Joshua Rothkopf of Time Out confirmed Eder’s evaluation and called The Man Who Fell to Earth “the most intellectually provocative genre film of the 1970s.”

Robert Hawkins of Variety added to the praise for the film: “Bowie’s choice as the ethereal visitor is inspired… Candy Clark, as his naïve but loving mate, confirms the winning ways that won her an Oscar nom in American Graffiti… Her intimate scenes with Bowie… are among the pic’s highlights.”

One of these sex scenes, in which the two played with guns, led the distributor to cut some 20 minutes from the film before the 1976 release. This scene and others were restored when Rialto took over the release, and Laemmle will be screening the uncut version at both anniversary screenings.

Candy Clark earned her Oscar nomination for her warm portrayal of a local girl in George Lucas’s nostalgic breakthrough film, American Graffiti, in 1973. Her other movies include John Huston’s Fat City, Jonathan Demme’s Citizens Band, Blue Thunder, At Close Range, The Informant, and a wide range of television appearances over the decades. At both screenings Ms. Clark will participate in Q&As following the screenings, and will sign and sell her recent book of star photos, Tight Heads.

Modern Love, Unfiltered: The Bold Charm of ‘Two Women’

April 28, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

There’s a mischievous spark at the heart of Two Women, a film that takes a familiar setup—restless relationships, suburban routines—and flips it into something unexpectedly playful, warm, and quietly subversive. Directed with a light but assured touch by Chloé Robichaud, this Montreal-set comedy finds humor and honesty in the messiness of modern love.

Catch Two Women in theaters beginning May 1st at the Laemmle Monica and Town Center, followed by a special screening and Q&A hosted by Not Your Daddy’s Films following the 7:10 p.m. show on May 2nd at the Monica.

The story centers on two neighbors, Violette and Florence, who form an unspoken bond over their shared dissatisfaction at home. Violette, adjusting to new motherhood, finds herself adrift in a marriage that has lost all sense of intimacy, while Florence, navigating her own partner’s lack of libido, feels similarly disconnected. Their apartments may only be a balcony apart, but emotionally, they’ve both been stranded for some time.

What follows isn’t subtle: both women begin having affairs, embarking on a string of clandestine hookups that quickly spiral into something both comedic and unexpectedly revealing. Yet what might sound like a setup for moralizing instead plays out with a surprising lightness, for rather than framing this infidelity as purely destructive, Two Women treats it as a catalyst—messy, impulsive, and often funny—for the characters to confront what’s missing in their lives and to begin to discover what they actually want.

At the center of it all are two standout performances. Karine Gonthier-Hyndman brings a subtle emotional evolution to Florence, charting her journey from quiet detachment to a more awakened, self-assured presence. Opposite her, Laurence Leboeuf gives Violette a lively, layered warmth, balancing the character’s natural humor with an undercurrent of vulnerability. Together, they create a dynamic that feels genuinely lived-in, less like a traditional movie friendship and more like something instinctive and real.

Robichaud’s direction keeps the tone buoyant even as the film brushes up against larger questions about relationships, expectations, and autonomy. There’s a sense that Two Women is less interested in offering definitive answers than in simply letting its characters explore the questions themselves. That openness extends to the film’s humor, which leans into awkwardness and absurdity without ever losing sight of its characters’ humanity.

Ultimately, Two Women is a film about connection: between friends, between partners, and (perhaps most importantly) with oneself. It’s playful without being trivial, thoughtful without being heavy, and anchored by performances that make every twist feel earned. In a landscape where stories about relationships often follow well-worn paths, this one finds its own rhythm—and invites audiences to enjoy the ride.

“[The film’s] reflections on modern relationships are engagingly comical, cynical and ultimately tender. ” – Allan Hunter, Screen Daily

“[Two Women is] unafraid of sex and female pleasure in a way that feels so rare in modern films.” – Jesse Saunders, Movie Jawn

‘Our Land’ and the Weight of History

April 28, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

What does it mean to look at a landscape not as scenery, but as evidence? In Our Land (also known as Landmarks), acclaimed filmmaker Lucrecia Martel turns her attention to terrain that carries the weight of centuries, where questions of ownership, memory, and identity remain unsettled. Best known for her formally adventurous fiction work, Martel takes au uncharacteristically direct approach here, but this shift in style reveals a different kind of precision, one rooted not in ambiguity but in accumulation. What begins as a seemingly isolated account of violence gradually expands into a meditation on how history persists, often invisibly, through the ground beneath our feet.

Catch Our Land in theaters beginning May 8th at the Laemmle Monica.

