A good year for women on film, as exemplified in new releases The Eyes of My Mother, Miss Sloane, and more
Matthew Lickona 5 p.m., Dec. 9
A shaggy dog story about a nearly hairless cat in 1920s Algiers. He serves his master the rabbi, but he loves his mistress, the rabbi’s fleshy daughter. When he eats the family parrot and so gains the power of speech, he seizes the opportunity to begin pitching woo. The rabbi will have none of it, so the cat proposes converting to Judaism in order to take off the curse. But the rabbi’s rabbi won’t grant the cat a bar mitzvah, not so much because of the cat’s sophisticated, skeptical theology but because he’s, well, a cat. It’s a sharp setup, and so gorgeously rendered that religious folk shouldn’t mind playing along with the sacrileges, and unbelievers shouldn’t mind listening to all the God talk. But once the setup is seen to, the story splays out in all directions, and by the time the cat has ditched his beloved and joined the rabbi and a couple of Russians on a quest to locate a fabled city of Ethiopian Jews, the viewer may begin to wonder what exactly is going on. Something to do with the things that unite and divide us, be they religion, language, or art. Something else to do with the primacy of decency over devotion, and of eros over all. 2011.