A Man and a Woman (1966): see Un Homme et une Femme.

ABBA: Super Troupe (2019) documents the history of the hugely popular Swedish pop-music band. It's interesting and informative, especially for people unfamiliar with the background. Two tidbits: at its peak, ABBA was Sweden's second-richest enterprise, but the Mamma Mia! stage musical featuring the band's songs reaped even more money. Unfortunately, this one-hour documentary suffers from poor-quality audio that makes some interviews almost unintelligible.

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948) sounds schlocky, and it is. But it's funny and was the most popular Universal Pictures horror flick since the original Frankenstein (1931). In addition to the Bud Abbott & Lou Costello comedy duo, it stars Bela Lugosi as Dracula, Lon Chaney Jr. as the Wolfman, Glenn Strange (not Boris Karloff) as the Frankenstein monster, and Vincent Price as the voice of the Invisible Man. (The Mummy was dropped.) Expect lots of madcap comedy. My favorite line: "She has so much bridgework that when I kiss her, I have to pay a toll."

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) adds dry British humor to a horror thriller that features elaborate sets and bizarre murders. It works if you're in the mood for something different. Horror vet Vincent Price stars as a mad organist and inventor who seeks revenge against the doctors he blames for his young wife's death in surgery. His exotic methods include bats, rats, bees, locusts, freezing, and (yes!) unicorn impalement. Joseph Cotten co-stars as the head surgeon and main target. This unusual picture blends elements of Edgar Allan Poe, Art Deco, and steampunk. The sequel, Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972), is similar but worse.

The Abominable Snowman a/k/a The Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas (1957) leans more philosophical than most creature features of the 1950s. Under the Cold War threat of nuclear annihilation, it was unclear whether the human race would survive. Could it be replaced by another race of primates hiding in the world's most remote mountains? This interesting thriller, adapted from a British TV show, ponders that question and others when a small expedition searches for the fabled Yeti. Forrest Tucker stars as the leader who has personal motives. Peter Cushing plays a scientist answering a higher calling. Their clashes provide most of the drama, because the big reveal comes late. The moral: Sometimes the mysterious should remain a mystery.

About a Boy (2002) is really about a man who's like a boy. He's a man (stiffly played by Hugh Grant) who doesn't have to work because of an inherited income stream. But liberation from the daily grind has turned him into a directionless, moribund consumer. Then a young boy and a single mother come into his life and turn everything upside down. It sounds formulaic, and the last reel is a bit too sugar-coated, but the snappy dialogue and a few plot twists create a story that is frequently funny and warm.

About Schmidt (2002) is a devastating evaluation of middle-class American life. Jack Nicholson, with surprising subtlety, plays a newly retired insurance man. After some unexpected tragedy, he begins to doubt his life has accomplished anything of lasting value. The verdict comes slowly because he's not accustomed to self-examination. By swinging deftly between drama and comedy, this film explores the meaning of the American dream far better than American Beauty. And it isn't simply a Hollywood smirk at bourgeois America, as claimed by some critics, who have also overblown the nude scene with Kathy Bates. It's a story that will haunt you for a long time.

The Abyss (1989) is the best underwater thriller ever made and an excellent sci-fi adventure to boot. Ed Harris and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio star as a bickering couple on an experimental deep-sea oil rig. When a nuclear submarine sinks nearby, they're drafted into a desperate rescue mission alongside a U.S. Navy SEAL team. That's already enough drama for most movies, but director James Cameron (The Terminator, Titanic) adds an extraterrestrial angle. The special effects won an Academy Award and still impress today. Many scenes weren't faked, however — to the detriment of the hard-driven cast and crew, some of whom narrowly escaped death while filming in a huge water tank. A longer version released later on DVD has a different ending than the versions released in theaters and now streaming on Amazon. But even the original cut is great.

The Accidental Tourist (1988) questions isolationism as a personal lifestyle. William Hurt skillfully plays a reluctant business traveler who writes travel books for other business travelers who dislike travel. His advice is to minimize hassles, avoid new experiences, and return home unchanged. His siblings are even more cocooned. Then a family tragedy disrupts the status quo and threatens his marriage. Smoky-voiced Kathleen Turner is perfection as his chilly wife. Geena Davis won an Oscar as a dog trainer who further upsets his stability. Nominated for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Original Score, this deftly crafted movie surpasses most romantic dramas by challenging emotional neutrality as a life strategy.

Across the Universe (2007) is a lively rock musical featuring new arrangements of classic Beatles songs. It tells the story of a young Liverpool man who travels to America and falls in love. But the backdrop is more sinister: the 1960s turmoil of the Vietnam War, violent protests, civil rights, assassinations, and alienation. Some scenes are day-glo psychedelic, a homage to the Beatles own films — Magical Mystery Tour (1967) and Yellow Submarine (1968). Others contain subtle references to real historical figures and events. Although the updated music is generally quite good, the storyline tends to be jumpy and overpopulated with characters and subplots.

Act of Violence (1948) stars Robert Ryan, Van Heflin, Janet Leigh, and Mary Astor in an excellent film-noir thriller that weighs revenge against morality. Ryan is wonderfully menacing as a crippled World War II veteran pursuing the former officer (Heflin) whom he blames for his misfortune. Heflin's thriving postwar character seems innocent but has secrets. Is his comrade's thirst for revenge justified? Although Leigh gets some screen time as his frightened wife, her role is minimal. Astor plays a more interesting character — a lowlife floozy who picks up the pursued man like a stray dog. The climax echoes a Wild West duel and ends with a surprise.

Adaptation (2002) must be the ultimate self-referential film script. Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich) teams again with director Spike Jonze (ditto) to make a film about his struggle to write a film adaptation of Susan Orlean's book The Orchid Thief, which itself was adapted from an article in the New Yorker. Nicolas Cage excels in a double starring role as Kaufman and his twin brother, Donald. Outstanding supporting actors are Chris Cooper and Meryl Streep. The story has more inner twists than a mobius strip and drags a little near the end, but viewers who like unusual movies will enjoy the ride.

The Adjustment Bureau (2011) is a philosophical thriller that pits free will against predestination. Matt Damon stars as a politician who falls in love with a modern dancer (a luminescent Emily Blunt) after a chance meeting. A second unexpected meeting seems to confirm their mutual attraction. But were their meetings really chance? And would a relationship thwart their life goals and disrupt the march of history? Some mysterious strangers who claim to secretly control the world think so. Like another recent movie starring Damon (Hereafter), this film explores an ancient philosophical debate while studiously avoiding theology. Although it offers no new insight, it's a passable thriller — except that religious concepts stripped of their religious trappings often look like naked fantasy.

The Adventures of Rocky & Bullwinkle (2000) tries hard and has some funny moments, but it can't match the charm of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, another movie that mixes live action with cartoon animation.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939) is the second of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as English private detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. This installment was also the last in the series to take place in Victorian Age London, consistent with the original stories by Arthur Conan Doyle. Later films moved to the then-current 1940s and often featured a wartime theme. This one ranks among the best and erects some deliberately distracting subplots. The supporting cast is particularly good, with thriller-stalwart George Zucco playing Holmes' archenemy Professor Moriarty and the talented Ida Lupino in a surprising role as a young socialite fearing for her life. Holmes and Watson exchange lively banter, and this time Watson gets the triumphant last word.

Aelita a/k/a Aelita, the Queen of Mars (1924) was the Soviet Union's first science-fiction film, which qualifies it as a milestone in cinema. This genre wasn't as popular in the silent era, and government censorship kept most early Soviet films down to earth. The screenplay was penned by Aleksei Tolstoy (1883–1945), not to be confused with the great Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910). It's placed mainly in Moscow in 1921. Unfortunately, the earthbound scenes are a disjointed mess of irrelevant characters and half-baked subplots. More interesting are the scenes on Mars, where a pampered queen is subject to a dictator who rules hordes of subterranean slaves. The Martian sets, props, and costumes are wonderfully exotic. Despite its Bolshevik heritage, the story isn't too propagandistic until the end. Today this picture is a curiosity, not a standout example of its type.

An Affair to Remember (1957) pairs heartthrob Cary Grant with lovely Deborah Kerr in a classic romance drama that feels dated. Grant plays a playboy who meets Kerr's demure character on an ocean liner. Both are engaged to other people who are absent. At first she deflects his brash overtures, but an interlude ashore to visit his grandmother alters their courses. Unsure whether to break their engagements, they agree to meet six months later atop the Empire State Building if they're still in love. When this movie was made, Grant was 17 years older than Kerr, and the difference looks even greater. Contemporary audiences were so enthralled with him as a leading man that they didn't question the mutual attraction. Today, it's harder to see, and their formal banter sounds chilly. This classic hasn't aged well.

Affair in Trinidad (1952) reunites Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford in a film noir that tries to repeat the success of Gilda (1946). Although it reaped more box-office revenue, contemporary critics disliked the story and particularly Hayworth's performance. Viewed today, it's an average murder mystery that unusually features a woman as the main character, and Hayworth isn't so bad. She flashes her stuff in two song-and-dance numbers. Ford's character is mostly angry and jealous, and he looks even worse when he rudely slaps a woman. The final scene makes me question her judgment.

After the Thin Man (1936) followed The Thin Man (1934) as the first sequel in what would become a six-picture series. It's nearly as good. The suave William Powell returns as retired detective Nick Charles, along with the beautiful Myrna Loy as Nora, his wealthy wife, and Asta, their ornery dog. It recaptures the spirit of the first movie by offering a similar plot: a mysterious murder lures Nick and Nora into intrigue and danger. But this time it's a family affair. As before, snappy dialogue, heavy drinking, and a cast of colorful characters keep the action lively. The climax is similar, too: Nick solves the crime at a rowdy gathering of the suspects. Watch for a young James Stewart in a supporting role before he became a star.

Against All Odds (1984) remakes the film-noir classic Out of the Past (1947). It lacks the same atmosphere and gravitas but is equally representative of its era. Jeff Bridges substitutes for Robert Mitchum, James Woods for Kirk Douglas, and Rachel Ward for Jane Greer — who reappears as the mother of Ward's character. Despite changing many details, the plot is basically the same: a gangster (Woods) wounded by his runaway girlfriend (Ward) hires an acquaintance (Bridges) to find her in Mexico and recover the money she allegedly stole. The mission goes awry when the acquaintance and girlfriend fall in lust. Richard Widmark and Alex Karras excel in supporting roles. Not only because it's filmed in color, the remake doesn't match the original's noirish feel, and the climax is different. But it's a good movie in its own right that evokes the 1980s.

The Age of Gold (1930): see L'Age d'Or.

The Agony and the Ecstasy (1965) dramatizes Michelangelo's painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling in 1508–1512. Charlton Heston, the go-to actor for epics of this sort in the 1950s and 1960s, stars as the great Renaissance artist. His gritty performance is less stilted than his turn as Moses in The Ten Commandments (1956). Rex Harrison is equally good as Pope Julius II, the "warrior pope" who commissioned the famous fresco while fighting wars to regain control over the Papal States. Although battle scenes provide some historical context, they lengthen the movie and distract viewers unfamiliar with contemporary politics. Diane Cilento adds a feminine touch as a Medici contessina whose love for Michelangelo is unrewarded. As usual, Hollywood can't resist a few embellishments, such as implying that anthropomorphic cloud formations inspired Michelangelo's portrayal of Adam's creation. A better and probably truer concoction is a scene in which he ardently defends the nudity in his paintings against protests by censorious cardinals. Nominated for four Oscars, this production unfortunately won none, despite a fantastic set that re-creates the chapel.

Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972) stars the incomparable Klaus Kinski as a 16th-century Spanish soldier who goes rogue. The great Werner Herzog directed this famous German production, but don't hesitate to watch the English-dubbed version, because the actors read their lines in English and were overdubbed anyway when the location audio was too poor for release. Based loosely on historical events, Herzog's story opens with conquistador Gonzalo Pizarro crossing the Andes and descending into the upper Amazon River jungles to find the fabled golden city of El Dorado. It's a futile expedition that worsens when a reconnaissance group forges further ahead. Kinski is perfect as an overambitious soldier who becomes a megalomaniac. This violent epic is a moral tale of European colonialism, aggressive Christian evangelism, white supremacy, and raw greed. The cinematography is outstanding.

Ain't In It for My Health: A Film About Levon Helm (2010) documents the last years of a versatile musician best known as the drummer in The Band (1967–77). Arkansas-born Helm (1940–2012) was the only American member of the famous group that sometimes backed Bob Dylan and released Music From Big Pink in 1968. This film skimps on history, though. It barely mentions Helm's roots in Ronnie Hawkins' 1950s rockabilly combo. Instead, it documents his dotage, when he played barn concerts to pay medical bills from the throat cancer that was ravaging his voice and sapping his life. It shows Helm still active but in decline, still cheerful but also bitter about The Band's financial arrangements. It's mainly for viewers already familiar with his story.

Akeelah and the Bee (2006) is an uplifting drama about an 11-year-old black girl from an inner-city Los Angeles middle school who enters a national spelling bee. Writer/director Doug Atchison centers his fictional story around Akeelah Anderson (Keke Palmer), the precocious daughter of a single mother (Angela Bassett). Palmer was actually 11 at the time and ably fills her starring role. Bassett's part is smaller but crucial to portraying the girl's difficult family life. Laurence Fishburne has a larger role as Akeelah's stoic spelling coach. But this family-safe film would fail without good performances from all the child actors, including J.R. Villarreal and Sean Michael Afable as fellow competitors. Although it's really a thinly disguised sports movie, it's good enough to overcome the clichés.

Akron (2015) starts like a typical romance drama except it's boy-meets-boy instead of boy-meets-girl. As it develops, however, the gay angle becomes incidental. The same story with a mixed-sex couple would work as well because a deeper drama emerges from the past. Although this plot turn may disappoint viewers expecting a stronger gay theme, it's refreshing that a "gay movie" can play it straight, so to speak. It doesn't treat the relationship as unusual. The emergent story is the hook, and the actors play it superbly. I watched this film because it was made in my home town but was pleasantly surprised that it's good for other reasons.

Aktfotographie — z.B Gundula Schulze (1983): see Nude Photography — e.g., Gundula Schulze.

Ala Kachuu — Take and Run (2020) is a 38-minute Swiss short film about a Kyrgyzstan girl who is kidnapped and forced into marriage with a stranger. It's a well made dramatization of a widely criticized custom in that country, and it deserved its Academy Award nomination for Best Live Action Short Film.

Alice in Wonderland (2010) is director Tim Burton's adaptation of Lewis Carroll's classic fairy tale. But it's not a straight adaptation. In this version, Alice is a young woman who only vaguely remembers her childhood adventure in the dream world she calls Wonderland. It's actually called Underland, and it's a bleak underworld dominated by the evil Red Queen and her chief enforcer, a wicked dragon named Jabberwocky. This story is darker than the usual fairy tale and perhaps too frightening and violent for young children. However, the digital animation is magnificent, especially in 3D, and there are good performances by Mia Wasikowska (Alice), Johnny Depp (the Mad Hatter), and Helena Bonham Carter (the Red Queen).

Alien (1979) ranks among the best sci-fi horror movies ever made. Sigourney Weaver is over-the-top excellent as a businesslike spaceship captain whose civilian crew discovers strange alien eggs. Soon their ship is infested with an awesomely hard-to-kill creature whose bloody birth has inspired numerous parodies and Internet memes. In an innovative departure from other monster movies, the creature keeps changing as it matures, appearing different in nearly every scene. Another technique for building suspense is that the spacecraft is a large, dimly lit freighter with many compartments, so we never know when the alien will spring from the darkness or what it will look like when it does. The frights keep coming until the very end. Now a classic, Alien has spawned several sequels, some equaling the original.

Alien: Covenant (2017) is technically impressive and well acted, but the story is a depressing rehash of the much better original film in this long-running series (Alien, 1979). Again, the plot centers on a crew of civilian space travelers who encounter vicious alien creatures that instantly attack everything they see. One problem, however, is that only Alien fanboys will know how this installment fits into the story arc — is it a sequel, prequel, or midquel? Another problem is that it lacks the great Sigourney Weaver, although Katherine Waterston tries admirably to create another female character who battles the aliens. But the biggest problem is that the crew and their captain are implausibly clueless. Would they really explore a mysterious planet without first determining if it has dangerous predators or pathogens? And would they remain so clueless even after discovering the dangers? In one scene, the captain was so stupid that I was rooting for the aliens.

All About Eve (1950) won the Academy Award for Best Picture and remains one of the best films ever made. Ann Baxter stars as Eve Harrington, a fawning fan who ingratiates herself with Margo Channing, an aging stage actress (Bette Davis). Celeste Holm plays Margo's best friend, and both women gradually grow wary of the waif. Is she as innocent as she seems? Or is she a conniving parasite? Other characters in this multifaceted drama are Margo's lover (Gary Merrill), her skeptical assistant (Thelma Ritter), the best friend's playwright husband (Hugh Marlowe), a heavyweight theater critic (George Sanders), and his ditzy arm candy (Marilyn Monroe). It's a volatile mix that boils in several memorable scenes, and writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz's adapted screenplay drips with witty dialogue. In a truly ensemble effort, everyone delivers a career performance. This classic was nominated for 14 Oscars, winning six: Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Supporting Actor (Sanders), Costume Design, and Sound. Unfortunately, split voting robbed Oscars from the Best Actress nominees (Baxter and Davis) and the Supporting Actress nominees (Holm and Ritter). It says a lot that All About Eve beat Sunset Blvd. for Best Picture.

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022) documents P.A.I.N. (Prescription Addiction Intervention Now), the movement that held Oxycontin, Purdue Pharma, and its Sackler-family owners responsible for the opioid drug crisis that has killed more than 400,000 people. Led by famous photographer Nan Goldin, the activists bankrupted the company, extracted $6 billion in cash, and convinced many institutions that had received Sackler donations to remove the family's name from their museums and art galleries. But the Sacklers weren't criminally prosecuted. This visually graphic film garnered an Oscar nomination for Best Documentary Feature. Although it traces the movement's evolution, it dwells more on Goldin's tragic family history, avant-garde photography, and sordid past. It should have been two documentaries.

All the King's Men (1949) won the Academy Award for Best Picture and remains a relevant warning against cynical populist politics. It adapts a novel that fictionalized the rise and fall of Huey Long, a Louisiana governor and senator who mesmerized rural voters in the 1920s and '30s. Broderick Crawford won Best Actor as Willie Stark, a crusading politician in the same mold. In this telling, Stark begins honestly and humbly but soon becomes power hungry and corrupt. Although his populism resembles Trumpism, this movie isn't liberal propaganda — Stark is a lefty who advocates free health care and beneficial infrastructure projects. Mercedes McCambridge won Best Supporting Actress for her debut as Stark's assistant and jilted admirer. Four other nominations included John Ireland for Supporting Actor despite his tepid performance as a reporter who becomes Stark's opposition researcher. This film was an uncharacteristically dark view of American democracy in the red-baiting Cold War era.

All Is Lost (2013) is a skillful exercise in pure cinema rarely seen since the silent-film days. Except for sound effects, music, and a few brief lines of dialogue, it's an uncluttered visual experience. Robert Redford stars as an aging sailor whose solo voyage across the Indian Ocean is interrupted by a derelict shipping container that gores the hull of his sailboat. The movie says nothing about his previous life, his occupation, or the purpose of his journey. Of his personality, we learn only by watching his reactions to adversity. And the sea soon becomes a formidable adversary when a gale threatens his emergency repairs. In lesser hands than those of writer/director J.C. Chandor (Margin Call, 2011), this picture might resemble an interesting film-school experiment in minimalism. Instead, the screenplay, direction, cinematography, soundtrack, and cast all come together to create a finely crafted drama that's almost a film-school education in itself.

All the Money in the World (2017) recounts the kidnapping of oil heir John Paul Getty III by Italian gangsters in 1973. Most of the story is true: his filthy rich grandfather refused to pay the $17 million ransom, so the 16-year-old boy remained captive for months, prompting the kidnappers to resort to drastic measures. Michelle Williams delivers a standout performance as the boy's devoted but agonized mother. Christopher Plummer plays the tycoon in a nuanced performance that is both stoic and playful. (Plummer was a last-minute substitute for disgraced actor Kevin Spacey, requiring director Ridley Scott to reshoot 22 scenes and recut the film in only one month.) Mark Wahlberg plays Getty's security expert, adding some heft to repeated scenes of the mother's agony. Charlie Plummer (no relation to Christopher) portrays the young Getty but adds little. Overall, it's a good suspense tale which shows that wisdom doesn't necessarily follow wealth.

All the President's Men (1976) dramatizes the nonfiction book of the same name by Washington Post reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, who led the exposé of the infamous Watergate scandal. In 1972, shortly before the presidential election, Republican operatives were caught breaking into the Democratic Party's national headquarters to install listening devices. Reporters soon traced the men to the Republican National Committee and the White House. When tape recordings later revealed that President Richard Nixon tried to cover up the plot by paying hush money and engaging in other crimes, he resigned in 1974. Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman are convincing as Woodward and Bernstein. Although this historically important movie realistically depicts investigative journalism and newspaper practice, today's viewers may get lost in the labyrinthine details of Watergate.

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) was the first film adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque's famous World War I novel and was probably the first anti-war motion picture ever made. Remarque experienced the horrors of machine-age infantry combat, and this movie is a masterpiece that preserves the book's spirit. It won Oscars for Best Picture and Director (Lewis Milestone) and was nominated for Writing and Cinematography. It's impressively modern despite being such an early talkie that it was also released as a silent film. Simultaneously epic and personal, it follows the fates of young German recruits who soon learn that war isn't as romantic as they imagined. Nor does it pull punches — in one graphic scene, artillery obliterates a French soldier, leaving only his severed arms hanging from barbed wire. Lew Ayres is perfect as Paul Bäumer, the main character. Subsequent remakes are good, too, but this one endures as a timeless classic.

All Quiet on the Western Front (1979) remakes the 1930 adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque's famous anti-war novel about German infantrymen in World War I. Although CBS made this version for broadcast TV, the production values are unusually high. In those days, TV movies were generally low-budget productions of limited scope. This one is epic while still personalizing the horrors of modern combat through the eyes of young German recruits who seek glory but find misery. Richard Thomas — then a TV actor known as "John-Boy" in The Waltons — delivers a memorable performance as Paul Bäumer, the main character. Ernest Borgnine is also good as "Kat," a gruff front-line veteran who shepherds the green soldiers. The original 150-minute TV version was later butchered to 129 minutes for theatrical release but is better seen uncut. It ranks among the very best TV movies ever made, winning the top Golden Globe Award and an Emmy.

All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) deservedly won four Academy Awards and was nominated for nine, a rarity for a remake of two previous films also critically acclaimed. This one departs further from the 1930 and 1979 versions and from Erich Maria Remarque's famous 1929 novel about infantry combat in World War I. The differences don't matter, because it retains the theme of young soldiers marching enthusiastically off to war only to become disillusioned by the horrors. It's a timeless theme that never loses its impact. Felix Kammerer ably fills the boots of his 1930 and 1979 predecessors as Paul Bäumer, the main character. This retelling adds scenes depicting the negotiations to end the war and the fury of a German general who doesn't want it to end. They provide historical context and show the contrast between decision makers and foot soldiers. This graphically violent drama won Oscars for Best International Film (German), Cinematography, Original Score, and Production Design. It was also nominated for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, Visual Effects, Sound, and Makeup & Hairstyling.

Almost Famous (2000), based on the actual experiences of director Cameron Crowe, repeats the time-worn loss-of-innocence theme in a story about a teenage journalist making his debut in Rolling Stone magazine in the 1970s. Unlike most autobiographical movies, it works surprisingly well. It also recalls a distant time when an inexperienced young writer could easily gain backstage access to major rock bands, join their rowdy adventures while reporting on them, and sell articles to a mass-circulation magazine. Today's celebrities are much more guarded and the publishing opportunities for aspiring freelancers are much less open. This movie would make a rockin' double feature with High Fidelity (2000).

Alphaville (1965) tries to mix film noir, science fiction, James Bond-style adventure, and poetic philosophy — with mixed results. Directed by the late Jean-Luc Godard, this odd film is a classic example of the French New Wave movement in the 1950s and '60s. It depicts an Orwellian future in which a powerful computer called Alpha 60 subjugates a city's population by redefining their language and by executing those who behave illogically. A secret agent tries to free them from the computer's control, but he's strange. He openly and randomly photographs everything, he kills assassins and others without repercussions, and he enters secure areas without opposition. Although this picture won praise for breaking conventions, it breaks them for little gain.

Amadeus was re-released in 2002 as a director's cut that restores some scenes omitted from the 1984 original. It still portrays the competition between Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (a young musical genius) and Antonio Salieri (the court composer to an Austrian emperor). F. Murray Abraham won the Academy Award for Best Actor as Salieri, who is simultaneously in awe and jealous of Mozart's generational talent. Tom Hulce as Mozart was nominated for the same award, and it's a shame they didn't share the Oscar. As usual for a Hollywood production, it stretches the truth, but it's still one of the best films ever made. The restored scenes give us closer views of Mozart's decline and the unsavory relationship between Salieri and Mozart's wife. The underlying theme of rare brilliance versus high-functioning mediocrity remains intact. This blockbuster won eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, and has lost none of its power, drama, and spectacle.

The Amazing Colossal Man (1957) a/k/a The Colossal Man exploits the widespread fear of radiation poisoning at the dawn of the Atomic Age. This thriller shows a U.S. Army officer growing to enormous size after his accidental exposure during an atomic bomb test. It's ridiculous but played seriously by Glenn Langan as the victim and Cathy Downs as his distraught fiancée. The special effects are decent for the era as the increasingly unstable giant plays havoc in Las Vegas. This flick was popular enough to inspire a quickie sequel, War of the Colossal Beast (1958).

Amazing Grace (2006) is an outstanding historical drama about the effort to outlaw slavery in the British Empire. Welsh actor Ioan Gruffudd plays William Wilberforce, a British member of Parliament who struggled for decades in the late 1700s and early 1800s to pass an antislavery bill. Gruffudd plays the role with verve and insight. All the performances in this film are excellent, with Albert Finney in an especially good supporting role as the former slave-ship captain who repented his sins and wrote the hymn "Amazing Grace." When the credits roll, be sure to stay for the great bagpipe rendition of the hymn in front of Westminster Abbey, where Wilberforce is interred.

Amazing Grace (2018) rescues the long-abandoned film footage of a 1972 concert by singer Aretha Franklin. Over two days before a live audience at a Baptist church in Los Angeles, famous director Sydney Pollack filmed and recorded her soul-shaking performance of gospel hymns with the Southern California Community Choir. Later that year, the record became the best-selling gospel album of all time. But Pollack's planned TV special never aired because he couldn't synchronize the audio. He died in 2008. Producer Alan Elliot bought the raw film and finished this high-spirited and spiritual documentary. It's an intimate presentation of Franklin's soaring talent and the exuberance of the mostly black audience, which included her father and two members of the Rolling Stones. Franklin was only 30 at the time, so this film is a historical treasure that shows the "Queen of Soul" at the peak of her brilliant career.

Amelia (2009) is a middling biopic about Amelia Earhart, the famous aviatrix who vanished over the Pacific Ocean in 1937 while trying to become the first woman to fly around the world. Hilary Swank is credible in the title role, though she looks a little young. (Earhart was 40 when she died.) Richard Gere comfortably plays her husband, a smarmy book publisher eager for the income of Earhart's career but worried about the risks she takes. Ewan McGregor plays an upper-crust love interest to whom Earhart is inexplicably attracted. The soap opera tends to overpower Earhart's flying adventures, and the conclusion misplaces some blame for her failure. (She left behind important equipment.) What I liked best: Earhart's Lockheed Electra.

Amelie was one of the best foreign films of 2001. It's a whimsical tale about a young French woman in Paris who decides to perform random acts of kindness — and sometimes revenge. She is inspired by the chance discovery of childhood relics from the distant past. Her eccentric interference in other people's lives is tempered by her innocent, almost angelic philosophy. Although this film is virtually a fairy tale, it never abandons plausibility and is always entertaining.

America and Lewis Hine (1984) documents the 20th century's most famous labor-activist photographer. Lewis Hine (1874–1940) moved from teaching to photography after a field trip to Ellis Island where masses of European immigrants were disembarking in New York. Inspired by their hope and misery, Hine began photographing the people, producing a remarkable body of work. When he followed some of them to slums and workplaces, he was appalled by the poor conditions and especially by the child labor. He joined a social-reform organization and journeyed throughout the U.S., collecting information and sneaking his camera into factories and coal mines. This one-hour documentary is a good summary of his activism and photography.

An American Christmas Carol (1979) transports Charles Dickens' classic morality tale from 1843 Old England to 1933 New England. This adaptation is surprisingly good, especially for a TV movie starring an actor better known for his comedic role on a popular 1970s TV series. Henry Winkler famously played "Fonzie" on Happy Days, a hit show about 1950s teenagers. In this retelling of A Christmas Carol, he's Benedict Slade, an American version of Ebenezer Scrooge. A ruthless businessman, he spends Christmas Eve repossessing household goods from Depression-era customers who can't make their payments. After nightlong visitations from ghosts who expose his past, present, and future, he mends his ways. Although the tale is familiar, this screenplay is fresh, and Winkler reveals talent that sustained his career beyond the Fonz.

American Factory (2019) deservedly won the Oscar for Best Documentary Feature. After General Motors closed an assembly plant near Dayton, Ohio, idling thousands of workers, a Chinese company (Fuyao) revived the factory to manufacture automotive glass. Fuyao imported hundreds of Chinese supervisors, which goes smoothly at first. Trouble starts when production falls short. Chinese managers complain that American workers are inefficient and clumsy. Attempts to import Chinese business practices are unwelcome. Then the Americans campaign to join a union. Despite communist ideology that champions workers over bosses, the bosses are openly hostile to the revolt. This outstanding film shows both perspectives, including some astonishing candid moments you'd expect to happen off camera. Neither communism nor capitalism look pretty here.

American Fiction (2023) deserves its Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay (and four other Oscar nominations) as the cleverest and most topical film of the year. Jeffrey Wright was nominated Best Actor for playing Thelonious "Monk" Ellison, an erudite black author of erudite novels that sell poorly. Dismayed by the popularity of other black-authored novels that hype black-culture stereotypes, he writes one himself under a pseudonym as a prank. Surprise! A publisher offers a large advance, and a filmmaker dangles even more cash for the movie rights. Thus begins Ellison's descent into an increasingly complex deception. This dark comedy by writer/director Cord Jefferson lampoons white liberals, black opportunists, Hollywood exploitation, and the monetary rewards for lowbrow entertainment. It was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor (Sterling K. Brown as Ellison's brother), and Original Score (Laura Karpman).

American Graffiti (1973) was the sleeper hit that made director George Lucas famous and enabled him to make Star Wars (1977). At the behest of producer Francis Ford Coppola, Lucas began working on American Graffiti in 1971 while finishing his first feature film, THX 1138, an adaptation of a 15-minute student film he made in 1967 (Electronic Labyrinth: THX 1138 4EB). But American Graffiti isn't science fiction. Drawn from Lucas's own experiences, teenagers cruise around town in cars and frequent a Mel's Drive-In Diner in Modesto, California in 1962. It's a light drama that tells parallel stories. The cast includes young actors who, like Lucas, soon won fame: Richard Dreyfuss, Ron Howard, Harrison Ford, Kathleen Quinlan, Suzanne Somers, and Paul Le Mat. Although its view of mid-century America is nostalgic, its appeal is timeless.

American Hustle is one of the best films of 2013. Often compared with The Sting (1973), it's not quite as sublime but holds its own. It's very loosely based on the Abscam scandal of the 1970s, in which the FBI trapped several members of the U.S. Congress taking bribes from a fake Arab sheik. The cast is uniformly excellent: Christian Bale as a small-time con man who is unwillingly pulled into the big time; Jennifer Lawrence as his spectacularly clueless wife; Amy Adams as his sexy lover and brilliant partner in crime; Bradley Cooper as an ambitious FBI agent; Jeremy Renner as a populist New Jersey mayor; Robert De Niro as a mob boss; and numerous supporters who make the most of their smaller roles. As with The Sting, the plot gets complicated and ends with a surprise, so pay attention. The opening scene of Bale meticulously prepping his toupee symbolizes the cheap subterfuge that nevertheless fools the gullible. In addition to its great performances, this film's strength is its portrayal of money and power flowing behind the wedded worlds of hardball politics and greasy business.