Set in Argentina’s Tucumán Province, the film centers on the 2009 killing of Indigenous community leader Javier Chocobar and the long-delayed trial that followed. Yet Our Land resists the conventions of a straightforward procedural, as rather than guiding the viewer step-by-step through an endless slog of legal arguments, Martel immerses us in a dense, sometimes disorienting flow of testimony, observation, and lived experience. The effect is less about clarifying every detail than about placing us inside a complex system in which power, prejudice, and historical erasure shape not only outcomes, but the very terms of understanding.

What emerges most vividly is the presence of the Chuschagasta community itself. Through a blend of interviews, archival photographs, and extended moments of reflection, the film builds a layered portrait of a people whose connection to the land predates the structures now used to dispossess them. Chocobar’s widow, Antonia, becomes a central voice, articulating both her own personal loss as well as the broader history that too often gets excluded from official narratives. Her testimony, clear-eyed and unsentimental, anchors the film’s emotional core while opening outward onto questions that extend far beyond this particular case.

Visually, Martel finds unexpected ways to animate this history. The film’s recurring drone imagery, at once fluid, searching, and occasionally unstable, transforms the landscape into something both expansive and contested. These sweeping aerial views do more than situate the story geographically; they suggest a perspective that hovers between observation and implication, as if the land itself were bearing witness to its own methodical desecration. Even moments of disruption—a sudden collision, an abrupt descent—feel integrated into a larger design, reinforcing the tension between control and unpredictability that runs throughout the film.

If Our Land departs from the formal experimentation of Martel’s earlier work, it does so in service of clarity rather than compromise. The film’s restraint and refusal to simplify nuanced issues becomes a quiet strength, allowing the voices at its center to carry the full weight of the story. In doing so, it transforms what might initially appear as a specific legal case into an enduring record of resistance, a reclamation of narrative, and a reminder that the past is rarely as distant as it seems.

“A slow-burning, increasingly incensed unraveling of a horrific murder case underpinned by colonialist privilege and prejudice.” – Guy Lodge, Variety

“Above all, [Martel] lets the people tell their own story.” – Jonathan Romney, Screen Daily

“A searing and detailed chronicle of murder, bigotry and robbery on a massive scale.” – Jordan Mintzer, The Hollywood Reporter

All the Right Notes: ‘Two Pianos’ and the Music of Complicated Love

April 21, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

There’s a certain kind of cinematic romance that doesn’t just tug at the heartstrings: It yanks them, bends them, and occasionally snaps them altogether. Two Pianos, a lush and emotionally charged drama from Arnaud Desplechin, belongs squarely in that tradition, treating love, memory, and music with the same heightened intensity as a symphony reaching its crescendo.

Catch Two Pianos in theaters beginning May 1st at the Laemmle Royal.

At the film’s center is Mathias, a gifted pianist whose return to his hometown of Lyon sets multiple strands of his life into motion at once. Played with sensitivity and restraint by François Civil, Mathias is a man caught between multiple versions of himself: the rising talent he once was, the underachieving teacher he has become, and the artist he might still be. His reunion with his formidable former mentor Elena—brought to life with imperious precision by Charlotte Rampling—pulls him back toward the stage, even as his personal life threatens to spiral in less controlled directions.

That personal life arrives with a jolt in the form of Claude, an old flame whose sudden reappearance sends the film into a kind of emotional overdrive. Nadia Tereszkiewicz plays her as mercurial and magnetic, someone who can shift from vulnerability to volatility in a heartbeat. What follows between her and Mathias is less a rekindling than a collision, two people circling unresolved feelings with a mixture of longing, regret, and lovestruck impulsivity.

Desplechin leans fully into this heightened register, crafting a story that moves with the unpredictability of memory itself. Chance encounters carry the weight of destiny; small gestures erupt into grand declarations. There are even fleeting touches of the uncanny, as Mathias becomes fixated on a young boy who seems to mirror his own past, adding another layer to the film’s fascination with doubling.

Yet for all its dramatic flourishes, Two Pianos remains grounded by its deep connection to music. The performances, both literal and emotional, are inseparable from the rhythms of the score, which pulses through the film with a restless energy. Classical pieces intertwine with an evocative original composition, creating a soundscape that cleverly mirrors the turbulence of the characters’ inner lives.

Visually, the film is just as expressive. Cinematographer Paul Guilhaume captures Lyon in rich, shifting tones, moving from shadowy interiors to crisp autumnal light, as if the city itself were responding to the characters’ emotional journeys. The effect is immersive without being overstated, allowing the story’s intensity to breathe and stretch its versatile narrative limbs.

If Two Pianos feels like it’s playing multiple melodies at once, that’s part of its design. It’s a film about divided selves and second chances, about the pull of the past and the risk of moving forward. And like any memorable piece of music, it lingers—not because it resolves every note, but because it dares to play them at full volume.

