Independence Day: Greektown’s Flags and a Filmmaker’s Fight Over Area 51

On the southeast corner of Halsted and Van Buren, blue-and-white banners will soon ripple over the Elysian Field green space as vendors set up stalls — a scene that will mark Chicago’s Greektown independence day gatherings. The same phrase names a 1996 blockbuster that, decades earlier, hinged on a single narrative choice about Area 51 and lost potential military backing when filmmakers would not alter that detail.
How will Chicago mark Independence Day in Greektown?
Organizers from the ENOSIS Federation of Illinois will present the Greek Independence Parade along Halsted Street in Greektown, supported by the Greektown Special Service Area #16. The Greektown Agora will host vendors selling Greek art, jewelry and gifts at the Elysian Field green space at the southeast corner of Halsted and Van Buren, across from the National Hellenic Museum and adjacent to the parking lot for The Rice Building.
For the first time in nearly a decade, the Evzones — the Greek Presidential Guard who stand watch at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Syntagma Square and at the Presidential Mansion in Athens — will be part of the Chicago parade. ENOSIS is also holding a Greek Flag Raising Ceremony downtown at Daley Plaza at 1 p. m. on March 25, a free event that will include official remarks, music and dancing. Greek Independence Day is celebrated on March 25 to commemorate the start of the War for Greek Independence, and local programming in Greektown will connect that history to ceremony and community.
Why did the military withdraw support from Independence Day the film?
The film Independence Day included a mid‑movie revelation that tied extraterrestrial activity to Area 51. Filmmakers Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin insisted on keeping that plot point. Dean Devlin, co‑writer and producer, explained the production’s experience: “The United States military was going to support this and supply us with a lot of costumes and airplanes and stuff. Their one demand was that we remove Area 51 from the film, and we didn’t want to do that. So they withdrew their support. “
Roland Emmerich, director and co‑writer, framed the choice as essential to the film’s mythology: “This is probably one of the biggest twists of the movie. In the middle of the movie, all of a sudden, you come up with Area 51. There’s this mythology about this place where they keep spaceships. For Dean and I, it was the most important part because it ties together this mythology that people believe in to the movie. So it feels more real. ” The filmmakers’ refusal changed the film’s production relationships but, as measured by box office and awards, did not stop the picture from becoming a major summer hit and taking home an Oscar for best visual effects.
What connects a city parade and a summer blockbuster?
Both uses of the phrase reflect how names and dates accumulate public meaning. In Greektown, independence day marks a historical and religious intersection: the celebration commemorates the start of the War for Greek Independence and is associated with the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary, the moment the Archangel Gabriel told Mary she would bear the Son of God. Local organizers point to history — from Bishop Germanos of Patras raising the flag of revolution at the Monastery of Agia Lavra near Kalavryta, Achaea, to the motto of the revolution, “freedom or death” — as the foundation for pageantry and ceremony.
On the other hand, filmmakers used the same phrase as a title and setpiece, and their insistence on a narrative twist shaped production choices and outside support. The two stories — civic ritual and cinematic spectacle — each show how a name can carry layered meanings in public life.
Back on Halsted Street, the vendors, the marching Evzones and the flag‑raising at Daley Plaza will fold history into the present in a way that the filmmakers of Independence Day intended for a movie: a moment meant to feel both familiar and revelatory. The parade’s move into Greektown decades after its first run in the Loop and the return of ceremonial guards raise the same question communities and storytellers face: which pieces of a story are essential, and which can be changed without losing what people came for?




