Best Movies by Farr

Dickens On Film

Nineteenth century English writer Charles Dickens produced a massive legacy of novels, plays, articles, and short stories, and with the 1844 publication of "The Christmas Carol", may have done more to enliven the institution of Christmas than anyone before or since.

Drawing from his own early life of poverty, Dickens’s books often deal with orphans and the downtrodden. In “Carol” and other Dickens books, the Christmas season represents a ray of hope amidst all the misery, a time when human kindness and generosity are celebrated, and sometimes even practiced.

Since this prolific author left so much source material ripe for adaptation, you can have your very own Dickens film series leading up to the holidays. (Note: some of the author’s output, notably “Martin Chuzzlewhit” and “Bleak House”, instead have lent themselves to television mini-series. Both these works have enjoyed distinguished BBC productions, also available on DVD).

As to feature films, we can thank Warner Home Entertainment for making available two beloved Dickens classics made at MGM in 1935, during Hollywood’s Golden Age: “David Copperfield” and “A Tale Of Two Cities”.

In George Cukor’s sensitive and ennobling “Copperfield”, on the untimely death of his mother (Elizabeth Allan), young David (Freddie Bartholomew) endures increasingly harsh treatment from his stepfather, Mr. Murdstone (Basil Rathbone). The boy is finally sent away on his own to work in London, and finds refuge in the home of Mr. Micawber (W.C. Fields), a kind but chronically broke individual who still adopts the boy as his own. Eventually, David journeys to the estate of his Aunt Betsey (Edna May Oliver), where he meets a range of spirited characters. When Murdstone arrives to demand the boy’s return, we know Aunt Betsey’s decision will chart the course of young David’s life. A box-office smash on release, “Copperfield” is eminently faithful to the spirit of the Victorian-era novel, tracing our orphan hero’s progress as he bounces from home to home in search of a real family. Oliver, Rathbone, and Lionel Barrymore excel as usual in their respective roles, while Fields musters up a charming mix of eccentricity and warmth as Micawber, a role he was born to play (though Charles Laughton was the studio’s first choice). By all means, roll out the welcome mat for “David Copperfield.”

“Tales” places us in the turbulent days leading up to the French Revolution. World-weary London barrister Sydney Carton (Ronald Colman) falls secretly in love with Gallic beauty Lucie Manette (Elizabeth Allan), who regards him only as a close confidante. When Lucie decides to marry the nephew of a tyrannical French marquis, Carton is crushed. But Sydney still gets a chance to prove his devotion when Lucie’s true love is arrested in Paris and sentenced to die. Director Jack Conway’s adaptation of this timeless novel (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”) succeeds on the merits of its lavish production design and exquisite, tone-perfect acting from the entire cast. Colman delivers his crowning screen performance as the cynical, boozing Carton, and when he utters the cathartic line, “It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done,” you’re sure to feel a lump in your throat. Top-notch support, again from Allan, Basil Rathbone and Edna May Oliver, makes this sumptuous cinematic gem worth visiting again and again.

Nearly ten years after this production, with a battered but victorious Britain coming out of the Second War, editor-turned-director David Lean would create his own pair of peerless Dickens adaptations: “Great Expectations” (1946) and “Oliver Twist”(1948). Both these classics are part of the venerable Criterion Collection series.
In Lean’s rendering of “Expectations”, we follow the fortunes of Pip, an orphan who reaches young manhood (as John Mills), only to discover he has an anonymous benefactor intent on making him a real gentleman. With his new friend Herbert Pocket (a young Alec Guinness), Pip sets out to make his mark in bustling nineteenth-century London. But just who is Pip’s mysterious sponsor? Perhaps the finest Dickens adaptation ever, this mesmerizing film about chance encounters and changing fortunes begins with a nerve-rattling sequence in a graveyard that’s one of the finest moments in British film. Both Mills and Guinness may be a trifle old for their roles, but their virtuosity fully compensates. Guinness, in his first significant screen appearance, is particularly striking as Pocket, giving us a tantalizing taste of things to come. A bona-fide masterpiece.

Two years later brought “Oliver Twist”. Left on the doorstep of an orphanage as an infant, young Oliver (John Howard Davies) is subjected to various cruelties at the hands of the staff. Eventually, he runs away and joins a gang of homeless child ruffians led by smarmy ringmaster Fagin (Guinness again), a seasoned pickpocket and thief. Oliver’s adventurous life on the streets of London appears to draw to an end after he meets good-hearted Mr. Brownlow (Henry Stephenson), but Fagin has no intention of letting his ward slip away to a life of genteel comforts. This masterful adaptation found Lean abridging the author’s long story about a young orphan’s changing fortunes in Victorian England into a beautifully paced two-hour film. Among a splendid cast, an unrecognizable Guinness and Robert Newton are truly exceptional, respectively playing Fagin and evil accomplice Bill Sikes with gusto. Also fun to watch is a young Anthony Newley as the Artful Dodger. Essentially a tale of triumph in a world of degrading poverty and class bias, “Oliver Twist” is a first-rate drama brimming with hope, pathos and fury.

“Carol”, Dickens’s most widely read and enduring work, has experienced many iterations, including a respectable Hollywood version with Reginald Owen from 1938, and in 1984, an admirable TV special starring the late George C. Scott. Yet neither in my view tops the definitive 1951 British version, better known as “Scrooge”, starring the incomparable Alastair Sim. This gifted actor seamlessly inhabits the character of the world’s most famous miser, who one Christmas Eve, gets a chance at redemption with some spectral visits, first by deceased partner Jacob Marley (Michael Hordern), followed by the Ghosts of Christmas Past., Present, and “Yet to Come”, the sum of which transforms the sour skinflint into a child-like, jolly man who resolves to use his remaining time and fortune to help those in need, starting with his own underpaid, browbeaten clerk, Bob Marley (Mervyn Johns), and his family. Skillfully directed by Brian Desmond-Hurst, the film is tight at roughly eighty-five minutes, yet remains extremely moving, with Sim’s droopy eyes projecting all of Scrooge’s terror, shame, and regret. By contrast, his outright giddiness at the film’s conclusion will leave you feeling just the same way-very much in the holiday spirit.

Not surprisingly, Dickens’ film adaptations have also been set to music. While some admire Carol Reed’s musical version of “Scrooge” (1970), starring Albert Finney, with music by Leslie Bricusse, my own preference is the same director’s Oscar-winning “Oliver!”, made two years prior, starring Ron Moody, Oliver Reed, and young Mark Lester in the title role. With the story hewing closely to the 1948 version, here we have the addition of color, dance and a tuneful score by Lionel Bart to reinvigorate this familiar tale. The Oscar-nominated Moody rivals Guinness as Fagin (high praise), and Reed makes a truly ominous Sykes. The terrific score includes “Consider Yourself (At Home)”, “Food, Glorious Food”, and “As Long As He Needs Me”. “Oliver!” won six Oscars in 1968, including Best Picture, a rare feat for a musical. Watch this with the family, and you’re bound to say: “Please, sir, may I have some more?”

It's Thanksgiving - Let's Party! Ten Movies for the Coming Week

We all know it, and consciously or unconsciously, we prepare for it: Thanksgiving is not, after all, just a holiday, but the starting line for a five and a half week social immersion involving family, colleagues and friends that leaves us all stunned and spent (if not worse) on New Year’s Day.

Get ready, folks, for the coming blur of forced reunions, work-related functions, and cacophonous Christmas parties. I can virtually guarantee you will not lose weight over this period, and it would be sad if you had to. Drinking and eating, after all, go hand-in-hand with all the festive good cheer that momentarily suspends one’s awkwardness or animosity towards an errant sibling, dull cousin, or obnoxious co-worker.

Do I sound Grinch-like? I don’t mean to. But like corporate politics, re-exposure to long-established family dynamics can be tricky, even treacherous. Add to this the fact that the holidays tend to make us all a bit tender and wistful, as inevitably we harken back to the simpler, more magical Yuletide seasons embedded in our halcyon past.

For most adults, in fact, I’d suggest this moment in the calendar is decidedly bittersweet. And let’s not forget stressful, as we grit our teeth through those saccharine Johnny Mathis Christmas songs while racing to complete all our holiday shopping. (By the way, what in God’s name should I get for my eleven year old godson? Somebody, help!)

Given these considerations, this year I’ve decided to embrace all the upcoming alcohol-infused celebrations. I’m going to seek out all the parties I can, and get into the holiday spirits. I mean, think about it: at the end of the day (or any old time), what’s more fun than a good party?

Yet much as they contribute to our joie de vivre in real life, from a safe distance in film they also reveal much about the human animal, as our noblest traits and basest instincts get put on public display, often in the course of a single evening.

Many outstanding movies feature memorable party scenes, with 1978’s “Animal House” being the most obvious and oft-cited example. (That picture, of course, is one long bash, achieving for frat parties what “Bonnie and Clyde” did for berets.)

Here are ten more of my personal favorites to squeeze in between those inevitable screenings of “A Christmas Carol” or “It’s A Wonderful Life” over the coming weeks.

The Thin Man (1934)- Nick Charles (William Powell) and his wealthy wife, Nora (Myrna Loy), seem to care more for witty repartee and tippling at odd hours than they do for honest-to-god sleuthing, but a worried daughter named Dorothy (played by Maureen O’Sullivan, Mia Farrow’s real-life mom) convinces the effervescent newlyweds to join the hunt for her missing scientist father. The investigation which follows (between cocktails) keeps the viewer guessing right up to its suspenseful conclusion. W.S. Van Dyke's filming of Dashiell Hammett's saucy detective novel features the second inspired teaming of Oscar-nominated Powell and Loy (after “Manhattan Melodrama”). The two stars are note-perfect as the high-living detective couple, and the film's enormous success spawned five sequels over twelve years. A deft mix of comedy and mystery, with a heady dose of glamour thrown in, "The Thin Man" remains top-flight entertainment. (Immortal screen moment: Powell shaking a martini to waltz-time at a fete.)

The Lady Eve (1941)- Colonel Harrington and his daughter Jean (Charles Coburn and Barbara Stanwyck) are skilled card sharks who ply their lucrative trade on a chic ocean liner. Also on board is Charles Pike (Henry Fonda), a shy, naive heir to a brewery fortune. He's the perfect mark, but Jean starts to fall for him. When the shady pair are eventually exposed, Jean has only one way to get back into the young man’s life: re-insert herself in a different identity! Delicious comic complications ensue. Writer/director Preston Sturges' crazy genius jumps right off the screen in this movie, featuring an off-the-wall sensibility way ahead of its time. Stanwyck is at the peak of her appeal here, with Coburn incongruously cuddly as her wily father. The gruff, rotund Eugene Pallette does an inspired turn as Charles’s exasperated father, and Fonda, of all people, is a hoot in a rare comedic performance. (Highlight: the Pike family welcomes Lady Eve to a dinner party in their home, and Charles runs through all his dinner jackets.)