An American Journey (2009), a/k/a An American Journey in Robert Frank's Footsteps, is a documentary that revisits the locations of some iconic photographs from Robert Frank's The Americans, the most influential photobook of the 20th century. French filmmaker Philippe Seclier achieves mixed results, however. Fifty years after Frank took his revealing black-and-white pictures during cross-country road trips, little remains. Seclier does find two subjects: a black woman whom Frank photographed on a motorcycle, and a white man who's sure he was the young boy at a July 4th town festival. Neither remembers being photographed, and their interviews aren't very interesting. Most other subjects and locations have disappeared. Unfortunately, Seclier interleaves these segments with footage of his own American journey — a vision blurry and jerky, apparently shot with a handheld 8mm camera from a moving car. Frank fans will likely be disappointed.

An American in Paris (1951) scales the summit of extravagant MGM musicals. The great Gene Kelly stars as a struggling artist enjoying a zany life in a Rive Gauche garret. When a high-class heiress (Nina Foch) finds him as fascinating as his paintings, she introduces him to the Paris art world and high society. Meanwhile, he's obsessed with a lowly shopgirl (Leslie Caron) who's already involved with a mutual friend. The love triangle is merely an excuse to stage brilliantly executed song-and-dance numbers. The Technicolor production is atmospheric; the postwar fashions are lavish; and the gymnastics are amazing. Concert pianist Oscar Levant delivers a particularly stunning keyboard performance. Classic musicals don't get better than this.

American Sniper (2014) is the most representative movie yet made about the Iraq War — because, like the war, it's a pack of lies. It's based on the autobiography of Chris Kyle, a U.S. Navy SEAL sniper who scored more than 160 kills during four combat tours. But director Clint Eastwood and screenwriter Jason Hall start hallucinating from the very first scene, when Kyle must decide whether to shoot a child carrying a grenade. (Never happened, according to Kyle's book.) They continue by fabricating additional characters ("The Butcher") and by building much of the drama around an enemy sniper who gets only passing mention in Kyle's book and whom Kyle never killed. Hollywood filmmakers always fictionalize true stories to some extent, but this film is shameless. As a final insult, Eastwood doesn't show us how Kyle died, probably because this genuine war hero didn't fall heroically in combat. Instead, he died by foolishly thinking that a shooting range would be good therapy for a shell-shocked veteran — who abruptly lost control when a gun was placed in his hands. Although the movie is filled with graphic combat scenes, the climax of Kyle's life story was apparently too ironic and contradictory to merit the same treatment.

American Splendor (2003) is one of the best films of the year. Part documentary, part drama, part animation, it's the autobiographical story of Harvey Pekar, author of the autobiographical comic books "American Splendor." Yes, this movie is endlessly self-referential, but it never seems gimmicky. The real Pekar appears in some scenes and narrates the flashback episodes dramatized by actor Paul Giamatti. It's hard to believe that a chronically depressed file clerk at a VA hospital in Cleveland could become a cult figure in underground comics. But it really happened, and this artfully made film shows how, without losing its sense of humor.

American Symphony (2023) profiles polymath musician Jon Batiste during an especially difficult period when he was composing and arranging an orchestral performance for Carnegie Hall while his wife suffered a relapse of leukemia. This intimate documentary by Matthew Heineman showcases Batiste's versatile musical talent and his loving relationship with Suleika "Boo" Jaouad, whom he married in 2022. Batiste won fame when his band Stay Human appeared on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert from 2015 to 2022. His music has also won five Grammy Awards and an Oscar. Working at close quarters, Heineman reveals the highs and lows of two people struggling to beat the odds, both professionally and personally. It's one of the year's best documentaries.

American Teen (2008) is the best documentary about the pressure on young people to succeed since Hoop Dreams (1994). Filmmaker Nanette Burstein follows several high-school seniors in a conservative middle-class town in Indiana. She focuses on a socially wicked beauty queen, a nervous basketball star, a girl who wants to be an artist but is starting to feel trapped, a nerdy misfit who's clumsy with girls, and their circle of friends. As in Hoop Dreams, all these teens are beginning to realize that their futures depend on choices they make now — and on circumstances they cannot control. Will the beauty queen fulfill her father's fantasy of entering Notre Dame? Will the basketball star win a college scholarship or settle for the army? Will the art girl escape her small town for an expensive education in San Francisco? Will the pimply nerd find love? The drama is emotional and all too real. It's terrifying when these kids begin to perceive — or are told — that their futures aren't limitless.

An American Werewolf in London (1981) won a cult following despite (or because of) its odd mix of horror, gore, and comedy. The premise is fairly conventional: during a full moon, a cursed human unwittingly becomes a werewolf and bites someone. Victims who survive become werewolves themselves. The only deviation from canon is that dead victims exist in an undead limbo until the werewolf who fatally bit them is killed. This wrinkle sets up a few scenes played for laughs when two friends are caught in the curse. Additional attempts at comedy often fall flat, such as a Scotland Yard detective's lame imitations of Inspector Clouseau in the Pink Panther movies. Another fault is irrelevant scenes of graphic violence, such as Nazis in Halloween masks bursting into a home and machine-gunning a family. (It was incongruous even before random mass shootings became common.) The best few minutes of this thriller are one victim's initial transformation into a werewolf, which won Rick Baker the first-ever Academy Award for Best Makeup.

Amy (2015) is an Oscar-winning documentary about Amy Winehouse, the talented British jazz singer who died of alcohol abuse in 2011 at age 27. For this era of ubiquitous media, director Asif Kapadia dispenses with the customary talking-head interviews. Instead, he employs home movies, amateur video, news footage, paparazzi photos, and snapshots. He overlays these ready-made cinéma vérité clips with audio-only interviews of Amy's family, friends, colleagues, and a bodyguard. The result is an uncommonly intimate retrospective of Amy's journey from childhood to stardom to flame-out. Although she released only two albums during her brief career, this film confirms her talent and leaves us mourning the unrealized potential of her life and artistry.

Anastasia (1956) brought Ingrid Bergman her second Oscar for Best Actress (after Gaslight in 1944). Her superb performance veers from fearfully manic in the first act to aristocratic poise in the last. She plays a real person who claimed to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna, daughter of Czar Nicholas II. Her claim was doubted because Bolsheviks supposedly executed the czar and his family after the Russian Revolution of 1917. In this fictionalized drama, Russian czarist exiles in Paris rescue the impoverished woman from the streets and teach her to pose as Anastasia so she can inherit a fortune stashed in a London bank. Although they don't believe she's royalty, occasionally she reveals knowledge that only the duchess might know. Yul Brynner is excellent as a stern Russian general who masterminds the deception. This lavish CinemaScope production reflects the hopeless hope of rich czarist exiles who yearned for their lofty status lost in the revolution.

Anatomy of a Fall a/k/a Anatomie d'Une Chute (2023) deserves its five Oscar nominations and its award for Original Screenplay. This French/English film is a suspenseful courtroom drama and psychological dissection of a troubled marriage. Sandra Hüller stars as a novelist accused of murder. Or was the death an accident or suicide? Hüller is deftly ambiguous, and director/co-writer Justine Triet keeps us guessing until the end — perhaps beyond. Milo Machado-Graner contributes an eerie supporting performance as her 11-year-old partially blind son and potential keeper of secrets. French trials differ markedly from those in the U.S., and the differences make for better drama as the judge, jurors, attorneys, witnesses, and defendant interact more freely and combatively. No wonder this film was also nominated for Best Picture, Director, Actress, and Film Editing.

And Then There Were None (1945) adapts Agatha Christie's best-selling 1939 novel and stage play about ten people invited to a mansion on an isolated English island, where an unknown host murders them one by one. In typical Christie style, it's a mystery lightened with wry mirth. This film was the first of many adaptations for the big screen and television, and it's closer to her play than to her novel. To pass British censorship in 1945, the murders are subtle to a fault — sometimes it's unclear exactly how or when a victim dies. Later adaptations are usually less faithful but usually better.

Andy Warhol's Dracula (1974): see Blood for Dracula.

Andy Warhol's Frankenstein (1973): see Flesh for Frankenstein.

Angel Face (1953) ends with one of the most shocking scenes in Hollywood history, especially for a picture made in the staid 1950s. Robert Mitchum stars as a World War II veteran struggling to save money for his dream business, a hot-rod auto garage. Although Mitchum plays his usual type — a laconic no-nonsense guy — it's a good type. Soon he meets a beautiful but conniving heiress who gradually lures him into trouble. Jean Simmons skillfully plays this role as a femme fatale who flirts with redemption. The plot is twisty, the dialogue impressive, and the surprising climax left audiences aghast in 1953. It still does today.

Angel Heart (1987) blends neo-noir intrigue with gory horror in an atmospheric thriller that sadly crashes at the end. Mickey Rourke is outstanding as Harry Angel, a grizzled private detective hired to find a missing person. Robert De Niro is typically excellent as the creepy client who hires him. But it's Rourke who dominates. He's the rare actor who seems born to play every decrepit character he plays in every film. Unfortunately, the last act in this one collapses in confusion. The plot is so nonsensical that writer/director Alan Parker resorts to writing monologues for two characters in a desperate attempt to explain it. There's also a weird bloody sex scene that was controversial because it features Lisa Bonet, who at the time played a child character on the TV comedy The Cosby Show. Until the messy climax, however, this picture is an engrossing thrill ride.

Anger Management (2003) pairs juvie-humor boy Adam Sandler with old pro Jack Nicholson, and Sandler looks like cardboard in comparison. He plays a timid, underachieving 35-year-old executive secretary who ends up in court-ordered anger-management therapy with shrink Nicholson after a trumped-up charge of assault against a flight attendant. Sandler never seems to come alive in this tepid flick, while Nicholson romps like a crazed buffalo. Let's hope master Jack passed on a few tips about real comedy to Sandler, whose adolescent routines are wearing thin.

The Angry Red Planet (1959) typifies bad science fiction at the dawn of the Space Age. The low budget (reportedly $200k) and tight schedule (nine shooting days) are no excuse for the dreadful dialogue and awful acting. Director Ib Melchior wrote the screenplay with Sidney W. Pink, who also conceived the story of a Mars mission that meets an unfriendly reception. Although the concept isn't half bad, the script suffers from painfully silly banter and cringeworthy male-female relations. The mission commander is played by Gerald Mohr, who specializes in smirking. Naura Hayden stiffly plays his space candy. The only highlights of this bomb are eerie Mars scenes filmed on b&w stock that was solarized and tinted red, and a creepy creature that's part rat, bat, crab, and spider.

Annihilation (2018) is an outstanding science-fiction thriller about a mysterious alien environment that suddenly appears on Earth and begins spreading. Men sent into the zone immediately lose radio contact and never return — until one soldier, a year later, finally does. But he can't describe what happened to him and his comrades, so his wife — a biologist and former soldier herself — joins yet another team to investigate. In an unusual departure for a Hollywood film, all the stars are women, led by Natalie Portman as the desperate wife and Jennifer Jason Leigh as a cold psychologist. In a lesser role, Oscar Isaac plays the lone-survivor soldier. Great special effects, occasional jolts of violence, and an overall creepiness make this story compelling. The twister ending is a mind bender.

The Anniversary Party (2001), shot in a few weeks in digital video, is spontaneous, energetic, satiric, and tragic — but never boring. It's the story of a recently reconciled Hollywood couple that throws a sixth-anniversary party with friends and neighbors. Powerful emotions are always flowing beneath the surface and often bubble to the top as the party swings out of control. It reminds me of Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolff?, though less claustrophobic, and with the setting transferred from academia to the Hollywood entertainment elite. You needn't be an insider to get the jokes.

Anomalisa (2015) is an unusual independent film that uses puppet stop-motion animation to tell a rather bleak story of a man with a bleak life. The main character is a semifamous author of a business book on customer relations. During a trip to deliver an inspirational talk to customer-service reps, he has a potentially life-changing experience. Although he suffers from a disorienting brain disorder that makes every person's face and voice seem identical, he meets a young woman whose actual face and voice are distinct. To him, she's an anomaly, and her name is Lisa (thus "Anomalisa"). This interesting film was funded as a Kickstarter project and is thoroughly professional, but it's vaguely unsettling. Be forewarned that it's not an animated movie for kids. The language and sex scenes are definitely for adults.

Another Earth (2011) poses a fascinating question: What would happen if we suddenly discovered in our solar system an exact duplicate of Earth — a real planet with identical people and our same history? Unfortunately, the movie never answers this question. Instead, the science-fiction aspect becomes a mere backdrop for a personal drama about a teenage girl who wrecks her bright future in a horrific car accident. The new question: Can she atone for her sin? The result is a good drama, but the backdrop is more tantalizing than the action on center stage. And instead of meeting the challenge of writing their final scene, the screenwriters abruptly cut to black and roll credits. Nevertheless, there is some promising filmmaking here, so maybe they will make another film that's better than Another Earth.

Another Thin Man (1939) is the third installment in the popular six-picture series that began with The Thin Man in 1934. William Powell returns as detective Nick Charles, along with Myrna Loy as Nora, his detective-wannabe wife. Their dog Asta also reappears, but his comic role is subdued this time. What's new is their baby, the result of Nora's pregnancy disclosed in the previous film (After the Thin Man, 1936). The by-now familiar formula ensnares the family in a confusing murder mystery that hard-drinking Nick reluctantly investigates. As usual, the climax features a rowdy crowd of suspects and Nick's reveal of the real killer. Although this installment isn't quite as good as the first two, it's worth watching for its witty banter, amusing characters, a rumba-dance nightclub scene, and the uncredited cameo of "Three Stooges" Shemp Howard.

Antares (2004) begins with one kind of bang and follows with bangs of the sexually explicit type. This Austrian drama is about three troubled couples in Vienna, but some scenes resemble hard-core porn — especially the extramarital trysts between an attractive night nurse and her man-of-few-words lover. Another couple entangles a dishonest foreign immigrant with a hyper-jealous girlfriend. The third couple is actually no longer a couple, but the abusive guy doesn't get the message. To make these bleak stories marginally more interesting, events appear out of sequence and their paths eventually intersect. German with English subtitles.

Ants! (1977) is an above-average made-for-TV movie about poisonous insects attacking a resort hotel. Despite the low budget and short shooting schedule of 1970s TV movies, it has decent special effects. Also, like others of its kind, it features some recognizable stars, including Myrna Loy as the wheelchair-bound hotel owner, Suzanne Somers as a blonde-bombshell real-estate agent, Brian Dennehy as a fire chief, and retired footballer Bernie Casey as a construction worker.

Any Given Sunday (2000) is an old-school football movie that's marred by choppy Oliver Stone editing. At times I half-expected to see a young Ronald Reagan reprising his role as the Gipper.

The Apartment (1960) is a must-see for three reasons: It's a classic rom-com on par with its contemporaries, such as Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961); it features great acting by Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine, and Fred MacMurray; and it's a stark but nonpreachy depiction of corporate sexual harassment. Lemmon shines as a lowly insurance accountant whose superiors bully him into lending his bachelor apartment for their extramarital trysts. MacMurray plays his top boss, another weasel. MacLaine is alternately sexy and vulnerable as an elevator operator whom everyone wants to date. Above all, Lemmon's effusive energy drives this story through many comic situations and dramatic plot turns. A rowdy office Christmas party and the blatant sexual exploitation should make us cringe at these images from a bygone era, except similar things still happen today. Like many other films directed by Billy Wilder, this one is essential and timeless.

Apocalypse Now (1979) poses as a Vietnam War movie but is really a bizarre end-time allegory. Very loosely based on Joseph Conrad's novella Heart of Darkness (1899), it stars Martin Sheen as a young U.S. Army officer adrift in the war. Then he's assigned to command a small river patrol boat to a remote Cambodian jungle, where he's supposed to assassinate Colonel Walter Kurtz, a Green Beret who has gone rogue with a force of irregulars. It's a distasteful mission that grows more dangerous with every mile through hostile territory. Sheen delivers a great career performance. Marlon Brando plays Kurtz as a mumbling philosophical enigma who's either a fatal realist or a hopeless madman. Other memorable characters are Robert Duvall as a gung-ho Air Cavalry officer and Dennis Hopper as a manic photojournalist. Multiple versions of this film exist with different endings. Some omit a stopover at a French rubber plantation that symbolizes oblivious complacency despite impending doom. Any version is a masterpiece. Nominated for eight Oscars, including Best Picture and Director, it won only for Cinematography and Sound.

Apocalypto (2006) is a startling film directed by Mel Gibson and cowritten with Farhad Safinia, a heretofore unknown screenwriter. It faces the same challenge as science fiction: depict an alien world that is different enough to be fascinating, but familiar enough so the audience can identify with the characters. In this case, the alien world is from the past, not the future — the Mayan empire on the cusp of its downfall to Spanish conquistadors. But white men make only a token appearance in this extraordinary picture. The main characters are primitive hunter-gatherers whom the Mayans ruthlessly conquer, enslave, and sacrifice to pagan gods. The story centers on one victim who tries desperately to escape so he can save his pregnant wife and young son. It's a compelling drama of epic proportions that always remains very personal. It's also frequently violent, sometimes gratuitously so. Will the Christians who embraced Gibson's The Passion of the Christ (2004) forgive this film's extreme violence, even though it's not against Jesus?

Apollo 11 (2019) documents the first manned moon landing in July 1969. Released near the 50th anniversary, it resurrects a surprising amount of film footage rarely or never seen outside NASA. Thus it appears fresh even to people who remember the TV coverage that followed every step of the mission. For younger people experiencing the Apollo 11 excitement for the first time, it must seem like science fiction. Did we really accomplish such feats using the relatively ancient technology of half a century ago? We did, and this documentary shows the men, women, and machines that made it happen. Although Apollo 11 unabashedly celebrates a historic triumph, the subtle subtext is that it's faded history, because we haven't fulfilled the potential that Project Apollo revealed.

Apollo 13: Survival (2024) dramatically documents the April 1970 moonshot that nearly ended in tragedy. NASA aborted its third mission to land astronauts on the moon when an explosion halfway to their destination severely crippled the spacecraft. Their crew capsule suddenly lost power when an oxygen tank burst in the adjoining service module. All three astronauts sought refuge in the lunar lander, which became their lifeboat to return home. Filmmaker Peter Middleton gained first-ever access to all radio recordings between NASA and the astronauts, as well as phone conversations between NASA and mission commander Jim Lovell's wife. Even those who remember this historic event will be surprised. Despite the mission's failure, many regard this ordeal as NASA's finest hour.

The April Fools (1969) is an amusing rom-com starring Jack Lemmon, Catherine Deneuve, and Peter Lawford. It's also a time capsule of the late-1960s psychedelic era, particularly in the opening party scene and later visits to swank nightclubs. But these characters are martini-class swingers, not ragged hippies. Lemmon plays a newly promoted Wall Street investment manager working for Lawford, who's living large in his expensive Manhattan apartment adorned with bizarre modern art. Deneuve is the boss's unhappy wife who is spontaneously attracted to straight-laced Lemmon. Good supporting actors include Sally Kellerman as Lemmon's ice-cold wife, Jack Weston as his alcoholic lawyer, Harvey Korman as a philandering friend, and Myrna Loy and Charles Boyer as an eccentric rich couple. Although the last act indulges in too much happy-drunk slapstick, overall this movie is entertaining and shows why Deneuve became the queen of French cinema.

Arakimentari (2004) is an interesting documentary on Nobuyoshi Araki, a famous/infamous Japanese photographer known mainly for his erotica. Although his work spans a wide spectrum — he photographs almost everything — his graphic images of nude women who are sometimes bound in ropes have challenged Japanese morals, earned him celebrity-class fame, and provoked the wrath of "Me-Too" activists. His erotic photography veers from innocuous poses to soft porn, often in the same session with the same model. And his models range from beautiful young women to average middle-aged housewives. Although this film includes a few critical comments, it's mostly complimentary and was made before the Me-Too movement. Be warned: it's graphically frank.

Argo (2012) is based on the true story of six Americans who were rescued after the U.S. embassy in Teheran was seized by Iranian revolutionaries in 1979. While their embassy colleagues were captured and held hostage, these six people slipped away and found temporary refuge at the Canadian ambassador's house. In an audacious rescue mission kept classified until the 1990s, the CIA worked with the Canadians to spirit the Americans out of the country. Ben Affleck directed and stars in this well-made drama, which remains suspenseful even when you know how it ends. Be sure to stay through the final credits to see side-by-side pictures of the actors and the real escapees they portray — and to hear a voiceover by former president Jimmy Carter, who approved the mission.

Armored Attack (1957): see The North Star (1943).

Around the World in 80 Days (2004) is a mediocre Disney remake of the classic Jules Verne adventure story. A Victorian Englishman wagers that he can circle the globe in less than 80 days, but this version stars martial-arts acrobat Jackie Chan as the Englishman's servant, which spawns a Chinese subplot about a stolen Buddha. Arnold Schwarzenegger has a cameo role as a Middle Eastern prince on the prowl for additional wives. This movie is passable entertainment for children and tolerable for adults.

Arrival (2016) is a brain-bending science-fiction drama about the first contact with extraterrestrials. After 12 mysterious ships arrive at various locations around the globe, scientists struggle to establish communication with the mysterious creatures. Their verbal language seems unintelligible at first, so an American linguist (the always-excellent Amy Adams) tries to decipher their emoji. She gets help from a physicist (Jeremy Renner) and a gruff Army colonel (Forest Whitaker). Meanwhile, the world is going crazy with fear, and some people want a first strike. But this movie departs from the usual alien-invasion scripts. The surprising conclusion will mystify, not satisfy, if you don't pay attention to every word from the very beginning and assemble clues in flashbacks and flash-forwards. For the aliens, time is nonlinear, and so is this fascinating film.

Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) is one of the most famous screwball comedies of Hollywood's Golden Age. Based on a popular stage play, it has a dark side: two elderly aunts living in a dilapidated old house are serial killers. They lure old bachelors into their home and serve poisoned wine to relieve the men's "suffering." The aunts' delusional nephew Teddy, who thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt, buries the bodies in the basement. Into this bizarre household come two more nephews: a normal one who's bewildered when he discovers the secret (Cary Grant), and a black sheep who's a conventional murderer (Raymond Massey). Peter Lorre plays the latter's accomplice. Josephine Hull and Jean Adair overshadow those stars as the innocently guilty aunties. Frank Capra directed this odd romp, and the broad humor ages fairly well.

The Artful Penetration of Barbara (1969): see Attraction.

The Artist took balls to produce — a silent film made in 2011. And black-and-white, of course. But the palette suits the subject. French actor Jean Dujardin is thoroughly convincing as a 1927 silent-film star loosely based on Rudolph Valentino. Even as he's idolized by a younger actress (wonderful Bérénice Bejo), the advent of talkies threatens his stardom. This remarkable picture expertly echoes a 1920s silent film, complete with title cards, music, visual effects, art direction, characterization, humor, and plotting. It's not a gimmick — it works, and it's gorgeous. Nominated for 10 Academy Awards, it won five: Best Picture, Director, Actor (Dujardin), Costume Design, and Original Score.

The Asphalt Jungle (1950) remains one of the great film-noir caper thrillers. Director John Huston stirs a superb cast into a tense screenplay. Sterling Hayden stars as a street-smart hooligan hired as the strongman for a big-time jewel robbery. Sam Jaffe plays the brilliant mastermind of the plot who's obsessed to distraction with nubile young women. Louis Calhern is a crooked lawyer who's supposed to bankroll the job. James Whitmore has a smaller but juicy role as a greasy-spoon diner owner who joins the crew. Pre-fame Marilyn Monroe appears as the lawyer's young lover, and Jean Hagen is the hooligan's frazzled ex-girl. Additional character actors are no less impressive, and their chemistry is explosive. The climax shows that even good dreams can be nightmarish.

At Eternity's Gate (2018) mimics Post-Impressionism to dramatize the last miserable but prolific years of Vincent Van Gogh's life. Director Julian Schnabel employs shaky cinematography, tinted color, partial blurring, and first-person views to mirror the artistic techniques that Van Gogh employed in his famous 19th-century paintings. Although Schanbel's style is creative, it's sometimes annoying. Willem Dafoe stars as the eccentric Dutch painter who produced most of his masterworks while barely surviving on his brother's charity in France. In two particularly insightful scenes, Van Gogh tries to explain himself to a priest in a mental institution and to a curious portrait subject. Dafoe was nominated as Best Actor for his heartfelt performance. Watch the end credits for a coda that quotes Paul Gaugin, Van Gogh's friend and fellow artist.

The Atomic Brain (1963) is a British thriller originally titled Monstrosity that was retitled for the U.S. market. A rich old woman pays a rogue doctor to experiment with brain transplants so she can hijack the body of a beautiful young woman. He starts by transplanting animal brains into humans, with unpleasant results. The actors in this low-budget movie are earnest, but they can't overcome the weak script and murky cinematography.

Atonement (2007) is a tear-jerker that's artfully done but doesn't quite live up to its hype. James McAvoy stars as a young groundskeeper on an English estate in the 1930s. He falls in love with the upper-class young lady of the house, played by Keira Knightley. Class division is usually the lovers' obstacle in dramas of this ilk, but Atonement veers in another direction by presenting a series of events that a child eyewitness misinterprets. As a result, the lovers are separated and spend the rest of the movie yearning to reunite. The ambiguity of observation is a common thread in this story, with things often turning out differently than they first appear to be. Ironically, the best performance is by Vanessa Redgrave in one of the film's smallest roles.

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) affirms that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Allison Hayes stars as a wealthy woman with a philandering husband. Everyone thinks she's hallucinating when she reports a close encounter of the third kind: a giant who emerges from a "satellite" (UFO) and who tries to snatch her diamond pendant. Later she's infected with that catch-all catalyst of 1950s sci-fi — radiation — and starts growing. Now her whoring hubby is in real trouble. This low-budget stinker has become a campy pop-culture classic.

Babel (2006) is a disappointment. Too bad, because the directing, acting, cinematography, score, and sound editing are first-class. Even the writing glows. The problem is that screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga had three good stories and couldn't decide which one to emphasize, so he mashed them together into a loose chain of subplots. Then, to smooth over the rough joints, the stories unfold out of order. One story is about an American tourist in Morocco wounded in a shooting; another is about the Mexican nanny who cares for her children back home; and the third is about a deaf Japanese schoolgirl in search of sex. The sum of these parts is a mess — all the more frustrating because this could have been a great picture. Indeed, it's so brimming with talent that it was nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award, despite its flaws.

Baby Boom (1987) finds comedy in single-mom hardship by casting Diane Keaton as an upper-middle-class marketing executive who unwittingly inherits an infant from a foreign cousin she's never met. Women who want to "have it all" — an ambitious career and a nurturing motherhood — was an especially popular theme in the 1980s. Although this portrayal is highly contrived, Keaton's manic acting style carries the film. Harold Ramis and Sam Shepard have small parts as boyfriends, but most of the male characters are unhelpful accessories.

Baby Driver (2017) is one of the best car-chase movies on film. Little-known Ansel Elgort (The Fault in Our Stars and Divergent, 2014) stars as Baby, a young man who ceaselessly listens to music on his Apple iPod to drown out his chronic tinnitus. When he accidentally becomes indebted to a master criminal, he's forced to become a getaway driver for a series of daring robberies. Luckily, he's a wizard behind the wheel, but his skills only get him ensnared more deeply. The getaway chases are the highlights of this thrill ride, always synchronized to Baby's iPod soundtrack. Kevin Spacey, Jon Hamm, and Jamie Foxx deliver great performances as creepy criminals.

Baby Face Nelson (1957) improbably stars Mickey Rooney as a sociopathic killer in a crime drama based on a real 1930s gangster. But Rooney, an underrated actor, delivers a capable performance. Carolyn Jones (later Morticia in The Addams Family 1960s TV series) is smoothly sexy as his gun moll. Other notables are Elisha Cook Jr. as a fellow crook, Jack Elam as their heist planner, and Cedric Hardwicke as a drunken doctor. Although this low-budget picture has lots of action, it's wildly inaccurate and lacks the angst and atmosphere that make a great film noir.

Babylon (2022) simultaneously celebrates and denigrates Hollywood but ultimately is a tribute to the motion-picture industry. Be warned that at times it's sexually graphic and violent, and the dialogue is always coarse. It's also more than three hours long, though never boring. It opens during the 1920s silent-film era when Hollywood was awash in money, sex, drugs, and scandals. Little-known Diego Calva stars as a young Mexican immigrant yearning for even the lowliest job on a movie set. During a huge depraved party at a producer's mansion, he falls in love with a young woman who's eager to become an actress. Margot Robbie nails this role and should have been nominated for an Oscar. Brad Pitt adeptly plays a silent-film star who has trouble adapting to talkies. This production is extravagant in depicting Hollywood extravagance and decadence, sometimes exaggerated. Babylon achieves the rarity of being both revolting and uplifting.

Back to the Future (1985) has barely aged, a remarkable achievement for a sci-fi flick. It remains a classic time-travel comedy that has inspired sequels, TV shows, and even a stage musical. Michael J. Fox memorably plays Marty McFly, a high-school thrasher who befriends the eccentric inventor of a time machine. Christopher Lloyd plays the mad-scientist role with zany glee. His invention is a tricked-up DeLorean sports car, the only major element that dates this production. (Bare-metal DeLoreans were briefly popular in the 1980s before the startup and its founder crashed.) When McFly accidentally travels from 1985 to 1955, he clumsily interferes in the lives of his nerdy father (Crispin Glover) and surprisingly wild-child mother (Lea Thompson), risking disastrous consequences. It's fast, funny, and clean enough for kids.

Back to the Future Part II (1989) was unplanned, but it capitalized on the huge popularity of Back to the Future (1985). Returning cast members include Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly, a skateboarding teenager; Lea Thompson as his harried mother; Thomas F. Wilson as his nemesis; and Christopher Lloyd as the zany scientist who invents a time machine built into a DeLorean sports car. Elisabeth Shue replaces Claudia Wells as Marty's girlfriend. In this sequel, Marty travels from 1985 to 2015 and inadvertently changes history, creating an alternative 1985 timeline that's weirdly dystopian. This is the picture that introduced the "hoverboard" (an antigravity skateboard), self-lacing Nike sneakers, and self-sizing apparel. It's a madcap comedy that matched its predecessor. Recognizing a gold mine, director Robert Zemeckis filmed this picture and the next one almost simultaneously.

Back to the Future Part III (1990) quickly followed the second film in this popular trilogy, thanks to a back-to-back production schedule. The main cast members return, albeit sometimes barely recognizable in their new costumes, makeups, and altered characters. In this romp, Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) and zany scientist Dr. Emmett Brown (Christopher Lloyd) journey from 1985 to the Old West of 1885 in their DeLorean time machine. Mary Steenburgen adds a welcome female touch as a frontier schoolteacher. This installment wasn't quite as popular as its predecessors but was still a hit and is equally entertaining. Although it concludes by hinting of another sequel, the much-loved trilogy ends here.

Backfire (1950) is an excellent film noir about a pair of World War II veterans hoping to build successful civilian lives. They want to start a cattle ranch but are sidetracked into an underworld of gambling and murder. Gordon MacRae stars as the seriously wounded half of the pair who emerges from a veterans' hospital mostly cured but desperate to find his now-missing buddy (Edmond O'Brien). O'Brien's performance outshines MacRae's, who seems out of place here. Virginia Mayo co-stars as MacRae's nurse and fiancée. She excels in one tense scene in which she burgles a doctor's office to find a medical record crucial to the mystery. The usual film-noir twists and turns aren't too difficult to follow, and the surprise climax is well done.

The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) draws an unflattering but entertaining portrait of Hollywood. Three flashbacks unmask a producer who crosses his lovers, friends, and colleagues. The cast is great: Kirk Douglas as the disloyal producer, Barry Sullivan as his director friend, Walter Pidgeon as his first studio boss, Lana Turner as an alcoholic actress, Dick Powell as a novelist/screenwriter, and Gloria Grahame as the writer's Southern belle wife. Though less eccentric than Sunset Blvd. (1950) — a contemporary Hollywood exposé — it's a rare drama whose central character is magnetic but detestable. He also typifies the cutthroats in any industry. One highlight is a rowdy scene in which Douglas spars with Turner. The ambiguous climax is brilliant. Nominated for six Academy Awards, it won five: Supporting Actress (Grahame), Screenplay, Art Direction (b&w), Cinematography (b&w), and Costume Design (b&w). Douglas was nominated for Best Actor but lost to Gary Cooper in High Noon.

