L.A.’s Haves and Have-Nots

The American Cinematheque’s Alternative Screen presents Paul Duran’s amusing, next-to-no-budget “The Dogwalker,” tonight at 7:30 at the Egyptian (6712 Hollywood Blvd.). The film stars Will Stewart, a newcomer with humor and charisma. Stewart plays Jerry, a canny, good-looking guy who lives by his wits but is currently at wit’s end, broke and reduced to living in his beat-up car. Salvation arrives when he comes to the aid of a feisty older woman, Alma (Carol Gustafson), when she’s knocked off her feet by her immense Saint Bernard, a not infrequent occurrence. Alma’s daughter Helene (Stepfanie Kramer) maneuvers Jerry into becoming her mother’s companion--and also into a motel room bed, where her bratty teenage daughter (Nicki Aycox) would also like to have a rendezvous with Jerry. Duran digresses with a subplot pairing one of Jerry’s street pals, drug-addicted Mones (Tony Todd) with one of Alma’s poker buddies (John Randolph). In its amiable way, the film, which could benefit from tightening, makes sharp points about the chasm between society’s haves and have-nots and how both could benefit if it were bridged. Some moments are silly, others contrived, but on the whole this very L.A. movie, produced by veteran photographer-journalist Vera Anderson, scores most agreeably. Information: (323) 466-FILM.

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To mark the bicentennial of the Library of Congress, also one of the world’s leading film archives, the UCLA Film Archive is presenting tonight at 8:30 in Melnitz Hall’s James Bridges Theater a pristine print of Reginald Barker’s remarkable and little-known 1915 silent feature, “The Italian.” It depicts the betrayal of the American dream in its harshest light.

George Beban, an accomplished actor, has the title role of an immigrant shoeshine-stand operator whose life turns to ashes in the face of poverty. A handsome Thomas Ince production, the film is fascinating on another level as Barker resourcefully employs a more spacious downtown L.A. to stand in for New York’s Lower East Side and even makes, via tight shots, Venice stand in for Venice, Italy. (310) 206-FILM. Other silents screening elsewhere this week: Frank Capra’s “Submarine,” tonight at 8 at the Silent Movie (611 N. Fairfax Ave., [323] 655-2520); Chaplin’s “Modern Times,” accompanied by the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra, Saturday at 8 p.m. at UCLA’s Royce Hall, (310) 825-2101; and “The Phantom of the Opera,” with Lon Chaney, Wednesday at 8 p.m. at the Orpheum (842 S. Broadway, downtown L.A. Information: (213) 239-0939).

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The second annual Blockbuster series continues at the Goethe Institute (5750 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 100) tonight at 7 with Volker Koepp’s sensitive yet probing “Herr Zwilling and Frau Zuckermann.” It is a portrait of two Holocaust survivors living in the beautiful old city of Tchernowitz, in the western Ukraine near the border with Romania that once was the center of Jewish culture in the Bukovina region. Although the Jewish community thrives there, it once constituted half the city’s population. This community, past and present, provides context for Koepp’s conversations with Matthias Zwilling, a sad-eyed, 70ish chemistry teacher at a vocational school, and Rosa Zuckermann, a doughty, well-educated, sharp-as-a-tack 90-year-old linguist.

For years Zwilling has come by Zuckermann’s comfortable apartment with his pessimistic take on the daily news, to which she responds, “Life goes on, tomorrow will be better.” They are a study in contrasts but share a caustic survivor’s humor when they discuss their tragic pasts. Rosa grew up on a farm where poverty was endemic but education prized. With the onset of World War II, the Germans and the Romanians deported Jews to concentration camps in Transnistria, where Zuckermann witnessed the deaths of her parents, husband and son from lice-borne typhoid fever. She survived, and was soon teaching German to Romanian girls eager to flirt with German soldiers. His mother’s status as a physician saved Zwilling from deportation as a boy, but he remains a haunted, despairing man since his prominent extended family was decimated in the war. Zuckermann, however, moved on, marryiedagain and bore another son, determined to live her life with gusto. This captivating film is a valuable addition to the cinema of the Holocaust. Information: (323) 525-3388.

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The Laemmle Theaters’ American Independents series concludes with Art Jones’ “Going Nomad,” which screens Saturday and Sunday at 10 a.m. at the Sunset 5 (8000 Sunset Blvd.) and June 17 and 18 at 11 a.m. at the Monica 4-Plex (1332 2nd St., Santa Monica). It stars Damian Young as El Cid Rivera, a 30-something guy with a nothing job and loser drinking pals. He understandably feels that he has scarcely lived up to the name his late mother gave him in honor of the 11th century hero who drove the Moors from Spain. On one level, the film is a lyrical valentine to the beauty of New York City and, on another, a piece of whimsy so overly theatrical you can all but see a proscenium. The film’s style and content clash, making the enterprise seem contrived and artificial. El Cid discovers a redemption of sorts by going nomad--taking pleasure in driving down largely deserted streets at night. El Cid seems to be the only nomad who drives instead of standing around talking about it to increasingly tiresome effect. Sunset 5: (323) 848-3500; Monica 4-Plex: (310) 394-9741.

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Francois Ozon’s “Sitcom” (7 p.m. Wednesday at the Village at Ed Gould Plaza, 1125 N. McCadden Place) centers on a wealthy French couple who live in a fine 19th century manor house. Helee (Evelyne Dandry), the chic wife and mother, is a relentlessly efficient, middle-aged, woman to whom there’s more than meets the eye. Helene has a self-absorbed husband, Jean (Francois Marthouret), and two children, the marriageable Sophie (Marina de Van) and the teenage Nicholes (Adrien de Van). The family is no more and no less functional than many--until Jean brings home a caged white rat as a pet. Mere contact with the rat unleashes in one and all hidden sexual desires and psychological quirks. “Sitcom” swiftly emerges as a darkly outrageous farce that’s gratifying--and lots of fun. Information: (323) 960-2394.