“Desplechin draws something liminal from a specific sense of place.” – Sheri Linden, The Hollywood Reporter

“[An] earnestly inflamed tale of art, grief, betrayal and all-consuming amour.” – Guy Lodge, Variety

A Life Unfiltered: ‘I Swear’ and the Story of John Davidson

April 21, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

There’s a familiar shape to many “inspiring true story” films, but I Swear finds a way to delicately reshape that mold into something more personal, more unpredictable, and ultimately more humane. Based on the life of Tourette syndrome advocate John Davidson, this BAFTA award-winning film traces one man’s journey from confusion and isolation to self-acceptance and public advocacy without ever reducing him to a symbol.

Catch I Swear in theaters beginning April 24th at the Laemmle Royal, Newhall, and Town Center locations.

What distinguishes I Swear is its commitment to portraying not only what John experiences, but how he experiences it. His Tourette syndrome isn’t treated as a narrative device or a source of easy sentiment, but as a constant, complicated presence. The film allows for laughter, but never at the expense of John’s dignity. Instead, it invites audiences to sit with the uneasy tension between humor and hardship, asking when we laugh, why we laugh, and who gets to decide.

At the film’s center is Robert Aramayo, delivering a performance of remarkable sensitivity and control. He captures both the physical unpredictability of John’s condition and the emotional steadiness that defines him, creating a character who feels fully lived-in rather than performed. It’s a balancing act that could easily tip into caricature, but Aramayo keeps it grounded, ensuring that John’s inner life remains front and center.

Director Kirk Jones approaches the material with a clear respect for both his subject and the audience. The storytelling is straightforward, but never simplistic. Moments of pain—whether social rejection, misunderstanding, or outright cruelty—are counterbalanced by instances of connection and support. The film is especially attuned to the role that community plays in shaping John’s life, highlighting the people who choose empathy over judgment and, in so doing, help redefine what’s possible.

In the end, I Swear is less about overcoming than it is about being seen. It’s about carving out space in a world that isn’t always ready to make room, and about finding strength not in silence, but in expression, however unpredictable that expression may be.

“The film wrestles enthusiastically and mostly successfully with the potential pitfalls of making a funny yet respectful project about a condition that sometimes lends itself to laughter, even as it wreaks havoc with Davidson’s life in serious ways.” – Catherine Bray, Variety

“Its mix of compassion and clarity allows it to avoid the easy sentimentality of similar tales.” – Ross McIndoe, Slant Magazine

“Aramayo’s sensitive portrayal of the man and Jones’ unflinching dedication to showing some of Davidson’s most painful moments… add up to an insightful biopic that chronicles a very worthy subject.” – Kate Erbland, IndieWire

Laemmle Theatres Reacquires the NoHo 7, Securing the Future of Independent Film in North Hollywood

April 15, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle 2 Comments

We at Laemmle Theatres are proud to announce that we have reacquired the Laemmle NoHo 7, restoring the theater to family ownership and reaffirming our long-standing commitment to showcasing independent, foreign, and arthouse cinema throughout Los Angeles.

Laemmle Theatres Reacquires the NoHo 7, Securing the Future of Independent Film in North Hollywood — “North Hollywood” by Jeremy Thompson on Flickr

Though we were fortunate enough to continue operating the NoHo 7 throughout its sale and subsequent ownership transition (something many moviegoers may not have even realized), this moment marks our renewed investment in a theater that has remained an active and cherished part of our local circuit.

While navigating the unprecedented challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic, when uncertainty loomed over the exhibition industry as a whole, we made the difficult decision to sell the property. At the time, with theaters shuttered and recovery far from guaranteed, the move felt necessary to stabilize operations and protect the company’s future.

“We were under immense pressure to reduce debt and preserve equity… There was no relief in sight,” said Greg Laemmle, Owner and President of Laemmle Theatres, while reflecting on the original sale. “As much as I hated to let [the NoHo 7] go, at the time it felt like the only way to keep the business afloat. Thankfully, it was a risk that seems to have paid off.”

In the years since, the site’s new owners explored various redevelopment plans, even securing approvals for a mixed-use residential and retail project. Meanwhile, we continued operating the theater on a short-term basis, often without much clarity beyond a couple of months at a time. “It was a precarious stretch for sure,” admitted general manager Guy Valdez. “I’m definitely looking forward to not having to wonder whether someone might step in and pull the plug on us.”

Late last year, following the sale of our Claremont location, we began exploring opportunities to reinvest in a new property. Around that same time, discussions with the NoHo 7’s ownership resumed. While it wasn’t immediately clear that a deal could be reached, momentum built quickly until by early March 2026 we had finalized an agreement to bring the theater back into the Laemmle family—or ‘faemmle’, as we like to say.