Bad Day at Black Rock (1955) is a Western placed in 1945 instead of the Old West. Nevertheless, the theme is familiar: a stranger comes to town and upsets the locals by encroaching on a dark secret. Spencer Tracy stars as the stranger, a crippled World War II veteran on a mysterious mission. Although Tracy looks old for the part, combat can prematurely age a man, and his war-weary, passive performance is right for his character. The supporting cast is superb: Robert Ryan as the town's alpha male, Lee Marvin and Ernest Borgnine as the town bullies, Walter Brennan as a sympathetic doctor/undertaker, Dean Jagger as the drunken sheriff, Russell Collins as a terrified telegrapher, and Anne Francis as the token female in this taut testosterone drama. The secret is easy to guess, but the suspense lies in how the stranger will extricate himself from his predicament.

Bad Girl (1931) has aged poorly despite its Best Picture nomination and Oscars for Best Director and Adapted Screenplay. The movie's alluring title and sexy publicity poster are the 1930s versions of click-bait. The "bad girl" is Sally Eilers as an innocent department-store model who's skeptical of marriage. James Dunn plays a radio repairman who's equally skeptical. Their improbable union and misunderstandings form the weakly beating heart of this early rom-com. It has some witty dialogue, though, including quips that would likely have been censored a few years later when the Hays Code clamped down on Hollywood.

The Bad Seed (1956) is based on a Broadway play about an impossibly sweet eight-year-old girl who's actually a sociopath. A startling Patty McCormack in blonde pigtails inhabits this role as comfortably as her character wears the party dresses she favors over boyish bluejeans. Adults think she's a perfect little girl ... or at least, some of them do. As strange things start happening, she arouses the suspicions of her loving mother, her teacher, and a nosy handyman. Although the acting is sometimes too stagy — the movie adapts a stage play — the suspense keeps boiling. The climax departs radically from the play but was required for a film released in the 1950s.

Bagdad Cafe (1987), a/k/a Out of Rosenheim in Germany, is an eccentric but brilliant comedy-drama. Be patient, because it starts slowly, quirkily, and unintelligibly in German. It gradually builds interest, propelled by a variety of characters, perfect acting, and a satirical plot that's unpredictable. Although the director (Percy Adlon) and co-star (Marianne Sägebrecht) are German, most of the dialogue is in English. Sägebrecht is quietly impressive as a German tourist abandoned by her husband on a desert highway in Nevada. She hikes to a decrepit roadside gas station/diner/motel owned by a black woman (the excellent CCH Pounder) who frantically juggles her failing business, an unhelpful husband, a distracted son, a crying baby, and odd neighbors (including one played broadly by Jack Palance). The cultural clash is hilarious. This movie is lovable for those who enjoy detours off the beaten path.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) presents six Old West stories tinged with humor — and the bizarre violence that writers Joel and Ethan Coen have refined into a cliché. Only the first story has a character named Buster Scruggs, who resembles a tinhorn dandy but is supernaturally quick with a revolver. The second tale, about a bank robber, concludes with a brilliant line ("Your first time?"). In the third segment, Liam Neeson plays the grim manager of a bizarre traveling roadshow. Then Tom Waits is great as a gold prospector in a yarn adapted from a Jack London story. Next, Zoe Kazan is subtle but effective as a young woman who must make life-changing decisions during a journey west. Oddly, the final tale is the weakest, despite some witty dialogue among stagecoach passengers. This anthology is an eccentric but amusing departure from other Westerns.

The Balloonatic (1923) stars Buster Keaton in a 22-minute silent comedy about a hapless man who accidentally launches himself on a hot-air balloon. After landing in a forest, he tries to woo a pretty young woman who's fishing in a river. The usual mishaps follow. This short film is good but not one of Keaton's best. The opening scene is puzzling at first and may make you wonder if some previous footage is missing, but the mystery is soon solved.

The Banger Sisters (2002) is a bawdy comedy starring Goldie Hawn and Susan Sarandon, and even a sugar-coated sappy ending can't spoil the fun. They play two old friends, separated for 20 years, who used to be rock groupies. Now Sarandon's character is a staid upper-class housewife in Phoenix and Hawn's character is...still a groupie. She arrives in Phoenix like a blast from the past, shaking up her friend's family life. Geoffrey Rush plays a repressed, eccentric writer who's along for the ride.

The Barbarian Invasions (2003) is a pretentiously named film about a middle-aged Canadian college professor who is dying from a terminal disease. The film tries to establish a "barbarian" connection with the 9/11 terrorist attacks, but it's weak. This is really a story about the regrets of a dying intellectual, the shortcomings of the Canadian health-care system, the privileges of wealth, and how a pending death can reunite a shattered family and dispersed circle of friends. Although it has its moments of comedy and drama, overall it's hard to see why this movie won the Academy Award for Best Foreign-Language Film of 2003.

Barbie (2023) could have been conventional eye candy for little girls and nostalgic adults. But writers Greta Gerwig (who also directed) and Noah Baumbach created an imaginative story so intelligent and feminist that many conservatives shunned it as "woke." Mattel deserves credit for allowing it to mock the company and male-dominant corporate culture. Even Barbie doesn't escape criticism — she's dissed for modeling unrealistic female physiques and for pandering to male fantasies. But this blockbuster hit dresses its politics in such clever comedy, parody, music, and pretty-pink art design that it never forgets to entertain. Margot Robbie stars as one of many Barbies in Barbie Land, an impossibly perfect dream world. Ryan Gosling plays one of many Kens, who are mere Barbie accessories. Their intrusion into the real world (Los Angeles) reveals an entrenched patriarchy that Ken tries to import to Barbie Land. Despite its feminist overtones, this satirical romp ultimately views any gender dominance as a cultural handicap.

Barbie Nation: An Unauthorized Tour (1998) documents the Barbie-doll phenomenon that started in 1959 when a woman executive at Mattel Toys convinced the company to make an adult figurine for girls. Inspired by a German sex toy, Barbie became an instant hit. In this interesting hour-long documentary, filmmaker Susan Stern interviews Ruth Handler, the Mattel cofounder who overcame her colleagues' objections to marketing a full-breasted fashion doll. Stern also covers the scope of Barbie culture, including Barbie conventions, boys and men who love Barbie, artists who modify the dolls (sometimes for X-rated scenes), and controversies over Barbie's unrealistic physique.

The Barefoot Contessa (1954) stars Humphrey Bogart and Ava Gardner in a glossy romantic drama. Bogart plays a Hollywood director accompanying a filthy-rich producer and his gabby PR man on a trip to Spain in search of a "new face" for an upcoming motion picture. Gardner plays an elusive Spanish nightclub dancer who's a possible candidate. We know this rise-to-fame story won't end well, because the opening scene is her funeral. The drama is how she dies. This high-style movie looks dated now, but even by 1954 standards it falls flat at the end when Bogart's character reacts uncharacteristically to the starlet's tragic death. Yet the lackluster climax didn't prevent director Joseph L. Mankiewicz from receiving an Oscar nomination for writing the original screenplay. Although this movie isn't bad, the quality doesn't match the talent.

Barfly (1987) wallows in drunken squalor better than any movie ever made. It's great. Mickey Rourke is pitch-perfect as a down-and-out alcoholic who practically lives in bars and foolishly challenges minor antagonists to back-alley fist fights. Faye Dunaway rises to the occasion by playing a female version of a similarly self-destructive character. When they hook up, the bad choices multiply. Although it sounds bleak, it's darkly amusing, because we can't help empathizing with these lost souls. Redemption seems possible when Rourke's character reveals a hidden talent for writing — if he can exploit it. This fictional story rings with truth, because it's practically the autobiography of screenwriter Charles Bukowski. After Barfly, watch Factotum (2005).

Basic Instinct (1992) became instantly infamous for Sharon Stone's crotch shot during a tables-turned police interrogation. It's brief but blatant, and it was shocking in a mainstream picture. Along with scenes of graphic sex and violence that flirted with an X rating, Stone's uncrossed legs nearly overshadowed the brilliance of this neo-noir crime thriller. Even without the titillation, it's a worthy addendum to film noir. This whodunit features not one, not two, not three, but four femmes fatale. Sharon Stone is the alpha femme, showing the same ability to switch from nice to naughty that she flashed in Total Recall (1990). Michael Douglas ably plays a troubled police detective who's simultaneously suspicious and seduced, but it's Stone who rocks. The final twist still stirs debate.

Battle Beyond the Sun (1962) is the Americanized version of the 1959 Soviet film Nebo Zovyot ("The Sky Beckons"). Low-budget producer Roger Corman bought the U.S. rights and hired a film-school student to rework it. That student was Francis Ford Coppola, soon to become a great American filmmaker (The Godfather, Apocalypse Now, The Conversation, etc). Everyone has to start somewhere, but this project did Coppola no favors. It was dreadfully dull to begin with and didn't improve after Coppola altered the plot, overdubbed the dialogue, added two monsters resembling genitalia, and chopped the running time. Instead of a race to Mars between the U.S. and U.S.S.R., it's now a race to Mars between "North Semi" and "South Semi" — Earth's new hemispheric political configuration after a nuclear war. Although the Soviet special effects are decent for the 1950s, this butchered picture is mainly a curious relic.

The Battle of Shaker Heights (2003) wasn't filmed in the upper-crust Cleveland suburb and seems randomly placed there. It's a good teenage comedy/drama, though, and the performances are solid. Shia LeBeouf stars as an rebellious boy obsessed with military history and alienated from his mediocre teachers, artistic mom, and recovering druggie dad. He befriends a richer boy sharing similar interests who helps him seek revenge on a school bully. He's also smitten by the friend's older sister. Offbeat dialogue enlivens this quirky film and drives the story through multiple subplots without losing its thread of teen angst. It was created for an HBO series (Project Greenlight) led by Ben Affleck and Matt Damon to encourage independent filmmakers.

Battleship (2012) reportedly bombed at the box office but is no worse than many other sci-fi thrillers. In this one, hostile aliens respond to a radio signal from Earth by dispatching a fleet of ocean-going assault ships. They happen to splash down in the midst of a U.S. Navy joint exercise with a Japanese destroyer. Although the sea battle has excellent special effects, it overstretches credulity by reactivating the U.S.S. Missouri, a World War II battleship moored at Pearl Harbor as a floating museum. But hey, we don't expect realism in a movie like this. It's fun if you like shoot-em-ups.

Battleship Potemkin (1925) is hailed as one of the greatest films ever made, but its reputation rides largely on innovative cinematography and on one violent scene that became a classic in cinema history. Otherwise, it's repetitive and propagandistic, and it lacks the crucial dimension of a central character. These flaws arise from the film's conception: it was created as Bolshevik propaganda celebrating the failed Russian revolution of 1905. Based on real events, it dramatizes a mutiny on the Russian battleship Kniaz Potemkin Tarritcheski in that year. The most famous scene is fictional, however — it falsely shows Russian infantry and Cossacks slaughtering civilians on the Odessa Steps in Ukraine. The classic frames in this graphic sequence depict a helpless baby in a carriage bouncing down the steps after soldiers shoot the mother. Despite this silent film's flaws, its camera angles and time-lapse montages were unusual in 1925 and help keep it interesting today. It's also an early example of a motion picture that successfully melds art and propaganda.

Battling Butler (1926) is an enjoyable silent comedy that restorers spent years piecing together from fragments of old film. Now beautifully presented in 4K resolution, it stars the masterful Buster Keaton as the pampered son of a rich family. When his father sends him camping to "make him a man," he falls for a lovely young woman (Sally O'Neil, who does her best with the usual diminished role of a female co-star). Complications arise when Keaton's wimpy character impersonates a pro boxer who challenges the welterweight champion. Although Keaton performs fewer of his famous stunts than usual, the fight scenes inspired Martin Scorsese's Raging Bull (1980). This picture ranks among Keaton's best and was his personal favorite. The cinematography is innovative; watch for unusual camera angles.

Beach Blanket Bingo (1965) was the last of the original series of zany beach movies in which teen idols Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello played major roles. These pictures created a fanciful version of California surf culture for landlocked youngsters. This one is even sillier than most but has a notable supporting cast: Linda Evans as Sugar Kane, an aspiring pop singer; comedian Paul Lynde as her conniving promoter; comedian Don Rickles as the acerbic proprietor of a skydiving school; silent-film star Buster Keaton as a pratfalling oldster; and straight-arrow newspaper columnist Earl Wilson as himself. Although the humor ages poorly, its contrived beach culture is itself a cultural artifact.

The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (1953) was the first sci-fi thriller to show an atomic-bomb test reviving an ancient monster. Its Cold War fears inspired many others — notably Gojira, a 1954 Japanese film later Americanized as Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1956). In 20,000 Fathoms, the monster is a huge dinosaur freed from Arctic ice. Special-effects wizard Ray Harryhausen employs excellent stop-motion animation to show the creature attacking fishing boats, New York City, and an amusement park. It features classic scenes of urban destruction, fleeing crowds, crushed vehicles, and army battles. But like most 1950s sci-fi thrillers, budget constraints forced it to be talky most of the time. The climax is worth the wait.

Beast From Haunted Cave (1959) rises slightly above other low-budget monster movies from this decade. Not because it's a better monster movie, though. The monster is a typical low-budget hokey costume creature. Instead, a subplot involving gold robbers, odd characters, and an abusive male-female relationship is more interesting than the monster story. One novelty, however, is that the creature cocoons his captives in a way that foreshadows Alien (1979).

The Beast With Five Fingers (1946) gives horror-thriller stalwart Peter Lorre a better chance than usual to show his acting chops. Although he's still typecast as an eccentric assistant, at least he isn't relegated to a limping bit part. Instead, Lorre effectively portrays the astrology-obsessed secretary to a disabled concert pianist now limited to playing with only his left hand. When mysterious strangulations follow the pianist's untimely death, a ghostly hand becomes the prime suspect. This creepshow's high notes are marvelous special effects and actual one-handed piano pieces that Brahms adapted from a Bach composition. Watch for Alan Alda's father Robert as Bruce Conrad, a slick purveyor of fake antiques.

The Beast of Yucca Flats (1961) competes with Plan 9 From Outer Space (1957) as the worst movie ever made. The budget was so stingy that the production company couldn't afford sound equipment on location, so all the dialogue is crudely dubbed. And there's little of it, because a narrator lamely tries to tell the story. The film editing is haphazard and the screenplay wastes time on irrelevant detours. Coincidentally, this film and Plan 9 both feature the same actor: Tor Johnson, a 400-pound Swedish wrestler. Here, he plays a Russian scientist who runs amok after accidental radiation exposure. It's a stinker.

Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012) is an unconventional drama about poor Southerners living off the grid while coping with the rising waters of climate change. But this isn't a strident documentary like An Inconvenient Truth (2006) or a preposterous science-fiction flick like The Day After Tomorrow (2004). Global warming is merely the backdrop. Instead, the story stays small by focusing on a loose community of poorly educated people who revert to primitive subsistence living while rejecting civilization's sterility and restrictions. The main character is a young girl (ably played by Quvenzhane Wallis) who struggles for survival and quarrels with her erratic father. Depending on your viewpoint, these folks are either rugged individualists or ignorant misfits. Some allegorical imagery (ancient animals freed from Arctic ice) adds a touch of the bizarre. Recommended only for aficionados of unusual cinema.

Beat the Devil (1953) unites a great cast with a great writer and great director for a caper comedy that doesn't quite reach its potential but is still entertaining. The cast includes Humphrey Bogart as a wise schemer, Italian heartthrob Gina Lollobrigida as his sexy wife, Edward Underdown as a stiff Englishman prone to airs, Jennifer Jones as his wife prone to fantasies, and Peter Lorre, Robert Morley, Ivor Barnard, and Marco Tulli as four incompetent schemers. Truman Capote wrote the screenplay with director John Huston, so the dialogue is snappy and sometimes eloquent. The schemers want to exploit uranium deposits in Africa, but the story is secondary to the lively character interaction. As perhaps the first film-noir parody, it succeeds.

The Beatles and India (2021) analyzes the dual influences of Indian culture on the Fab Four and of their records on Indian music. Only 20 years after winning independence from Great Britain, the former colony's music, religions, and philosophies surprisingly began influencing the colonizer's pop culture. The Beatles were the first conduit. Archival film and new interviews illuminate both sides of the exchange. Rare footage, photographs, and personal accounts reveal fresh information about the Beatles' famous retreat to the Rishikesh ashram of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1968. Their visit inspired such songs as "Dear Prudence," "Bungalow Bill," and "Sexy Sadie." This excellent documentary is a must for fans of the Beatles and the 1960s.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) is a largely fictional account of the interaction between a journalist and Fred Rogers, the soft-talking host of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," a classic TV show for children (1968-2001). Although it's based on a real profile of Rogers that Tom Junod wrote for Esquire in 1998, the movie exaggerates the writer's personal problems. Nevertheless, Junod says Rogers became his friend and changed his life. Most of Rogers' dialogue is reportedly accurate, as are some incidents. Tom Hanks plays Rogers so perfectly that no other casting seems plausible. Matthew Rhys is equally well cast as Junod, and he gets strong support from Susan Watson (as his wife) and Chris Cooper (as his father). The beauty of this film is its serenity, a welcome break from the usual Hollywood action and violence. Was Rogers for real, or was he merely playing a character? Evidently he was both, and there was no difference.

A Beautiful Mind (2001) has a forceful performance from Russell Crowe, who nevertheless seems out of place in this true-life drama about Nobel Prize mathematician John Nash. Crowe is way too muscular for a math nerd who makes frequent trips to mental hospitals, and his undisguised Australian accent sounds bizarre in a character from West Virginia. Still, the film bravely portrays schizophrenia from the patient's point of view and is an uplifting story of love and intellect overcoming adversity. Now if only Crowe could get voice lessons from Meryl Streep...

Beauty & Decay (German: Schönheit & Vergänglichkeit, 2019) is a German documentary on Sven Marquardt, an artist known for his harsh photographs of fellow "punk" rebels in East Berlin during the communist era. It focuses on Marquardt, his model Dominique "Dome" Hollenstein, and old friend Robert Paris. Marquardt's stark black-and-white photographs are dramatic, artful, and rebellious — from a period when the Stasi secret police tried to suppress all forms of dissent. Somehow he evaded their grasp. Still creative, he reunites with Dome 30 years later for another photo shoot. Tighter editing would improve this interesting but overlong film.

Becoming Frida Kahlo (2023) stretches a biographical documentary of the famous Mexican artist to nearly three hours for PBS. Although the production values are high, it's slow and repetitive, telling us many times that she loved her much older husband and more famous mentor, Diego Rivera. Despite its length, it shows only a few of her paintings and provides skimpy analysis. And because this documentary was made for broadcast TV, it digitally blurs some elements of the paintings, as if we've never seen unclothed females. It's historically accurate, though, and it doesn't dodge the hypocrisy of Kahlo's and Rivera's communist sympathies while living on the patronage of wealthy capitalists. For the Kahlo-curious, a one-hour doc would be sufficient. For Kahlo fans, this overlong account is probably redundant.

Bedazzled (1967) radiates irreverent British humor in the same style as the classic Monty Python comedies. Loosely based on the Faust legend, it stars Dudley Moore as Stanley Moon, a short-order cook in 1960s Swinging London who sells his soul to the Devil for seven wishes. Deadpan-perfect Peter Cook, who also wrote the screenplay, plays the devious Evil One. Eleanor Bron co-stars as a lovely waitress who's the unobtainable object of Stanley's affection. With each wish, he tries to win her heart despite the Devil's trickery. The wry humor contains enough theology to make this satirical romp an amusing commentary on Christianity without descending into sacrilege, except for the easily offended. Rachel Welch makes a famous cameo as Lust.

Before I Go to Sleep (2014) is yet another spin on the Hollywood affliction that's as common as the flu — amnesia. This time Nicole Kidman plays the sufferer with the blank-slate mind. She remembers new things for only one day, then forgets them overnight. And, of course, she's trying to solve a mystery: How did she become so damaged? Was her husband (Colin Firth) to blame? Or her brain doctor (Mark Strong)? Or a forgotten person who may be named Mike? It's a dandy puzzle that has her wavering back and forth, and you will, too. Although the performances are good and the amnesia angle is above average, a similar story was done better in Memento (2000). They would make a great double feature.

Begin Again (2014) is a great example of a modern musical — a film centered on music that doesn't interrupt the story with unrealistic song-and-dance numbers. Keira Knightley stars as a young singer-songwriter in the shadow of her rock-star boyfriend. Mark Ruffalo co-stars as a down-and-out record producer who discovers her latent talent on open-mike night at a noisy bar. Both characters are in the dumps and looking for an escape route. They find it in her music, which is more like ore than gold but is ready to shine. The redemptive quality of music carries this film, although it glosses over some problems (alcoholism, a broken marriage) that aren't so easily solved. Irish writer/director John Carney builds on his previous success with a musical movie — Once (2006), which launched the Oscar-winning song "Falling Slowly." Begin Again is a bigger production that borders on the formulaic but has enough charm to overcome its clichés.

Being John Malkovitch (2000) is too bizarre to describe and too good to miss.

Being Julia (2004) is a sometimes slow-moving but ultimately enjoyable movie based on a novel by M. Somerset Maugham. Placed in the West End theater district of London in 1938, it's a rom-com about a famous stage actress, her affair with a much younger man, and the trouble that ensues. Annette Bening is superb as the middle-aged femme fatale, and it's a shame her Academy Award nomination for Best Actress couldn't overcome Hilary Swank's nomination for Million Dollar Baby. Jeremy Irons has a supporting role as her uninvolved husband, and Shaun Evans is perfect as her young lover. The intrigue slowly builds to a hilarious conclusion.

Belfast (2021) views the Northern Ireland "Troubles" of 1969 through the eyes of a nine-year-old boy. Early scenes depict Protestant rioters attacking Catholic homes on a mixed-religion street. This intro creates unrelieved tension — violence can break out at any moment. Protestant activists pressure the boy's Protestant family to leave the mostly Catholic neighborhood, but their roots run deep and they're broke. This movie doesn't attempt to explain the political and religious sources of Irish civil warfare. Instead, it adopts the boy's limited understanding and his focus on boyhood things. Writer/director Kenneth Branagh based this story on his own Belfast childhood and won the Oscar for Original Screenplay. This excellent film was nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, Supporting Actor (Ciaran Hinds, the grandfather), and Supporting Actress (Judi Dench, the grandmother).

Bell Book and Candle (1958) stars James Stewart and Kim Novak in their second picture of the year. Unfortunately, it suffers terribly in comparison with their first one, Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece Vertigo. This time, Novak plays a modern witch in New York City who casts a love spell on Stewart's unsuspecting character. It's a rom-com adapted from a 1950 Broadway play that must have been better on stage. Jack Lemmon and Elsa Lanchester co-star, but almost everyone seems miscast, and both the romance and the comedy lack magic.

Ben-Hur (1959) ranks with The Ten Commandments (1956) and Spartacus (1960) as big-budget big-screen productions designed to lure people away from their tiny black-and-white televisions. This one adapts the bestselling historical novel by Civil War veteran Lew Wallace. It isn't truly historical, but it plausibly creates fictional characters in Palestine during the time of Jesus Christ. (Despite a strong Christian theme, we never hear Jesus speak or see his face.) Charlton Heston stars as Judah Ben-Hur, a wealthy Jew who swears revenge when his Roman friend Messala (Stephen Boyd) betrays him and condemns him to slavery. Their conflict powers this extravagant 3.5-hour epic, which culminates in a chariot race that's still one of the most exciting sequences ever filmed. These were the pre-CGI days when Hollywood studios would hire 15,000 extras for a big scene. Everything about this movie is big, including the self-aware performances. It's a classic.

Bend It Like Beckham (2003) is "brilliant," as the Brits would say. It's a well-written ethnic comedy-drama in the vein of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except the family is Indian-English, not Greek-American. The main character, fetchingly played by Parminder K. Nagra, is a teenage girl more interested in English football (soccer) than in learning the traditional ways of a house-bound Indian woman. When she secretly joins a semiprofessional girl's team, it turns her family upside-down. A great ensemble cast and a socially aware screenplay make this film enjoyable and genuinely touching.

Bender (2016) butchers the true tale of the "Bloody Benders," a family of serial killers in 1870s Kansas. This dramatization suffers from stilted direction (the actors move and speak as if lost in a trance), inane voice-over narration (pretentious attempts at profundity), and claustrophobic cinematography (relentless close-ups that lack spatial orientation and narrative context). Too bad, because the actors fit their roles and the production values are high for a low-budget indie film. Oddly, the actual murders depart from the annoying slo-mo style by flashing past in a few seconds of almost imperceptible quick cuts. This story will be nearly incoherent for viewers unfamiliar with the historical events, so watching one of the many documentaries on the Benders is virtually a prerequisite.

Beowulf (2007) combines live action with computer graphics to retell the Old English epic poem from the first millennium A.D. The cast — including Anthony Hopkins, Ray Winstone, John Malkovich, and Angelina Jolie — played their roles in motion-capture suits on a blue-screen stage. The overlaid graphics vary in quality. Action scenes resemble a good videogame but don't match the realism of live action. Static closeups resemble photorealistic paintings. Some special effects look more like pure computer animation. Although this technique artfully blends human action with dragons and other mythical creatures, it hides good acting behind a mask of pixels and distracts attention from the story. The movie hews roughly to the poem, in which a sword-slinging hero (Beowulf) fights a deformed monster (Grundel) and its seductive mother. It's not a bad film, but I prefer to see live actors in their skins.

Bernie (2012) is a strangely compelling dark comedy based on true events in the 1990s. Jack Black plays a mortician who ingratiates himself with a cranky widow in a small Texas town. Unlike almost all other reviewers, I won't reveal what happens next, but it's gripping. The highlight is Black's performance, the best of his career so far. He restrains his slapstick side to skillfully portray a quiet man whose waters run deep. Shirley MacLaine, always fun to watch, plays the widow, and Matthew McConaughey is equally good as a straight-shooting district attorney. Even if you've seen a plot spoiler elsewhere, Black's excellent character study makes watching this film worthwhile.

Berserk (1967) is a mediocre thriller about a British circus stalked by a serial killer. A circus provides many unusual ways to kill a person — dangerous acts, dangerous animals, dangerous working conditions — so it's a clever way to sustain suspense. But the main attributes are Joan Crawford, who commands the screen as the devious circus owner, and the circus acts themselves, which belonged to a real traveling show. (I loved the trick poodles.) Although the climax is overdramatic and implausible, if you make it that far you've already seen the best parts.

Best in Show (2000) is a roaring-funny parody of dog shows and especially of dog owners. Christopher Guest assembles a cast of exaggerated stereotypes in his best work since Waiting for Guffman. It's much funnier than the adolescent toilet humor that passes for comedy these days.

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) is the best movie ever made about war veterans returning home and adjusting to civilian life. It follows World War II but is relevant to any war. The story traces three veterans: a relatively unscarred banker with a stable family (Fredric March), an Air Corps bombardier haunted by combat nightmares and a troubled wartime marriage (Dana Andrews), and an armless young man who can't adapt (Harold Russell, a real armless vet with dual prosthetics). The supporting cast is equally excellent, including Myrna Loy as the banker's wife, Virginia Mayo as the war bride, Teresa Wright as her new rival, and even Hoagy Carmichael as a wise piano player. Director William Wyler skillfully weaves these dramas together. The opening scene declares that this film isn't a typical Hollywood glorification: while a vet anxiously awaits a plane ride home, a boisterous civilian demands priority for his golfing trip. The armless vet's homecoming is another shocker. In another scene, civilians debate postwar politics and disparage the victory. Eerily, this film refutes the "Greatest Generation" revisionist history by capturing the real zeitgeist. The blockbuster won seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, Actor (March), Supporting Actor (Russell), and Screenplay (Robert E. Sherwood).

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956) is beyond reasonable. Apparently to prove that fiction can be stranger than truth, this crime thriller stars Dana Andrews as a writer planting false clues to implicate himself in a murder. He actually wants to get himself sentenced to death. Why? So he can discredit the false evidence, prove himself innocent, and undermine support for capital punishment. This plot is already twisted, but it's followed by another twist (easy to anticipate) and yet another twist (unexpected). All this convolution is easier to bear with good acting by Andrews and co-star Joan Fontaine. Although the great Fritz Lang directed, it falls short of his usual work.

Beyond the Sea (2004) is a jumbled musical about Bobby Darin, the nightclub crooner and rock 'n' roll teen idol whose career peaked in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Kevin Spacey cowrote the screenplay, directed, and plays the lead role. Spacey bears a strong resemblance to Darin, and he sang all the songs instead of using original recordings. His performance is remarkable, one of the most uncanny portrayals in any biopic. Unfortunately, Spacey's clumsy attempts to bridge time with flashbacks to Darin's childhood are often a distraction. Still, this flawed film is worth seeing, even if you're not a Bobby Darin fan.

Bicycle Thieves a/k/a The Bicycle Thief (Italian: Ladri Di Biciclette, 1948) is a critically acclaimed classic of Italian postwar cinema. It's set in Rome shortly after World War II when Italy was impoverished by a bad bet on fascism. Unemployment is rampant, so a downtrodden family man is ecstatic when he gets a job posting advertisements around town. The catch: he needs transportation. He redeems his battered bicycle from a pawnbroker and seems destined for solvency until someone steals the bike. With his young son in tow, he searches for the thief. This drama shows the shame of poverty, the desperation of unemployment, and the damage that a seemingly minor crime can inflict. Remarkably, the actors are nonprofessionals who are uncannily realistic. This picture was nominated for Best Screenplay and won an honorary Oscar as an outstanding foreign-language film.

The Big Chill (1983) critiques Baby Boomers 30 years before the dismissive phrase "OK Boomer" became faddish. Yet this Best Picture nominee is sympathetic, not cruel, to the broken hopes and dreams of the 1960s. Director Lawrence Kasdan and Barbara Benedek wrote a great Oscar-nominated screenplay that reunites former college classmates at a suicidal friend's funeral. It's an opportunity to reconnect and review their lives and ambitions as they enter midlife. Some are satisfied, others are not, and more than one midlife crisis ensues. The central cast is brilliant: Glenn Close (nominated for an Oscar), William Hurt, Jeff Goldblum, Tom Berenger, Kevin Kline, Meg Tilly, JoBeth Williams, and Mary Kay Place. Despite its success and relevance, this excellent drama hasn't spawned a sequel.

The Big Combo (1955) ranks among the best film-noir crime thrillers despite trailing the fame of The Big Sleep (1946) and The Big Heat (1953). Perhaps it would be more famous if Humphrey Bogart or Glenn Ford had played the obsessive police detective struggling to break up an urban crime syndicate. Instead it's Cornel Wilde, competent but conventional. This drama has everything else, though: a strong story, twisty plot, shadowy cinematography, memorable scenes, and a scorching blonde femme fatale. The great supporting cast includes Richard Conte as the coolly evil crime boss, Jean Wallace as his troubled blonde femme, Lee Van Cleef and Earl Holliman as his brutal henchmen, Brian Donlevy as a humiliated former crime boss, Jay Adler as a dogged detective, and more. All the bit parts are well played. Memorable scenes include an explosive surprise; a torture session involving a hearing aid, radio, and drum solo; and a foggy climax that weaponizes a spotlight. This picture is dark, gritty, and stylish.

Big Eyes (2014) is a satisfying drama based on the true story of artist Margaret Keane (1927–2022), whose paintings of big-eyed children became popular in the 1950s. Dismissed by art critics as kitsch, her paintings nevertheless were a hit with middle-class buyers. Director Tim Burton focuses on Keane's tumultuous relationship with her second husband, who publicly claimed he painted the works, shoving Margaret into the background. Her story parallels the subservience of wives in the 1950s and the emergence of feminism in the 1960s — although this film attributes her awakening to a religious conversion, not a political movement. Amy Adams, as Margaret Keane, shows her skill as a top actress. She is matched by the always-excellent Christoph Waltz, who plays Walter Keane, Margaret's domineering husband. Historical accuracy is always questionable in Hollywood movies, but I appreciated the balanced portrayal of Walter as a glib opportunist who slips into his sham somewhat reluctantly, not from premeditated malice.

Big Fish (2003) is an interesting disappointment. Director Tim Burton (Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands) tries hard to make a coherent movie out of a wandering screenplay by John August (Charlie's Angels) based on a fanciful novel by Daniel Wallace. It doesn't quite work, but it's often fun to watch. Albert Finney and Ewan McGregor play an eccentric man at different ages who turns his life story into colorfully embellished tall tales. His straitlaced son (Billy Crudup) is frustrated that he never knows the truth. The main problem with this film is that the tall tales are outlandishly tall. Borderline believability would have made the half-truths more intriguing and the final scenes more paradoxical. Also, McGregor's horrifically fake Southern accent — acceptable in Down With Love (2003), when he's supposed to be faking it — is a constant distraction.