Father Of The Bride (1950)- When Kay Banks (Elizabeth Taylor) announces her engagement, life for her father, middle-class lawyer Stanley (Spencer Tracy), turns inside out. His wife, Ellie (Joan Bennett), wants Kay to have the kind of formal, elaborate nuptials she missed out on, so Stanley finds himself accosted by the exhausting, never-ending business of planning a wedding, not to mention the headache of paying for one. A buoyant, big-hearted MGM comedy featuring the wry comic touch of Spencer Tracy, Vincente Minnelli's romp provided the original template for an idea that's been imitated countless times (as in 2000's "Meet the Parents"), but never done quite so charmingly. Tracy is side-splitting as the aggrieved, helpless Dad, even when he's just making a face. Taylor makes a radiant, effervescent bride-to-be (wasn't she always?), and Bennett is marvelous too, as are supporting players Moroni Olsen and Billie Burke as Kay’s starchy prospective in-laws. Minnelli expertly keeps the whole affair- including solemn heart-to-heart talks, a disastrous engagement party, and lovers' spats - from derailing into broad farce. If you have to choose a "Bride," make it the original. (And watch for that party scene where Tracy plays bartender- it’s pure, understated genius!)

To Catch A Thief (1955)- On the sun-drenched French Riviera, someone is relieving rich women of their precious jewels, and all the evidence points to retired cat burglar John Robie (Cary Grant). Reluctant to sit for questioning, "The Cat" evades investigators who show up at his luxe villa and-with the help of London insurer H.H. Hughson (John Williams)- cozies up to wealthy American widow Mrs. Stevens (Jesse Royce Landis), who he believes may be his imitator's next victim. Filmed in VistaVision by Oscar winner Robert Burks, Alfred Hitchcock's swanky, breezy suspense film takes a simple idea-one cat burglar on the tail of another-and spins it into cinematic gold. With his customary wit and sexual innuendo, the director positions tanned star Cary Grant on a collision course with the resplendent Grace Kelly, who never looked more ravishing as spoiled heiress Francie Stevens, especially in a wide-brimmed white sun hat and bathing outfit Jackie O would have coveted. When they kiss, there are literally fireworks on-screen, a technique Hitch used to keep the censors from snipping his film. (And just wait for that culminating costume ball sequence, which Blake Edwards would copy nearly a decade later in “The Pink Panther”). You'll have a lot of fun catching this "Thief”, particularly the newly re-mastered version.

The Apartment (1960)- C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon), a junior executive in a Manhattan-based insurance company, climbs the corporate ladder by lending out his conveniently located apartment for the assignations of his superiors. Complications begin when the young man falls for elevator girl Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), who also happens to be the girlfriend of the firm’s big boss, the oily J.D. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray). The inimitable Billy Wilder seamlessly blends comedy, romance and pathos in this poignant tale of a lonely man forced to confront the corruption of his life just as he falls helplessly in love with the wrong girl. With a sharp, knowing script by Wilder and collaborator I.A.L. Diamond, and all players at the top of their games (particularly the Oscar-nominated leads and MacMurray, who’s surprisingly effective playing against type), this film snagged Best Picture at the Academy Awards, and in my estimation, stands as Wilder’s finest film. (Don’t miss the Christmas office party- it makes “Mad Men” look tame.)

The Party (1967)- A fat-cat Hollywood producer decides to throw a splashy dinner party ("Anyone who's anyone will be there!"), and as bad luck would have it, Indian-born actor Hrundi Bakshi (Peter Sellers) mistakenly makes it onto the guest list. Though Bakshi knows few of his fellow guests, they will certainly get to know him before the night is over. Sellers inhabits yet another accident-prone character in his continuing partnership with Blake Edwards. Bakshi is a gentle person, but his innocent curiosity about his surroundings (or is it bewilderment?) manages to wreak havoc most everywhere he goes. Though detractors claim the comic momentum flags by picture's end, Sellers's brilliant characterization- and some sublime set-pieces- make this worthy viewing. In particular, the dinner party sequence ranks as one of the funniest on film. French actress/singer Claudine Longet is adorable as Michelle, the party's prettiest guest, who befriends Bakshi, and Gavin McLeod (best known for TV’s “The Love Boat”) also scores as her pushy escort. Largely improvised, “The Party” is one sixties happening worth revisiting.

Midnight Cowboy (1969)- Lone Star native Joe Buck (Jon Voight), a dim but handsome rube, drops his dishwashing gig in his stifling hometown and comes to the Big Apple, convinced he can earn a living servicing wealthy New York women. But Joe's start as a hustler is a mite rockier than anticipated. Buck then meets tubercular street denizen Ratso Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman), who offers to become the aspiring gigolo's "manager," and a highly unusual friendship is born. Two years after "The Graduate", Hoffmann transformed himself into an ailing derelict in director John Schlesinger's dark, intense "Cowboy." A story of friendship born of desperation in Manhattan's grimy underbelly, "Cowboy" was at the vanguard of a new kind of Hollywood movie in the late '60s--gritty, complex, and unidealized. Despite an initial "X" rating, the film won Oscars for best picture, director, and screenplay, and both Hoffman and newcomer Voight were nominated for their gutsy, raw performances. Hoffman's wrenching portrayal of the tragic Rizzo is particularly astounding, as is that exceedingly strange, psychedelic party he and Joe attend.

Annie Hall (1977)- When neurotic, self-conscious Alvy Singer (Woody Allen), a TV gag writer and two-time divorcee, falls for fey, struggling nightclub singer Annie Hall (Diane Keaton), the comic chemistry between them is undeniable. But relationships aren't that easy to manage, especially when mismatched to begin with - he's a New York Jew, she's a Midwestern WASP. Soon their paths begin to diverge, but their underlying feelings for each other remain real, if not realized. One of the great modern love stories, the enduringly charming "Annie Hall" has Allen essentially playing himself, with Keaton's sweet, spacy Annie providing an inspired foil. Aside from its examination of contemporary relationships, the movie hilariously contrasts the flavor and essence of New York with sunny, hip Los Angeles, that sprawl in Southern California which, to Allen's mind, is definitely alien territory. The famous West Coast party scene (hosted by Paul Simon and featuring a sublime moment with a then-unknown Jeff Goldblum) only reinforces the immense cultural divide between Gotham and Malibu. Touching, true, and extremely funny, “Annie” is definitely Woody's peak—also his first and only Oscar winner for Best Picture. (He also won statuettes for direction and screenplay that year, and was nominated for Best Actor.)

Dazed and Confused (1993)- Richard Linklater's follow-up to "Slacker" traces hijinks on graduation day (and night) at a local high school in the heady period of the mid-seventies. Freshmen get hazed by seniors, football jocks harassed by their coaches, party plans are made, then shifted, and lots of young people get high. The plot takes a back seat to the energy and talent of its young ensemble cast, including stars-to-be Ben Affleck (as a boisterous bully), Matthew McConaughey, and Parker Posey. This true-to-life, intelligent, often uproarious movie wins you over with its sheer exuberance and dead-on recreation of the wild and wooly seventies. Director Linklater satirizes the period with considerable affection, so we feel nostalgia for a period many of us thought (at the time) was a mediocre follow-up to the prior decade. A terrific line-up of seventies rock classics and those distinctive cars add pungent flavor and atmosphere. Posey and McConaughey are both first-rate, but so is the entire lesser-known cast. Here’s an ideal double feature with "American Graffiti" or "Fast Times At Ridgemont High". “Dazed” delivers youthful, energetic fun, with capital letters.

Boogie Nights (1997)- At a disco one night in the 1970s, adult-movie impresario Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds) spots handsome busboy Eddie (Mark Wahlberg), and invites him for a casting call. Almost overnight, Eddie - a good-natured but not too smart kid from a broken home who believes he has "something special" to share with the world - changes his name to Dirk Diggler and becomes a porn star, with all the perks and dangers such a lifestyle entails. Loosely based on the life of '70s erotic-film stud John Holmes, P.T. Anderson's surprisingly human second feature is an Altman-esque blend of wistful humor and naturalistic ensemble acting. Dirk quickly discovers his "real" family in the cozy, coke-fueled decadence of Horner's misfit milieu, where he's nurtured by maternal porn actress Amber Waves (Julianne Moore), and befriended by numerous quirky types played by a who's who of '90s A-listers: Heather Graham, John C. Reilly, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Don Cheadle, and William H. Macy. An offbeat gem, with a New Year’s Eve party and a tongue-in-cheek "money shot" that'll make your jaw drop.

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The Coolest Male Movie Star Ever, By Farr (You'll Never Guess.)

First, I suppose I should describe what I mean by "cool', since the word is so broadly defined now...

Growing up, to me "cool" meant someone that people were instinctively drawn to, but who kept themselves slightly apart. Someone unflappable, slightly mysterious, out of reach. Someone aware of their own charisma but with no need to flaunt it. Someone whose ego wasn’t fed by the approval of others.

Cool was not necessarily suave- that was Cary Grant.

Cool was not necessarily angry or openly rebellious- that was James Dean or Brando.

Cool was not necessarily the cocky dreamboat type- that was Paul Newman.

Yet when I polled some friends last night about which male star- past or present- was endowed with the highest concentration of cool, these were the names mentioned first.

I then asked them to dig deeper, and fairly swiftly they got a lot closer to what I’m talking about with three names: Steve McQueen, Sean Connery, and Humphrey Bogart.

Now those stars each exemplify precisely what I mean by “cool”. Yet in my view, there is one actor who’s got them all beat.

Give up? His name was Robert Mitchum.

Just what are Mitchum’s "cool" credentials, you ask?

Let's see:
He had an early problem with authority which caused him to hit the Open Road in his mid-teens, during the pit of the Depression. At one point, he was arrested and put on a chain gang in Georgia, but escaped.

He was the first movie star ever busted and sent to jail for marijuana use in the late forties. His career miraculously survived, and supposedly, he smoked pot quite contentedly the rest of his life.

While admittedly he had numerous sexual dalliances over his career, he stayed married to the mother of his children for sixty years. (Perhaps I should restate that: she stayed with him).

He drank prodigiously and for the most part held his hooch like a champ, once impressing no less a boozer than Oliver Reed by consuming an entire bottle of gin in under an hour.

But perhaps most important, he would never admit to taking acting seriously, saying to one interviewer: “Listen. I got three expressions: looking left, looking right, and looking straight ahead.” (The quality of his performances working with directors like Howard Hawks and Fred Zinnemann contradict his humble assertion.)

To another reporter, he showed his savage wit-and a hint of self-deprecation- when he mused: “People think I have an interesting walk. Hell, I’m just trying to hold my gut in.”