“This reacquisition represents more than a real estate transaction,” Laemmle went on. “It’s a reaffirmation of purpose. With ownership comes stability, and with stability comes the ability to plan ahead: to book films with confidence, to host festivals and special screenings, and to deepen our ties to the filmmaking community and audiences alike.”

“Most immediately, it is great knowing that we are back in control, and that we can commit to films, screenings, and festivals beyond just a 60-day window,” added Senior Vice President Jay Reisbaum. “Our commitment to NoHo is rooted in a long-standing belief in the neighborhood itself. The theater’s proximity to the North Hollywood Metro station makes it one of the most accessible venues in our circuit, and we’ve long seen the neighborhood’s lofty potential as a cultural hub. So while the district is still finding its footing post-pandemic, we remain optimistic about its future and are excited to continue growing alongside it.”

For the real-life family behind this long-enduring family business, this moment also carries a deeper emotional significance in the wake of patriarch Robert Laemmle’s passing in January 2025. A lifelong champion of independent and international cinema and predecessor to his son Greg at the company’s helm, Bob helped shape Laemmle Theatres into one of the most respected exhibition platforms of its kind. Reacquiring the NoHo 7 is, in many ways, a tribute to that legacy, a commitment to ensuring that filmmakers have a place to share their work, and audiences a place to discover it.

Looking ahead, our focus is simple. There are no plans to redevelop the site or change its purpose. The NoHo 7 will remain what it has always aimed to be: a home for movies that might not otherwise have one. With your support, we believe the NoHo 7 can continue to be a vibrant destination for independent film in Los Angeles and a cornerstone of the NoHo Arts District’s ongoing renaissance.

“We will be showing movies,” Laemmle put it best. “That’s what Laemmles do.”

No Silence, No Sponsors: Amy Goodman and ‘Steal This Story, Please!’

April 15, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

At a moment when the boundaries of journalism feel increasingly unstable, Steal This Story, Please! makes a compelling case for returning to the fundamentals. The documentary follows Amy Goodman across decades of reporting, but it resists the familiar arc of a career retrospective. Instead, it focuses on the daily discipline of the work itself: the persistence required to ask difficult questions, to verify what others would rather obscure, and to keep attention fixed where it is most needed. Directors Carl Deal and Tia Lessin frame their subject not as an outlier, but as a practitioner, someone committed to a method in a media landscape that often rewards speed over substance.

Tune into Inside the Arthouse to catch Amy Goodman and co-directors Carl Deal and Tia Lessin discuss their latest work with co-hosts Greg Laemmle and Raphael Sbarge, or come see it live beginning April 15-17th at the Laemmle NoHo, Royal, and Glendale theaters, kicked off by a series of post-viewing Q&As.

What distinguishes the film is its emphasis on process. Rather than assembling a greatest-hits reel, it lingers on how reporting actually gets made: the calls, the research, the careful construction of segments piece by piece. This attention to labor grounds the film, turning “independent media” from an abstract label into something concrete and observable. Through archival footage and present-day scenes, the documentary collapses time, suggesting that the pressures journalists face—political, corporate, cultural, and more—are less cyclical than continuous.

The portrait that emerges is neither hagiographic nor detached. Goodman’s on-air clarity is paired with glimpses of the toll such work can take: the physical risks of field reporting, the emotional weight of bearing witness, the constant recalibration required to maintain focus in a shifting news environment. Yet the film also makes space for the little moments of humor, collaboration, and shared purpose that sustain such work over time. The newsroom is not presented as a platform for a single voice, but as a collective effort shaped by many hands.

Running beneath it all is a larger argument about what journalism is for. The film challenges the notion that neutrality requires distance, instead suggesting that rigor and empathy can (and perhaps must) coexist. By centering those most affected by policy and power, Goodman’s approach offers a different kind of orientation, one that prioritizes context over spectacle and accountability over access.

If the title carries a note of provocation, the film earns it. Steal This Story, Please! is less concerned with ownership than with circulation, an insistence that information only matters if it continues to move, to be tested, and (ideally) to ripple outward. In that sense, the documentary functions as both portrait and invitation: a reminder that the work of journalism is ongoing, collective, and, at its best, indispensable.

“A profile in courage, presenting Goodman as an unrelenting voice of the voiceless who is never afraid to get arrested or make an enemy in her pursuit of telling her truth.” – Christian Zilko, IndieWire

“Steal This Story, Please!… builds a convincing case for the ability of dogged, courageous reporting to mobilise pressure against injustice and effect change.” – Lee Marshall, Screen Daily