The Big Heat (1953) ranks among the best film-noir crime thrillers, thanks to Fritz Lang's sharp direction and full-tilt acting all around. Glenn Ford stars as a detective investigating a fellow cop's suicide — an event that Lang fashions into a great opening scene. At first the case seems open-and-shut, but Sydney Boehm's tight screenplay wastes no time igniting suspense by implicating the widow (a wonderfully conniving Jeanette Nolan). Lee Marvin foreshadows his future fame by playing a short-tempered gangster with a misogynist streak. Gloria Grahame delivers perhaps her best-ever performance as his gun-moll girlfriend who can't hold her tongue. Watch for a blonde Carolyn Jones (later of The Addams Family 1960s TV series) as a mistreated bar girl and Jocelyn Brando (Marlon's older sister) as the detective's perfect wife. This stew heats up to a boiling climax.

The Big Red One (1980) follows a rifle squad of the U.S. Army's 1st Infantry Division through multiple campaigns in World War II. It moves from North Africa to Sicily and Europe, interspersing each battle with scenes acquainting us with the characters. Lee Marvin plays a grizzled World War I vet whose experience guides the younger recruits through combat. Mark Hamill plays a sharpshooter who initially freezes and ends up changed forever. The battle scenes are realistic, but the interludes define this exceptional war movie: a birth inside a Panzer; a woman resistance fighter leading an assault on an insane asylum; an orphaned boy bargaining for his mother's burial; and a shocked child liberated from a concentration camp. Paradoxically, their incongruity weaves this drama together.

The Big Short (2015) recounts the Crash of 2008 from the viewpoint of maverick investors who bet big bucks against the fast-rising housing market. While almost all the experts ignored the growing bubble, these money managers bought credit-default swaps (in effect, insurance policies) that would pay off when the bubble burst. But this movie isn't a dry documentary. It's a drama based on Michael Lewis's best-selling book of the same name. It makes complex financial maneuvers understandable and entertaining, and it even warns when the story deviates from reality. The stellar cast includes Ryan Gosling, Steve Carell, Christian Bale, Brad Pitt, Marisa Tomei, and Melissa Leo, all of whom are Oscar winners or nominees. This film would make a great double feature with 99 Homes (2015), which recounts the crash from the view of a typical Florida homeowner.

The Big Sleep (1946) is a classic film-noir crime thriller that typifies the genre. It's got everything: the sizzling combo of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, memorable scenes of mayhem, machine-gun dialogue, moody cinematography, and a twisty plot so convoluted that even the filmmakers found it baffling. Never mind, it's fun. Bogart plays private detective Philip Marlowe, hired for a case that grows more complicated and dangerous each day. Bacall plays a mysterious rich woman who's either an innocent victim or a femme fatale. Their famous screen chemistry is evident here. The strong supporting cast includes film-noir stalwart Elisha Cook Jr. and sexy Dorothy Malone. A common theme in this genre is that crime spreads its tentacles everywhere in American society, contradicting present-day nostalgia. But the criminals that Prohibition spawned didn't vanish with its repeal — they merely turned to other vices.

The Big Steal (1949) pairs Robert Mitchum with Jane Greer in a fast-moving crime thriller that doesn't reduce her to a mere accessory. Indeed, her character is sometimes smarter than Mitchum's and even excels as a driver in a lengthy car chase — unusual female empowerment in 1949. Greer plays the angry fiancée of a schemer who stole her life savings. Mitchum plays a wrongly accused thief who wants to clear his name by catching the same man. They reluctantly join forces while fleeing another guy (William Bendix) who chases them both. This above-average film noir leavens the drama with dry wit and essentially is one long pursuit that ends in a violent showdown.

Big Sur (2013) dramatizes Jack Kerouac's 1962 novel of the same name. His novels are autobiographical; this one recalls his experiences at a remote cabin on California's Pacific coast. He was loaned the cabin by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a fellow writer and the owner of San Francisco's famous City Lights bookstore. Kerouac retreated to the cabin for solitude and rejuvenation but was soon bored and resumed his heavy drinking and partying. His "beatnik" friends in this artful film include best-buddy Neal Cassady and beat poets Michael McClure, Philip Whalen, Lenore Kandel, and Lew Welch. For authenticity, writer/director Michael Polish fills the screenplay with narrative passages lifted from the stream-of-consciousness novel. Although this picture may introduce Kerouac to viewers unfamiliar with the Beat Generation author, it appeals mostly to his fans.

The Bigamist (1953) is a surprisingly sympathetic story of a man with two wives. It's especially surprising for its era, when the Hays Code enforced strict morality on Hollywood filmmakers. Credit the light touch of director Ida Lapino, who also stars as one of the wives. This picture could easily have been a righteous condemnation of male infidelity. Instead, it draws the bigamist as a desperately lonely traveling salesman seeking respite from his cooled marriage. Perhaps not by coincidence, screenwriter Collier Young was married to Joan Fontaine, the actress who plays the first wife, and was previously wedded to Lapino! Thus one triangle begets another. Edmond O'Brien plays the apex of the fictional one. At times it's melodramatic — but then, it is a melodrama.

Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989) is a silly comedy about two Southern California teenagers who become time travelers, thanks to a mysterious visitor from the future (the late comedian George Carlin miscast in an unfunny role). The teens are moronic but likeable rock-star wannabees played for laughs by Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves. By kidnapping famous people and bringing them back to their high school, they hope to ace a history class they're flunking. Although this movie is totally stupid, somehow it became a cult favorite, inspiring two sequels and a TV series. It's mildly entertaining if you're really bored.

Billy Elliot has stunning performances by the entire cast, making it one of the best films of 2000. Billy is an 11-year-old English working-class kid who prefers ballet to boxing, upsetting his father and drawing the ridicule of most of his friends. It's a classic rags-to-riches story, dramatic and funny. Even the bit players excel in this film.

Birdman (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is dynamite — the best film of 2014. Michael Keaton plays a has-been action-movie star who's trying to make a comeback by writing, directing, and acting in a serious Broadway play. No more plot summary is necessary, because this film is all about the acting, cinematography, and suspense coiled by the play within the play. All the performances are revelations. Keaton has never been better; Naomi Watts nails the role of his long-suffering ex-wife; Emma Stone reveals new talent as his recently rehabbed teenage daughter; comedian Zach Galifianakis transforms himself into an intense dramatic actor; and the always-excellent Edward Norton almost steals every scene he's in. All this energy needs no further amplification, but Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu (Biutiful, 2010, Babel, 2006) amps it up anyway by editing the film to appear as nearly one continuous tracking shot. The unusual score adds still more tension with its barrage of drum solos and a perfectly calibrated piano piece of single notes without accompaniment. It deservedly won Oscars for Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, and Cinematography but undeservedly missed for Best Actor (Keaton), Film Editing, Sound Editing, Visual Effects, and Original Score.

Birdman of Alcatraz (1962) mythologizes the true story of Robert Stroud, a double murderer who became a self-taught expert on birds and avian diseases while imprisoned for life. As usual, Hollywood riddles this adaptation with unnecessary inaccuracies from start to finish. It's best approached as a fictional tale woven around a few threads of truth. The theme is rehabilitation versus punishment, a perennial contention in prison reform. Burt Lancaster was nominated Best Actor for playing Stroud, who began raising birds while incarcerated at the Leavenworth Penitentiary in Kansas. Karl Malden plays a composite character of wardens who were his foils. Telly Savalas and Thelma Ritter were nominated for their supporting roles as a fellow inmate and as Stroud's mother, respectively, and the b&w cinematography was also named. But despite its excellence, this picture won no Oscars. A more faithful film could have been better — by showing that a criminal can rehabilitate one side of his character without necessarily cleansing his soul.

The Birds (1963) showed that director Alfred Hitchcock could amp up the horror beyond his psychological thrillers, such as Psycho (1960). Whereas before his evildoers were criminals or crazies, this time the terrors were ordinary avians. The Birds is a monster movie without outlandish monsters. Released only a few years after a polio epidemic ravaged the world, this shocking film builds on the same fears of nature turned killer, but it scales up the threat from a microscopic virus to common creatures. It also hints at malevolent intelligence, particularly in one brilliant scene of a fire as seen from — yes! — a bird's-eye view. This classic continues to inspire numerous imitators but is rarely surpassed.

The Birth of a Nation (1915) deserves its dual reputation as the first cinematic masterpiece and as a frankly racist pitch for white supremacy. This 3.5-hour silent-film epic follows two upper-class families — one from the North, one from the South — before, during, and after the American Civil War. Their friendship cleaves when their sons fight on opposite sides. After the war, a love match and a common cause reunite them. Their cause is white supremacy. This film portrays the Reconstruction period (1865–1872) as a bleak time when black Union soldiers and black politicians terrorize the white majority. Aiding the blacks are white carpetbaggers (dishonest Northern businessmen) and a corrupt white Republican congressman who's married to a mulatto (a mixed-race woman). To restore supremacy, the whites create the Klu Klux Klan, which becomes the hero of this story. Despite title cards added later to deny racist intent, this picture is explicitly racist and historically inaccurate. But it's undeniably a masterwork, both as propaganda and as cinema. Director D.W. Griffith pioneered techniques that hugely influenced all subsequent motion pictures. For one memorable scene, he mounted his unwieldy camera on a speeding truck to film KKK horsemen galloping straight toward the audience. Other scenes employ montages, and the panoramic battles are spectacular. The unscripted silent acting is also quite good, and the stories are well told. The multiple facets of this epic have kept it both admired and despised for more than a century. It's a must-see for film buffs and historians.

Biutiful (a child's misspelling of "beautiful") belongs to that film genre that uses terminal illness to seek meaning in life and death. The impressive Javier Bardem stars as a poor man in Barcelona who works various schemes to earn a meager living for himself and his two young children. His greatest talent is that he can briefly communicate with the recently deceased, but this supernatural ability generates surprisingly little income and even less celebrity. The film's explorations of life, death, and afterlife are elliptical, managing to be depressing and hopeful at the same time. Bardem's Oscar-nominated performance carries this exceptional film, which was also nominated for a 2010 Academy Award in the foreign-film category. (In Spanish with English subtitles.)

The Black Cat (1941) blends humor with horror, a relatively new twist at the time. The story revolves around a wealthy old cat lady whose greedy heirs are eager for her to die. But her will contains surprises, which leads to mystery and murder. It's no coincidence that this lively picture feels like an Abbott and Costello spoof — the same associate producer supervised the comedy team's Hold That Ghost the same year. In The Black Cat, Broderick Crawford vaguely imitates Bud Abbott while comedian Hugh Herbert flagrantly mimics Lou Costello. Bela Lugosi gleefully plays a grizzly servant but is underused. Gale Sondergaard gets more screen time as an amusingly devious housekeeper. Alan Ladd, Basil Rathbone, and beautifully attired Anne Gwynne play straight roles to leaven the laughs.

The Black Dahlia (2006) is atrocious, but in such an intriguing way that one feels compelled to keep watching, as if it were a slow-motion train wreck. Loosely based on a famous Hollywood murder in 1947, The Black Dahlia strives to imitate film noir and later revivals like Chinatown (1974) and L.A. Confidential (1997). It misses so badly that it nearly spawns a new genre, film bizarre. The cast is superb: Scarlett Johansson, Hilary Swank, Josh Hartnett, Aaron Eckhart, and Fiona Shaw, among others. Yet inexplicably, they fall flat. Worse, the story is riddled with confusing subplots and minor characters. As the film builds to its gory climax, the plot not only thickens, it solidifies. Director Brian De Palma resorts to a rapid-fire sequence of flashbacks, voice-over narration, and startling revelations to make the conclusion vaguely comprehensible. Film students will debate this movie for years to come, much as shipwrights study the Titanic.

Black Friday (1940) stars the famous Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, but they're overshadowed by Stanley Ridges, a lesser-known actor. Ridges plays a dual role as a kindly college professor and a brutal gangster, and he aces the screen transformation by changing only his hairstyle, eyeglasses, and manner. The split personality stems from an experimental brain transplant. Karloff plays the neurosurgeon whose rogue operation goes horribly wrong. Lugosi, wasted in a smaller role, plays a rival gangster. Anne Nagel is sultry as a nightclub singer and fickle gun moll. Although this Universal Pictures release isn't a horror classic, it deftly blends film noir with deviant pseudoscience.

Black Hawk Down (2001) is an intense war movie based on the true story of an ill-fated mission by U.S. peacekeepers in Somalia in 1993. It shows how even the most elite troops (U.S. Army Rangers and Delta Force commandos) can quickly find themselves overwhelmed by the surprises of combat. Other than offering a brutal and bloody look at modern urban fighting, however, the film offers no insight into the politics or ethics of such missions. And it's definitely not for the squeamish.

Black Like Me (1964) stumbles despite good intentions. It dramatizes John Howard Griffin's 1961 bestseller of the same name — the true story of his dangerous attempt to gain first-hand experience of race relations in the Deep South during a violent period in the civil rights movement. Griffin, a white journalist, used medications, pigments, and sunlamps to temporarily disguise himself as an African-American. In this adaptation, James Whitmore plays a fictional version of Griffin. But in appearance and behavior, Whitmore is unconvincing; he looks and acts like a white man in blackface. If you can overlook this flaw — partly the result of a low budget — his encounters with naked racism and occasional kindness from strangers seem more real. Ditto his growing anger at mistreatment. The shame of his exposé isn't the racism he finds, but its persistence today.

Black Magic (1949) suffers from stagey acting and an overlong, needlessly complex story. The only highlight is Orson Welles as a gypsy whose hypnotic gaze can convince anyone of anything. After an unnecessary opening scene that wastes Raymond Burr (later the star of Perry Mason), a flashback shows the gypsy as a young boy whose parents are suspected of witchcraft. Then an abrupt flash-forward shows him as a young man who's (mis)using his mental skills at a carnival. But his bigger ambition is to spark the French Revolution. The plots grow more convoluted by the minute, and the only reason to keep watching is Welles' mesmerizing performance.

Black Sabbath a/k/a The Three Faces of Fear (Italian: I Tre Volti Della Paura, 1963) is a classic Italian horror film by director Mario Bava, perhaps his best. Three stories feature Italian actors, except for Boris Karloff, who introduces the tales and appears in one of them. Like Bava's other pictures, this one has great atmosphere, stylish cinematography, graphic images, and beautiful women. The first story portrays a lesbian threatened by a stalker; the second is a vampire drama; and in the third, a nurse must prepare a recently deceased fortuneteller for burial. All are wonderfully creepy. Be sure to watch the original Italian version, because the U.S. release deletes hints of lesbianism and scenes deemed too graphic for American sensibilities. For a touch of humor, the coda shows that filmmaking is the art of illusion. Footnote: In the 1960s, this thriller inspired a British heavy-metal band named Earth to rename itself Black Sabbath.

The Black Scorpion (1957) features impressive stop-motion animation created by Willis "Obie" O'Brien, who previously worked his magic on The Lost World (1925), King Kong (1933), and Mighty Joe Young (1949), which won the Oscar for Best Visual Effects. In this lower-budget production, giant scorpions, worms, and spiders escape from volcanic caves to terrorize Mexican towns. Budget cuts forced O'Brien and assistant Pete Peterson to finish the work in a garage! Even so, the result is better than most 1950s monster movies, and it concludes with a dramatic battle.

Black Sunday (1960): see The Mask of Satan.

Black Swan (2010) is a bizarre ballerina drama starring Natalie Portman as a dancer vying for the lead role of the Swan Queen in Swan Lake. To impress her director (perfectly played by Vincent Cassel), she must overcome physical and mental obstacles that are driving her mad. The boundary between reality and hallucination is ambiguous in this film. Indeed, it's possible that nearly the entire story is her deranged fantasy. Bodily injuries, whether real or imagined, are vividly portrayed, so this isn't a movie for the squeamish. Portman delivers an Oscar-worthy performance, with strong support from Barbara Hershey as her controlling mother, Winona Ryder as an embittered has-been, and Mila Kunis as a seductive rival.

Black on White (1969): see Attraction.

Blackboard Jungle (1955) is an outstanding drama about juvenile delinquents at an urban high school. It was controversial in its time because critics disliked the spotlight on America's rowdy youths. It's fairly realistic, though, and the acting is superb. Glenn Ford stars as a naïve new English teacher who is quickly initiated by his rebellious students. Among them are Vic Morrow in his screen debut and Sidney Poitier in an early role. Both actors were already in their 20s and look old for high schoolers, but they bring gravitas to a large supporting cast of unknowns. It's a violent film that includes an assault on a female teacher, a gang beating of two male teachers, and a bloody switchblade fight. Three other scenes stand out as racially progressive for 1955. A subplot involving Ford's screen wife (Anne Francis) seems unnecessary, and the climax is saccharine, but Hollywood censors were strict then. Overall, it's a worthy classic.

BlacKkKlansman (2018) is loosely based on Ron Stallworth's book about his adventure as an undercover cop in Colorado Springs in the 1970s. As the department's first black officer, Stallworth joined the Klu Klux Klan by phone and was impersonated by a white officer for actual meetings. His unusual infiltration had amusing aspects but also was deadly serious. Director Spike Lee embellishes these facts to comment on American race relations. Stallworth is brilliantly played by John David Washington, Denzel Washington's son, and Adam Driver is equally good as his white alter ego. The film concludes with disturbing news footage of Klansmen and Nazis marching in Charlottesville in 2017, including the car attack that killed protester Heather Heyer. Spike Lee's mix of fact and fiction is commentary itself on events that would have seemed implausible only a few years ago.

The Blacksmith (1922) stars Buster Keaton in a 22-minute silent comedy with clever sight gags and the surprising destruction of an expensive Pierce-Arrow limousine gifted to Keaton by his in-laws, with whom he had fallen into disfavor. Keaton plays an incompetent blacksmith who wreaks havoc on his boss, unsuspecting customers, horses, and cars. Although he doesn't match the spectacular stunts in some of his other pictures, the brilliant slapstick makes up for it.

Blacula (1972) is the blaxploitation film that stars Shakespearean actor William Marshall as the first black vampire, and it has a largely African-American cast. Marshall plays an African prince on a 1780 diplomatic mission to Europe who's cursed to undead existence when the white Count Dracula bites him. Locked in a coffin for nearly 200 years, he's accidentally freed in 1972 by clueless antique dealers in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, the filmmakers miss a great opportunity to show an 18th-century vampire confused in a 20th-century world. Instead, Blacula navigates L.A. like a native, goes nightclubbing with a girlfriend, and dodges a photographer despite having never seen a camera. The highlights of this mediocre thriller are Marshall's performance, his sonorous voice, and the cliché-breaking climax.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) is the worthy sequel to the gritty 1982 science-fiction film starring Harrison Ford. Placed 30 years further in the future, it stars Ryan Gosling as a Los Angeles cop who hunts and kills rebellious replicants — artificial, genetically enhanced humanoids. His routine mission gains importance when he suspects they have found a way to reproduce. Ford reprises his original role, 30 years older, but Gosling dominates the picture with a stoic performance. Cameo appearances and allusions to the 1982 film will please its cult following. The climax satisfies while leaving room for additional sequels, although they will struggle to top the existing works.

Blade Runner: The Final Cut (2007) is the third theatrical release of this 1982 noir science-fiction thriller. And three's the charm. Director Ridley Scott cleans up the special effects (for example, erasing visible cables supporting the flying cars) and makes other small changes to sharpen his film. As in the second release — known as the "Director's Cut" — he deletes the original Harrison Ford voice-over narration. Although Scott's modifications are minor, they polish the film's reputation as a cult classic. Placed in Los Angeles in 2019, the story features Ford as a cop who specializes in killing genetically engineered humanoids known as replicants. Rutger Hauer excels as the leader of a renegade band of replicants. This film is famous for its dramatic art direction and lifelike vision of a dystopian future.

The Blair Witch Project (1999) was overrated and overhyped, but it's still a fascinating horror thriller that has been imitated by Hollywood filmmakers. It was the opening shot in a rebellion against overproduced special-effects extravaganzas like The Haunting, a big-budget thriller released the same year. Advertised as a true account of supernatural events recorded by amateurs with video cameras, Blair Witch is actually a low-budget fictional creation that mimics amateur video. Although it doesn't live up to the hype, it's worth a look.

Blazing Saddles (1974) wields absurdist humor, self-referential slapstick, and crude language to spoof Hollywood Westerns. Mel Brooks co-wrote and directed this madcap movie that bashes racism without preaching. It's one of the funniest films ever made. Cleavon Little stars as Bart, a black railroad laborer who's named sheriff of an all-white frontier town. Bart is unaware he's merely a pawn in a devious plot to scare off the townsfolk to make way for a railroad. Gene Wilder co-stars as a quick-draw gunfighter. Other notables are Slim Pickens as a mean rail boss, Harvey Korman as the railroad president, ex-footballer Alex Karras as a dumb brute, and Madeline Kahn as a sexy dance-hall girl. (Kahn was nominated for Best Supporting Actress.) The last act crazily shatters the suspension of disbelief. Warning: uncensored versions flagrantly blurt the n-word.

The Blob (1958) miscasts 28-year-old Steve McQueen as a teenager trying to convince his small-town police that a Jello monster from outer space is killing people by rapid absorption. This classic sci-fi thriller is better than most of its 1950s contemporaries. It's in color, it doesn't make us wait until the final act to see the creature, and the Blob is well rendered. Despite being too old for his part, McQueen performs earnestly even before he became a big star. This flick isn't a classic in the same class as The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) or Forbidden Planet (1956), but it's fun.

Blonde Ice (1948) features one of the most fatal femmes fatale in film noir. Leslie Brooks is pitch-perfect as Claire, a beautiful newspaper society writer whose ambition is boundless. We glimpse her devious ways in the opening scene when she dallies with a lover at her own wedding to another man. Whereas every other actor in this poor-budget production is tepid, Brooks enlivens her character with multiple personalities. In one moment, she's cleverly deceitful; in another, she's angrily petulant; and seconds later, she's disarming her suspicious man with insincere flattery. She's the only reason to watch this obscure film, which oddly crashes in a nonsensical climax.

Blood and Sand (1941) brings Spanish bullfighting to the screen in a lavish Hollywood production. Filmed in rich Technicolor that won an Oscar for cinematography, it's the story of three poor boys who grow up to become famous matadors. Tyrone Power, Anthony Quinn, and John Carradine play them as adults, but impossibly handsome Power is unquestionably the star. He plays a talented braggart who marries his childhood sweetheart (angelic Linda Darnell), then falls for a wealthy sexpot (Rita Hayworth, whose bedroom attractions were squelched by the censors). Although the story is predictable and the climax sanctimonious, it's a good drama in the Golden Age tradition.

Blood for Dracula a/k/a Andy Warhol's Dracula (1974) has as little to do with the famous artist as did its predecessor, Andy Warhol's Frankenstein, a/k/a Flesh for Frankenstein (1973). Filmed back-to-back, they feature some of the same stars playing similar roles, notably Udo Kier (Dr. Frankenstein / Count Dracula), Arno Juerging (creepy assistants), and Joe Dallesandro (horny handymen). This horror show introduces the best vampire since Max Schreck in Nosferatu (1922) and Bela Lugosi in Dracula (1931). Kier plays a slick but sickly vampire thirsting for virgin blood. Desperate, he travels from Romania to Italy, where he finds a family with four lovely daughters. The gals seem a bit frisky for virgins, though. This arty thriller revels in nudity, graphic sex, bloody meals, and a satirically gory climax. Watch for notorious filmmaker Roman Polanski in an amusing cameo.

Blood of Dracula (1957) must be the oddest Dracula flick ever made. The entire first half dwells on a private school for frisky teenage girls — a popular theme in the 1950s to attract adolescents. There's even the usual party scene that's an excuse for a lively song-and-dance number ("Puppy Love"). The story shifts into higher gear when a weird chemistry teacher hypnotizes one of her students. It's all part of a thesis experiment to unleash the latent power of the human spirit. Then there's a mysterious murder ... Like many 1950s movies, this one ruminates on the dangers of radiation, unbridled science, and nuclear war. Unlike most of them, this one is a real hoot.

Blood Simple (1984) was re-released as a director's cut in 2000, and it shows why the Coen brothers are masters of crime drama. Their bad guys are real-life bumblers, not the criminal masterminds typically seen in other films.

BloodSisters: Leather, Dykes, and Sadomasochism (1995) is a sexually explicit documentary that defends lesbian S&M culture. Made in San Francisco by members of the S&M community, it describes the philosophy of kinky sex and the political activism that emerged in the 1990s. Although this film makes a case that consensual pain is usually harmless, it's occasionally creepy — such as when a dyke known as Skeeter describes knife play that came uncomfortably close to homicide.

The Bloody Hundredth (2024) is the companion documentary to the AppleTV+ fictional series Masters of the Air, but it stands alone as an excellent one-hour summary of air combat over Western Europe during World War II. It focuses on the U.S. Army Air Corps 100th Bomb Group, which flew Boeing B-17 heavy bombers against Nazi targets. Winning air superiority and degrading Nazi war production was crucial to the success of the Allies' D-Day assault in June 1944, but it came at a great cost. Casualties were so severe that this group of squadrons was labeled the "Bloody Hundredth." Informative interviews and archival film footage honor the men who fought in this deadly air campaign.

Blow Out (1981) is director Brian De Palma's homage to Blow-Up (1966), an avant-garde film that memorably captures 1960s Swinging London while a fashion photographer investigates a puzzling encounter in a public park. By contrast, Blow Out is a more conventional thriller in which the main character uses tape recordings instead of photography to untangle a mystery. In one of his best dramatic performances, John Travolta plays the audio expert who suddenly finds himself in deep waters. De Palma also references The Conversation (1974), in which Gene Hackman plays a surveillance expert who becomes similarly immersed in dangerous intrigue. Blow Out is both derivative and original — and the haunting climax is unforgettable.

Blow-Up (1966) a/k/a Blowup or Blow Up deserves its rank as a landmark film of the 1960s. It's still intriguing and now is a time capsule of Swinging London. Unfortunately, the original cut seems lost — existing copies omit an early flophouse scene. But the recent Criterion Collection DVD restores the old print and the nude scenes, preserving the soul of this arty exploration of reality and illusion. David Hemmings stars as a young professional photographer who lives in an expensive London loft/studio, drives a Rolls Royce, loves jazz, and exudes a mod-male persona. Although he specializes in magazine shoots with sexy young models wearing Carnaby Street fashions, he aspires to publish a book of avant-garde art photos. While ambling through a public park one day, he casually photographs a strange woman (Vanessa Redgrave) behaving strangely. Has his camera seen something she's hiding? He retreats to his darkroom to make bigger and bigger enlargements as the mystery deepens. Director Michelangelo Antonioni doesn't present this story as a tidy package; it's allegorical and invites interpretation. Today, it remains a subtle thriller and gains interest as a cultural artifact of the 1960s.

Blow Up of "Blow Up" (2016) is a disappointing documentary on the making of Blow-Up (1966), one of the most famous films of the 1960s. Director Michelangelo Antonioni and star David Hemmings had already died before Valentina Agostinis made this documentary, and she was unable to obtain interviews with co-stars Vanessa Redgrave, Sarah Miles, and John Castle. Instead, the only participants interviewed are the dialogue assistant and a fashion model who played a nonspeaking bit part. Although they relate amusing anecdotes, the audio is sometimes muddy and the filmmaker's attention wanders from the main subject. Visits to a few original locations are interesting, but the lack of explanatory narration weakens the continuity and makes this film unintelligible for all but the most avid Blow-Up fans.

The Blue Angel (1930) launched Marlene Dietrich to stardom — or rather, it raunched her to stardom. This raunchy tragicomedy, Germany's first full-length talkie, co-stars Dietrich as Lola, a sexpot entertainer in a low-class cabaret. Flashing her thighs and garters, she attracts male students from a nearby college. When their stuffy old professor investigates this den of inequity, her frank sexuality is so alluring that he soon begins a downfall. Emil Jannings stars as the prof, but this picture belongs to Dietrich, who debuts her famous song "Falling in Love Again (Can't Help It)." Dietrich's scenes were boldly risqué for 1930. In Germany, this film mocked a decadent middle class at a time when the beleaguered Weimar Republic would soon fall to Nazism.

Blue Is the Warmest Colour (French: La Vie d'Adèle — Chapitres 1 & 2, 2013) is a French same-sex romantic drama. Especially in the U.S., it was controversial for explicit lesbian sex scenes, although they comprise only about 15 minutes of this three-hour film. Viewers who accept Sapphic romance will discover an intense love story with exceptional performances. French actress Adèle Exarchopoulos appears in every scene, usually in tight handheld-camera close-ups that force visual intimacy. Despite no makeup or hairdressing, she's sexy in a cute sort of way. Her character is uncertain of her sexuality, but her older lover (French actress Léa Seydoux) is overtly butch. Abrupt editing mars the storytelling, however. Sometimes it's unclear that years, not days, have passed, and that important circumstances have changed; somehow there wasn't time in this three-hour movie for a few transitional scenes. Nevertheless, it's an outstanding work.

Blue Jasmine (2013) is a showcase for Cate Blanchett, who won the Oscar for Best Actress. In this exquisitely emotional drama written and directed by Woody Allen, Blanchett plays Jasmine, a high-society woman whose rich husband was imprisoned for financial fraud. Shorn of her wealth and stunned by her fall from grace, she seeks shelter with her sister in San Francisco. But the sister is barely better off, recently divorced with two children and an uncouth boyfriend. Jasmine struggles to reboot her life, frustrated by her lack of job skills, troubled by her culpability in her downfall, and weakened by a fragile mind. Then she meets someone and life looks brighter... Blanchett wears this role like a second skin and gets the mood swings just right. Although the dramatic conclusion at first seems abrupt, on reflection it's a logical climax that puts everything in context. We've all seen people like Jasmine and wondered how their fortune turned.

The Blue Lamp (1950) rails against postwar juvenile delinquency and presents a sympathetic view of the London police who battle the crime wave. Despite its propagandistic theme, it's a good movie that strives for a realistic portrayal of English "bobbies" who patrol their beats on foot and unarmed while handling a variety of problems. The story revolves around a rookie cop, his older mentor, a runaway teenager, and the reckless young hoods with whom the teen gets involved. Highlights include a car chase and a showdown at a dog-racing track. Although made when film noir was peaking in the U.S., it shuns that style for routine storytelling that is interesting nonetheless.

Blue Valentine (2010) is a bleak but realistic story of a eroding marriage. The always-impressive Ryan Gosling stars as a manipulative but often well-meaning man disturbed by his wife's retreat from their relationship. Michelle Williams matches Gosling's performance, playing a young wife whose teen motherhood and hasty marriage have severely limited her life options. The couple is drifting apart, but they can't break free or even decide if they should. The great accomplishment of this film is its harsh truth. It exposes the character flaws of each spouse without finding exclusive fault with either of them.

Blue Velvet (1986) reflects writer/director David Lynch's signature bizarre vision. This bleak neo-noir stars Kyle MacLachlan as a quietly subversive college student who plays amateur detective in a small North Carolina town. Soon he's over his head in sordid crimes committed by a sociopath. Dennis Hopper memorably plays this character as a profane, sadistic bully who inhales amyl nitrite to amplify his perversity. His fave victim is a sexy nightclub singer who must submit to his cruelty; Isabella Rossellini nails this role. Laura Dern plays a teenager lured into the lurid drama, and Dean Stockwell has an effective cameo as an effeminate weirdo. The quirky characters, vivid performances, and graphic scenes overshadow the simple plot. Recommended chiefly for Lynch fans.

A Blueprint for Murder (1953) builds toward a suspenseful climax with a dynamic performance by Jean Peters — only to deflate the tension with a canned-in-Hollywood coda. A parallel attempt to complicate the whodunit likewise falls flat. Too bad, because this routine crime thriller had potential. Peters plays an attractive widow raising two children, one of whom dies of unknown causes. Joseph Cotten as her admiring brother-in-law arrives to solve the mystery, but the intrigue never gets truly intriguing.

The Boat (1921) stars Buster Keaton, Sybil Seely, and Edward F. Kline in a 23-minute silent-film comedy about a family outing on a homemade boat. As usual, everything goes wrong. It's funny, and the props are clever, but it has relatively few of Keaton's famously elaborate physical stunts.

Bobby (2006) is a meandering drama about the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy in June 1968. Moments after his victory in the California presidential primary, RFK was shot dead in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. His murder was a tumultuous event in a tumultuous decade, and this movie does a good job of resurrecting the period. Writer/director Emilio Estevez weaves archival footage together with re-created scenes filmed in the hotel before it was recently torn down. Unfortunately, Estevez tells the story in the form of several parallel subplots — an often effective technique, except when most of the subplots have little or no bearing on the main event. This movie ignores RFK's assassin and his motivations, and it overlooks other people (such as RFK's bodyguard, football star Rosey Grier) whose stories would have been more interesting. It's not a bad film, but it could have been so much better.