And then there’s perhaps my favorite Mitchum quote, about his own legacy and mortality: “When I drop dead and they rush to the drawer, there’s going to be nothing in it but a note saying ‘later’”.

Now I humbly submit: that’s not just cool; that’s cool in all caps.

But don’t just take my word for it. Check out his best movies by Farr, and see for yourself why I crown Bob Mitchum the king of cool.

Crossfire (1947) - Three war veterans (Mitchum, Robert Ryan, and Steve Brodie) meet up in a bar with civilian Joseph Samuels (Sam Levene), and after a few rounds drunkenly follow Samuels back to his apartment to raid his liquor cabinet. When Samuels is later found beaten to death, Police Captain Finlay (Robert Young) is called in to investigate. It's quickly apparent that one of the soldiers did the killing, but which one-and just as puzzling, what was the motive for such a brutal crime? This gripping, intricate little thriller boasts an intelligent script, atmosphere to spare and solid performances all around, particularly from Ryan and Young. The film remains as biting a condemnation of Anti-Semitism as the better-known "Gentleman's Agreement", released the same year. Assured direction from the soon to be blacklisted Edward Dmytryk makes this an unheralded classic.

Out Of The Past (1947)- Private detective Jeff Bailey (Mitchum) is hired by high-ranking mobster Whit Sterling (a young Kirk Douglas), to find the crook's runaway mistress, Kathie Moffett (Jane Greer). Apparently, the young woman got into some serious mischief and ran off with $40,000. Tracking her South of the Border, Bailey meets and falls for Kathie's seductive charms, setting off a chain of events that drags him ever deeper into a world of lies, treachery, and betrayal. Replete with expressionistic lighting, ominous atmosphere, cynical dialogue, and a sizzling femme fatale, Jacques Tourneur's "Out of the Past" is quintessential film noir. In a star-making performance, Mitchum cemented his image as a laconic, heavy-lidded fatalist, while the white-hot Greer- radiant as Kathie-executes one of the most sensual entrances in film history. All conspire to make Tourneur's "Past" damn close to perfect. Remade to lesser effect as “Against All Odds” (1984), with Jeff Bridges and Rachel Ward.

The Night Of The Hunter ( 1955)- Ben Harper (Peter Graves) hides away ten thousand dollars he stole, only revealing its location to his small children John and Pearl (Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce). Eventually caught, Ben is sentenced to death, since a man was killed during the robbery. Ben's prison cellmate is Harry Powell (Mitchum), a psychopathic would-be preacher, who encourages Ben to disclose where the money is before meeting his maker. Failing to do so, on his own release Harry seeks out Ben's family, including his widow (Shelley Winters) and the two kids. As to locating that cash, this time Harry won't take "no" for an answer. Gothic suspense/horror entry was actor Charles Laughton's only outing behind the camera, and he was heart-broken when it failed at the box office. Evidently, the film was simply too dark for audiences of the time. Mitchum is terrifying as Preacher Harry, a wolf in sheep's clothing who has the word "Love" printed on the fingers of one hand, "Hate" on the other. Winters is ideally cast as the dim Willa, but the stand-out is silent actress Lillian Gish as gun-toting Rachel Cooper, the kids' unlikely eventual protector. Eerily composed and shot, and featuring a brilliant screenplay by James Agee, "Hunter" remains a spine-chilling masterpiece.

The Sundowners (1960)- Drifting sheepherder Paddy Carmody (Mitchum) is blissfully content to roam the Australian countryside with his wife Ida (Deborah Kerr) and son Sean (Michael Anderson Jr.). But Ida and Sean fantasize about buying an old farmhouse and settling down in one place, and convince Paddy to take a job as a sheep shearer so they can save up for a mortgage. Needless to say, Paddy's less than thrilled with this arrangement, and soon rebels against his new lifestyle. Filmed on location, this breezy, scenic Western from Down Under earned five Oscar nominations and has weathered well over the years as a mini-epic about freedom and family bonds. Mitchum and Kerr square off nicely as hardworking but happily married roamers, and even manage to hold their Aussie accents in check most of the time. Peter Ustinov, playing a chipper ex-officer who comes to live with the Carmody family, provides some of the film's highest humor, especially in his flirtatious relationship with hotel owner Glynis Johns. What makes a man wander indeed? Fred Zinnemann's "Sundowners" provides no easy answers, but it's sure fun to tag along.

Cape Fear (1962)- Trial lawyer Sam Bowden (Gregory Peck) finds himself and his family threatened by the return of Max Cady (Mitchum), a wily and dangerous criminal just released from prison. Since Sam was prosecuting attorney at Max's trial, Cady holds a king-size grudge against him for sending him away, and does everything he can, short of being seen breaking the law, to transform the Bowdens’ world into a living hell. Compared to Martin Scorsese's excessively graphic re-make, J. Lee Thompson's original is a subtler, vastly more chilling exercise, with Mitchum's Cady a searing portrait of evil and barely contained violence. The story examines how the law can work against the innocent when the victimizer knows just how far he can go to harrass his victims with impunity. Peck is reliably stolid as Sam, Polly Bergen excels as jittery wife Peggy, and both Martin Balsam and Telly Savalas provide assured support playing a sheriff and private detective. This is what they mean by “edge-of-your-seat” entertainment.

The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973)- Mitchum plays burned-out Boston hood Eddie “Fingers” Coyle, a small-time gun-runner on the fringes of the Boston mob who finds himself facing a second prison stint for participating in a botched robbery. Desperate not to go back, he ponders whether to provide determined cop Dave Foley (Richard Jordan) with some timely information on his co-workers. But though Eddie is stalling for time and in fact hasn’t got that much to tell, his “friends”- including bartender/hitman Dillon (Peter Boyle), and bank robber Jimmy (Alex Rocco)-won’t be too understanding. Peter Yates’s grim, ultra-realistic crime drama provided Mitchum with his finest late career role. His Eddie confronts a frightening future, but all this hulking shell of a man feels is tired. Noone plays world-weary better than Mitchum, and he even nails a Boston accent. On-location shooting at seedy Beantown locales only heightens the film’s sense of authenticity. Paul Monash’s script (adapted from a novel by George V. Higgins) vividly captures the distinctive language of the Boston underworld, and gets delivered with conviction by a uniformly first-rate cast. Friends, meet Eddie Coyle.

The Yakuza (1975)- When WWII veteran Harry Kilmer (Mitchum) is asked by old army buddy George Tanner (Brian Keith) to find his missing daughter in Japan, he agrees. Once there, he confirms she was abducted by the Japanese Mob, aka The Yakuza. Out of his depth, culturally and otherwise, Harry reluctantly seeks the assistance of an old adversary, Tanaka (Ken Takakura), in retrieving her from the notoriously vicious organized-crime ring. Jointly scripted by Robert Towne ("Chinatown") and Paul Schrader ("Taxi Driver"), this riveting East-meets-West action thriller is expertly handled by director Sydney Pollack, and features great low-key acting by a haggard-looking Mitchum. With its twin themes of honor and guilt, "Yakuza" certainly belongs in the Schrader canon, and the story arc is boosted immensely by sword expert Takakura's explosive run-ins with Japanese thugs. Keiko Kishi provides excellent support, too, as Mitchum's long-ago lover, and their interactions give the whole film a rueful air of regret. Few films of the action genre are as soulfully felt, or ring so sorrowfully true.

(Note: Mitchum also outdid himself playing a rumpled Philip Marlowe that year in "Farewell, My Lovely", putting his own stamp on a character originated on-screen by Dick Powell, but made famous by Bogart. Maddeningly, this title is no longer available on DVD.)

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The Alarming Decline of Expressive Language in Life and On Film

A month ago I attended a Parents' Day conference at one of our kids' private high schools. A history teacher set to retire after 45 years of service was musing on reading the old student literary journals from the forties and fifties. Asked whether by comparison he noticed an erosion in writing skills in the history papers he grades today, he answered “Yes”- vehemently and without hesitation- while also mentioning a decline in expressive language skills in the classroom.

There seems little doubt that even as today’s high school and college students are pushed harder in a highly competitive academic environment, they cannot write an essay or use descriptive language nearly as fluently as their parents and grandparents could.

I suppose we shouldn’t be that surprised. We live in an instant messaging world, where we’re encouraged to use as few words and symbols possible to get our basic message across. Hence, it’s “CUL8R”. At the same time, we’re so overloaded with various "pop-up images" everywhere we go that inevitably our concentration and sequential reasoning are affected.

Some of us old-timers may still find time to read and write descriptively, but are our kids following suit? I think not, or certainly, not enough.

Of course, our popular entertainment reflects this same phenomenon, movies included. As some of you know, I watch a succession of very different films all the time, but two I just screened back to back seem particularly relevant to this topic.

The first feature was Marcel Carne’s “Le Jour Se Leve” from 1939, new to DVD via Janus’s nifty “Essential Art House” series, the second a contemporary indie romance, “Medicine For Melancholy” (2008), which The Times’s A.O. Scott called “an exciting debut” for director Barry Jenkins.

A tragic tale of a young working class couple and the sordid character that comes back to haunt them, “Jour” remains poetry that touches all the senses- one of the seminal pre-war French pictures. I readily admit it’s a bit unfair to compare it to the humble “Medicine”, which, with apologies to Mr. Scott, is about as exciting as an enema. But I do it to make a point.

What struck me in the two films was the use of language, or lack thereof. The dialogue in “Jour” positively sings, even with its uneducated protagonists, while the couple in “Medicine” seem to speak very little, and when they do, they have very little interesting to say. Not the ideal ingredients for a memorable film, right?

In general, big budget offerings from mainstream Hollywood are even more script-challenged than their humble indie counterparts.

Yesterday, I walked in on our youngest boy watching Al Pacino and Jamie Foxx in “Any Given Sunday” (1999). As I listened to Al reciting his hackneyed lines, I detected a certain absence, a deadness behind his pupils. Because- I surmise- Pacino, the old pro, has done some very good scripts over his forty years in the business. This however is not one of them, and he knows it.

And though my son’s attention is momentarily diverted- the movie is easy for a fifteen year old kid to watch- what is he actually getting out of it? His eyes look dull too, as if he knows that he’s not watching something that will stay with him as our best movies do. It’s just slick filler to help pass a lazy day.

This leads me to believe, perhaps naively, that “bigger, faster, louder” won’t cut it for very long. The century-old history of this medium reveals that most truly enduring films are not only cast and shot effectively, but are also cleverly constructed and written.

One of the principal reasons I love to promote older classic films is that they remind us just how entertaining and rewarding really smart scripts with snappy dialogue can be. In the back of my mind burns the hope that somehow, the thoughtful public will crave this sort of quality again. At the very least, they should know where to go looking for it.

By the way, these films don’t all fall into the category of starchy historical dramas, or those more lofty literary adaptations. We’re talking crime stories, comedies, and romances here!

