Back in 1965, Roman Polanski's nerve-shredding psychological thriller rivaled and perhaps unseated Psycho as the scariest movie ever made. Today, the Hitchcock film looks like gleefully nasty black comedy--a master's prankish shower attack on narrative conventions--while Polanski's plunge into psychic torment can still make you feel as if your skin's being whisked with razor blades. Sex in Polanski's film is a kind of airborne toxic event, a stifling atmosphere of rot and erotic threat: small wonder tremulous porcelain doll Catherine Deneuve's mind starts to warp in a confined apartment, a stay that becomes a siege of grasping hands, shadowy marauders and hallucinatory rapists. Never seen it on the big screen? Dont miss your chance--unless you've got a thing about rotting potatoes.
Sat., Oct. 18; Sun., Oct. 19; Mon., Oct. 20, 2008