The Body Snatcher (1945) features brilliant performances by Boris Karloff as a wicked graverobber and Henry Daniell as an unethical medical professor who needs fresh corpses to dissect. Their unsavory parasitic relationship drives this horror thriller to darkening sins and secrets. Bela Lugosi co-stars but has a minor role as a conniving servant. Russell Wade is more prominent as a young medical student who's caught between his desire to become a doctor and the moral compromises he makes. The frantic climax is worthy of Edgar Allan Poe, although this film is loosely based on a story by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Body and Soul (1925) debuts Paul Robeson, the first African-American movie star — who was also a college football All-American, a Columbia-educated attorney, and a notable civil-rights activist. Pioneer black filmmaker Oscar Micheaux wrote, directed, and produced this silent picture, a "race film" initially screened for black audiences only. Unfortunately, white censors forced Micheaux to drastically cut his now-lost original version. Consequently, the remnant suffers from continuity problems. It's not immediately apparent that Robeson plays two parts: a prison fugitive masquerading as a preacher, and the fugitive's upright twin brother. The climax is equally confusing: is the final scene a dream or reality? Another oddity is Micheaux's decision to spell the title cards in Negro dialect. Despite its flaws, this film is a landmark that helped launch Robeson to wider fame.

Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) dramatizes the meteoric career of Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of Queen, a British rock band in the 1970s and '80s. A born singer and talented songwriter, Mercury led the band to several hit records and thrilled audiences with his pyrotechnic live shows. But like many rock stars, he also led a chaotic and lavish lifestyle. Worse yet, he had the misfortune to be gay and foolishly promiscuous at a time when the AIDS virus went viral. Rami Malek gives a stunning performance as Mercury, eerily imitating his appearance and stage choreography. His co-stars are dead ringers for Mercury's actual bandmates and appear equally authentic. Malek won the Academy Award for Best Actor in 2018.

Bombshell (2019) dramatizes the sex scandal at Fox News that toppled founder Roger Ailes and commentator Bill O'Reilly, resulting in multimillion-dollar settlements. Perhaps for legal reasons, this film ignores O'Reilly, focusing instead on Ailes and three women: Gretchen Carlson (played by Nicole Kidman), a Fox commentator who was fired; Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron), the Fox commentator who was ostracized after confronting Donald Trump at a 2016 presidential debate; and Kayla Pospisil (Margot Robbie), a self-described "Millennial evangelical conservative" and "influencer in the Jesus space." Kayla is the only fictional character — a composite of several unnamed women. All the actresses are outstanding. Robbie is particularly impressive when her eagerness to please gradually morphs into discomfort during a tense scene in which Ailes (an amazing John Lithgow) auditions her legs. Malcolm McDowell, unrecognizable in heavy makeup, contributes a small but eerie performance as Fox News owner Rupert Murdoch. Although the movie is about the conservative network, it could represent any toxic office environment.

Bonnie and Clyde (1967) mythologizes two real-life 1930s bank robbers, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow. For a time they ran wild in the Midwest, teasing the frustrated cops with their daring holdups and by mailing provocative selfies and poems to eager newspapers. Their deaths became part of American lore. They were legendary long before some critics blasted this Hollywood version for mythologizing them even more. Although the movie is fiction, it's mostly true and feels truer. The performances are so great that every major player was nominated for an Academy Award: Warren Beatty for Best Actor as Clyde, Faye Dunaway for Actress as Bonnie, Gene Hackman for Supporting Actor as Clyde's brother, Michael J. Pollard for Supporting Actor as a gang member, and Estelle Parsons for Supporting Actress as Clyde's sister-in-law. (Parsons was the only winner.) Among the five other nominations were Best Picture, Director (Arthur Penn), Original Screenplay, Costume Design, and Cinematography (another winner). It's hard to appreciate now that this film about 1930s robbers was wholly in step with the rebellious 1960s. Indeed, it helped break Hollywood free from the censorship that had confined filmmakers since the 1930s. It instantly became and still remains a must-see classic.

The Boogie Man Will Get You (1942) tries to meld the screwball comedy and horror thriller genres but largely falls flat, despite featuring horror stars Boris Karloff and Peter Lorre. The setup is a historic New England inn purchased by a naïve young woman who's unaware that Karloff's mad-scientist character is trying to create a superman in the basement. The script limits Karloff to playing the straight man to Lorre, who delivers a typically extravagant performance as the small town's sheriff, coroner, mayor, doctor, and notary public. A lame nod to wartime relevance involves a saboteur and nearby munitions plant. This flick tries hard but never quite clicks.

The Book of Eli (2010) is a disturbing but well-crafted post-apocalypse movie starring Denzel Washington. A survivor of a near-future global war, he's spent 30 years trudging across a sparsely populated wasteland that was once the U.S. His lone trek is dangerous. Civilization has broken down, crime is rampant, the environment is devastated. His precious payload: a Bible. This story has strong religious and political overtones. Did religion cause the cataclysm? Is religion mankind's salvation, or a weapon for a new breed of despots? It's a compelling film, open to interpretation. Christians may like the theme, but I haven't seen such a mix of religion and violence since The Passion of the Christ (2004).

The Books He Didn't Burn (2023) analyzes the remains of Adolf Hitler's personal library. From an estimated 16,000 books he collected, about 1,300 survive in various libraries, including the U.S. Library of Congress. Many pages have passages he highlighted and his notes in the margins. Interviews with historians, a rabbi, and other experts trace Hitler's antisemitism and racism to centuries of earlier writing, which supports their thesis that Naziism wasn't a German aberration or even specifically German. They link these historical threads to present-day right-wing extremism. Although this documentary is a good history lesson, it's disappointing if you want more insight into Hitler's thinking. It barely mentions his highlighted passages and margin notes — information we can't find anywhere else.

Boomerang! (1947) would be better without the imperious narration that tries to add authenticity, but it's still an interesting crime and courtroom drama based on real events. Dana Andrews stars as a prosecutor desperately trying to solve the cold-blooded murder of a priest. Although the cops eventually nab a suspect, his guilt is questionable. Political pressure complicates the case, and the prosecutor wrestles with professional ethics while seeking the truth. Andrews nails this role because he's good at looking worried. He gets help from Lee J. Cobb as a hard-nosed police chief and Arthur Kennedy as the harried suspect. This Oscar-nominated screenplay is a cautionary tale about aggressive policing, eyewitness fallibility, leaps to judgment, and political influence on justice.

Borderline (1950) mixes film noir and screwball comedy, with mediocre results. Fred MacMurray and Claire Trevor star as undercover cops infiltrating two American drug-smuggling gangs in Mexico. MacMurray poses as a ruthless gangster; Trevor poses as a rival gangster's floozy. Unaware of each other's true identities and missions, however, they form a mutually suspicious duo carrying narcotics to the U.S. border. Their road trip struggles to conjure the same screen chemistry that Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert achieved in It Happened One Night, 1934's Best Picture. But MacMurray isn't the raffish Gable, and Trevor isn't the blithesome Colbert. Both are better in straight crime thrillers.

Born Into Brothels (2004) deserved its Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature of 2004. It's a tragic but hopeful film about children in the red-light district of Calcutta, India, who are forced into prostitution by their poverty and even by their own parents. Filmmakers Dana Briski and Ross Kauffman are photographers who have lived in the district on and off for years, documenting the lives of the people there. They became so upset at the plight of the children that they started a photography class, equipped the kids with cameras, and encouraged them to expand their horizons by documenting their own lives. They have also found boarding schools willing to rescue some of the children. This well-made documentary is filled with unforgettable images of children and adults trying to cope with a cycle of despair.

Born to Kill (1947) a/k/a Lady of Deceit a/k/a Deadlier Than the Male was widely condemned and banned for its homicidal violence and acceptance of divorce. Today it stands as a thrilling film noir. The dialogue is terse, the acting sharp, and the story suspenseful. Lawrence Tierney stars as a lowlife whose good looks, broad shoulders, and dominant personality barely conceal his brutal psychosis. Indeed, he's a chick magnet, even for cold-hearted women who should know better. One is a fresh divorcée and socialite who falls under his spell despite better options. Claire Trevor plays this conflicted social climber with skill, enhancing her lines with telegraphic facial expressions. Tierney does likewise, and they rule the screen. Three others shine in character roles: Elisha Cook Jr. as Tierney's friend and enabler, Walter Slezak as a sleazy private detective, and Esther Howard as a rowdy landlord. Wild for 1947, mild today, it's an excellent example of its genre.

Born Yesterday (1950) manages to be ridiculous and relevant at the same time. Judy Holliday won Best Actress for reprising her Broadway stage role as Billie Dawn, a former chorus girl who is both pampered and abused by her sugar daddy (Broderick Crawford). When her ignorance is embarrassing on a trip to Washington, D.C. to bribe a Congressman, he hires a reporter (William Holden) to polish her social skills. Although this comedy seems enlightened for starring a willful woman, Billie is a stereotypical dumb blonde who's satisfied to be unmarried arm candy until she's enlightened by a stereotypical mansplainer. The humor is cringeworthy, but this very 1950s movie was nominated for five Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, and Costume Design.

Bowling For Columbine (2002) is an outrageously funny and thought-provoking documentary about gun violence in America by ambush-journalist Michael Moore. Like Moore's famous Roger & Me (1989), it pulls no punches and never lets dry facts or complex issues get in the way of good street theater. Moore's position is that guns aren't necessarily bad (he's a lifelong member of the National Rifle Association), but that some unique flaw in American culture makes Americans kill each other with guns at a much higher rate than anyone else in the world. To solve this mystery, he travels to such places as Columbine High School (site of a horrific mass murder by two students), a neighborhood of unlocked front doors in Canada, a target range with the Michigan Militia, and the home of Charleton Heston, president of the NRA. Ultimately, though, he delivers more satire and sarcasm than answers.

A Boy and His Dog (1975) flopped before gaining cult status and inspiring other post-apocalypse movies in the Mad Max vein. Placed in 2024, it's a bleak, brutal story about the desperate survivors of World War IV. Don Johnson plays Vic, a sex-obsessed loner searching for food and females in a barren landscape. His companion is Blood, an intelligent telepathic dog who can find women. Blood is sarcastically amusing, but only Vic can hear him. They're inseparable until Vic explores a bizarre underground society modeled after an early-1900s Midwestern town. This violent and misogynistic movie won a cult following when dystopian dramas became more popular — and because the shocking climax is darkly funny.

The Boy With Green Hair (1948) followed World War II with a mild antiwar theme. If you think this sentiment wouldn't be controversial after the bloodiest conflict in human history, you'd be wrong. The conservative studio head (Howard Hughes) tried to muffle the message, and the director and writers were later blacklisted during the McCarthy anticommunist crusade. This movie is utterly apolitical, however. Dean Stockwell, already a veteran actor at age 12, expertly stars as a war orphan whose hair suddenly turns green. It's a mystery until he's told that it crowns him as an antiwar messenger on behalf of the world's children. This fantasy tale is rather bland but captures the postwar angst of the early Atomic Age.

Boyhood (2014) is a movie unlike any other. Writer/director Richard Linklater (Fast Food Nation, School of Rock, Dazed & Confused) spent 12 years filming the story of a boy growing up to adulthood. No makeup tricks needed here. In 166 minutes, we see the cast of children and adults genuinely grow older before our eyes. Although some documentaries have achieved similar feats, Boyhood is a feature film that required its actors to rendezvous every year to play a few scenes. And it's not just a gimmick — the screenwriting is exceptional, too. Ellar Coltrane stars as the young boy who begins the film at age 7. Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke are brilliant as his star-crossed parents. The supporting cast, including many child actors, is equal to the challenge. The 12-year story arc dramatizes the difficulties of growing up, of parenting, and of maintaining relationships. It mixes documentary realism with fictional storytelling so successfully that it's almost a new film genre.

Boys Don't Cry (1999) is emotionally painful to watch, but it has better acting and a more compelling story than almost any film of the year. Hilary Swank deserved her Oscar for Best Actress. (Chloe Sevigny was also nominated.)

The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962) feeds on Atomic Age fears that science was dangerously out of control. In this case, it's medical science — a rogue surgeon has been experimentally transplanting organs and limbs in his secret laboratory. It seems like a Frankenstein plot, except his lab is poorly equipped even by high-school chemistry-class standards. When a car crash severs his fiancée Jan's head, he resolves to graft it onto a new body. Meanwhile, he keeps it alive in a pan. (To fans of this flick, she's "Jan in a Pan.") This low-budget thriller is more shlocky than shocking but has charm. In an interesting interlude played against soft jazz, the doc looks for a suitable (involuntary) body donor by wooing a chesty stripper and a leggy model. The final act will please rubber-mask monster fans.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1974): see Dracula (1974), not to be confused with the 1931 and 1992 versions.

Brazil (1985) melds surrealism with dystopian science fiction to create a bizarre view of a future autocratic state. Released one year after 1984, it imagines a similarly oppressive society, but its vision is more dreamlike than the depressive adaptation of George Orwell's classic novel. It's the unique vision of writer/director Terry Gilliam, a maverick filmmaker known for his offbeat sci-fi and wicked humor. Brazil is one of those highly stylized works that must be seen to grasp the scope of cinematic art. It's not for everyone, though. Like 1984, the Oscar-nominated original screenplay follows a low-level government worker trapped in inefficient bureaucracy. Also like 1984, he begins an affair with a young woman that leads to trouble. Note that the studio released multiple cuts of this remarkable film, and one U.S. version completely changes the climax. If the final scene is uplifting, it's the bastardized cut.

Bread & Tulips (2001) is a subtitled Italian film about a housewife who experiences a midlife crisis. Accidentally left behind at a highway rest stop during a family vacation, she decides to hitchhike to Venice only because she's never been there. Before long, her solo vacation starts turning into a whole new life. But how can she reconcile it with her existing life, which includes a husband and two teenage children? This is one of those gentle, funny, and romantic kind of movies that Hollywood rarely makes any more.

The Breakfast Club (1985) remains a classic teenage comedy/drama that vividly captures the 1980s zeitgeist — but now it looks dated, despite its enduring theme of teen angst. It centers on five students sentenced to Saturday detention for various infractions. The only other prominent characters are the hard-nosed teacher who supervises them and a wise custodian. The young stars are brilliant: Emilio Estevez as a jock, Anthony Michael Hall as a nerd, Judd Nelson as a rebel, Molly Ringwald as a queen bee, and Ally Sheedy as an eccentric goth. Hostile strangers at first, they gradually bond. Writer/director John Hughes created this blockbuster hit. Unfortunately, it suffers from gratuitous scenes of wild dancing, pot smoking, and silly hijinks. And some scenes don't translate today. When one student confesses to hiding a gun in a locker, everyone assumes potential suicide, not homicide. Then come two cringy romantic pairings: one that masks a personality, and another that rewards abuse. Although a remake could fix those flaws, it probably wouldn't match the chemistry of this perfect cast.

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) is an all-time classic and personal favorite. Adapted from a Truman Capote novel, it stars Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly, one of filmdom's most memorable characters. In the novel she was a high-class Manhattan call girl, but studio censors forced director Blake Edwards (of later Pink Panther fame) to only hint at her vocation. Either way, call girl or party girl, she's a whirl of happy-go-lucky eccentricity. George Peppard plays an aspiring writer who falls in love with her despite his own shady secret. A wild party scene is justly famous, as are their little adventures at Tiffany's and other New York locations. Patricia Neal, Buddy Ebsen, and Martin Balsam excel in supporting roles. The only sour note is Mickey Rooney in bizarre Japanese makeup as a comic character that today is blatantly racist. Although deleting his controversial scenes wouldn't harm the story, it would whitewash the era's oblivious racism, so they're historical. Overall, this movie is among the best rom-coms ever made.

Breaking Away (1979) can be viewed as a cliché sports movie in which the underdogs prevail over daunting odds, and it's a good example of the genre. But it's also a deeper story of young men doomed to low-wage labor unless they have the smarts, dollars, and ambition for college. That this film was made in 1979 shows how little has changed since then. Steve Tesich's Oscar-winning original screenplay centers on four recent high-school graduates in a Midwest college town. All are sons of "cutters," men who quarry limestone. As that local business dims, so do their futures, but they're stuck in a rut that seems inescapable. Dennis Christopher stars as the group's eccentric. He's obsessed with bicycle racing and idolizes Italian cyclists to the extreme of pretending to be Italian. Although this movie dramatizes the gap between working-class youths and college students, it's not heavy handed. After the entertaining climax, you'll almost forget that some odds — especially those cast at birth — are too daunting for the underdogs.

Breathless (French: À Bout de Souffle, 1960), was a breakthrough that helped debut the "New Wave" in French cinema. Directed by Jean-Luc Godard, it's a low-key drama starring Jean-Paul Belmondo as a heartless criminal and American actress Jean Seberg as his naïve girlfriend. Critics praised Godard for his location shots, free-flowing camera work, abrupt mid-scene jump cuts, and amoral screenplay. A long bedroom scene features frank sex talk that Hollywood censors banned in U.S. films at that time. And the story builds tension as we wonder what the nihilistic criminal will do next. Overall, however, this movie hasn't weathered well. The characters aren't very likable, and they behave illogically. Even the elements that won praise owe more to budget constraints and choppy editing than to purely artistic expressions. Today, Breathless is interesting mainly as a historical artifact.

Brewster's Millions (1945) unleashes rapid-fire dialogue in a crazy comedy about a World War II veteran who must spend $1 million in two months or else lose an entire $8 million inheritance. His goal isn't as easy as it seems. The odd bequest imposes several restrictions — for example, he can't finish with any assets, he can't donate more than 5% to charity, and he can't reveal what he's doing. This contrived setup creates room for many hilarious scenes of wild spending that baffle his friends and sometimes backfire. Based on a novel by George Barr McCutcheon (1866–1928), this story is so loved by Hollywood that six adaptations were made between 1914 and 1985 (this one is the fifth) and a seventh is in production.

Brian's Song (1971) is a made-for-TV movie when ABC featured its "Movie of the Week." This predecessor of today's original streaming content is among the best from that era. Based on a true story — albeit with the usual embellishments — it stars James Caan as Brian Piccolo, a young Chicago Bears fullback stricken by cancer in the 1960s. Billy Dee Williams co-stars as Gale Sayers, the blazing halfback who became Piccolo's road-game roommate and friend. Several actual Bears players portray themselves, and former receiver Bernie Casey co-stars as the team captain. Yes, it's a tear-jerker, and Caan's death-bed dialogue is oddly unintelligible, but the story holds up well.

Bride of Frankenstein (1935) excavates a subplot from Mary Shelley's 1818 novel Frankenstein to create a stunning sequel to the classic 1931 horror flick. The man-made Monster gets a man-made mate! The brilliance of this picture is its unexpected character development. The murderous Monster learns to talk, saves a young girl's life, briefly makes a friend, and feels sad that his physical appearance alarms strangers. His last hope is that his creator, Baron Frankenstein, will make a suitable bride. Elsa Lanchester is unforgettable in this shocking role, as is her wild gray-streaked hairdo. Boris Karloff returns as the Monster, along with Colin Clive as the Baron and James Whale as director. This sequel actually surpasses the original picture and is itself an indelible classic.

Bridesmaids (2011) is a surprisingly funny comedy with a serious side, too. Saturday Night Live regulars Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph lead a mostly female cast of characters who are organizing a wedding for their friend. Predictably, everything goes wrong, usually with hilarious results. Less predictably, the movie goes a little deeper into the women's relationships with each other and with the men in their lives. Melissa McCarthy is particularly good as an overweight tomboy who seems to be included only for reliable laughs but later shows emotional depth. Although there's an element of Sex in the City, frequent comic scenes keep the drama from getting too catty.

The Bridge (2006) provoked controversy by filming suicide jumpers from San Francisco's famous Golden Gate Bridge — reputedly the most popular suicide spot in the world. In 2004, documentary filmmaker Eric Steel set up video cameras to continuously monitor the bridge. That year, 24 people leaped to their deaths, and his cameras recorded 23 of them. It was controversial because Steel didn't mention suicide when pitching his project to the district that owns the bridge. The result is a grim account of lost lives instead of a tourist travelogue. Steel devotes most screen time to surviving family members, however, and these sad interviews become repetitive. But he boosted a movement that successfully lobbied the bridge district to add safety nets below the railings.

The Brighton Strangler (1945) is a tight little crime thriller placed in England during World War II. John Loder plays a British actor who reprises his stage role as a strangler in real life, although he's not entirely at fault. June Duprez almost steals the show as a young British woman in uniform who befriends him, unaware of his secret. The story suffers from some obvious plot holes: a famous actor likely wouldn't go unrecognized for so long, and the police would quickly spot the parallels between a hit play and real murders. Nevertheless, this movie is a good drama that keeps us wondering if the guilt will be absolved or punished.

Bringing Out the Dead (1999), directed by Martin Scorcese, wastes good acting and filmmaking on a meandering plot. Nicolas Cage, Patricia Arquette, and John Goodman are lost in a fuzzy tale about life and death in the modern health-care system. It didn't help that a review in the San Francisco Chronicle gave away the ending, which was the main point of the movie.

Bringing Up Baby (1938) marks either the zenith or the nadir of screwball comedies, depending on your taste for this genre. Katharine Hepburn stars as a dingbat heiress who inexplicably falls in love at first sight with a nerdy archaeologist (a bespectacled Cary Grant) whom she meets on a golf course. She's so ditzy that she doesn't notice when she's hitting the wrong golfball, driving the wrong car, or wearing a torn evening gown that exposes her underwear. She rudely imposes herself on everyone and blithely ignores their protests, but we're supposed to find her behavior endearing, not annoying. Grant plays the science nerd well enough but seems miscast. Most supporting characters are nutty, too. This classic picture is the most extreme example of a Golden Age screwball comedy, and you'll find it either hilarious or excessively silly.

Brokeback Mountain (2005) is outstanding, but its success was a surprise. A romance about two homosexual cowboys — even one that isn't a gay subculture film — would appear to have little chance of becoming a crossover hit. But it happened. Although director Ang Lee's previous work (such as Hulk and Sense and Sensibility) seems incongruous with Brokeback Mountain, he builds strongly on a short story by E. Annie Proulx (who also wrote The Shipping News) and a methodical screenplay by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, veterans of Westerns. The unlikely lovers are played by Jake Gyllenhaal, who's weird enough to fit perfectly in a film like this, and the late Heath Ledger, who grunts and murmurs his way through a minimalist performance that's actually quite studied. Big-sky scenery makes the story loom larger than it is. Actually, it would work almost as well as a nonromantic buddy picture about two blue-collar cowboys struggling to make a life in a modern American West that offers them dwindling opportunities.

Broken Blossoms a/k/a The Yellow Man and the Girl (1919) stars Lillian Gish in her typical silent-film role as a young waif who suffers a hard life. This time she's the daughter of a cruel boxer who treats her like a servant and beats her for minor infractions. After one whipping, she's nursed back to health by a Chinese shopkeeper, triggering the father's anger. Gish is typically excellent, especially during a harrowing scene in which she locks herself in a closet to escape her father's wrath. (The film crew was reportedly stunned by her performance.) The bizarre aspect is the Chinese shopkeeper. Richard Barthelmess, a white man, plays this character under awful makeup. With his eyebrows taped up and his face powdered flat white, he spends most of his screen time trying to look inscrutable, which only looks strange. Nevertheless, this film is one of director D.W. Griffith's best, and it resists anti-Asian prejudice.

Broken Flowers (2005) is an examination of middle-age ennui by writer/director Jim Jarmusch (Stranger Than Paradise, Dead Man, Coffee and Cigarettes). Bill Murray plays a retired millionaire and bachelor who one morning receives an anonymous letter from a former girlfriend claiming he fathered a son 20 years ago. Prodded by a nosy neighbor, he embarks on a journey to figure out which former girlfriend may have written the letter. The girlfriends — expertly played by Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange, and Tilda Swinton — run the gamut from a sexpot NASCAR widow to a now-fossilized real-estate agent imprisoned in a desolate suburban marriage. Murray deftly deadpans his character, who pursues the search more out of boredom than from any desire for self-discovery. The mystery is superb, but the film is weighed down by the Hollywood cliché of the Don Juan bachelor. Jarmusch implies that the bachelor's free-love days led to his bleak life as a male spinster, but another conclusion is that marriage to any of these girlfriends would have been worse.

Brooklyn (2015) is a beautifully made drama about a young Irish woman who emigrates to America in the early 1950s. At first she's hopelessly homesick, but soon she meets a handsome young man and begins settling into her new life. When she returns to Ireland for a visit, however, she becomes torn between both worlds. Which future should she pursue? The preview trailers reveal that much of the story, which is almost the whole story. What the trailers don't (and can't) reveal is the artfulness of this film. The writing, acting, art design, makeup, and costumes are superb. Saoirse Ronan is pitch-perfect as the timid, lonely immigrant who slowly blossoms into a mature young woman as the film progresses. No scene is wasted, and no plot development seems abrupt or unrealistic. It's one of the best movies of 2015.

Brothers (2009) is an intense drama about a U.S. Marine who suffers a traumatic combat experience in Afghanistan. At home, his brother is on parole after robbing a bank, and his wife struggles to cope with two small daughters. Emotional collision is inevitable as these very different lives intersect. Tobey Maguire is outstanding as the weary Marine, showing a dimension far surpassing his better-known role as Spider-Man. Natalie Portman ably plays his beleaguered spouse, and Jake Gyllenhaal is perfectly cast as his ne'er-do-well brother. Sam Shepard rounds out the troupe as their strict ex-Marine father. This is a tightly written story of ordinary people pushed to the precipice of human existence.

The Brothers Rico (1957) are three gangsters, but one has gone straight. When his two brothers get in serious trouble, he must find them and hustle them out of the country. Richard Conte convincingly plays the straight brother despite being nearly typecast as a gangster in other film-noir thrillers. Paul Picerni and James Darren are the other brothers, but their roles are minor. Larry Gates stands out as a mob boss who's so sympathetic to their plight that you wonder if he's sincere. Like most films noir, this one is a bit convoluted, but tight writing propels it to the end. (Dalton Trumbo reportedly wrote the script but is uncredited because he was blacklisted at the time.)

Bubba Ho-Tep (2003) is one of the oddest films you'll ever see, a sly concoction of campy horror and dark comedy. B-movie actor Bruce Campbell plays an Elvis impersonator (or is he really Elvis Presley?) wasting away in a shabby nursing home in Texas. Ossie Davis, the only other recognizable star, plays another patient — an elderly black man who thinks he's President John F. Kennedy. They join forces to battle an evil entity that seems to be a reincarnated Egyptian mummy. The script — penned by Libyan-born Don Coscarelli, screenwriter of the eerie Phantasm series — ranges from gross humor to creepy terror to philosophical ramblings on aging. The quality is equally variable, but Bubba Ho-Tep deserves credit for being different.

The Buccaneer (1958) remakes Cecil B. DeMille's 1938 pirate picture, but the great director was too ill to direct this Technicolor version. Instead he picked his son-in-law, Anthony Quinn. But DeMille's interference convinced the famous actor never to direct again. Yul Brynner stars as the pirate Jean Lafitte, who helps General Andrew Jackson (Charlton Heston) defeat the British in the Battle of New Orleans during the War of 1812. Brynner and Heston had appeared together in The Ten Commandments (1956), another DeMille remake, and they seem to reprise their characters here. Brynner plays Lafitte as an imperious Pharaoh (but this time with hair), and Heston plays Jackson as a stalwart Moses (with historically inaccurate gray hair). The swashbuckling screenplay is vaguely true, except Lafitte's romance with the governor's daughter is sheer fiction.

A Bucket of Blood (1959) is required viewing for those who love campy low-budget films in general and director Roger Corman in particular. Dick Miller, usually a bit player or character actor, plays the lead role of a browbeaten waiter in a beatnik coffeehouse. His ambition is to become a sculptor, but he has more clay than talent. An accident inspires him to sculpt a cat by encasing a real dead cat in clay. Suddenly he's a hit, and now he must produce bigger and better artworks. You can see where it's going, and it's hilarious. The entire cast has fun with it. (Watch for Ed Nelson in an early role.) This little quickie — shot in five days for $50,000 — also captures the zeitgeist of 1950s beatnik culture, including an open-mike poetry reading that deftly parodies beatnik verse.

Buddy Guy: The Blues Chase the Blues Away (2021) profiles the famous Delta-blues guitarist who was inspired by John Lee Hooker, Muddy Waters, and B.B. King. In turn, he inspired Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, John Mayer, Gary Clark Jr., Carlos Santana, and Stevie Ray Vaughn. This exceptional documentary traces Guy's improbable rise from a cotton-picking youngster in Louisiana to a pinnacle performance before President Obama at the White House. It also explains why he loves polka-dot hats and guitars.

Bug (2007) is a disturbing film about paranoia, conspiracy theories, and mental illness. A barely recognizable Ashley Judd skillfully plays a white-trash barmaid living in a cheap desert motel. She meets a stranger (played with creepy reticence by Michael Shannon) who finds her run-down rooms infested with tiny bugs. When he offers to eradicate them, her precarious life starts spiraling out of control. Harry Connick Jr. and Brian F. O'Byrne have small but strong supporting roles. But there's no escaping that this movie wallows in sleaze — some people abruptly left the theater during my viewing. The point that madness can be contagious has been made with more subtlety.

Bull Durham (1988) ranks among the great baseball movies and stands apart by centering on Class-A minor league — the lowest level of American professional baseball. Kevin Costner stars as "Crash" Davis, a veteran minor-league catcher who's demoted to Class-A from Class-AAA (the last rung below Major League). His unwanted assignment is to mentor "Nuke" Laloosh, a young pitching prospect who has "a million-dollar arm but a five-cent brain." Tim Robbins plays this rowdy hurler. The amusing interaction between the world-wise veteran and foolish rookie would be the highlight but for Susan Sarandon as an oversexed baseball groupie. Although both men crave her, it's obvious that Crash is a better match by age, experience, and intellect. Nevertheless, she beds Nuke. This enjoyable film adores baseball and presents its love triangle as an equally competitive sport.

Bullets or Ballots (1936) stars Edward G. Robinson, Humphrey Bogart, and Joan Blondell in a typical gangster movie of its era. Loosely based on real people, it takes place after Prohibition when criminal gangs turned to other rackets. Robinson plays a tough police detective who switches sides. Bogart, though not yet a big star, shows his talent by playing a murderous gangster who trusts no one. Blondell has an oddly minor role as a nightclub owner who starts an illegal numbers racket. All are bound on a collision course that must end violently. This above-average thriller reflects the 1930s zeitgeist and isn't too hogtied by the new Hays Production Code that required Hollywood films to preach civic virtue.

Bullitt (1968) made high-speed car chases a staple of American action movies. In the most famous scene, Steve McQueen plays a police detective in a Ford Mustang chasing two bad guys in a Dodge Charger. This was the Detroit muscle-car era, and the 11-minute pursuit roars through the steep hills and sharp turns of San Francisco, eventually reaching the suburbs in a dramatic climax. McQueen insisted on performing some stunt driving himself. But his off-road performance is an equal attraction. Then at his peak, McQueen vied with Paul Newman as the coolest rebel of the 1960s, even when playing an authority figure. Jacqueline Bisset co-stars as his artist girlfriend troubled by his violent occupation, and Robert Vaughn has a smaller but meaty role as an ambitious politician. Bullitt is a well-crafted classic that still influences filmmaking today.

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965) compounds a mystery: a young child is missing, but did she ever really exist? Otto Preminger directed this crime thriller that feels like an Alfred Hitchcock potboiler. Carol Lynley delivers one of her best performances as the distraught single mom who can't find her four-year-old daughter after her first day of school. Her brother tries to help, but his odd demeanor and lack of witnesses lead the police to suspect that the child is imaginary. Keir Dullea portrays the brother as a puzzling character who might be enabling his sister's fantasy. (In 1968, Dullea won fame as the astronaut Dave Bowman in 2001: A Space Odyssey.) Laurence Olivier and Noël Coward add heft as co-stars. This movie is suspenseful until the overlong and silly last act.

The Burglar (1957) is a top-notch film noir starring Dan Duryea and Jayne Mansfield, with stylish direction by rookie Paul Wendkos. Duryea stars as a meticulous safe-driller who targets a celebrity's jeweled necklace. Mansfield plays his sexy sister — except he's adopted, so she's not really his sister, which complicates their relationship. She also belongs to his criminal "organization," which includes two misfit accomplices who are either too stupid or too nervous to be reliable. All of the supporting actors are great. A twist near the end heightens the suspense and leads to a dramatic climax. This film deserves more acclaim — it's really good.