Here are just a few of my favorite vintage titles featuring solid gold scripts that exploit our language in magical ways to achieve their desired effect:

The Informer (1935)- During the Sinn Fein rebellion of 1922, hard-luck Dubliner and IRA reject Gypo Nolan (Victor McLaglen) gets into hot water when he informs on his best friend Frankie McPhillip (Wallace Ford), a fugitive from the British "Black and Tans" who winds up with a bullet in his head. Gypo had sought the 20-pound bounty so he could embark on a better life with his prostitute girlfriend, but the rebels aren't about to let him walk away clean. This blistering adaptation of Liam O'Flaherty's novel by John Ford features a searing turn by McLaglen, who plays the barrel-chested Irish boozer and Troubles-era traitor with gut-wrenching pathos, especially when he delivers his last line. A labor of love for Ford, outfitted with Joseph August's atmospheric evocation of foggy Dublin and a superb score by Oscar winner Max Steiner, "Informer" is the kind of full-blooded political drama we rarely get to enjoy today. And McLaglen's turn as the desperate, deeply remorseful brute makes the tragic story of betrayal and redemption even more worthy of struggle. (Writer: Dudley Nichols, who won an Oscar.)

Sullivan’s Travels (1941)- John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea) is a successful director of Hollywood fluff who decides he wants to make a serious picture about "real world" suffering. Disguising himself as a tramp, the earnest but naive Sullivan hits the road with a ridiculous entourage provided by his cynical studio bosses. Eventually, he meets a down-on-her-luck actress (Veronica Lake) and learns the hard way how poverty dampens, but doesn't extinguish, the human spirit. Widely considered the greatest of writer/director Preston Sturges's classic 1940s films, "Travels" is a stunning hybrid, blending giddy slapstick and razor-sharp humor with grim, unblinking social realism. McCrea and Lake make a fun pair, comically and romantically, while Robert Greig is a hoot as Sullivan's droll butler. It's hard to imagine anyone but Sturges concocting this incisively scripted, beautifully directed Hollywood satire, which ultimately has a lot to say about the restorative power of laughter.

Double Indemnity (1944)- Gorgeous schemer Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) enlists a besotted insurance salesman, Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), to draw up a life-insurance policy on her husband without his knowledge - and then kill him. The murder goes as planned, but the two lovers lose faith in each other's motives when they face suspicious claims investigator Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson), whose queries trigger a fatal game of cat and mouse. One of the quintessential noir films, Billy Wilder's "Double Indemnity" is a masterpiece of stark atmosphere and carefully stylized suspense. The talented Stanwyck, a familiar face in the 1940s noir universe, assumes her role with feline deviousness, while MacMurray - narrating the film via flashback - brilliantly plays against type. Raymond Chandler's screenplay sizzles with hard-boiled repartee and the great Edward G. Robinson is aces as always as the dogged investigator hot on the lovers' trail. Sinister, tense, and cynical, Wilder's "Indemnity" is riveting film suspense.

The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre (1948)- Fred Dobbs, Bob Curtin and an old-timer named Howard, three motley down-and-outers in Mexico (Humphrey Bogart, Tim Holt and Walter Huston, respectively), pool their meager resources and set off to search for gold. When they find some, they must decide how best to protect it-from thieves and each other- and thus the seeds of distrust and madness are sown. This potent feature helmed by the gifted John Huston delivers savage human drama in a thinking man’s adventure film. Containing suspense, action and humor (thanks to Walter Huston’s salty old coot) ultimately "Treasure" delivers a striking meditation on the destructive nature of greed. Widely considered one of Bogie’s best films, director Huston walked away with Oscars for direction and screenplay, while dad Walter also won a statuette for his indelible, career-capping performance as the cackling Howard. One of the all-time greats.

All About Eve (1950)- Joseph L. Mankiewicz's peak as writer/director concerns aging stage actress Margo Channing (Bette Davis), wise in the ways of fame and the theatre, who's nevertheless blindsided by an adoring fan named Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter). Eve enters Margo's orbit as awed acolyte, then slowly usurps everything Margo has in one subtle, masterful act of manipulation. Don’t miss this sharp, caustic take on the theatre world, and the wide assortment of parasites, barracudas, and hangers-on that populate it. Eve is the wolf in sheep's clothing, a comer with just enough talent and cunning to penetrate Margo's inner circle and catch her when she's vulnerable and feeling her age. Davis gives the best performance of her long career, and young Baxter is outstanding. Oscar winning George Sanders also impresses mightily as jaded critic Addison De Witt, the only soul wise enough to see what Eve is up to. On his arm in one key scene is Marilyn Monroe, in a minor bit as a vacuous but decorative chorus girl. Mankiewicz took home directing and screenwriting Oscars that year, and “Eve” also won Best Picture. What a show!

The Sweet Smell Of Success (1957)- Desperate to promote one of his clients, slimy press flack Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) turns to the most powerful man he knows: acid-tongued gossip columnist JJ Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster), who can make or break anyone in New York. Falco gets what he needs from Hunsecker, but then is maneuvered to help ruin a mild-mannered jazz trumpeter (Martin Milner) with eyes for the poison-pen scribe's younger sister (Susan Harrison).Turning from his comedic work at Britain's Ealing Studios to direct this noirish, all-American masterpiece about greed, ambition, and the perversity of power, Alexander Mackendrick relied on estimable playwright Clifford Odets and writer Ernest Lehman for their scripting talent. What resulted was one of the most cynical, caustic films ever made about the sleazy underbelly of Manhattan show business, featuring blistering performances from Lancaster and a young Curtis in his prime. "I love this dirty town," proclaims the Walter Winchell-esque Hunsecker, and you never once doubt him. Sinister, tawdry, and burnished with a tone-perfect jazz score by Elmer Bernstein, "Success" was never this twisted.

Dr. Strangelove, Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb (1963)-In this satirical doomsday thriller, a U.S. bomber piloted by Major Kong (Slim Pickens) receives a signal to release its nuclear payload on Russia. When the unfortunate Captain Mandrake (Peter Sellers) seeks out Gen. Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) to learn why he ordered the drop, and why he's placed his Air Force base on lockdown, it's quickly evident the general has lost his marbles. Meanwhile, President Muffley (Sellers again) meets with senior advisers, including a hawkish general (George C. Scott) and the oddly sinister nuclear scientist Dr. Strangelove (Sellers), to review their limited options to save the planet. The most inspired piece of Cold War satire ever and one of the screen's supreme black comedies, Stanley Kubrick's 1964 "Strangelove" confronted jittery audiences in the aftermath of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and not long after the advent of the H bomb. With Kubrick's twisted genius as director and screenwriter in full bloom, and peerless performances by Peter Sellers (in three roles), Scott, and the unhinged Hayden, the film is unbearably funny and extremely disturbing all at once. (Kubrick and co-writers Peter George and Terry Southern were Oscar-nominated, but lost to that year’s “Becket”, in retrospect a bad call.)

Network (1976)- Diana Christensen (Faye Dunaway) is a type A network television executive who rides the wave of an unfolding ratings sensation broadcasting deranged televangelist Howard Beale (Peter Finch, in his final performance). Beale hits a chord with disillusioned Americans, urging them to chant his mantra: "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore." But the Beale phenomenon may not last, as Howard's ever more bizarre rantings signal an emotional breakdown in the making. Sidney Lumet's devastating, disturbing satire of the modern broadcast age (written by Paddy Chayefsky) still has a lot to say thirty years after release. Beyond portraying a business that bypasses quality in single-minded pursuit of the dollar, television serves as metaphor for a society mired in sensationalism and greed. Dunaway is commanding in a caffeinated performance as ruthless Diana, Holden unusually affecting as a washed-up veteran of TV's glory days, and Finch a revelation as the unbalanced Beale, winning a posthumous Oscar for his work. (Incidentally, Faye won too.)

For over 2,000 more outstanding DVD titles, visit www.bestmoviesbyfarr.com.

To watch John's videos, go to www.reel13.org.

Our Morally Superior Nation: Movies that Reflect the Corrosive Influence of Religious Extremism

With a couple of recent celebrity scandals, a troubling aspect of the American character has reared its head once again: a moral absolutism and extremism fostered largely by the fanatical religious right- be they fundamentalist, evangelical, or the more orthodox wing of the Catholic Church.

Their vocal and powerful presence in the social discourse of America marks ours as a country populated by a more than a few intolerant, unforgiving prudes and, worse, hypocrites.

Just consider the Letterman case: the prevailing attitude seems to be that he got off pretty easy. Still, let’s not forget the inevitable media circus that came with his disclosure, with a growing list of young employees stepping forward with all the tawdry details of their encounters.

Of course the press plays right into this shameless exploitation: in decline and desperate to milk any salacious tale that will drive sales, they assume (too often correctly) that their audience wants to know every last grimy tidbit. And as we get drawn into the feeding frenzy, whatever position we take, we play right into the hands of the zealots: if we take a sympathetic stand, we are seen to wallow in the trash and expose our own low natures; if we take a more judgmental view, we appear to wag our collective finger at a miserable, dissolute sinner.
To me, it all feels grotesque.

My perhaps old-fashioned view is that in this specific instance the attempted crime was extortion; the fact the adultery was involved, while it can hardly be kept secret, should largely remain an issue between Letterman and his wife. Is this so odd? After all Dave is no role model, neither politician nor priest; he is a talented and famous TV personality. Those outraged that men in power are prone to straying are simply living in a fantasy world- this is nothing new, nor will it ever go away through the power of prayer.

Personally I preferred the days when reporters and their public actually respected individual privacy to some degree. Maybe it was a silent acknowledgement of our shared, highly imperfect humanity, and perhaps also a belief that an Orwellian, “Big Brother” society should be avoided at all costs.

Times have certainly changed, in that today’s technology ensures most everything we do can be tracked. And in this environment where there is virtually nothing off-limits to the public, the rigid, black-or-white influence of the original Puritans endure, as far-right factions promote a culture of intolerance, character assassination and fear-mongering, and as they themselves trample on individual rights and commit crimes (like working to deny women's right to choose), all in the name of righteousness and morality.

The saddest part of this is that these corrosive forces undermine all the most positive aspects of organized faith and religion: the ideals of human generosity, humility, and forgiveness all recede amidst lies, corruption and condemnation.

The most recent Bush administration may have done more to empower these groups than any administration preceding it: our “born again” ex-President who relied on the Almighty to guide his decision-making.

