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Being a rock star is tough: label reps who breathe down your neck, know-nothing critics who bitch about how your new record isn’t as good as your old one, show promoters who don’t provide enough imported bottled water backstage (as specifically stated in the rider). Get big enough and dollars to doughnuts, you’ll end up with some obsessed fan calling you at all hours of the night, stalking you for a damn autograph. Usually, that’s the kind of situation you can get your publicist to take care of—but hey, why not go DIY and just stab the nutjob yourself? That’s how rock drummer Roberto, the protagonist of Dario Argento’s 1971 psychological thriller Four Flies on Grey Velvet, takes care of business. Roberto hangs hard—he’s a balls-out, fucking punk-rock dude. And he rolls deep, too—that is, until all his pals end up dead at the hand of some other stalker who’s out to frame him for the murders. Call your agent, Roberto! The film screens at 7 p.m. in the Library of Congress’ Mary Pickford Theater, 101 Independence Ave. SE. Free. (202) 707-5677. (Matthew Borlik)