Burlesque (2010) is a flashy (shall we say Flashdancey?) musical carried almost entirely by its numerous song-and-dance numbers. Cher stars as the stern but motherly owner of a Hollywood burlesque club that improbably thrives without strippers or pole dancers. Stanley Tucci aces an unchallenging role as her devoted gay assistant. But the real star is singer Christina Aguilera, who lights up the screen as a poor immigrant from Iowa who arrives with latent talent just as the club's bankers are threatening to foreclose. To make the Great Depression allusions complete, Aguilera's penniless character studies the great burlesque queens of bygone days. Expect no surprises from the well-worn plot, but do expect sexy musical performances that revive memories of Hollywood's golden age.

Burn After Reading (2008) is another outstanding movie from the Oscar-winning writer/director team of Ethan and Joel Coen. It's more like their cult hit Fargo (1996) than No Country For Old Men, which won their Academy Award for Best Picture in 2007 but was bleak and violent. Burn After Reading has a few moments of violence, but the overall tone is lighter and funnier. As usual, the Coen brothers' theme is the foolishness of small-time criminals. Brad Pitt is marvelous as a dingbat health-club trainer who stumbles on the first-draft memoir of a former CIA analyst (the delightfully menacing John Malkovich). His partner in a hare-brained blackmail scheme is a colleague who needs money for cosmetic surgery (Frances McDormand, a Coen brothers regular). George Clooney and Tilda Swinton add more talent. The results are quirky but entertaining.

Bus Stop (1956) showcases Marilyn Monroe's underrated acting talent in a rowdy rom-com that pairs her with a co-star who absurdly overacts. That actor is Don Murray, who plays Beauregard "Bo" Decker, a manic cowboy raised on a remote Montana ranch. On his first encounter with the outside world, he travels to Arizona to compete in a rodeo. He instantly falls in love with Chérie (Monroe), a cheap nightclub singer, and tries to bully her into marriage. Incredibly, Murray was nominated Best Supporting Actor for his hyperactive slapstick shtick. Oscar nominators overlooked Monroe, but her heartfelt performance is the only reason to watch this silly romp.

The Business of Strangers (2001) is an outstanding showcase for veteran actress Stockard Channing and newcomer Julia Stiles. It's an emotional drama about two businesswomen who compete in very different ways against men. Channing is the cold, competitive executive who sacrifices her personal life to succeed in a man's world, yet never feels secure in her position. Stiles is the rebellious youngster with tattoos, an attitude, and a questionable past. When they collide on a business trip, sparks fly — and woe to any man who's caught in the middle. The plot is a hybrid of The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit (1956) and Extremities (1986).

A Busted Johnny (1914): see Making a Living.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) deserves its classic status and still shines after more than half a century. Paul Newman and Robert Redford are perfectly paired as good-natured cowboy robbers who make their own trouble. After decades of conventional Hollywood westerns, the tumultuous 1960s were ripe for revisionism. Like some other westerns of this era, Butch Cassidy doesn't take itself too seriously. It's outrageously funny without being silly, yet it depicts a late-1800s period when the Wild West was becoming more civilized. The rowdy days of robbers running rampant were fading, and some folks just couldn't adapt. Writer William Goldman and director George Roy Hill skillfully blend these themes. The supporting cast (including Katharine Ross, Strother Martin, and Cloris Leachman) is equally inspired. This great movie is a must-see.

The Butterfly Effect (2004) is an interesting drama about a college student who discovers he has the supernatural ability to relive critical moments in his life. He uses his powers to correct past wrongs and create a better future for himself and his friends — or at least, he tries. As the film's title suggests, he quickly runs afoul of chaos theory. His every attempt to fix the past only damages the future. As with most time-travel stories, there are holes and discrepancies, but overall it's a suspenseful and thought-provoking film.

By Rocket to the Moon (1929): see Woman in the Moon.

Bye Bye Birdie (1963) makes more sense if you're familiar with Elvis Presley's career and particularly his movies. The central character in this mediocre musical is Conrad Birdie, a parody of the rock 'n' roll icon. Like Elvis, he's been drafted into the army, angering his female fans. Unlike Elvis, he's an arrogant boor. Birdie is a minor character, though, because the real star is Swedish wildcat Ann-Margret, who gamely plays a high-school girl despite being too old for the role. Her character is randomly selected to receive a goodbye kiss from Birdie on national TV. Ann-Margret's flashy dancing rescues this overlong movie, just as it would the next year in Viva Las Vegas, a real Elvis musical. Her co-stars (including Dick Van Dyke, Janet Leigh, Paul Lynde, and Maureen Stapleton) have some good scenes but pale next to her sex appeal.

Cabaret (1972) adapted the popular Broadway musical, won eight Oscars, and launched Liza Minnelli to stardom. Minnelli won Best Actress for her dynamic singing, dancing, and acting as Sally Bowles, a wild American cabaret performer in 1931 Berlin. Joel Grey won Best Supporting Actor as the kinky nightclub's wickedly funny emcee. Both performances verge on overacting but suit their extravagant screen characters. Michael York is more measured as a British expat who's bowled over by Bowles. The dark subtext of this classic production is the rise of Nazism during the decline of the Weimar Republic — an ominous thread that's still relevant today. Some Broadway fans dislike the film's liberties, such as dropping some songs from the play while adding new ones. Although its eight Oscars included Best Director (Bob Fosse), Cinematography, Art Direction, Film Editing, Sound, and Score, it lost Best Picture and Adapted Screenplay to The Godfather.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) blends horror with German Expressionism in a creepy thriller about a murderous somnambulist (sleepwalker). Wonderfully abstract set designs, color tints, shadowy lighting, and arty vignetting distinguish this production from other silent films of its time. It anticipates film noir by 20 years. The somnambulist is a fortune-telling carnival attraction under the spell of his spooky showman. The angular scenery and weird paint motifs create an off-kilter atmosphere that's deliberately unsettling. Although the heavy-handed performances and makeups are typical of this period, they suit the gloomy mood. As a bonus, the story ends with a twist. Some film critics mine it for subterranean themes, claiming parallels with postwar German depression, mindless militarism, and even pre-Hitler mesmerism. From any angle, it's a true classic.

Cactus Flower (1969) remains hilarious and gains more humor as a farce of 1960s counterculture. Goldie Hawn plays a wide-eyed record-shop clerk whose affair with a dentist nearly drives her to suicide. She's distraught not because he's married with three children, but because he breaks a dinner date on their hookup anniversary. After a neighbor saves her life, a convoluted comedy begins. Actually, her lover has never been married and has no children — it's a crass ploy to avoid marrying her. Walter Matthau is perfectly cast as the conniving dentist. Ingrid Bergman seems miscast as his businesslike receptionist but blossoms later. Jack Weston is typically funny as a lecherous patient. Surprisingly, Hawn won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Although she's clearly the star and deserved the award, her billing was lower because she was previously known only for playing a dumb blonde on TV's Laugh-In.

Caesar and Cleopatra (1945) slogs through two hours of stilted dialogue written by George Bernard Shaw, who adapted his 1901 stage play. The actors speak in rote-like hard-to-digest bursts. Claude Rains plays Julius Caesar as an unbelievably benevolent dictator who becomes a grandfatherly father figure to Cleopatra, portrayed by 32-year-old Vivien Leigh as an unbelievably naïve 14-year-old girl. Caesar is conquering Egypt and installing her as queen, but the only major battle scene is a brief montage. Its brevity is curious given the expense of equipping hundreds of extras and horses fighting in a desert. In 1945, this British film was the most expensive ever made. In 1963, an even costlier production (Cleopatra) starred Rex Harrison, Elizabeth Taylor, and Richard Burton in a much better drama.

Caged (1950) features two Oscar-nominated performances and an Oscar-nominated screenplay in a lurid drama about women in prison. Eleanor Parker stars as an innocent 19-year-old convicted as an accessory after her jobless husband dies in a botched robbery. Thrown into a state prison teeming with career criminals, she must quickly adapt to survive. Parker is utterly convincing as a scared naif who gradually becomes hardened. Six-foot-two Hope Emerson was also nominated for an Academy Award for her imposing supporting performance as a corrupt prison guard. Agnes Moorehead plays the reformist warden, and Betty Garde stands out as an alpha-female inmate. Indeed, all the actresses in this largely female cast are superb. Bernard C. Shoenfeld (The Dark Corner, 1946) shared the screenwriting credit with Virginia Kellogg, a reporter who posed as an inmate in a real prison to gather material. This classic film inspired worse imitations. It preaches reform without being too preachy, and it's always appallingly fun to watch.

Call Northside 777 (1948) stars James Stewart as a crusading newspaper reporter trying to prove a convicted cop-killer's innocence. Although this movie is based on a true story from 1930s Chicago and even films some scenes on actual locations, it makes Stewart's character look unauthentic. He conducts interviews without taking notes, pitches various "angles" and "slants" to his subjects, and types his own headlines above his copy. (Where was script doctor Ben Hecht when they needed him?) The climax is preposterous, riding everything on an absurdly detailed enlargement of a small photograph that even today's technology couldn't achieve. Too bad, because the acting is good, the basic story is dramatic, and the truth is surely better than the fiction.

Call of the Wild (1935) bears little resemblance to Jack London's classic 1903 novel of the same name. But it's good drama and great filmmaking. Clark Gable plays to type as a dashing, devil-may-care adventurer in the 1900 Alaskan gold rush. A very young Loretta Young co-stars as his love interest, and Jack Oakie plays a comedic comrade. One important character retained from the novel is Buck, a large dog who walks the border between domestication and wolfish wildness. Together they search for a lost gold mine in dangerous country, with occasional interludes in rough gold-rush towns. The screenplay is sharp, and director William Wellman artfully resurrects the period atmosphere. This movie holds up well and probably by design echoes some aspects of the previous year's Best Picture, It Happened One Night, for which Gable won Best Actor.

The Candidate (1972) is an essential film about American politics, even though few Americans have seen it. Robert Redford pushed this project into production and stars as Bill McKay, an underdog Democratic candidate for the U.S. Senate. His opponent is a powerful Republican incumbent. McKay is photogenic and a former governor's son, but he's also rebelliously liberal and bluntly truthful. Outclassed at first, his campaign founders. Then he begins compromising his views and waffling his answers. As McKay begins to resemble a slick politician, not a maverick outsider, his campaign revives. Though satirical, this sharp film evokes a documentary and feels all too real. Since 1972, it's become even more relevant. The brisk screenplay won an Oscar for Jeremy Larner, a former political speechwriter. The last line of dialogue is a chilling classic.

Capitalism: A Love Story (2009) is Michael Moore's attack on capitalist economics, corporate greed, predatory banking, exotic finance, and money-driven politics. Even more so than his previous films (Sicko, Fahrenheit 9/11, Bowling for Columbine, Roger and Me, etc.), it's relentlessly provocative. Some scenes elicit sympathy, while others stir anger, arouse humor, or appeal to reason. In arguing that society should be organized for the greater good of the many, not the greater good of the few, Moore turns Christianity against the Christian Right and free enterprise against the Wall Streeters. This powerful polemic is an uncompromising frontal assault on capitalism, sweeping aside the moderate view that our economic woes can be remedied with regulation. Instead, Moore proposes a radical but workable alternative: economic democracy.

Capote (2005) is a remarkable biopic about writer Truman Capote. Instead of trying to compress his life story into a couple of hours, it wisely focuses on a pivotal six-year period from 1959 when Capote repeatedly visited rural Kansas to report on the mass murder of a farmer and his family. Capote was immediately drawn into the tragedy, which eventually became the subject of his most famous book, In Cold Blood. He called it a "nonfiction novel," and it's a landmark work of deep investigative reporting. It also changed Capote forever — he never finished another book. Philip Seymour Hoffman is stunning as Capote, whose effeminate mannerisms and elegant apparel make him seem like a Martian to the small-town Kansans. Most remarkable is the way this film shows Capote using his quirky personality to ingratiate himself with the townspeople and the murderers, gradually winning their trust and mining them for information. He veers from genuinely sympathetic to disingenuously manipulative, sometimes in the same scene. Yet Hoffman — who won the Oscar for Best Actor — never fails to make it seem authentic.

Captain Phillips (2013) stars Tom Hanks as the skipper of a container ship attacked by Somali pirates in 2009. Based on a true story, this intense drama shows both sides of the confrontation — poor Somalis mesmerized by the potential reward of millions of dollars in ransom money, and merchant sailors who find themselves fighting pirates while skirting the Horn of Africa. Hanks is superb as the steadfast Captain Phillips, but his performance is matched by Barkhad Abdi, a native-born Somali who plays the pirate leader. Although Abdi had no acting experience and was working as a chauffeur when he took this role, he is unbelievably believable. This film revolves around the interplay between Hanks and Abdi, who duel with their wits and wills. Even if you remember how this misadventure ends, the suspense is powerful. The final scene shows the emotional toll of a deadly ordeal and is more realistic than a conventional Hollywood climax.

The Car (1977) is a surprisingly good campy thriller in the spirit of Duel (1971). Instead of a mysterious semi-truck terrorizing victims on desert highways, a mysterious black car is terrorizing victims on desert highways. James Brolin stars as a deputy sheriff whose rural Utah county is the car's hunting ground. Victims pile up faster than the deputies can comprehend — and when they do respond, the car usually wins. Kudos to customizer George Barris who spent $84,000 ($418,000 in 2023 dollars) modifying four 1971 Lincoln Continentals to create the anthropomorphic steel monsters for this movie. The Car is the real star, and the action scenes are a hoot.

Carnival of Souls (1962) has attracted a cult following for its moody atmosphere, spooky organ music, gloomy leading lady, and surprising climax. If it seems unsurprising now, blame numerous imitators. In her screen debut and most famous role, Candace Hilligoss stars as a church organist who becomes fascinated with a defunct amusement park (the actual Saltair Amusement Park near Salt Lake City, which burned in 1967). She begins suffering strange spells in which no one seems to hear or see her. While a psychologist tries to help, she's repeatedly drawn to the park, where strange visions appear. This low-budget psychological thriller is tame by modern standards but creates an otherworldly mood that horror fans love.

Carol (2015) features outstanding performances by Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara in a lesbian romance. Both were nominated for Oscars: Blanchett for Best Actress and Mara for Supporting Actress (despite her more screen time). Other nominations included Adapted Screenplay, Cinematography, Costume Design, and Original Score. But on Oscar Night it won nothing, despite many awards from other organizations. Some critics blamed the sapphist theme. Ten years earlier, Brokeback Mountain — a gay-male romance — was nominated for eight Oscars and won three. Never mind the snub, though; this movie is good. It also gorgeously depicts the early 1950s.

Casablanca (1942) deserves its status as an iconic classic. Humphrey Bogart stars as a suave and savvy American nightclub owner in the Moroccan city, which was in the "Free French" zone during World War II but was actually dominated by the Germans. He reluctantly helps a Czech resistance fighter (Paul Henreid) who is fleeing the Nazis with his wife (Ingrid Bergman). They need official documents called "letters of transit" to board an outbound plane, which involves them in dangerous intrigue and a potentially disruptive love triangle. Additional famous cast members are Sydney Greenstreet, Claude Rains, Peter Lorre, and Conrad Veidt. All are great, and memorable lines include "Here's looking at you, kid," "We'll always have Paris," and "Play it again, Sam" (the last one a slight misquote). Despite an unremarkable wartime debut, this film was nominated for eight Academy Awards and won Best Picture, Director (Michael Curtiz), and Adapted Screenplay (three writers). It's a must-see.

Casino Royale (2006) is a sharp departure from previous James Bonds films, especially those made in the post-Sean Connery era. Gone are almost all of the gimmicks and subcurrents of self-parody that turned recent Bonds movies into near farces. Daniel Craig plays a young, tough Bond newly promoted to double-oh status who doesn't give a damn if his martinis are shaken or stirred. Although he can passably mingle with the jet set, you get the impression he would be more at home in an organized-crime street gang. The only major flaw in this movie is a long, drawn-out ending that continues for 15 minutes after the story reaches a climax.

Cast Away (2000) delivers Robinson Crusoe to a desert island via FedX in this liberal adaptation starring Tom Hanks. After a tedious intro, the movie gets interesting when Hanks becomes the lone survivor of a FedX plane crash in the South Pacific. His executive skills aren't very useful for Stone Age living. He struggles to make fire and stay alive while pining for girlfriend Helen Hunt, who thinks he's dead. His only companion is Wilson, a soccer ball. Then the story slows down again, and the ending fails to wrap up an important loose end. It's not a bad film, but the wrong footage was left on the cutting-room floor.

Cast a Dark Shadow (1955) is a British crime thriller about a young man who seduces older women for their money. Although Dirk Bogarde plays the creep with obvious mendacity, his victims are curiously oblivious. Even his second target, a street-wise widow, becomes ensnared. Bogarde's performance would be more believable if he played it straight, as Cary Grant did in Suspicion (1941). But he doesn't, so the suspense hinges on the murder plots and the inevitable slip that will reveal the truth. Unfortunately, the slip is out of character and even less believable.

The Cat and the Canary (1927) stars Laura La Plante as a lovely young heiress who must prove her sanity to keep her fortune. Family rivals are thus motivated to drive her buggy, and the appropriate setting is a gloomy mansion said to be haunted by the ghost of the rich patriarch who left the estate. This silent-film adaptation of a popular Broadway play achieved mixed results. Shorn of the play's witty dialogue, it must rely on the overacting and sight gags typical of its era. Despite the handicaps, it succeeds in establishing atmosphere, tossing a few plot twists, and setting the stage for countless similar stories in the future — including at least two remakes of this one. Every haunted-house movie since 1927 owes some inspiration to this comedy/drama.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958) adapts Tennessee Williams' hit play with a stellar cast that includes Paul Newman, Elizabeth Taylor, and Burl Ives. This drama about a Southern family ruled by a rude but waning patriarch showcases their talents. Newman plays against type as a washed-up football player who excessively mourns his best friend's death while shunning his frustrated wife (Taylor at her peak). Hollywood censorship was still strict in 1958, so this movie can only hint that he may be homosexual — one of several departures from the play. By contrast, the patriarch ("Big Daddy") swings hard the opposite way. Burl Ives reprises his stage role as this domineering character, proving again his acting chops. (He won an Oscar for his supporting performance in another film the same year, The Big Country.) The rest of the cast is equally good. Nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Picture (losing to Gigi), this screen adaptation is a worthy classic.

Cat People (1942) surprised audiences, film critics, and even its producers when it became a smash hit. Despite a low-budget production and no-star cast, this noirish thriller grew so popular that it played for months, was later hailed as a cult classic, and inspired a 1944 sequel and 1982 remake. The central character is a Serbian immigrant haunted by old-country legends that she descends from evil people who transform into dangerous cats if they make love. She meets a stranger who falls in love with her anyway, inevitably leading to trouble. It's spooky but slow by modern standards. To work around a cheap budget that scratched any hope of creating good special effects, director Jacques Tourneur resorted to clever substitutes, especially in a jump-fright stalking scene, a shadowy threat in a swimming pool, and a creepy encounter in an office.

The Cat's Meow (2002) re-creates an infamous weekend in 1924 aboard newspaper magnate William Randolph Hearst's yacht. Was somebody really murdered? If so, whodunnit? This meticulously detailed and witty drama by Peter Bogdanovich pulls no punches as it suggests a controversial hypothesis. Even if it's yellow journalism, it's fun to watch. Muddy sound that obscures some of the smart dialogue is the only flaw.

Catch-22 (1970) adapts Joseph Heller's best-selling antiwar novel by departing from the original plot and characters. Instead, it riffs on the book's theme. Although high translation is risky, Heller approved, and the movie was a hit. Screenwriter Buck Henry and director Mike Nichols also depart from Hollywood custom by diving deep into dark, absurdist humor. It's funny, but don't expect a conventional antiwar screed or sarcastic comedy. Its sophistry is more like Waiting for Godot than M*A*S*H. Alan Arkin stars as Captain Yossarian, a B-25 bombardier in World War II who's weary of flying missions. He says he's too crazily terrified to fly, but the flight surgeon says only a sane person would feel that way ("Catch-22"). In addition to lancing the absurdity of war, this spawn of 1960s counterculture critiques wartime capitalism — but it cleverly skewers a greedy lieutenant, not big defense contractors. This film is eccentric, graphic, and intelligent.

Catch Me If You Can (2002) is a finely crafted tale of a young con artist (played by Leonardo DeCaprio) who poses as an airline pilot, doctor, and lawyer while cashing millions of dollars' worth of fake checks. He is relentlessly pursued by a humorless G-man (Tom Hanks, striving with mixed results to imitate a Brooklyn accent). Steven Spielberg directed this comedy-drama, based on real events from the 1960s. It's always entertaining. Even the opening credits are better than most other whole movies.

Cats & Dogs (2001) is mainly for kids — a live-action film about intrepid dogs who foil a world-domination plot by cats. It's cute and clever, though sometimes overdone — but then, so are all the recent James Bonds films, which Cats & Dogs parodies.

Cecil B. DeMented (2000, directed by John Waters) is about a gang of underground filmmakers who kidnap a glamorous Hollywood star and force her to act in their bizarre indie film. The parallels with the Patty Hearst kidnapping of the 1970s are hard to miss — and in fact Hearst has a bit part. This movie starts with great verve, but runs out of clever ideas and ends in an incoherent orgy of sex and violence.

The Central Park Five (2012) is an unusual Ken & Sarah Burns documentary that focuses on one event: the wrongful conviction of five black teenagers accused of viciously raping a white female jogger in New York City in 1989. All five served prison time until the actual rapist confessed and was supported by DNA and other compelling evidence. This two-hour film includes archival news footage and interviews with the former teens, the former mayor, newspaper reporters, and a juror. The police and prosecutors declined interviews. It's a detailed account of a dark moment in New York history that continues to stir controversy. (In 2019, President Donald Trump said he still thinks the teens are guilty.)

The Changeling (2008) is a powerful drama directed by Clint Eastwood, whose recent directorial efforts are beginning to eclipse his long and respected acting career. Angelina Jolie stars as a single mother in Los Angeles whose only son disappears in 1928. Months later, a lost boy turns up. The LAPD claims it's her son — but she is certain the cops are wrong. Then the real agony begins. Although this movie is based on a true story, it's riddled with holes. Doesn't the missing boy have relatives who could confirm or deny the mother's doubts? Why does it take so long for other members of the community to step forward with their testimony? Also, the dates of events flashed on the screen don't seem to match the passage of time in the film. Despite these problems, the acting is uniformly excellent and the images of L.A. in the Roaring Twenties are remarkable.

Chaplin (1992) stars Robert Downey Jr. in a biopic of Charlie Chaplin, the great actor, writer, director, and composer during Hollywood's glory days. Chaplin won fame for his comedic silent-film character, "the Tramp," and for making classics such as The Gold Rush (1925), Modern Times (1936), and The Great Dictator (1940). This dramatization focuses on his personal life, though: his poor upbringing, early vaudeville career, multiple marriages, and clashes with conservatives who wrongly labeled him a communist. (FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover absurdly believed that Chaplin's lampoon of Adolf Hitler in The Great Dictator was anti-American!) Downey was nominated Best Actor, but this 145-minute biopic can't do justice to the extraordinary scope of Chaplin's life.

Chappie (2015) is a violent but fascinating science-fiction film about artificial intelligence. Dystopian director Neill Blomkamp (District 9, Elysium) places this near-future story in Johannesburg, South Africa, shortly after the world's first robotic police have halted a crime wave. The robot manufacturer employs a brilliant but poorly supervised engineer (Dev Patel, Slumdog Millionaire) who secretly endows a badly damaged robot with his new AI software. The machine awakens with a childlike intelligence but is a very fast learner. Soon the story becomes a morality tale that pits nature versus nurture (favoring John Locke's "blank slate") and poses age-old theological questions ("Why did you create me if I have to die?"). However, the philosophizing is nearly lost in a cacophony of action-movie violence and special effects. The best effect is Chappie himself, a remarkably lifelike creation who nearly outshines the human actors.

Charade (1963) blends humor and romance in a crime thriller starring the great Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. The superb supporting cast includes James Coburn, George Kennedy, and Walter Matthau. Director Stanley Donen handles this production so skillfully that you'd swear he's Alfred Hitchcock. Hepburn plays a wife whose husband stole a fortune and double-crossed his accomplices. Now they're after her, because they think she knows where it's hidden. Grant plays a handsome do-gooder who may be another accomplice. Peter Stone's masterful screenplay weaves all this menacing intrigue together while deftly maintaining a light touch. Although Grant is uncomfortably old to play the romantic lead, this picture still works and is fun from start to finish.

Chariots of Fire (1981) deserved its Academy Award for Best Picture and is now a classic. It dramatizes the true story of British athletes who competed in the 1924 Summer Olympics in Paris. But the characters and their back-stories outshine the medal races, elevating this British film above most sports dramas. Ian Charleson stars as a Christian missionary who lovingly competes for the pleasure of God. Ben Cross co-stars as a Jewish law student who grimly competes to feed a compulsion and prove himself better than anti-Semitic gentiles. For one man, his religion is a blessing; for the other, it's nearly a curse. Although this movie takes the usual liberties with actual history, it's not wholly fabricated, and it's a poignant reminder that hobbling old men were once vigorous youths. Nominated for seven Oscars, it won four, including Original Screenplay, Costume Design, and Original Score (a memorable theme by the late Greek composer Vangelis).

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005) is wickedly funny and one of the weirdest films ever made. Imagine how strange The Wizard of Oz must have seemed in 1939 — then update it with a sense of humor sharpened by modern life. Strictly speaking, this isn't a kiddie flick, and some kids might find a few scenes more frightening than the Wicked Witch of the West. This delirious film wields cultural references and humor like a knife, slashing at greedy consumerism, violent videogames, and overcompetitive parenting. But its message is costumed in otherworldly special effects, subtle dialogue, and the oddest song-and-dance numbers you've ever seen. Johnny Depp plays Willie Wonka as a demented cross between Captain Kangaroo and Michael Jackson, guiding five lucky children through his secret chocolate factory. It's a bizarre world unto itself, like Oz in an antimatter dimension. Just when you think this movie can't possibly get any weirder, it does.

Charlie Wilson's War (2007) is a superbly acted drama with a light touch — perhaps too light. Based on a true story, it stars Tom Hanks as Charlie Wilson, a Texas congressman who almost single-handedly steered the CIA into supporting Afghan guerrilla fighters in their war against Soviet invaders in the 1980s. Wilson used his influence to dramatically increase funding to the mujahadeen and arm them with sophisticated Stinger antiaircraft missiles. Julia Roberts co-stars as a wealthy Texas socialite who backs Wilson, and Philip Seymour Hoffman portrays a CIA covert-ops man. It's a great story. However, many critics attack this film for underplaying the consequences — after the Russians leave Afghanistan, the mujahadeen morph into the Taliban and al-Qaeda. Actually, the film does end on a cleverly scripted cautionary note, but I agree it's too subtle for the many Americans who pay scant attention to world events.

The Chase (1946) proceeds like a typical film-noir crime thriller before springing a big surprise after the midway point. You may admire its audacity or rage at its deception. Either way, it's a startling twist. Robert Cummings stars as a broke war veteran who returns a lost wallet to a gangster and then becomes his chauffeur. Steve Cochran is perfect as the passive-aggressive bad guy, supported by Peter Lorre as his dirty-job henchman. No film noir is complete without a dangerously gorgeous dame, and Michèle Morgan ably fills that role. The plot twist heats this potboiler above average.

Chasing Mavericks (2012) is a watchable drama based on the true story of Jay Moriarity, a California teenager who became one of the world's youngest big-wave surfers in the 1990s. Jonny Weston, a relative newcomer, plays Moriarity with great earnestness and energy. Moriarity is mentored by an older surfer (played by a suitably gruffy Gerard Butler), setting up a familiar Karate Kid-type plot in which a rigorous training regimen leads to triumph. The film keenly captures the atmosphere of Santa Cruz, California, a famous surfer haven, but does even better when the action shifts 50 miles north to Mavericks, one of the world's biggest surf breaks. Without help from digital enhancements, the cameras reveal these mighty waves for the monsters they are. But they weren't the only monsters this young man had to overcome, and the movie shows us that, too.

Cherish (2002) is clever, tense, and ironic. Robin Tunney skillfully plays a woman under house arrest with an ankle bracelet that alerts police if she strays more than 57 feet from her telephone. Yet somehow she must prove herself innocent of a killing while being stalked by a creepy admirer. Tim Blake Nelson (O Brother, Where Art Thou?) co-stars as a civil servant who periodically checks her electronic leash. The soundtrack of love songs from the 1960s and '70s is more than just background music — in this context, the lyrics are menacing. The claustrophobia and desperation are reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954).

Chicago (2002) is a lush, hyperactive musical in the modern tradition of Moulin Rouge and as frankly sexual as The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Based on the stage play, it's about two women accused of murder in 1920s Chicago — one a famous cabaret dancer, the other a frustrated wannabe. But don't expect historical accuracy or deep drama. This is an outrageously funny production with flashy, frenetic dance numbers and uncommonly witty lyrics. It was easily one of the top films of the year.

Chicken Run (2000) is a punny claymation sensation from England. It's a great parody of The Great Escape, Stalag 17, Flight of the Phoenix and Animal Farm. Imprisoned chickens on an English farm plan an elaborate escape to freedom — if they can only outwit the despotic farmer and his wife.

Children of the Damned (1964) is the sequel to Village of the Damned (1960). Once again, strangely intelligent and spooky children are born, this time all over the world. The United Nations brings them together in London for study, triggering the usual unforeseen consequences. The only holdover from the first film is a child actor (Clive Powell) who plays the leader of these menacing freaks, and he's great. In fact, all the kids are passive-aggressive creepy. This thriller is a worthy sequel to a genre classic.

Children of Men (2006) is a bleak and vivid drama placed in the near future of 2027, when all the world's women are suffering from inexplicable infertility. No babies have been born for 18 years. The result is political turmoil, social breakdown, and universal despair. The story takes place in Great Britain, which has become a police state that ruthlessly imprisons illegal immigrants fleeing worse fates elsewhere. Clive Owen plays an apolitical government clerk who is reluctantly drawn into the plotting of an underground resistance group. Owen is perfect as an action hero who doesn't kill but only seeks to preserve life while violence swirls around him. The dystopian vision of this film is extremely powerful and disturbingly plausible. It's a brilliant variation of George Orwell's 1984 and is much better executed than another apocalyptic British film, 28 Days Later (2003).

Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things (1972) is an offbeat but strangely entertaining zombie movie. A small troupe of young stage actors sails to an overgrown island that's inexplicably uninhabited despite its near proximity to a major city (Miami). Only a weedy cemetery and abandoned caretaker's house remain. Apparently as a bizarre group-bonding exercise, the troupe's leader invokes Satanic incantations to raise the dead. It's supposed to be an elaborate prank, until suddenly it isn't. Although this low-budget production looks amateurish, the no-name actors are actually pretty good, the dialogue is snappy, and the zombies are very well done. It's in the same vein as Night of the Living Dead (1968).

Chinatown (1974) updated the film-noir genre with color, big production, and a splash of political relevance. In one of his best roles, Jack Nicholson stars as a cynical private detective in 1930s Los Angeles who's hired to investigate a cheating husband. What seems routine soon becomes a quagmire of devious land sales, water diversions, political chicanery, lurid sex, and murder. Faye Dunaway co-stars as a wealthy dame with secrets. In true film-noir fashion, the plot keeps thickening. Roman Polanski directed and appears briefly as a knife-wielding thug in a famous scene. Nominated for an astonishing 11 Academy Awards — including Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Cinematography — it finished with only one, for Robert Towne's original screenplay. The Godfather Part II was stiff competition. But Chinatown remains an all-time classic.

Chocolat (2000) gathered a well-deserved Oscar nomination for Best Picture, although it lost to the epic Gladiator. This is a rich drama with a talented cast. It's about a fiercely independent woman who opens a sensual chocolate shop in a conservative French village, circa 1960. Her clashes with the villagers and the mayor range from funny to tragic. There are exceptional performances all around, with Johnny Depp making a good turn as a soulful river drifter.

Christmas in Connecticut (1945) combines a holiday story with romance and screwball comedy, with emphasis on the latter. Barbara Stanwyck stars as a magazine columnist pretending to be an expert cook who lives on a picturesque farm with her husband and baby. Actually, she's an unmarried, childless urbanite who can't even flip a flapjack. Her fake persona is endangered when her oblivious publisher (Syndney Greenstreet in an unusual comedic role) forces her to host a wounded sailor at her "farm" for Christmas. The result is amusing as she tries to preserve her false image while falling in love with the handsome sailor (Dennis Morgan, merely adequate in his part). Hungarian-American actor S.Z. Sakall adds humor as a master chef who's also the columnist's helpful uncle. Although not the best screwball comedy, it's innocent fun.