However, this disturbing, persistent vein of religious fanaticism and corruption existed in this country long before those interminable dog days of George W., as the following timeless titles indicate:

Inherit The Wind (1960)- In this courtroom drama based on the landmark Scopes Monkey Trial of the 1920s, defense lawyer Henry Drummond (Spencer Tracy) and fundamentalist prosecutor Matthew Brady (Fredric March) face off when schoolteacher Bertram Cates (Dick York), is put in jail for teaching evolution in tiny Hillsboro, Tennessee, with the arrest instigated by his girlfriend's disapproving father, Rev. Jeremiah Brown (Claude Akins). Kramer's spellbinding film features a deft performance by Tracy as the rumpled, deceptively plain-spoken Drummond (modeled on Clarence Darrow), matched by March's larger than life, virtuoso turn as Matthew Brady (based on William Jennings Bryan). Just sit back, pretend you're sitting in that humid courtroom, and watch two old pros at work. You'll re-live history. Also look for Gene Kelly in one of his only serious, non-dancing roles as a cynical journalist based on H.L. Mencken.

Elmer Gantry (1960)- Though obviously dissolute, charismatic street preacher Elmer Gantry (Burt Lancaster) teams up with touring tent revivalist Sister Sharon Falconer (Jean Simmons), and before long the two are making money hand over fist. Falconer falls in love with Gantry, and with her new spoils, builds an enormous house of worship by the ocean. But the mercurial minister's womanizing past is about to revisit them in the person of Lulu (Shirley Jones), a jilted prostitute out for a little payback. Based on the bestselling novel by Sinclair Lewis, this tale of a lustful, larger-than-life charlatan's fall from grace owes its strength to the force of Lancaster's dynamic, Oscar-winning performance. His Gantry preaches hellfire and brimstone, but loves life - and women - with a hearty gusto that is as pure as Sister Falconer's vanity is unbecoming. Jones also took home an Oscar, playing against type in a sultry turn as a minister's daughter who became Gantry's lover. Also great is Arthur Kennedy as an atheist journalist modeled on the legendary H.L. Mencken. Fiery and sharp, this satirical take on Bible-thumping hypocrisy and hucksterism speaks volumes in today's world.

Marjoe (1972)- This skin-crawling exposé of the tent-revival circuit focuses squarely on one Marjoe Gortner, a former child evangelist who returns to preaching as an adult, charging up sold-out audiences throughout the South with his fire-and-damnation-style sermons, and bilking them for every cent they're willing to cough up. A convert himself to the sixties counterculture movement, the groovily clad, charismatic preacher invites a film crew to trail him around when he decides it's time to end his sham double life and leave the lucrative "business" behind. Like a lightning bolt to the heart, the Oscar-winning "Marjoe" hits its mark with illuminating mercilessness. Opening with old videos of Marjoe preaching hellfire at age 4, the directors give us a taste of what the openly fraudulent evangelist, a flower child who professes no spiritual belief whatsoever, can accomplish with a microphone, as he works his congregations into a moaning, epileptic fervor. Even more fascinating is how honest the narcissistic Marjoe is about his personal misgivings, his atheism, and the profit motive behind these Pentecostal meetings, which he headlines with a mix of rock-star bravado and sanctimonious humbuggery. "Marjoe" is infuriating, but also strangely cathartic, as we witness Marjoe’s mask falls away.

The Apostle (1997)- After discovering that his wife Jessie (Farrah Fawcett) is having an affair with younger minister Horace (Todd Allen), devout Pentecostal preacher Sonny Dewey (Robert Duvall), a father of two young children, loses his wits and attacks the man with a bat, sending him into a coma. Fleeing Texas, Sonny assumes a new identity in Louisiana, opens a church, and revitalizes the faith of mostly black locals with his spirited, inspirational sermons. But Sonny’s past sins aren’t so easily washed away. Veteran actor Duvall wrote, directed, and starred in this stirring evangelical drama about faith, personal passion, and moral responsibility, a pet project he spent over a decade bringing to the big screen. Duvall is nothing less than sensational as Dewey, a pious yet deeply conflicted man whose belief in salvation is never in question. Excellent performances by Fawcett, Miranda Richardson, and Billy Bob Thornton as a bayou racist tweak the picture, but Duvall throws himself into the marquee role heart and soul. “The Apostle” will make a believer out of you.

Deliver Us From Evil (2006)- Grappling with the pedophile scandals that have brought the Catholic Church to its knees in recent years, Director Amy Berg has a harrowing heart-to-heart conversation with Father Oliver O'Grady, one of the most notorious child rapists, who recounts his crimes in painfully specific detail. Berg then interviews his many victims, still scarred by their encounter with O'Grady, and still angry at the unconscionable harboring of this serial molester by Church authorities. Of course there is something revolting and horrifying about O'Grady, now living safely in exile in Ireland thanks to the exertions of his superiors, but how remorseful can we really expect a sociopath who viciously assaulted children over three decades to be? Scarier still are the Church bigwigs, like L.A. Cardinal Roger Mahoney, who prefer to arrogantly deny their role in protecting a monstrous man of the cloth rather than remain true to their spiritual calling. This is disturbing stuff, but luckily Berg contextualizes all of it for viewers wondering how-yes, in God's name-these crimes were ever allowed to happen.

Jesus Camp (2006)- This eye-opening documentary trails Pentecostal children's minister Becky Fischer in her quest to, as she phrases it, indoctrinate the next generation of evangelical leaders. Glimpsed mainly at a "Kids on Fire" summer retreat in North Dakota for those under 15, these youths dutifully pray for theocracy and the vanquishing of Satan in cathartic sessions and hear tough-talking teach-ins about sin and salvation, abortion and politics, and laying down their lives for Jesus. By focusing intently on a single woman's efforts to raise a theocratic revival in America, film-makers Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing have supplied us with a thumbnail sketch of this country's fastest growing, most influential social movement. Home-schooled by evangelical parents who teach them creationism instead of evolution, amiable preteens like wannabe preacher Levi and proselytizer Rachael are urged by Fischer to pray for George W. Bush and pro-life Supreme Court appointees, then given over to fervent prayer sessions in which they speak in tongues. The filmmakers opt to showcase radio talk-show host Mike Papantonio in lieu of critical voiceover, but they really needn't have: Fischer and her juvenile God's Army are alarming enough on their own.

For over 2,000 outstanding titles on DVD, visit www.bestmoviesbyfarr.com
To view John's videos, go to www.reel13.org

Divine Inspirations: Our Finest Art Documentaries

Even for a jaded movie hound like myself, it’s been a revelation to experience both the quality and range of feature-length documentaries now available for home viewing. At their best, these kinds of films provide an immediacy and intimacy that narrative films rarely match.

Not surprisingly, I’ve always been partial to documentaries relating to the arts. Happily, there is no shortage of excellent titles that celebrate human creativity -specifically, those directors, actors, painters, musicians, and dancers whose efforts infuse our lives with drama, color and meaning. Here are ten personal favorites spanning over fifty years.

Henri-Georges Clouzot’s “The Mystery of Picasso” (1956) endures as a riveting, stunningly original achievement. Here the movie screen becomes the canvas on which the artist paints, and Picasso creates art before our very eyes which will only exist on film (all pieces were destroyed after shooting). It is a breathtaking visual experiment that pays off. At intervals between the painting sequences, we also get to observe the interplay between artist and director, which supplies a tantalizing flavor of Picasso the man.

You don’t have to love jazz to appreciate Bert Stern’s “Jazz On A Summer’s Day” (1958). The setting is the Newport Jazz Festival in the distant balmy summer of 1958. On hand are jazz legends Louis Armstrong, Thelonious Monk, and Gerry Mulligan, not to mention gospel singer Mahalia Jackson and a youthful Chuck Berry. The vibrancy of the color photography makes it all look like it was shot last week. “Jazz” is a priceless filmed document of our country’s musical heritage.

“Homage To Chagall: The Colours of Love” (1977) is a more demanding but no less rewarding study of the artist Marc Chagall. A poet and mystic as well as painter, haunting shots of his work are juxtaposed with readings of the artist’s own words by actors James Mason and Joseph Wiseman. What emerges is a profound portrait of a bona-fide genius, whose goal was to portray the many shades and facets of love.

The spiritual force that is gospel music jumps off the screen in “Say Amen, Somebody” (1982). Part history of the movement, part here-and-now experience of gospel’s healing power, “Amen” is full of upstanding people for whom church on Sunday is not an obligation, but a kind of joyful rejuvenation. See this movie, and share the joy.

As to the more recent entries, foreign movie fans should appreciate the beguiling “Marcello Mastroianni: I Remember” (1997). Here, in the twilight of his life, the famous actor looks back on a long, eventful career with humility and humor. With a running time slightly over three hours, Mastroianni’s still potent charm makes the film seem half as long. His unaffected warmth and love of his craft shine through his stories, shattering the vain romantic hero stereotype he so loathed. For an endearing portrait of a consummate leading man, look no further.

Next, there’s “Dancemaker” (1999), a penetrating profile of choreographer Paul Taylor’s modern dance company. The film vividly conveys the blissful torture of the modern dance world: the enormous physical exertions involved and their debilitating long-term effects; the cut-throat competition and absence of financial rewards and security, all borne happily for the exhilaration of performance and the chance to work with an acknowledged master. Taylor himself is at once a brutal task-master, insecure about his work, and overall, a somewhat lonely human being, owing to a solitary early life in foster care. A pure love of the dance is the unifying, invigorating force for him and his company, and we are the beneficiaries.

Chuck Jones: Extremes and In-Betweens-A Life In Animation (2000) presents a jaunty profile of legendary Warner Bros. animator-director Chuck Jones. In candid interviews with Jones and others, such as "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening, we trace Jones's process and see how he created the definitive versions of Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and Porky Pig, through a unique combination of experimental drafting techniques and impeccable comedic precision. Peering inside the head of this pioneering animator and revisiting sequences from some of his most famous shorts is just half the fun of watching this warm and amusing documentary. The rest comes from listening to what latter-day animators and comedians like Robin Williams and Whoopi Goldberg have to say about his influence on their own work, and hearing Leonard Maltin articulate what made Jones's cartoons funnier and more brilliant than anyone else's. Great fun.

“This So-Called Disaster” (2003) provides an astonishingly intimate glimpse into the intense rehearsals leading up to the 2000 San Francisco production of "The Late Henry Moss," a play written and directed by Sam Shepard, based partly on the author's recollections of his own alcoholic father. From initial readings to opening night, we follow the stellar cast, including Sean Penn, Nick Nolte, Woody Harrelson, and Cheech Marin, through a remarkable process of preparation. "Moss" is a dark, demanding piece, so the rehearsals director Michael Almereyda respectfully captures in "Disaster" are draining for all concerned. What transfixed this fly on the wall was how directors and actors adopt their own language in rehearsing a play--one virtually unintelligible to the layman, but to trained professionals, a pure dialect pinpointing emotion and motivation.