The Chronicles of Narnia: the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005) is a fantasy tale based on the series of children's books by author C.S. Lewis (1898–1963). Two brothers and two sisters evacuated to a rural English estate during World War II discover a portal to a strange world of mythical creatures. They soon discover, however, that this new world is as embroiled in conflict as the one they left. The oppressed subjects of an evil witch greet the reluctant children as saviors. Although Chronicles of Narnia is a passable morality tale, several scenes are too violent for young children, and the Christian subtext of Lewis's original books is barely evident.

The Cider House Rules (1999) was one of the best movies of the year. It has first-class acting and a compassionate story without being trite or schmaltzy.

Cinderella (2015) remakes the classic French fairy tale in lavish fashion. Lily James as Cinderella and Cate Blanchett as her cruel stepmother are perfect foils. They get amusing supporting performances from Helena Bonham Carter (fairy godmother) and Sophie McShera (one of the step-sisters, more famous for her servant's role as Daisy in Downton Abbey). Highlights include the spectacular grand ball at the duke's palace and magical special effects when Cinderella's carriage reverts to a pumpkin. The story avoids excessive meanness and preaches forgiveness. Although it's rather long for young children, it's lively enough to keep them interested.

Cinderella Man (2005) is one of director Ron Howard's best films. Based on a true story, it dramatizes the comeback of heavyweight boxer Jim Braddock in the 1930s. After injuries and other mishaps, Braddock tumbled from fame in the Roaring Twenties to desperate poverty in the Great Depression. Living in a squalid tenement and reduced to manual labor on the docks, Braddock literally fought his way back to title contention against the famous Max Baer. Yes, Cinderella Man has all the tired fight-film clichés, plus the hoary heartstrings of downtrodden workers searching for hope in the depths of America's worst economic crisis. It's a mash-up of Million Dollar Baby (2004) and Seabiscuit (2003). But the performances by Russell Crowe, Renee Zellweger, and Paul Giamatti are so good that it seems fresh, and the art direction is superb.

Cinema Paradiso a/k/a Nuovo Cinema Paradiso (1988) deservedly won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, and it's an enduring celebration of cinema as a captivating art form. Giuseppe Tornatore wrote and directed this story of two seemingly different characters in a small Sicilian town after World War II. One is a young boy nicknamed Toto who's fascinated by the local movie theater. He won't stop pestering Alfredo, the much older projectionist. Their shared love of motion pictures gradually draws them together. Then an unexpected event forever alters their relationship and their futures. Told mostly in flashback, this outstanding film exists in three versions: the heavily edited 124-minute cut that won the Oscar, a 155-minute cut that adds drama to the conclusion, and a 173-minute director's cut (Cinema Paradiso: The New Version, 2002) that extends it even further. Although the longer ones tie up a loose end, all are great.

The Circle (2017) stars Emma Watson (of Harry Potter fame) as a new customer-service rep at a near-future social-media company. Her initial thrill of landing a good job at a lavish high-tech firm soon turns chilly as she is drawn into a cultlike corporate culture. The genial CEO (Tom Hanks) wants to obliterate personal privacy by live-streaming everything and everybody online, all the time. Is he visionary, misguided, or evil? This thought-provoking film, based on the novel by Dave Eggers, seems eerily plausible and prophetic. Although the climax is predictable, the drama is well played, and it could make Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg feel a little uncomfortable.

Citizen Kane (1941) is often hailed as the greatest motion picture of all time. That it ranks among the best is certain — it was innovative and remains impressive today. Bad-boy genius Orson Welles co-wrote, directed, and starred in this unflattering drama based on media mogul William Randolph Hearst. An enraged Hearst failed to kill the film, so we can enjoy this cleverly told story of a newspaper-chain millionaire who tries to dominate everything around him. It's a sobering study of human ego set free by wealth but imprisoned by human flaws. It's also a fairly accurate depiction of Hearst, although it unfairly depicts his lover (Dorothy Comingore playing the real-life Marion Davies) as a talentless flop. In revenge, Hearst destroyed Comingore's promising career. Although Welles and co-writer Herman J. Mankiewicz deservedly won the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, their careers suffered, too. Nevertheless, the movie survived and still tells a powerful and timeless story. It made famous a single-word line of dialogue: "Rosebud."

Città Delle Donne (1980): see City of Women.

City of the Dead (1960) a/k/a Horror Hotel (1962) is a moody thriller about witchcraft in a remote New England village. A witch burned at the stake there in 1692 cursed the townspeople, and now most of their descendants are Satan worshipers. Horror-film stalwart Christopher Lee has a surprisingly minor role as a creepy college professor who inspires a female student to visit the place for her term-paper research. The usual bad things follow. Although this low-budget movie is rather slow and rife with clichés, it conjures eerie atmosphere and has one unusual plot twist. Worth watching if you like this genre.

City of Fear (1959) exploits the Cold War dread of anything radioactive. Vince Edwards (later famous in the TV series Ben Casey) plays an escaped convict who thinks he's stolen a can of valuable heroin. Instead, it's something far more deadly — and dangerous enough to kill thousands of people if dispersed. Edwards is excellent as a crafty criminal who seems to be a careful planner until he starts feeling mysteriously sick. When he's on screen, this film noir metaphorically glows; the cops are drudges. Good suspense keeps the heat rising.

City By the Sea (2002) stars Robert De Niro in a typically strong performance. Based on a true story, it's about a New York cop who's the son of an executed murderer — and who discovers that his junkie son has also killed a man. Any other actor who played this role as well would have won an Oscar. But De Niro seems able to portray tough, emotionally wounded characters in his sleep. In this well-balanced drama he gets top-notch support from Frances McDormand as his girlfriend and James Franco as his troubled son. Though placed in a fictional New York beach town, it was actually filmed in Asbury Park, New Jersey — Bruce Springsteen's stomping grounds.

City of Women (Italian: La Città Delle Donne, 1980) is a surrealist-absurdist comedy by famed director Federico Fellini. Like all his films, it's wide open to interpretation. Expect lots of surprises and strange characters but not a coherent plot. Fellini's favorite actor, Marcello Mastroianni, plays Snaporàz, a handsome middle-age man obsessed with women. After meeting a seemingly seductive young woman on a train, he follows her to a radical feminist convention. Fleeing from withering criticism of his maleness, he stumbles through one bizarre situation after another, all dominated by women — most young and sexy, some old and odd. This lavish production is an overlong romp with a feminist theme that appears self-critical of Fellini's own films and Mastroianni's roles in them.

Civil War (2024) imagines a near-future conflict ignited by a U.S. president who won't quit after his constitutionally limited second term. California and Texas form a military alliance to fight the rogue president and his supporters. British writer/director Alex Garland conceived this violent and disturbing movie to warn that "American exceptionalism" doesn't except the U.S. from the internal discord that has sabotaged many democracies. Although this particular scenario may seem unlikely, Garland unites the two prominent blue and red states in a pro-constitutional rebellion to avoid leaning either liberal or conservative. The scenario is less important than the warning, which is that Americans would probably behave no better than anyone else when the social order breaks down. Thus we see unaffiliated vigilantes torturing and executing people they dislike, pointless duels between anonymous snipers, and American soldiers battling each other. To further present a neutral viewpoint, the main characters are journalists who cover both sides. Kirsten Dunst plays a famous photographer weary from years of foreign wars who now sees her own nation disintegrating. Cailee Spaeny plays a young admirer who aspires to equal fame without comprehending the hazards to body and soul. This controversial film is also a litmus test: Does the rogue president most resemble Trump or Biden? Our answers justify the warning.

Clash By Night (1952) is a love-triangle melodrama based on a stage play. Though directed by Austrian auteur Fritz Lang, it bears little resemblance to his most famous other films, such as M (1931), The Woman in the Window (1944), Scarlet Street (1945), and The Big Heat (1953). In this tawdry drama, Barbara Stanwyck, Paul Douglas, and Robert Ryan chew up the screen with big performances, and Marilyn Monroe makes occasional appearances in one of her early roles. Sometimes it feels like the stars are trying a little too hard, especially when the triangle starts breaking. But it's considered one of Stanwyck's best works.

The Clearing (2004) is a somber drama about an executive kidnapping. It's definitely an actor's movie, with keen performances by Robert Redford as the snatched millionaire, Helen Mirren as his distraught wife, and Willem Dafoe as the inscrutable kidnapper. In strong supporting roles are Matt Craven as an FBI agent and Alessandro Nivola as the angry son. There are no superheroes, unbelievable exploits, or gratuitous car chases in this carefully crafted but somewhat depressing film. Instead, the story gradually builds up tension and remains realistic to the end.

Cleopatra (1963) is a spectacular budget-busting epic that some critics hated but is undeniably a classic. Elizabeth Taylor stars as the ancient queen of Egypt who first seduces Julius Caesar (Rex Harrison) and later one of his successors, Mark Antony (Richard Burton, Taylor's real-life lover). Other notables are Roddy McDowall as Antony's rival Octavian (later Caesar Augustus), and Martin Landau as Antony's faithful general. Nominated for nine Oscars, it won four, losing Best Picture to Tom Jones, a British comedy. Yet Cleopatra casts a longer shadow. Generally true to history, it dramatizes Rome's transition from Republic to Empire through civil war, and Egypt's transition from a kingdom to a conquered Roman province. But the main focus is the relationships among Cleopatra, Caesar, Antony, and Octavian. All the performances are superb. If sometimes they seem excessive, they're appropriate for such a large-scale production. Elaborate sets, fabulous costumes, glorious cinematography, and thousands of extras made this movie fantastically expensive but mesmerizing to watch. And few films have such a dramatic climax.

Clerks (1994) instantly gained a cult following for its crude, profane, and wickedly funny humor. This low-budget independent film — made by writer/director Kevin Smith for only $27,575 — shows one life in the day of an urban convenience-store clerk. Freshman actor Brian O'Halloran is perfect as Dante Hicks, the clerk ordered to work on his day off. It's a day when almost everything goes wrong. Jeff Anderson plays Dante's best friend, who clerks a sleazy video-rental store next door. Their dialogue ranges from vulgar sex talk to philosophical debates about their life choices. Customers are mere annoyances in their boring work lives and chaotic personal lives. This brilliant satirical comedy has inspired two sequels and other films with some of the same characters.

A Clockwork Orange (1971) provoked controversy for its violence, rape scenes, and dystopian view of the near future. But critics also regard it as another classic directed by auteur Stanley Kubrick (Paths of Glory, Spartacus, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Shining, among others). Based on the novel by Anthony Burgess, it stars Malcolm McDowell as Alex, a brutal young gang leader who delights in "ultra-violence" — sadistic crimes committed for the sheer joy of it. He demands loyalty from his "droogs" (fellow gang-bangers) and is punishing if they stray. In one especially controversial scene, they gang-rape a woman while chirping Gene Kelly's hit tune "Singing in the Rain." Another woman is killed with a sculpture of men's genitals. When finally arrested, Alex undergoes an experimental treatment designed to sicken him at the sight of violence. Be warned, this harsh film isn't for everyone, and the futuristic slang is another obstacle. But it's brilliantly executed and is immorally moral.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) became an instant hit for its suspense, high spirits, and optimistic vision. Steven Spielberg co-wrote and directed this story of a first-contact space-alien visitation that's both frightening and exciting. Richard Dreyfuss stars as an electric-company lineman who sees UFOs and becomes obsessed with strange visions. Co-stars include Teri Garr as his wife, Melinda Dillon as another UFO witness, and French filmmaker François Truffaut as a UFO expert. The plot stays reasonably plausible, and Douglas Trumbull's special effects are spectacular, even compared with today's unlimited CGI capabilities. (Close Encounters lost the Oscar for Best Visual Effects to Star Wars but won for Cinematography and Sound Effects Editing.) Confusingly, however, this movie exists in three versions: the original theatrical release, a 1980 "Special Edition" with additions and subtractions, and a longer 1998 "Director's Cut." Although the 1998 cut is the best, the shorter versions usually appear on TV.

Close Your Eyes (2002) a/k/a Doctor Sleep or Hypnotic is a British horror-crime thriller with an intriguing plot, but it also has some shocking scenes. Placed in contemporary London, it revolves around a policewoman who hunts a serial killer of children by enlisting a reluctant doctor who uses hypnosis to cure smokers. The doc also has clairvoyant visions. The killer's motive derives from medieval witchery in a bloody quest for immortality. The hocus-pocus leads to strange clues, strange people, and strange murders. One killing is especially gruesome, haunting, and gratuitous. The surprise ending makes more sense if you remember a much earlier conversation in which the policewoman describes how the previous victims died.

The Closet (released in the U.S. in 2001) is one of the funniest movies of the year. It's a subtitled French film (Le Placard, 2000) starring Daniel Auteuil and Gerard Depardieu. An accountant at a condom factory accidentally learns he's about to be fired and hits upon a novel solution: by spreading a false rumor that he's gay, he spooks the company into fearing a discrimination lawsuit. His ploy works at first, but a series of unintended consequences soon turns his life upside-down. The film exploits many opportunities for comedic situations without the crudeness that's currently fashionable in American comedies.

Cloud Atlas (2012) is a complex film about the eternal struggle between good and evil, both on an individual scale and within our civilization. It is complex because it follows several storylines in different time periods ranging from the 1800s to the far future. Scenes from each story are freely intercut with little apparent connection until nearly the end of this three-hour epic. The same actors in different makeup play different roles, and the film implies that at least some characters are reincarnations of others. (The actors, all marvelous, include Tom Hanks, Halle Berry, Susan Sarandon, Hugh Grant, and the stunning Donna Bae.) Pay close attention, because the narrative jumps all over the place and little clues matter. Frankly, many viewers will find it frustrating and pretentious. I was fascinated, but much of my fascination was the rapt attention required to follow the scrambled storylines. Reassembling the stories sequentially would make them more coherent and the movie less gimmicky, but it would challenge the audience in a different way — to identify the connections over a greater length of time. Either way, this film's structure overwhelms its theme.

Cloverfield (2008) is 85 minutes of shaky video and mostly unintelligible dialogue. Unless the jumpy motion induces nausea — as it does for some viewers — the chaotic presentation doesn't matter much, because most of the action and dialogue don't matter much. It's just a trick to build suspense by making you strain your eyes and ears for something that does matter, which happens rarely and fleetingly. This trick is necessary because the story is thin: a monster attacks Manhattan. The story is told through an amateur handheld video camera by some twenty-somethings whose surprise party is interrupted by the bigger surprise. You could skip the first 15 minutes without missing much. Indeed, you can skip the whole 85 minutes without missing much.

Clueless (1995) remains a relatively timeless teen comedy, despite the antenna-sprouting flip phones and 1990s musical soundtrack. Even the clothes look much the same. Alicia Silverstone stars as a snobby rich girl at a Beverly Hills high school. She routinely snows teachers to boost her poor grades while micro-managing other people's social lives. When a new girl arrives and a new boy joins her class, her machinations go into overdrive. Paul Rudd co-stars as an older stepbrother, but other members of this competent cast haven't become as famous since 1995. If you don't mind the dumb-blonde stereotyping, this hit movie brims with witty dialogue.

CODA (2021) raises a routine coming-of-age story high enough to win Academy Awards for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Supporting Actor. Emilia Jones stars in a demanding part for which she learned sign language and crewing on a fishing trawler. She plays the only hearing member of a New England fishing family whose father, mother, and son are deaf. Those skilled actors (Troy Kotsur, Marlee Matlin, and Daniel Durant) are actually deaf and don't speak on screen, so Jones's character interprets their signing while subtitles allow us to understand them. In her role as a high school student, she's torn between her family's need for her on the trawler and her budding desire for a music career. In one dramatic scene, her singing dims to silence so we can experience her performance as her family does. Kotsur won Best Supporting Actor. This English-language remake of a French film (La Famille Bélier, 2014) is a beautifully made cliché.

Cold Mountain was easily one of the best films of 2003. Diehard Southerners may not like it, however, because it realistically depicts a rarely told dark side of the American Civil War — the internecine strife and brutality in the mountains of North Carolina. Jude Law plays a hard-fighting Confederate soldier who receives a letter from his girlfriend (Nicole Kidman). She desperately needs his help. With the war nearly over, he deserts the army to return home and save her. But the mountains are another battleground, as undisciplined Home Guard paramilitaries and Yankee raiders prey on the local populace. The violence is disturbing but historically accurate. Cold Mountain is the antidote to the ludicrous historical revisionism of Gods & Generals, the other major Civil War film of 2003. Kidman, Law, and their supporting cast deliver Oscar-quality performances, and the cinematography is stunning.

Collateral (2004) is an excellent film-noir thriller placed in present-day Los Angeles, the modern noir substitute for New York City or Chicago. Tom Cruise coldly plays a professional hit man who hires an innocent cab driver to ferry him from one target to the next, all night long. This film is really a slowly unfolding morality play, although it's a little light on the message and heavy on the action. The cabbie (Jamie Foxx) is an ordinary person trapped in an ordinary life who until now has devoted little thought to morality. Suddenly he's confronted by a sociopath who is not so much immoral as amoral. Their conflict eventually spurs him to respond in ways he never thought possible. Every aspect of this movie — including the writing, directing, cinematography, and acting — is first-rate.

Collateral Beauty (2016) seems buried by other Oscar-worthy films released during Christmas season, but it merits attention. Will Smith stars as a father grieving the loss of his young daughter. He's so emotionally paralyzed he can no longer run his advertising agency, so his sympathetic but desperate business partners resort to extreme measures to gain control. They concoct a bizarre scheme in which actors playing the roles of Love, Time, and Death visit him to document his paralysis. Although this movie is painfully emotional at times and defies logic, it's redeemed by excellent performances from Smith and a brilliant supporting cast, including Naomie Harris, Helen Mirren, Keira Knightley, Edward Norton, Kate Winslet, Michael Pena, and Jacob Latimore. The twister ending makes a good turn, too.

College (1927) stars the great Buster Keaton in a feature-length silent-film comedy. He plays a nerdy high-school graduate who tries to play college sports to impress a pretty girl who admires jocks. As usual, this picture showcases Keaton's slapstick antics and stunts as he fails at baseball and various track events. Ironically, Keaton was probably a better all-around athlete than the real athletes he hired for this production; the only stunt he doesn't perform himself is a pole-vault into a second-story window. The brief climax is an unusually sobering view of life's destiny.

The Colossal Beast (1958): see War of the Colossal Beast.

The Colossal Man (1957): see The Amazing Colossal Man.

The Comedy of Terrors (1963) unites horror-thriller stars Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and Basil Rathbone in a dark comedy that should be much better. Wasting such a classic cast is bad enough, but it's even more disappointing for a screenplay co-written by Richard Matheson and directed by Jacques Tourneur — both with strong resumés in the kind of thrillers this movie parodies. They rely too heavily on lazy running jokes and on slapsticks enacted by poorly disguised stand-ins. It's a wide miss.

The Company You Keep (2013) stars several Hollywood veterans (including Robert Redford, Julie Christie, Nick Nolte, Sam Elliott, Susan Sarandon, and Chris Cooper) as former Weather Underground radicals who have been living under false identities since the 1970s. When one is arrested by the FBI, the others fear exposure. Hanging over their heads is the death of a security guard during a long-ago bank robbery. Who shot the guard, and who will take the rap? With such a stellar cast, this film can't fail to be a well-acted drama. But the story detours when a reporter uncovers another secret. Although this one seems trivial compared with the murder, somehow it seizes center stage and muddles the conclusion. Nevertheless, it's fun watching these geezers show that their acting skills are as vigorous as ever.

Compulsion (1959) features great performances by Dean Stockwell and Bradford Dillman as pompous sociopaths, and Orson Welles as a crusading defense attorney. Loosely based on a true crime in the 1920s (Leopold & Loeb), Stockwell and Dillman play wealthy college students who believe their superior intellects exempt them from the laws and morals governing lesser people. They also aspire to the full range of human experience, which they believe includes rape and murder. Their amoral righteousness leads them to plan and commit the "perfect crime" — but they clumsily leave clues that the supposedly inferior police soon discover. At their trial, Welles delivers a moving plea for mercy. This drama succeeds with fine writing and acting.

Confessions of a Time Traveler — The Man from 3036 (2020) claims to be a documentary but is poorly conceived fiction. This 37-minute film interviews a man who supposedly traveled here from the year 3036. His revelations include conspiracy theories popular during the Covid-19 pandemic, such as vaccines that secretly inject tracking chips and cell phones that emit dangerous radiation. His story has so many holes that only the gullible will be fooled.

Conflict (1945) features Humphrey Bogart and Sydney Greenstreet in their fourth pairing but isn't as memorable as The Maltese Falcon (1941), Casablanca (1942), or even Passage to Marseilles (1944). Bogart disliked his role, and it shows. Even so, it's an interesting film noir in which his character cleverly bumps off his wife — or does he? Her death seems certain until mysterious clues begin appearing. Greenstreet plays an amiable friend and sharp psychologist. Rose Hobart is appropriately chilly as his spurned wife, and Alexis Smith plays his lovely sister-in-law. The climax leaves no dangling loose ends, so film noir fans may find it a bit too tidy.

The Conspirator (2011) is an exceptional dramatization of the trial of Mary Surratt, the only woman implicated in President Abraham Lincoln's assassination. In 1865, Mrs. Surratt — a widowed Southerner — ran a Washington D.C. boarding house where the plot was hatched by assassin John Wilkes Booth and his fellow conspirators. The government accused her of conspiracy and denied her a civilian trial, bringing her instead before a heavily prejudiced military tribunal. I admired this film's attention to historical detail and the excellent performances by Robin Wright as Mrs. Surratt, James McAvoy as her earnest attorney, Kevin Kline (barely recognizable) as War Secretary Edwin Stanton, and Evan Rachel Wood as Mrs. Surratt's adult daughter. This 150-year-old story is relevant to any time in which threats to national security erode Constitutional rights.

The Constant Gardener (2005) is a John Le Carre thriller filmed in semidocumentary style, which too often means the camerawork is jerky and blurry in a bid for authenticity. Too bad, because the African footage (most of the story takes place in Kenya) is actually quite good. But the plot is thin, revolving around a conspiracy by transnational pharmaceutical companies to use Africans as human guinea pigs. To disguise the skimpy story, Brazilian director Fernando Meirelles hacks the film into a mishmash of flashbacks. Fortunately, the acting surpasses the material, with Ralph Fiennes, Rachel Weisz, and Danny Huston giving first-class performances. A better thriller wouldn't make the bad guys so obvious or the conclusion such a downer.

Contagion (2011) is a fairly realistic tale about a virulent epidemic that rapidly spreads worldwide via business travelers. Despite this film's global scope, writer Scott Z. Burns and director Steven Soderbergh personalize the drama of loved ones suddenly stricken by a frightening and often fatal disease. Initial public skepticism over the plague — is this another bird-flu false alarm? — soon gives way to panic. The all-star cast includes Marion Cotillard, Matt Damon, Jennifer Ehle, Laurence Fishburne, Elliot Gould, Jude Law, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Kate Winslet. An interesting theme is conflict between the establishment (as represented by the scientific community and mainstream news media) and a challenger (an aggressive Internet blogger promoting a cure). This movie is an above-average drama that never loses its balance.

The Contender (2000) is a taut political drama about a Washington sex scandal involving a vice-presidential candidate. The plot would have seemed ludricrous before the Clinton/Lewinsky affair. The ending still seems ludricrous — and too preachy, as well.

Control Room (2004) is a rough but thought-provoking documentary about al-Jazeera, the international TV news channel that has transfixed the Arab world. By showing a behind-the-scenes look at al-Jazeera's coverage of the U.S. war against Iraq in 2003, this film tries to debunk the popular American view that al-Jazeera is nothing but strident Arab propaganda. It doesn't entirely succeed, but it does a better job at showing something else: that tailoring the news for a target audience is a game played equally well by other news outlets and the U.S. government.

The Conversation (1974) has gained relevance since it was made. Gene Hackman brilliantly plays a private surveillance expert hired by a corporate boss to record a young couple's secret conversation in a noisy public place. He succeeds but is troubled by what he hears. Haunted by a past assignment that ended in murder, he worries that his new subjects are also targets. This outstanding film is a fascinating look at private spycraft and corporate conspiracy that echoes even louder in today's world of computer surveillance and ubiquitous security cameras. At times, though, it's implausible, as when the secretive expert invites competitors and strangers into his inner sanctum, is oblivious to a rival's pranks, and carelessly leaves fingerprints at a possible crime scene. Even so, it's a great mystery thriller that earned Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Original Screenplay, and Sound. The surprise ending requires close listening.

Convict 13 (1920) is an early Buster Keaton silent-film short (19 minutes) in which he plays a golfer mistaken for a condemned prison escapee. The slapstick comedy and stunts are still entertaining but only hint at the brilliance of his later films. Co-stars include Buster's father Joe, brother Harry, and sister Louise. Unfortunately, the extant version of this film is in poor condition.

Convicted (1950) stars Glenn Ford as a budding stockbroker who accidentally kills someone. He's imprisoned for manslaughter despite some sympathy from the prosecutor (tough guy Broderick Crawford) and the prosecutor's daughter (underutilized Dorothy Malone). Like most prison movies, this mediocre one has a malicious guard and some inmates who seem better than their keepers. It's fairly routine until the last act, when Ford's character must weigh his code of honor against his desire for freedom. The resolution is too convenient.

Cool Hand Luke (1967) stars Paul Newman in a role that cemented his screen reputation as a quintessential 1960s antihero. His character is an aimless war veteran imprisoned for minor public vandalism. Soon he becomes the alpha male among the roughneck inmates, a position he both accepts and rejects. A natural rebel, he butts heads with the warden (Strother Martin in an unforgettable passive-aggressive performance), at one point provoking the now-famous line, "What we've got here is failure to communicate." Several other memorable scenes have made this movie a classic. Although George Kennedy won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor as a fellow inmate, Newman lost the Best Actor award to Rod Steiger in a year of great movies and strong performances. The dramatic climax broke Hollywood conventions, fell in step with the rebelliousness of the 1960s, and helped debut a freer era of filmmaking.

The Cooler (2003) is a modern film noir placed in Las Vegas. But it's not the family-friendly Las Vegas that plays to middle America with sidewalk attractions and Disneyesque casinos. In this Vegas, the Shangri-La casino is a throwback to smoky gambling dens owned by slick-suited thugs. William H. Macy breaks out of his usual character roles by playing the romantic lead, and his performance is a revelation. He plays a professional "cooler" — a meekly inconspicuous man who's so unlucky that the Shangri-La hires him to bring bad luck to gamblers on a winning streak. When he falls in love with a waitress, played by the sexy Mario Bello, his luck begins to change. Alex Baldwin is wonderfully creepy as the casino owner, and Paul Sorvino has a small but juicy part as a lounge singer. Occasionally violent, but truly suspenseful to the last minute.

Cops (1922) features the great Buster Keaton in an 18-minute silent comedy in which his trademark hapless character stumbles into deeper and deeper trouble. Pretty soon he's got an entire big-city police force chasing him. As usual, the sight gags and stunts are clever and hilarious. Keaton's live-action short films are better than some of today's Oscar winners in that category.

Coraline (2009) is an extraordinary stop-motion animated film that masquerades as a children's movie but will be more appreciated by adults. Indeed, some scenes — and the overall story — may be too frightening for younger kids. The title character is a precocious girl whose perpetually busy parents move the family to a strange old apartment house in Oregon. Their neighbors are eccentric, but weirder still is a hidden doorway to another world that seems too good to be true. Coraline's mother and father have cheerful doppelgängers that appear impossibly perfect. The parent-replacement theme may disturb some impressionable young viewers, but the filmmakers have created a spectacular fantasy world that's like Alice in Wonderland on LSD. Coraline proves that Pixar isn't the only studio making brilliant animated features.

The Corpse Bride (2005) resembles a computer-animated feature, but it's actually stop-motion photography painstakingly recorded with a digital still camera. Directors Tim Burton and Mike Johnson renew this old technique. (Watch for their subtle homage to stop-motion artist Ray Harryhausen in the first piano scene.) The story is a Halloween-flavored tale about a shy young man (voiced by Johnny Depp) who accidentally marries a bride (Helena Bonham Carter) who was murdered by her greedy groom (Richard E. Grant). Other voice actors include Tracey Ullman, Albert Finney, and Christopher Lee. It's funny, eccentric, and imaginative, and filled with strange characters. One song-and-dance number stars a one-eyed skeleton who's a dead ringer for Sammy Davis Jr., and a maggot inhabiting the corpse bride's brain sounds an awful lot like Peter Lorre.

Corridor of Mirrors (1948) is an unsettling romantic drama and subtle thriller. It relies more heavily on mystery and suspense than cheap scares, so we're never quite sure what will happen next. Its foreboding overtone haunts almost every scene without veering into melodrama. Hints of reincarnation and timeless destiny enhance the creepy atmosphere. Credit goes to director Terence Young, who later made the best early James Bond films, and to the leads: Eric Portman as a mysterious rich man and Edana Romney as a much younger woman who falls under his spell. Both are excellent. Watch for Christopher Lee in his first movie role, a bit part in a nightclub. This unusual picture rewards patience.

Cosmic Monsters (1958): see The Strange World of Planet X.

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002) is reminiscent of a classic Errol Flynn swashbuckler and is surprisingly good. Set in Napoleonic France, the story follows the Alexandre Dumas novel fairly closely: an innocent sailor betrayed by his friends seeks revenge after spending years in a brutal prison. James Caviezel (best known for his starring role in The Thin Red Line) plays the lead and is well supported by Guy Pearce, Richard Harris, and Luis Guzman, among others. Of course, it's unlikely that someone held captive for so many years under such harsh conditions could stage such a physical prison escape, but it's worth sacrificing plausibility for good drama.

Count Yorga, Vampire (1970): see The Loves of Count Iorga, Vampire.

Cowboys & Aliens (2011) finds an original twist in a well-worn genre, which isn't easy. Why are virtually all movies about invading space aliens placed in present time — or, less often, in future time? Aliens could have attacked us at any time in history, right? Hence the inspiration for this simple but delightful action flick. Daniel Craig and Harrison Ford star as ruthless cowboys in a desolate Western town of the late 1800s. Suddenly their feuding is interrupted by UFOs, cattle mutilations, and alien abductions. In an era when science fiction was almost unknown, they have no frame of reference for these weird events. Still, they know a threat when they see one, and they don't shrink from a fight. The result is a romp but not a self-conscious parody, so the basic concept stays pure and the drama remains intact. It's the best movie about space invaders in years.

Crack-Up (1946) miscasts Pat O'Brien in a confusing film-noir crime thriller centered in a New York art museum. O'Brien plays a curator who violently crashes through the museum's glass door, assaults a police officer, and attacks a sculpture. His bizarre actions are excused but never really explained. Another scene depicts an out-of-body experience, but it's explained only vaguely and in retrospect. Midway through the movie, an artist's name is briefly mentioned, but you'd better catch it, because it's the crucial fulcrum point of the story. Although films noir often have jumbled plots, this one is excessive.

The Crawling Eye (1958) a/k/a The Trollenberg Terror follows the conventions of low-budget 1950s sci-fi flicks: slow-boiling danger, frightened townspeople, many talky scenes before the monsters appear, crude special effects, and implausible action. Nevertheless, it has some period charm. Adapted from a British TV series, it's about mysterious fog in the Swiss Alps that decapitates mountain climbers and wreaks other mischief. The only star most American viewers will recognize is Forrest Tucker, better known as Sgt. O'Rourke in the 1960s TV series F Troop.

Crazy Heart (2009) stars Jeff Bridges as Bad Blake, an aging country-western singer who's once-great career is waning. Broke, alcoholic, and sick, he drives a rusty station wagon hundreds of miles to play gigs at bowling alleys and dive bars. Then a young woman reporter (a perky Maggie Gyllenhaal) enters his life. Can redemption be far behind? This movie retails every Hollywood cliché. But, like The Wrestler (2008), it's saved by good acting and the drama of a downtrodden character fighting back against life's obstacles. The music is pretty good, too, with Bridges performing many of the songs. Robert Duvall and Colin Farrell have small but pivotal parts.