The daunting perils and pressures facing the film director are revealed in “Lost In La Mancha” (2003), which follows Terry Gilliam’s ill-fated attempt to shoot the definitive version of the Don Quixote tale. The lesson here is vital but simple: on a film production, even the combined elements of talent, inspiration, and hard work will fall short if fate and lousy luck conspire to intervene. Watching “Lost” builds an almost lurid fascination, like watching an accident happen in slow motion. (It should also make anyone think twice about a career in film directing.)

World-famous artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude are best known for “The Gates,” a sprawling public-art project where bright-orange girders were erected in mid-winter Central Park. But these impassioned visionaries have been hard at work on large-scale artmaking for over 30 years. “5 Films About Christo and Jean Claude” (2004) brings together a series of documentaries by renowned filmmakers Albert and David Maysles , depicting the creative process and fraught logistics behind works like “Valley Curtain” and “Umbrellas,” as well as the impact of their unique collaborations on observers, locals, and the art world. These remarkable short films highlight the transformative aesthetic and magical allure of such grandiose “wrapping” projects as “Islands,” in which the artists turned a Florida island chain into a mass of floating pink water lilies. Jeanne-Claude and Christo, real-life spouses who truly “complete” each other, also emerge as visionaries dedicated to realizing art’s potential to change the way we view landscape as well as architectural monuments.

Leo and Kate: They Didn't Go Down with the Ship

Earlier this month Kate Winslet celebrated her birthday. To this aging fan, she still seems astonishingly young, but of course, success came fairly early for her. Who can forget her disarming freshness and exuberance in Ang Lee's "Sense and Sensibility" (1995)?

Her close friend and co-star Leonardo di Caprio shares much with her beyond two high-profile motion pictures: they are virtually the same age, and both started acting in their childhood, a significant shared connection.

In their early twenties, they were brought together to star in James Cameron’s “Titanic” (1997), the movie that set records at the box office and the Academy Awards, and ironically, a motion picture experience that made me feel all of Hollywood was sinking. The wild success of this feature resoundingly affirmed the idea that in contemporary Hollywood, image and spectacle most always trump script and character. Over a decade later, it’s still true.

On our website, we feature more of Kate’s titles, including her own favorite role in 2004’s “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind”. As to why there’s less of Leo, the youthful actor is understandably fond of his twenty million dollar pay-days, and so gravitates towards those Hollywood blockbusters which fall into the “Titanic”, bigger-is-better mold.

For instance, I passed over all of Di Caprio’s high-profile work with Martin Scorsese: the woefully miscast “Gangs Of New York” (2002), the good-not-great “Catch Me If You Can” (2002), “The Aviator” (2004)- which I thought was an elaborate dud, and yes, folks- even “The Departed” (2006), an over-stuffed feature that in my view pales next to the leaner, lesser-known Chinese feature on which it’s based, “Infernal Affairs” (2002).

As for Leo and Kate’s much-anticipated reunion pairing in last year’s “Revolutionary Road”, directed by Kate’s husband Sam Mendes, this recounting of the curdled American Dream starts out promisingly, but bogs down roughly halfway through. I don’t need to pay twelve bucks to see a married couple argue, I thought at one point- I can get that for free at home. All in all, I would have much preferred to watch an episode or two of “Mad Men”.

But criticism aside, both these actors are enormously gifted, even if the movies they make don’t always live up to their prodigious talents. Surely the best is yet to come, so here’s hoping Leo and Kate do many more films together. But for now, let’s celebrate their careers to-date with a sampling of their more interesting, lesser-known work, both pre-and post-“Titanic”.

This Boy’s Life (1993) - In the 1950s, flighty divorcee Caroline (Ellen Barkin) moves with her son Toby (DiCaprio) to Washington State and begins dating Dwight Hansen (Robert DeNiro), a charming, confident mechanic who offers a stable home and security. But soon after their nuptials, Toby, a thoughtful kid with a rebellious streak, butts heads with his new stepfather, who turns out to be a brutish and abusive bully. Based on a memoir by Tobias Wolff, this searing domestic melodrama tackles the myriad difficulties of surviving adolescence in a dysfunctional home. DiCaprio, in his first lead role, is likably mischievous playing against the petty tyranny of DeNiro's lying, thieving, authoritarian Dwight. Barkin is effective, too, as the submissive woman who can't admit she's made a mistake in wedding him. Sensitively directed by Michael Caton-Jones, "Life" will resonate with anyone who's ever had to fight for respect and independence.

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape (1993)- In small-town Endora, young Gilbert Grape (Johnny Depp) is the de facto household head, caring for his mentally handicapped brother Arnie (DiCaprio), endlessly mortified teen sister, Ellen (Mary Kate Schellhardt), and 500-lb. widowed mother (Darlene Cates), who hasn't left the house since Gilbert's dad hanged himself. Gilbert constantly negotiates a flurry of demands without fail, but when a well-traveled gal named Becky (Juliette Lewis) rolls into town with her grandmother, Gilbert gets his first taste of freedom. Adapted by Peter Hedges from his novel, Lasse Hallstrom's endearing, offbeat drama features heartthrob Depp as a fatherless young man with lots of worries and little time for his own happiness. Oscar nominee DiCaprio gives a remarkably tender performance as Arnie, a mentally challenged kid who's difficult to deal with but impossible not to love. Hallstrom develops the quirkier aspects of Hedges's story-including Gilbert's involvement with a lonely wife and a worldly newcomer-with a light comic touch. Excellent support from Lewis, John C. Reilly, Crispin Glover, and non-actress Cates kicks things up a notch. Beneath its unusual skin, this "Grape" is quite sweet.

Heavenly Creatures (1994)- Pauline (Melanie Lynskey) is a morbid, overweight New Zealand teen who feels alienated from her family and classmates, but discovers a bosom buddy in pretty Juliet (Winslet), a wealthy English transplant who shares her unusual taste in music and the arts. Together, they create a Gothic-tinged fantasy world called Borovnia that they retreat into with increasingly obsessive zeal. When their parents attempt to force them apart, the girls hatch a dark, violent plan of escape. An unsettling, thoroughly absorbing drama based on a real-life crime, "Creatures" is the magnificent brainchild of then-horror-movie director Peter Jackson ("Lord of the Rings"), who brings sensitivity and sincere human feeling to this tragic story of love and murder. Winslet and Lynskey have an intense, wholly credible rapport, playing highly intelligent girls (one of whom, the brash Juliet, would grow up to become mystery novelist Anne Perry!), whose fully enmeshed intimacy takes them farther and farther from reality. Beautifully photographed, splendidly acted, and imaginatively directed, "Creatures" burrows under your skin in a lasting way.

Finding Neverland (2004)- Married Scottish playwright J.M. Barrie (Johnny Depp), meets a widow, Sylvia Davies (Winslet), with four young boys he becomes very attached to, and is inspired to write “Peter Pan,” an ode to everlasting youth that would become a children’s classic. But Barrie’s efforts to produce the play at the Duke of York’s theater in London are fraught with difficulty, even as his love for the Davies clan continues to grow. Man-child Depp is perfectly cast in this endearing biopic about Barrie’s relationship with the family who inspired his greatest and most beloved work, and co-star Kate fits the bill just as nicely. Depp has always taken eccentric roles, but here he plays the real-life writer with authentic human warmth. Director Marc Forster allows us to see the world as Barrie does, depicting not just the emotional pangs (grief and the passing of loved ones is a theme in his life), but the flights of fancy soaring in his imagination. The effect is charming. See this one with the kids, or just for your own enchantment.

Blood Diamond (2006)- While serving time for diamond smuggling in war-torn Sierra Leone, former soldier of fortune Danny Archer (DiCaprio) hears about an ultra-precious raw stone unearthed by Solomon Vandy (Djimon Hounsou), a fisherman who’s hidden the pink monster somewhere inside his unstable country. Driven by greed, Archer makes a deal with Vandy, agreeing to help find his scattered family in return for a share of the gem’s value. Along for the ride is Maddy Bowen (Jennifer Connelly), an American journalist determined to illuminate the ugly underside of the world diamond trade. Set during Sierra Leone’s bloody civil war in 1999, this thriller stars DiCaprio as a ruthless smuggler who sells “conflict diamonds,” high-priced baubles used to finance war and terror before finding their way onto Western fingers. Shedding his boyish charm for anti-heroic male bravado, DiCaprio plays the white Rhodesian Archer as an unsympathetic mercenary motivated purely by personal gain. Hounsou, meanwhile, delivers an affecting performance as a humble man whose son has been forced into a child army. Edward Zwick directs with flair, visual daring, and a conscientious eye toward the real cost of diamond mining.

Little Children (2006)- After meeting at a local park, stay-at-home mom Sarah (Winslet) and handsome former jock Brad (Patrick Wilson), a failed lawyer with a young son, are drawn into an exhilarating but potentially destructive extramarital affair. Meanwhile, neighborhood busybodies are on edge about Ronnie (Jackie Earl Haley), a creepy sex offender who’s moved in with his mother. Based on the acclaimed novel by Tom Perrotta, Todd Field's unsettling, often irreverent portrait of suburban malaise features a cathartic performance by Winslet, whose singular talents are on high-beam display. Sarah is unfulfilled by life as a stroller pusher; Brad has failed the bar twice and seems unfit for a career in law; both need escape from isolating routine and distant spouses, and find it in each other. As he did in "In the Bedroom," Field takes his time developing the emotional tension, pacing us gradually toward a jarring conclusion. Former child actor Haley, in a superb turn, gives the film extra appeal as a scary, darkly funny, and vulnerable pervert.

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The Man Who Made the Best Movie Ever

Those who hold to the American Film Institute’s view will assume the subject of this piece is Orson Welles, who, at the tender age of 25, made Citizen Kane (1941), a film that both cursed and immortalized the young man. This admittedly brilliant feature heads their much scrutinized list of the top 100 movies ever made.

Personally, I think the A.F.I’s number two pick, Casablanca (1942) should have won top honors. Though it’s almost absurd to compare them, Kane today feels more self-conscious, more eager to show off its virtuosity and originality than Casablanca, a film that, viewed once or a hundred times, simply seems to have nothing wrong with it.

So this piece will instead concern Michael Curtiz, a Hungarian-born director who never commanded the adulation of a Lubitsch, Hitchcock, Ford or Welles. Part of his relative obscurity came from being so thoroughly enmeshed in the intricate machinery of the studio system in the thirties and forties. Unlike Welles, Curtiz was never known as an auteur, innovator or maverick, but simply put, he knew his business. A superb film craftsman, from roughly 1933-1945 he was widely acknowledged as the best director on the Warner lot (along with William Wyler). And today we have his pictures to prove it.

Born in 1886, he’d been in movies almost as long as there’d been movies. By the time he landed at Warners, he had established a signature style anchored in crisp pacing and frequent camera movement. Curtiz also knew how to use unusual compositions and camera angles to heighten tension. Just as important to Jack Warner, Curtiz was adept at running a disciplined set and moving a production along.

He would never have claimed to be an “actor’s director”. Still, he was unfailingly courteous to Ingrid Bergman on the Casablanca set (how hard could that have been?), and got on well enough with the unruly Errol Flynn to make twelve pictures with him. When asked about the importance of “character” in his films, Curtiz replied that character was secondary for him; audiences need hardly be concerned with it since he kept his stories moving so fast.

What humanized Curtiz most was his thick accent and scant understanding of proper English, which often made him incomprehensible on set. The memorable title of David Niven’s memoir Bring On The Empty Horses was an actual Curtiz quote, referring to a group of riderless stallions Curtiz needed to shoot. Then, of course, there’s this hilarious rant which Niven once endured from the director: “You think you know f**k everything! Well, you know f**k nothing! And I know f**k all!”

On the set of Casablanca, the director made an unexpected but urgent request for poodles. When the dogs were ushered into his presence, Curtiz went volcanic and screamed: “No! I said poodles! Poodles of water!!!”

After the Second War, Curtiz broke with the Warner studio that had been his home for so long, and in the roughly fifteen ensuing years until his death in 1961, the director’s output would rarely equal the quality of his pre-war features.

But in his hey-day, what fine work he did. Beyond his universally admired masterpiece, just behold some of the other enduring classics Michael Curtiz bequeathed to future generations:

Captain Blood (1935) - In this lusty recounting of the Rafael Sabatini tale, Errol Flynn is Peter Blood, a doctor unjustly sentenced to servitude by the British Crown. Chafing against captivity, Blood escapes and becomes a pirate on the high seas. He makes as good a pirate as doctor, wielding a sword in a way they don't teach you in medical school. Beyond zesty sword fights, there are grand sea battles, and of course, romance, as Blood falls for Arabella Bishop (Olivia de Havilland), daughter of Colonel Bishop (Lionel Atwill), cruel master of the penal colony where Blood is initially sent. Blood made an overnight star of the Tasmanian Flynn, and no wonder. His combination of good looks, athleticism, and sheer personality brought back the swashbuckler in one fell swoop. Curtiz's direction is predictably assured, and both Atwill and pirate nemesis Basil Rathbone make truly despicable villains. Finally, young de Havilland is the perfect match for Flynn; it's easy to see why they'd be paired in seven more Warner pictures.

The Adventures Of Robin Hood (1938)- Robin of Locksley, a noble Saxon (Flynn), sees the people of England exploited by the Normans and their leader, Prince John (Claude Rains), who's seized the throne in his brother Richard's absence. Robin and his followers work to undermine the corrupt regime until King Richard's return. With Maid Marion (Olivia De Havilland) as love interest and Sir Guy Gisbourne (Basil Rathbone) as nemesis, Robin is kept constantly occupied. This rousing, gorgeously photographed adventure movie exemplifies the magical heights Warner Brothers attained in the Golden Age of the studio system. Bolstered by a consistently clever script, with both humor and romance complementing the derring-do, Curtiz’s Robin Hood is a milestone in Hollywood cinema -- the first, and perhaps best, color swashbuckler.

Angels With Dirty Faces (1938)- Rocky Sullivan and Jerry Connolly, two young hooligans on the make, are caught stealing, and only Jerry gets away. As the years go by, the reform school-hardened Rocky (James Cagney) enters a life of crime, becoming a famous and feared gangster, while Jerry (Pat O'Brien) ultimately sees the light and enters the priesthood. While maintaining affection for each other, criminal and priest must compete for the souls of a new generation of hoodlums in the neighborhood, played by the Dead End Kids. Angels represents the peak of the gangster picture genre which Warners developed and refined in the thirties, when the age of Capone was still fresh in people’s minds. Cagney, whose screen career had been launched seven years before in The Public Enemy, perfects his rendition of the crook with a heart of gold, and his close real-life friend Pat O'Brien counters him perfectly as the mellow, morally upright Father Connolly. Meanwhile Humphrey Bogart, in full villain mode, is deliciously slimy as Rocky’s “business partner”. Whatever you do, don’t miss that ending!

The Private Lives Of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)- Based on Maxwell Anderson's play, Elizabeth The Queen, this opulent drama profiles the uncoventional relationship between aging Queen Elizabeth I (a heavily made–up Bette Davis, in a rare character role), and the handsome Earl Of Essex (Flynn). Their obvious mutual affection creates an interesting dynamic, with the Queen's age and position forcing a measure of restraint, and the Earl's awareness of her true feelings making him bolder than your average subject. A sterling supporting cast includes Flynn's frequent co-star de Havilland (in a featured role), Donald Crisp, and a young Vincent Price as Sir Walter Raleigh! In this handsome production, historical accuracy is sacrificed to achieve an intelligent and intriguing character piece, shot in glorious Technicolor. The film admirably showcases its two stars, whose on-screen chemistry never hints at their off-screen disdain for each other. Davis is forced to stretch more in her part, and bravely foregoes any vanity in playing the spinster queen, while Flynn's Essex fits the actor's breezy, effortless charisma like a glove. Another direct hit for Curtiz and Flynn.

The Sea Hawk (1940)- Captain Thorpe (Errol Flynn), a British privateer, seizes the bounty on Spanish ships to help thwart that country's hostile intentions towards Britain and fill England's coffers. On capturing a vessel carrying the Spanish Ambassador (Claude Rains) and his niece (Brenda Marshall), he returns to England and advocates for greater preparedness against Spain with Queen Elizabeth. To get him out of the way, the Spanish capture Thorpe at sea and the buccaneer must escape to warn his queen of the advancing Spanish armada. Along with Captain Blood, this remains Flynn’s best pirate film -- it’s a good old-fashioned sword-fest, with plenty of intrigue. Joined by Warner character players Claude Rains, Donald Crisp and Flora Robson (superb as the Queen), Hawk remains an exhilarating experience, with a lusty Erich Korngold score and incredible sets (two full-size ship replicas were built for the production). You’ll find it’s as bracing as the sea air.

Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) - Curtiz's homage to patriotic songwriter/entertainer George M. Cohan was perfectly timed to stir our spirits as we entered World War II. A meeting with F.D.R on the eve of the conflict prompts an aging George M. (James Cagney) to look back on his colorful life, from the lean early days touring the country with his parents and sister in vaudeville, to later heady, happy times as our country's most prominent songwriter/performer, who stirred love of country through the first several decades of the twentieth century. This exuberant slice of Americana is Cagney's show entirely, netting him his only Oscar (after all those gangster roles!). The actor actually began his career as a song-and-dance man, and here he gets to prove it, in a series of rousing, nostalgic numbers that keep the rich Cohan legacy alive. Walter Huston stands out in a sterling supporting cast playing George's loving Dad. Good enough to watch any old time, but a must for Independence Day.

Mildred Pierce (1945)- This timeless, tawdry Joan Crawford melodrama is based on the James Cain story of a ruthless career woman (Crawford), who will do anything to ensure her daughter Veda (Ann Blyth) gets all the advantages she never enjoyed. Veda grows into a spoiled monster, but the other characters surrounding the hard-working Mildred aren't too sympathetic either, whether it's the oily Monty Berrigan (Zachary Scott) whom Mildred thinks she loves, or lascivious realtor Wally Fay (Jack Carson), who just might help Mildred if she becomes friendlier. There's a foul odor in this town, and it may be the scent of murder. Here Curtiz the master creates a diabolical murder yarn. Crawford resuscitated her fading career with the driven Mildred, a part she was born to play. The Oscar- nominated Blyth grates as the hateful Veda (hard for her not to), and Scott and Carson each ooze their particular brand of acid as the calculating men in Mildred's life. For a vicarious glimpse into seamy small town intrigue, you can't beat this one. Joan won an Oscar.

Note: several other Curtiz titles would have made this list but either are not on DVD, or available only on inferior “public domain” editions. Among them: The Kennel Murder Case (1933), The Sea Wolf (1941), and Life With Father (1947). Another winner, Four Daughters (1938), has just been released on the Warner Archive Collection.

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Leniency for Polanski

The news of director Roman Polanski's arrest stirred me more than I might have expected, since I'd just screened Marina Zenovich's revealing documentary about this man's tortured life, entitled Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired (2008).

This documentary is must-viewing, particularly given breaking events.

Confronting these developments, we must affirm the law's the law, right? And what Polanski reputedly did with a 13-year-old girl all those years ago was unquestionably the act of a sick individual.

But the story of what Polanski suffered even before the unspeakable trauma of having his pregnant wife Sharon Tate butchered in the spooky twilight of the turbulent sixties makes me believe that overall, he's as much victim as predator himself.

Can you imagine living in the Krakow ghetto during the Nazi Occupation, and at the tender age of ten watching both your parents shuttled off to concentration camps, only to have your mother die in one?

These horrors by no means excuse his crime, but they are mitigating factors, are they not?

This new arrest also smacks of a sneak attack on the now 76-year-old director, who's been remarried to actress Emmanuelle Seigner for two decades. (He's probably reformed by now , don't you think?)

And unless there's something we don't yet know -- for instance, that he actually wanted to be arrested to gain some sort of late-life expiation of his past sins -- then it's clear he thought he was safe going to Switzerland to accept that award.

Watching Wanted and Desired, I did not get the impression that the now-adult lady Polanski victimized, who after all bears the most right to carry a grudge, would herself want to see the aging director slapped behind bars at this stage. (Perhaps others who saw the film had a different impression.)

So, with all due contempt for child molesters in general, I hope the case will be handled expeditiously, and if and when sentenced, that Polanski ultimately receives a measure of leniency. In other words- don't throw away the key.

I can't help musing that here in America, we drove away Chaplin for all those years, and though Polanski's crime was much harsher and more defined, I, for one, would welcome having him back among us once he's paid his debt to society. Maybe he could even help us make better movies again.

Of course, the diminutive Pole has had his share of stinkers (example: 1988's Frantic was most ordinary), but in my view, the following five features assure his screen immortality.

Knife In The Water (1962)- Weird dynamics arise when a married couple impulsively invite a young male hitch-hiker on a boating excursion. The men each subtly vie for macho supremacy as a way both to impress and lay claim to the woman. A layered tale about mankind's baser instincts on display, the film catapulted the young director to fame in his own country.

Repulsion (1965)- When Helene and her boyfriend leave her disturbed sister Carole (Catherine Deneuve) alone in their London flat one weekend, Carole's visceral contempt for men causes her to disintegrate emotionally. Pretty as she is, it's difficult for the opposite sex to leave her alone, including ardent admirer Colin (John Fraser). He has definitely picked the wrong girl. The director's first English-language film makes for a potent shocker, with Deneuve mesmerizing as the isolated, increasingly demented Carole.

Rosemary's Baby (1968)- New York's famous Dakota apartment building houses a modern-day witches' coven, with designs on the unborn child of a young housewife (Mia Farrow). Is Rosemary really carrying the Devil's offspring, and if so, how will she get anyone to believe her... before it's too late? This subtly demonic tale builds to a shocking climax. The willowy Farrow embodies vulnerability as Rosemary, while John Cassavetes, in a rare mainstream role, delivers just the right amount of shaded menace as her too soothing spouse. Ruth Gordon also scores as a kooky older neighbor, and look for a young Charles Grodin playing a doctor in a pivotal scene.

Chinatown (1974)- Hired by glamorous, mysterious Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) to tail her errant husband, private dick Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) thinks he's on a routine case of spousal infidelity. It turns out Evelyn is the daughter of shadowy industrial baron Noah Cross (John Huston), and the seamy revleations mount from there, plunging Jake into a hornet's nest of incest and corruption in 1930's Los Angeles. Unquestionably one of the best films about the "City Of Angels", it's also one of the most superbly crafted detective stories ever committed to celluloid. The two leads really click, and legendary director Huston delivers his finest acting turn as the wily, ruthless Cross. Watch for Polanski himself as thug with a grudge against nosy people.

The Pianist (2002)- When the Nazis occupy Warsaw, a gifted pianist (Adrien Brody) feels his privileged world begin to crumble. Escaping the fate of his family,who are deported to a concentration camp, the man hides out in the apartment of a sympathetic friend, who then disappears. Desperate, he moves from one empty flat to another, determined to elude capture aa the city collapses around him. Polanski transforms this true story based on one man's memoirs into his most personal work. The acting in this shattering film is superb, with Thomas Kretschmann playing a Nazi officer partial to classical music, and Brody heart-rending in the title role, for he which he netted a richly deserved Oscar.

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In A World Starved For Great Comedy, Why Not Revisit Some Stellar Sellers?

Earlier this month the British actor/comedian Peter Sellers, best known to the world as the bumbling Inspector Clouseau in the "Pink Panther" series, would have turned 84. Wouldn't life be brighter if this comic genius hadn't left us so soon? As it was, we lost him close to thirty years ago, due to a weak heart further compromised by the stress of work, celebrity, and various personal upheavals.

I confess I’ve never seen Geoffrey Rush’s portrayal of him in “The Life and Death of Peter Sellers” (2004), but gather this biopic affirms much of what I’d already read about the man: that he was indulged by a doting mother; that he grew up knowing that he preferred pretending to be other characters than to explore and develop who he really was, and that this led both to a stunning career as funny-man, character actor, and star, but also a personal life beset by demons of restlessness, loneliness, and yes- insecurity.

From the outset of his career his compulsion was to work, work, work. After earning initial notoriety in the early fifties as a prominent member of “The Goons”, Spike Milligan’s groundbreaking comedy troupe, Sellers made a successful transition to films, unlike Milligan himself. By the early sixties, he was burning on all cylinders, completing over ten films between 1962-1964, before his first serious heart attack literally forced him to take a break. But he always came back as soon as possible to that place he felt most comfortable: playing expertly in someone else’s skin, in front of a camera.

As to his signature Clouseau pictures, I consider the earliest two entries: “The Pink Panther” (1963) and “A Shot In The Dark” (1964) his finest portrayals of the French detective. When Sellers and director Blake Edwards shrewdly decided to reprise the series in the seventies, the movies were much broader, reflected in Sellers’ more pronounced French accent (“Who is this on the phuuuunne?” and “Does your duug baaate?”). Of these later entries, I think the best is “The Pink Panther Strikes Again” (1978).

Still, to accurately reflect the breadth of this actor’s film legacy means going well beyond the much beloved Inspector. So with that in mind, here’s some more stellar Sellers.

The Ladykillers (1955)- Criminal mastermind Professor Marcus ( Alec Guinness) and his motley crew of thieves are planning a daring robbery of a London bank. To provide suitable cover as they prepare, they masquerade as a musical group and take lodgings at the home of kindly old Mrs. Wilberforce (Katie Johnson), who lives nearby. The Professor assumes the aged landlady will remain unobtrusive and clueless to their machinations, but alas, he misjudges her. Alexander Mackendrick's peerless black comedy benefits from William Rose's ingenious story and the finest ensemble playing a comedy could hope for: Guinness's Marcus is the essence of smarmy charm, and Johnson projects a steely will cloaked in Victorian gentility. The gang are an inspired bunch of misfits, including a stuttering Cecil Parker, a portly, dim Sellers, and a menacing Herbert Lom (the latter two actors would reunite years later for the “Panther” series, with Lom providing the ideal foil for Sellers as the emotionally disintegrating Chief Inspector Dreyfus). Don’t confuse this British gem with the inferior Tom Hanks re-make.

I’m All Right, Jack (1959)- John Boulton’s deft labor relations satire is at once subtle, multi-layered and consistently amusing. Notably, “Jack” also sheds piercing light on the perpetual struggle between management and labor in England, and by extension, the yawning gulf inherent in Britain’s class structure. This inspired yarn centers around one Stanley Windrush (Ian Carmichael), a naïve patrician who fails at every white collar job he tries. His Uncle Bertram (Dennis Price), owner of a missile company, soon devises an inspired plan: get Stanley to start at the bottom rung of his firm, and manipulate his unwitting, out-of-place nephew to cause labor unrest and ultimately, a strike. Then a lucrative arms deal will go to chummy competitor Sidney deVere Cox (Richard Attenborough), who will raise the deal price. The premium would then get split among all interested parties. Sellers unforgettably plays Fred Kite, the head of the company’s labor committee, a well-meaning, precise working man who falls for management’s ploy. What noone counts on is how Stanley himself will respond to the strike, supported by his wealthy, adoring Aunt Dolly (Margaret Rutherford). Assorted machinations and developments lead to divine comic complications for all involved, except of course, Stanley, the presumed pawn in the scheme. Terry-Thomas is also memorable as the company’s slick personnel director, but through it all, it’s Sellers’s Kite that flies highest.

Lolita (1962)- After renting a room from lonely American widow Charlotte Haze (Shelley Winters), middle-aged professor Humbert Humbert (James Mason) becomes obsessed with her nubile 15-year-old daughter, Lolita (Sue Lyon). So smitten is the worldly, intellectual Humbert that he agrees to marry brash Charlotte in order to maintain contact with the coquettish virgin. A dark turn of events brings Humbert even closer to Lolita, with humiliating and tragic results. A brilliant adaptation of Vladimir Nabokov's novel penned by the author himself, Kubrick's "Lolita" satirizes the vulgar desires and warped intellect of Humbert, magnificently played by Mason. Upgrading Lolita's age to make the film palatable to audiences in 1962, Kubrick emphasized the farcical aspects of the source material, drawing an extraordinary performance from Sellers, who plays Humbert's lecherous (and oft-disguised) writer friend Clare Quilty. Winters is by turns perky and melancholic as the unwitting Charlotte. You'll fall hard for the daring "Lolita."

Doctor Strangelove, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb (1964)- In this satirical doomsday thriller, a U.S. bomber receives a signal to release its nuclear payload on Russia. When the unfortunate Captain Mandrake (Sellers) seeks out Gen. Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) to learn why he ordered the drop, and why he's placed his Air Force base on lockdown, it's quickly evident the general has lost his marbles. Meanwhile, President Muffley (Sellers again) meets with senior advisers, including hawkish General “Buck” Turgidson (George C. Scott) and the oddly sinister nuclear scientist Dr. Strangelove (Sellers), to review their limited options to save the planet. Perhaps the most inspired Cold War farce ever and certainly one of the screen's supreme black comedies, Kubrick's "Strangelove" confronted jittery audiences in the aftermath of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and not long after the advent of the H bomb. With Kubrick's twisted genius as director and screenwriter in full bloom, and peerless performances by Sellers in three roles, not to mention the buffoonish Scott and unhinged Hayden, the film is unbearably funny, but somewhat disturbing as well, which helps account for its enduring cult status.

The World of Henry Orient (1964)- Two New York City private school girls befriend each other, then develop a mutual crush on the title character, second-rate orchestra conductor and third-rate ladies' man, Henry Orient (Sellers). They then decide to stalk the poor fellow, foiling all his meticulously planned assignations. When Orient finally identifies who they are and calls on one of their parents, the plot takes a darker, more dramatic turn. Sellers is in rare form as the perpetually randy, eternally mediocre fraud (don’t miss his delivery of the movie’s last line!). The two girls who pursue him (Merrie Spaeth and Tippy Walker) give refreshingly natural performances for the time. Then there’s Paula Prentiss, screamingly funny as one of Orient's nervous paramours, and the incomparable Angela Lansbury, who injects a cold note of evil as one girl's mother. George Roy Hill’s too-often overlooked film also features beautiful on-location scenery of Manhattan's Upper East Side. More than ever, this is one “World” worth entering.

The Party (1967)- A fat-cat Hollywood producer decides to throw a splashy dinner party ("Anyone who's anyone will be there!"), and as bad luck would have it, Indian-born actor Hrundi Bakshi (Sellers) mistakenly makes it onto the guest list. Though Bakshi knows few of his fellow guests, they’ll certainly get to know him before the night is over. Here Sellers inhabits yet another accident-prone character in his continuing partnership with Blake Edwards. Bakshi is a gentle person, but his innocent curiosity about his surroundings (or is it bewilderment?) manages to wreak havoc most everywhere he goes. Though the breathless comic momentum flags a bit by picture's end, Sellers's brilliant characterization and some sublime set-pieces make this worthy viewing. In particular, that dinner scene remains one of the funniest sequences on film. French actress Claudine Longet is adorable as the party's prettiest guest, who befriends the sweet but clumsy Bakshi. Don’t miss this wild and woolly sixties bash!

Being There (1979)- Sellers's second-to-last film proved to himself and the world that when called upon, he could be a superb serious actor. This ingenious tale, originally penned by Jerzy Kosinski, concerns Chance, a middle-aged (though strangely child-like) gardener in Washington, D.C., whose only education has come through television. Through a twist of fate after his old employer dies, Chance (re-dubbed Chauncey Gardner) lands in the home of powerful wheeler-dealer Benjamin Rand (Melvyn Douglas) and his younger wife Eve (Shirley MacLaine). Rand discerns genius in Chauncey's simple pronouncements, and soon the humble gardener has the ear of some even more powerful people. Adapted by Kosinski himself, and helmed by top 70's director Hal Ashby, the movie’s a triumph, due to Sellers' bravura lead turn and top-notch performances from acting veteran Douglas (who netted an Oscar), MacLaine, and a gravelly Jack Warden as the President. Witty, sharp, and thought-provoking, this feature's enduring poignancy comes from the fact that Sellers had only a year to live when he made it. If you love the work of Peter Sellers, you'll love "Being There".

For over 2,000 outstanding titles on DVD, visit www.bestmoviesbyfarr.com.

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