Crazy Rich Asians (2018) is a wonderful romantic comedy with a nearly all-Asian cast — the first such American film since The Joy Luck Club (1993). Constance Wu stars as a Chinese-American college professor who falls in love with the prized son of a crazy-rich Singaporean family. Except she doesn't know he's rich, and she's even less prepared to meet his skeptical relatives during a trip to Singapore to attend his best friend's wedding. It's a classic setup that nevertheless spawns lots of laughs and some drama. Although familiarity with Asian culture helps, the humor is plentiful and clean. Michelle Yeoh is especially strong as the stern mother, and several cast members give over-the-top performances. This movie is lavishly produced for a rom-com and offers a satirical look at Singapore's one-percenters.

The Creation of the Humanoids (1962) is a rarity: a low-budget sci-fi flick of this period that's remarkably philosophical and more relevant today than when it was made. Although brilliant color, clever makeup, and inventive sets conceal the financial constraints of this production, it's the cerebral dialogue that impresses. Writer Jay Simms and director Wesley Barry present a post-apocalypse world repopulated with robots, androids, and a dwindling number of humans whose reproduction is hampered by radioactive residue. When the automatons become too humanlike, people rebel. But don't expect much action. This movie's strengths are the interactions between humans and machines, and a climax that's a philosophical debate on the essence of humanity.

Creature (1985): see The Titan Find.

Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954) is a classic creature feature originally released in black-and-white 3D but rarely seen in that obsolete format today. Even in 2D it's a great example of a 1950s horror thriller. The creature is an amphibious lizardlike humanoid that should be extinct but is found lurking in an Amazon River lagoon. Although he's obviously an actor wearing a rubber suit, it's a brilliantly designed costume that has become iconic. Like many movie monsters, this one is curiously attracted to pretty young women — in this case, one played by Julia Adams. And like many movie victims, she's typically oblivious as her stalker creeps up behind her. It's all campy fun, especially in rare 3D screenings.

Creature With the Atom Brain (1955) typifies sci-fi thrillers of this era: a foreign scientist's crazy experiments go awry, his lair is a lab filled with exotic equipment, atomic radiation has magical properties, Air Force jets zoom overhead in stock footage, men in suits dominate the all-white cast, the loving housewife knows her place, and a cute child actor tries to spark humor. This formulaic flick improbably combines zombies with a police procedural and ranks barely average.

The Creeping Flesh (1973) begins with great promise but collapses under a crazy subplot and head-scratching climax. It's a shame, because this British horror thriller stars the famous Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee in an elegant production. Cushing plays a Victorian-era paleontologist returning from New Guinea with the skeleton of a heretofore-unknown giant hominid that predates Neanderthal man. When he washes the bones, they suddenly grow new flesh. Lee plays a chilly brother who runs an insane asylum and is jealous of the amazing discovery. But before this plot fully develops, a minor character spawns a distracting subplot. Eventually these story threads unite in an ambiguous denouement.

The Creeping Unknown (1955): see The Quatermass Xperiment.

Crime and Punishment (1935) adapts Fyodor Dostoevsky's epic 1866 novel about a young intellectual who commits a murder he later regrets. This 88-minute Hollywood movie is bound to disappoint anyone expecting a wholly faithful translation of the huge Russian novel. Even its director (Josef von Sternberg) dismissed it as a hack job forced on him by contractual obligations. Nevertheless, it's a truly great example of an early film noir and psychological crime thriller. Peter Lorre stars as Raskolnikov, a poor criminologist who bungles his attempt to commit a perfect crime. Unlike his later roles in horror flicks, this complex character enables Lorre to fully reveal his acting talent, as he did in M (1931), a German crime thriller. Edward Arnold, who plays a police detective investigating the murder, equals Lorre's performance. Their clever interactions form the core of this beautifully filmed motion picture. It stands on its own, apart from the Russian classic.

Crime Wave (1954) employs lots of location shooting in Los Angeles to spin a nice crime thriller. Little-known Gene Nelson is convincing as a straight parolee roped into armed robbery and murder by crooks he knew in prison. Sterling Hayden is perfect as the hard-nosed homicide detective who thinks every ex-con is an unrepentant criminal destined for another stretch in the pen. A young Charles Bronson (billed as Charles Buchinsky) hints at his future stardom in his role as a brutal thug. Noirish scenes filmed on the streets and inside police headquarters paint a realistic atmosphere, and the climax is a surprise.

Crimewave (1985) bombed on release but has its moments. It's a madcap comedy about two exterminators who "kill all sizes" of pests, including people. One person they're hired to eliminate is a dishonest business partner. When their plot entangles his security-guard employee, the action gets crazy. It's funny in a Three Stooges way — in fact, it lifts some slapstick scenes directly from those classic comedy shorts — but the chaotic humor wears thin unless you're a fan of this farcical style. The screenwriters were Joel and Ethan Coen, who later perfected the crime-comedy genre in Raising Arizona (1987), Fargo (1996), The Big Lebowski (1998), and other pictures.

Crossfire (1947) was accidentally aptly named, because it was caught in the crossfire of Congressional anti-communist witch hunts and Hollywood blacklisting. It won no Academy Awards despite being nominated for Best Picture, Director (Edward Dmytryk), Screenplay (John Paxton), Supporting Actor (Robert Ryan), and Supporting Actress (Gloria Grahame). The problem was that Dmytryk and producer Adrian Scott were uncooperative with the infamous House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), so they were forbidden to work again. It's a shame, because Crossfire is an excellent film noir starring Robert Young as a dedicated police detective and Robert Mitchum as an Army sergeant who defends his buddy accused of murder. Moreover, this was the first Hollywood film to challenge American anti-Semitism. Ironically, another 1947 anti-Semitic film (Gentleman's Agreement) won Best Picture, and its director (Elia Kazan) won the Oscar after cooperating with HUAC. Both movies are landmarks worth watching.

Crossroads (1942) is an interesting light-touch drama placed in Paris four years before World War II. Because Americans sympathized with France, which was Nazi-occupied during the film's release, it lauds the French foreign ministry — although in one scene, an ambassador remarks that "Perhaps France needs soldiers more than diplomats now." Otherwise, the looming war is curiously absent from this pre-noir thriller, which stars William Powell as a suave diplomat angling for an ambassadorship. His impeccable career is endangered when he's accused of impersonation. The story twists and turns as the mystery deepens. The beautiful Hedy Lamarr plays his bride, but the script minimizes her role. Claire Trevor and Basil Rathbone are satisfactory in their larger parts.

Crossroads (1986) builds on the legend of Robert Johnson, a real-life 1930s blues musician who supposedly bargained with the devil at a rural Mississippi crossroads to trade his soul for guitar mastery. In this amusing tale placed in modern times (the 1980s), a Julliard guitar student searches for Johnson's "lost" 30th song — he's known to have recorded only 29. For help, the boy (Ralph Macchio) enlists an old friend of Johnson's now living in a nursing home for criminals. The convict (Joe Seneca) becomes his blues mentor but has an ulterior motive. Seneca is great as the crotchety old man while Macchio skillfully mimics guitar fingering in scenes for which the actual musicians were pros. The climax is a spectacular guitar duel in which real-life rocker Steve Vai plays a modern Robert Johnson. This movie echoes The Karate Kid (1984), also starring Macchio, but is none the worse for it.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) is a mystical martial-arts movie with uncommonly good acting, music, and cinematography. Don't expect a campy Bruce Lee fight-em-up. It's more poetic and has some light touches. It deservedly won several Academy Awards, including Best Foreign-Language Film, Original Score, Cinematography, and Art Direction.

Cruise Boom (2023) examines overtourism in Sitka, Alaska, but it's relevant for any popular tourist destination. In summer, giant cruise ships bring upwards of 500,000 passengers to Sitka, a small town of 8,500 souls. It's so crowded that the main street closes to vehicular traffic. Business is great — for a while. Off-season, not so much. Plus, wealthy outsiders are replacing local shops and converting homes into short-term rentals. This even-handed documentary interviews residents, tourists, and cruise-line reps.

Cry of the City (1948) pairs Victor Mature and Richard Conte in an effective film-noir crime thriller about a diligent police detective (Mature) and an unrepentant cop killer (Conte) who sprouted from the same gritty neighborhood. The explicit moral is that environment isn't destiny, especially when the detective tries to divert the killer's younger brother from a life of crime. This picture isn't too preachy, though; Conte keeps the drama moving. Watch for a blonde Shelley Winters and 6-foot-2 Hope Emerson in brief but bold supporting roles.

Cry Terror! (1958) employs a rich cast of character actors in a tense crime thriller. Rod Steiger plays the heavy, a former army demolition man who extorts $500,000 from an airline by planting a bomb on a plane. Accomplices include Neville Brand as an unstable ex-con and Jack Klugman as a gun- and knife-toting confederate. As part of their plot, they kidnap a family man (James Mason) with his wife (Inger Stevens) and young daughter. Kenneth Tobey plays the lead FBI agent on their trail. The action and suspense are almost continuous as the criminals try to execute their tricky plan while the G-men hunt them down. This potboiler is hotter than most.

Cry of the Werewolf (1944) doesn't star Lon Chaney Jr. as the hairy shape-shifter, and it wasn't made by Universal Pictures, the major monster-movie studio of this period. Nevertheless, it's better than expected. The only recognizable star is a young Nina Foch, who later appeared in A-grade productions and was nominated for Best Supporting Actress in 1954. In this B-grade thriller, she plays a gypsy princess and the werewolf — a role usually reserved for better-known male actors such as Chaney. Because the budget was too low to show her canine transformations, this cheapo resorts to shadows. Bumbling cops led by a hard-core lieutenant add some weak humor.

CSA: The Confederate States of America (2004): see above C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America.

Cult of the Cobra (1955) starts promisingly when six American soldiers sneak into a secret ceremony of foreign snake worshipers. When unmasked, they barely escape with their lives — but they can't escape an evil curse. One by one they fall victim to a deadly venom from a magical cobra, or perhaps from a mysterious woman. Unfortunately, this interesting plot is poisoned by madcap dialogue, cheesy special effects even by 1955 standards, and suspense that barely crawls.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is one of the best pictures of 2008. It's about a baby who is born old and gradually grows younger as he ages. Although the premise is preposterous, this film makes it seem surprisingly plausible. Brad Pitt stars as Benjamin, the odd foundling who lives his life backward. Superb makeup and special effects make Pitt's measured performance more believable, but the biggest factor is that this tale deals in essential truths. Indeed, other aspects are more fanciful than the premise. (Could a tugboat seaman afford to live in the same fancy hotel as the British consular in Murmansk?) Cate Blanchett is convincing as Benjamin's life-long admirer, and Taraji P. Henson is wonderful as his adoptive mother. Although other reviews made me reluctant to see this three-hour movie, I found it excellent. The moral: nothing stays the same.

The Current War a/k/a The Current War: Director's Cut (2019) dramatizes the 1880s conflict between inventors Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse to wire America for electricity. Edison (well portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch, who squelches his English accent) favored direct current. He claimed DC was safer, but it needed vast numbers of distributed generators. Westinghouse (Michael Shannon in a more restrained performance) favored higher-voltage alternating current. AC could span greater distances and needed less infrastructure. Another player was Nikola Tesla, an eccentric but brilliant inventor who sided with AC. This true story has the ingredients of a great drama, but director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon short-circuits his film with choppy editing, abrupt storytelling, and split-screen gimmicks that confuse viewers unfamiliar with the history. Maybe the rarely seen original cut from 2017 was better.

Curse of the Demon a/k/a Night of the Demon (1957) stars Dana Andrews as a skeptical American scientist who's curiously uncurious about the freakish death of a British colleague. In a departure from most horror thrillers, the producers forced the director to reveal the demon in an early scene. Usually, we have to wait to see the monster. Andrews seems miscast here; his deadpan performance adds little to the suspense. Also, his rigidly scientific character behaves with uncharacteristically poor judgment. A few jump-scares will keep you on edge, though. This middling movie is known for inspiring a lyric in "Science Fiction Double Feature," the opening song in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975).

Curse of the Fly (1965) unevenly ends a trilogy that began with The Fly (1958) and Return of the Fly (1959). This sequel has little in common with the first two horror thrillers about scientists inventing a teleporter. In the first two flicks, a housefly in the machine results in monstrous human-fly hybrids when they rematerialize. This time, no flies, which disappointed audiences in 1965. It's not all bad, though. The moody opening scene of a woman escaping a mental hospital is well done. After a slowdown, the action picks up when the scientists resume their experiments and try to hide the failures of previous tests. Overall this movie is mediocre, but some fans favor it over the first sequel.

The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) was the first color version of this classic horror story, and its bolder approach and fine acting revived the genre. Surprisingly, though, it came not from U.S.-based Universal Studios, which produced the iconic 1931 Frankenstein, but from Hammer Films, a British studio. Its success launched many more horror flicks from Hammer. To dodge Universal's copyrights, this one is more reboot than remake. Boris Karloff, the 1931 monster, is absent, despite being British. Instead, Christopher Lee debuts as the monster in different but realistic makeup. Peter Cushing stars as the Baron Frankenstein. Lee and Cushing went on to become synonymous with horror films. This one is better than most and deserves respect from both sides of the pond.

The Curse of the Jade Scorpion (2001) is a hazy-yellow vision of New York in 1940 — a caper comedy with Woody Allen, Helen Hunt, and the usual host of stars attracted to Allen's auteur style of filmmaking. This is not Allen's funniest movie, nor even his best caper tale; many lines of dialogue fall flat. But it's a pleasant diversion from the relentless car chases, explosions, gratuitous violence, and juvenile jokes that pass for entertainment these days. Still, I missed Mia Farrow in the Helen Hunt role.

The Curse of the Living Corpse (1964) is a low-budget thriller known mainly for the screen debut of Roy Scheider and a supporting role for Candace Hilligoss, who starred in cult favorite Carnival of Souls (1962). Scheider plays the alcoholic son of a recently deceased tyrannical patriarch whose will requires his heirs to meet several conditions before inheriting the estate. Most conditions relate to his fear of live burial. When the heirs ignore his demands, they start dying in gruesome ways. Hilligoss plays a wife who may become collateral damage. Although this movie isn't terrible, it nearly spoils the mood when police arrive and bring some poorly wrought comedy.

The Curse of the Werewolf (1961) diverges from the American "Wolf Man" horror flicks that Universal Pictures produced in the 1940s. This British production by Hammer Films relies on other legends claiming that a boy born on Christmas Day might be cursed to lycanthropy. As usual, though, the werewolf is most active during a full moon, and silver bullets are still fatal. English actor Oliver Reed — who looks ominous even without hirsute makeup — adeptly plays the wolf-man role made famous by Lon Chaney Jr. in the Universal movies. Yvonne Romain adds sex appeal as the boy's mother before he's adopted by an unsuspecting couple. This beautifully filmed Technicolor picture is light on werewolf action and doesn't fully reveal the creature until nearly the end, but it's a watchable addition to the genre.

The Da Vinci Code (2006) is probably more satisfying for people who have read Dan Brown's bestselling novel. Perhaps they will be able to decipher, or at least tolerate, all the religious and historical mumbo-jumbo that bleeds too much suspense out of this disappointing film. Things get off to a promising start. A mysterious murder in the Louvre brings an American symbologist (perfunctorily played by Tom Hanks) into the investigation. But almost immediately, the story bogs down in weird clues, puzzles, rituals, legends, plots, betrayals, and conspiracies. Every turn requires so much explanation and historical context that the movie threatens to become a PBS documentary. In fact, it would be more effective as a documentary, except then there wouldn't be an excuse for car chases and absurd plot twists.

Daisy Kenyon (1947) triangulates Joan Crawford with Dana Andrews and Henry Fonda in a twisty-turny romantic drama. The acute problem with this love triangle is that they keep vacillating on whether they're really in love. Just when you think they're settled, they spin again. Crawford (as a fashion illustrator) and Andrews (as a hotshot lawyer) overshadow Fonda's lesser role as a troubled World War II veteran, but all three are good. In an unusual subplot for 1947, Andrews' character accepts a controversial civil-rights case defending a Japanese-American veteran whose family property in California was confiscated during the war. Although it's tangential to the love triangle, it shows that Hollywood was questioning the Japanese-American internment only two years after the war ended, when anti-Japanese sentiment was still high.

Dan Curtis' Dracula (1974): see Dracula (1974), not to be confused with the 1931 and 1992 versions.

Dancer in the Dark (2000) has an Oscar-caliber performance by Icelandic singer Bjork in a tragedy about a Czech immigrant to the U.S. who escapes from her life problems by fantasizing herself in Hollywood high-fashion musicals. The supporting cast is strong, too. The film is also a brutal examination of the death penalty in America.

Danger Signal (1945) isn't exactly film noir, but it echoes that genre. Zachary Scott stars as a murderous con man who specializes in wooing susceptible women. Faye Emerson and Mona Freeman play sisters who are potential victims. It would be educational for any woman to watch this romantic smoothie as he sweet-talks his way into eager hearts. Always one step ahead of the police and an angry widower, he hides his plotting behind compliments, flowers, and a reusable engagement ring. The conclusion is rather abrupt but satisfying. Released at the end of World War II, when millions of veterans were coming home, this film may have saved many a woman from an unhappy marriage.

Dangerous Crossing (1953) wasn't directed by Alfred Hitchcock but feels like it. Jeanne Crain stars as a newlywed who boards a steamship with her husband for their honeymoon. Shortly after checking into their cabin, however, he disappears. Soon she's frantic, but her erratic behavior and other circumstances begin to make everyone doubt she was even married at all. Is she imagining things? Michael Rennie plays a sympathetic ship's doctor who tries to solve the mystery. Joseph M. Newman skillfully directed this tight thriller but is better known for making sci-fi classic This Island Earth (1955) and TV episodes of The Twilight Zone and (yes!) The Alfred Hitchcock Hour.

Dangerous Passage (1944) squeezes a decent crime thriller from a small production budget. Despite its vintage and suggestive title, it's not World War II propaganda. Instead, a young man unexpectedly inherits a fortune but must journey to Texas to claim it. To escape a crooked lawyer and accomplice who try to kill him, he boards a tramp steamer and soon becomes entangled in another criminal scheme. The little-known actors in this picture deliver competent performances. One standout is Charles Arnt as the lawyer, who mimics Sydney Greenstreet's memorable "Fat Man" character in The Maltese Falcon (1941).

Danny Collins (2015) is loosely based on a true story about a 1970s folk singer who didn't receive an encouraging letter from John Lennon until 34 years after it was mailed because it was intercepted by a Beatles collector. Al Pacino plays the singer, who's now a famous but fossilized performer who hasn't written an original song in decades. When the long-lost letter finally arrives, he reflects on a career that's financially successful but creatively irrelevant. Annette Bening plays a hotel manager who urges him to rediscover his muse. Although this movie is well acted, a cliché family subplot soon demotes the main plot, spoiling what could have been a more interesting story about the conflict between art and commerce.

Dark Blue World (2001), based on a true story, is about Czech fighter pilots who escape the Nazi takeover of their country in 1939 and join the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain. After the war, they return home in triumph — only to be imprisoned without trial in forced-labor camps by the new Communist regime. Told as a series of flashbacks, with dialogue in Czech and English, this drama indulges in a few war-movie clichés but is still an engaging account of a little-told tale. A romantic subplot adds spice.

Dark City (1950) debuts Charlton Heston in his first starring role, and he aces the assignment. Although Heston usually plays good guys (even Moses!), in this excellent film noir he's a small-time gambler who lures an out-of-town businessman into a sucker's poker game. He's also ice-cold to an adoring nightclub singer (sexy Lizabeth Scott). Two of his partners (Jack Webb and Ed Begley) are sleazebags, and a suspicious cop (Dean Jagger) warns he's bound to fall. As all these cards stack against him, he wrestles with his conscience. Films noir are often lurid morality tales dressed in dramatic lighting and flush with troubled characters. Dark City doesn't disappoint.

The Dark Corner (1946) breaks film-noir tradition in three ways: it stars Lucille Ball in an unusual dramatic role, it gives her character more gumption than the male lead, and it awards her top billing over that male co-star. Better known for her later TV comedy (I Love Lucy, etc), Ball plays a private detective's clever secretary. In most crime thrillers, the female is either a mere accessory to an alpha male or is a dangerous femme fatale. But here, the secretary aids the investigation and constantly boosts the morale of her insecure, frightened employer (played by the competent but uncharismatic Mark Stevens). Clifton Webb and William Bendix contribute good supporting performances. Film-noir fans will appreciate the moody cinematography and 1940s underworld lingo.

Dark Journey (1937) pairs Vivien Leigh (soon to be Scarlet O'Hara in Gone With the Wind) with German heartthrob Conrad Veidt in a romantic drama during World War I. Both are spies, but the plot is so convoluted that you'll be as confused as the characters who try to sort out the loyal agents from the double agents. Leigh plays a Swiss (or is she French?) dress-shop owner in Sweden who's either a German spy or a French double agent. Veidt plays a German U-boat captain posing as a disgraced deserter. The climax brings clarity, but not before some additionally confusing flash-forward and flash-back scenes. This picture was a missed opportunity.

The Dark Knight (2008) is a blockbuster-hit Batman movie by writer/director Christopher Nolan, who reinvented the Caped Crusader in his previous film, Batman Begins (2005). Although popular and critically praised, these movies are the latest additions to a growing category of cinema that I call "noninteractive videogames." Their imagery is lifted wholesale from first-person shooters — long scenes of breakneck action, violence, and destruction. Viewers don't get to control anything with a joystick, but they do get to endure brief interludes of dialogue consisting mostly of pop psychology. The only bright spot in The Dark Knight is the frightening performance of the late Heath Ledger as Batman's nemesis, the Joker. Too bad his serious effort is forever imprisoned in a movie that doesn't even take itself seriously.

Dark Passage (1947) stars Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, but you won't see his face for half the picture. No spoilers — it's a necessary gimmick. Bogart plays an escapee from San Quentin Prison who finds refuge in San Francisco with a sultry sympathizer (Bacall). He insists he was wrongly convicted of murdering his wife and vows to find the true killer. She's a wealthy amateur artist who mysteriously risks everything to help him. Knowing that Bogart and Bacall were famously married in real life only magnifies their screen magnetism. Agnes Moorehead nails her role as a busybody magpie, and the other players make the most of their parts, too. Add scenic location shots and a classy Art Deco apartment (that still exists), and you've got a tidy little thriller.

The Dark Past (1948) is a preachy but passable relic of the mid-century criminal-justice reform movement. Lee J. Cobb (cast in type as a cool-tempered police psychiatrist) is taken hostage by a fugitive convict (William Holden, cast against type as a hot-tempered bad guy). The other actors are set dressing, relegated to brief scenes that provide some action during the two-man Cobb/Holden show. Their centerpiece is an impromptu but lengthy therapy session in which the shrink tries to analyze and expel the subconscious phobia driving the fugitive to crime. Although the performances are good and the suspense is palpable, this is unmistakably a message movie — suit the treatment to the criminal, not the punishment to the crime.

Dark Shadows (2012) remakes a vampire-themed TV soap opera that became a pop-culture phenomenon in the late 1960s. Under Tim Burton's eccentric direction, this reinterpretation mashes Edward Scissorhands (1990) with Beetlejuice (1988), two of Burton's famous fantasy films. Johnny Depp reprises the role of Barnabas Collins, a vampire from 1776 who awakens in 1972. More campy than scary, the story revolves around a 200-year-old feud between Barnabas and the spurned lover whose witchcraft cursed him to undead misery. A secondary theme is the vampire's befuddlement over 1972 American culture, now far enough removed to provide equal amusement to present-day audiences. Depp's performance is suitably droll. Although this movie is a fun romp, it collapses into a silly special-effects wrestling match that is supernatural but not magical.

Dark Star (1974) grew from a student film by John Carpenter, who later directed such thrillers as Halloween (1978), Escape From New York (1981), and The Thing (1982). Dark Star is a campy low-budget flick about a spaceship that destroys planets obstructing navigation. Although the captain is dead, the crew can still consult his deep-frozen brain for advice. And sometimes the planet-blasting bombs have minds of their own. Carpenter co-wrote this hilarious screenplay with Dan O'Bannon, who also stars as an astronaut tussling with an ornery pet alien that strangely resembles a large beach ball. The climax features an amusing philosophical debate between a crewman and a stubborn bomb. O'Bannon later wrote Alien (1979).

Dark Victory (1939) stars Bette Davis in a classic weeper. She plays a frisky Long Island socialite diagnosed with Hollywood disease — you know, a rare illness that's tragically terminal but never disfiguring or even seriously debilitating. Davis considered her Oscar-nominated performance the favorite of her career. (She lost Best Actress to Vivien Leigh in Gone With the Wind.) Co-stars include George Brent as a brain surgeon, Geraldine Fitzgerald as a friend, Ronald Reagan as a drunken playboy, and Humphrey Bogart as a horse trainer. (Bogart wasn't yet a superstar and struggles to fake an Irish accent.) Part of the drama plays on obsolete medical ethics that allowed doctors to withhold their prognosis from terminal patients. It's a tearjerker; bring Kleenex.

Dark Waters (2019) is based on the true story of a 20-year legal battle against DuPont and its chemical plant near Parkersburg, West Virginia. A farmer whose cattle are dying enlists a reluctant Cincinnati attorney to sue the company, alleging that synthetic chemicals in Teflon are polluting the local rivers, creeks, and groundwater. Investigations reveal DuPont knew of the health dangers for decades. Legal battles are difficult to dramatize, but Mark Ruffalo brings passion to his role as the crusading lawyer. He gets help from Tim Robbins as his wary boss, Anne Hathaway as his worried wife, Bill Camp as the beleaguered farmer, some sharp scripting, and fast pacing by director Todd Haynes. As the plot unfolds, these waters grow ever darker, and the fight continues to this day.

Darkest Hour (2017) stars Gary Oldman in a career-topping role as Winston Churchill, the defiant prime minister of Great Britain during World War II. Oldman deftly portrays Churchill's little-known side: hesitation and self-doubt at a time of crisis. The story covers a brief but pivotal period in 1940 when Nazi Germany overwhelmed France, drove the British army into the sea at Dunkirk, and awaited what would surely be Great Britain's plea for armistice. Although history books recount Churchill's refusal to negotiate, it wasn't an easy decision, and his inner circle was divided. Lily James (Lady Rose in Downton Abbey) plays Churchill's secretary to lend a feminine touch to this male-dominated story, which is mostly historically accurate and powerfully told.

Daughter of Darkness (1990) stars Anthony Perkins and Mia Sara in an above-average made-for-TV horror thriller. Sara plays a young American teacher who travels alone to communist Romania in search of her long-lost father. Haunted by nightmares that seem to steer her quest, she meets a strange man (Perkins) and a handsome musician before discovering a nest of vampires. It's tame by today's standards but not bad. Overdone, however, is the silly ubiquity of armed soldiers and police who are irrelevant to the story — a touch of 1980s political commentary.

Daughter of Horror (1957): see Dementia (1955).

The Day After Tomorrow (2004) is a typical summer blockbuster: extravagant special effects, aggressive film editing, fanciful plot. Writer/director Roland Emmerich (Stargate, Independence Day, Godzilla, The Patriot) has created a spectacular disaster film that shows the world entering an ice age at cataclysmic speed. It happens when global warming disrupts ocean currents, triggering an environmental backlash. Emmerich lampoons conservative politicians who dismiss the threat of climate change as junk science, but his movie is a showcase for junk science. (Hint: the troposphere is the lowest and warmest layer of the Earth's atmosphere, not the highest and coldest.) But who expects a science lesson? It's fun, and the scenes of NYC flooding and freezing are remarkable.

Day of the Dead (1985) completes director George A. Romero's zombie trilogy, which began with the landmark Night of the Living Dead in 1968. Thanks to a bigger budget, it's in color with more actors on better sets, but it's still a claustrophobic drama of survivors fighting off hordes of cannibalistic zombies. This time, the survivors are a few soldiers and scientists bunkered underground in Florida. The soldiers grow uneasy and unruly while the scientists search for an elusive solution. The common theme in these gory movies is that people are their own worst enemies. Although this campy sequel supposedly finished the Dead trilogy, it inspired even more sequels and imitators.

Day Dreams (1922) stars Buster Keaton in a 19-minute silent comedy that's famous for a scene in which he's trapped inside a ferryboat's paddle wheel. Keaton designed this elaborate stunt and keeps it going with various spins, dives, somersaults, and backflips. As usual, the story is secondary to the action. To win his girlfriend's hand, he must prove to her father that he can provide for her. His amusing quest to earn a living fails to match her daydreams and her father's expectations.

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) is a classic science-fiction film that asserted a bold anti-war stance during the atomic dread of the Cold War. When the Bomb dampened the victories of World War II with the threat of a much-worse World War III, anxious people searched for a peaceful solution. In this thoughtful movie it arrives as an interplanetary peacekeeping force comprising one humanoid diplomat ("Klaatu," Michael Rennie) and one very powerful robot ("Gort"). Peace or else, Earthmen! But don't expect a War of the Worlds. When Klaatu befriends a war-widowed Earth woman (Patricia Neal) and her young son, he learns that Earth is already striving for world peace in its own imperfect way. A visit to Arlington National Cemetery is particularly poignant. Governments are skeptical, however, so the peacekeeping mission is precarious. This is the must-see movie that spawned the famous line, "Gort! Klaatu barada nickto!"

The Day the Earth Stood Still (2008) is an uninspired remake of a classic science-fiction movie from 1951. Keanu Reeves stars as Klaatu, a space alien in human form who dramatically lands on Earth and wants to speak to our leaders. Reeves stamps his tiresome stoneface technique on a role played with more empathy in 1951 by Michael Rennie. As in the original film, Klaatu is accompanied by a powerful robot ("Gort") with a low tolerance for military bravado. But the story has changed — for the worse. In the original, Klaatu makes a plea for peace and invites Earth to join an interstellar United Nations. In this remake, the aliens are a cross between the Environmental Protection Agency and the Martian invaders of War of the Worlds. And nowhere is heard the famous line, "Gort! Klaatu barada nickto!"

The Day of the Triffids (1963) is a classic sci-fi horror flick that inspired two TV mini-series and even a lyric in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). The action begins when a strange meteor shower attracts worldwide attention. Unfortunately, the view strikes every observer permanently blind. Worse yet, the meteors bring spores of alien plants that can move and kill. Although the plot may seem hokey, it's well executed and was frightening enough to instill a fear of sunflowers in me as a boy. The Rocky Horror lyric names the actress whose character fights for survival: "And I really got hot / When I saw Janette Scott / Fight a Triffid that spits poison and kills."

Day the World Ended (1955) embodies Cold War fears of an apocalyptic nuclear war that leaves only a few desperate survivors. Hollywood frequently harped on this bleak vision in the 1950s and '60s; this one is an early production by Roger Corman, more famous later for his low-budget horror flicks. Hints of his future groove appear as radiation-mutated creatures who crave raw meat. The luckier survivors find refuge in the remote home of a retired Navy captain and his daughter who prepared for the debacle. As usual in these stories, internal conflicts pose another threat. This mediocre movie somehow inspired a nearly identical 1969 remake, In the Year 2889.

The Dead (1987) was legendary director John Huston's last picture, released months after his death. Fittingly, it ends with an eloquent soliloquy on life, death, lost love, and life's regrets. Be patient, though, because this is a slow film with minimal plot. Huston's son Tony adapted the screenplay from a James Joyce short story published in 1914. The screenplay was nominated for an Academy Award — an accolade owing more to Joyce's prose than to the adaptation, which meanders on screen. Placed in 1904 Ireland, the story centers on an elegant dinner party for family and friends at the Dublin home of two spinsters. The film has great atmosphere, but the conversation is mostly dull. Then a traditional ballad mesmerizes one guest (played by Huston's daughter Angelica), resurrecting memories that lead to the somber climax. A party can be an uncomfortable reminder that merriment is fleeting.

Dead of Night (1946): see Fear in the Night.

Dead of Night (1974) a/k/a Deathdream is a spooky thriller about a U.S. Army soldier reported as killed in action during the Vietnam War. Hours after his family receives the tragic news, however, he suddenly appears at their door. They are overjoyed — at first. Soon they notice something strange about him, but his mother insists he merely needs time to readjust. Then he's suspected in the gruesome murder of a truck driver who picked up a hitchhiking soldier ... and his apparent PTSD keeps worsening. Although the mystery isn't hard to guess, this low-budget production is surprisingly good, right to the end.

Dead Poets Society (1989) showcases Robin Williams' dramatic talent. He plays a boarding-school English teacher who inspires his teenage students to love literature. Their enthusiasm isn't universally shared, however. One boy in particular has a strict father who views poetry and stage acting as frivolous. This clash of authority figures can end only in conflict or compromise. Williams was nominated for an Oscar (losing to Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot), but all the actors are superb — especially Robert Sean Leonard as the caught-between boy and Ethan Hawke as his shy roommate. Tom Schulman deservedly won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay.

Dead Reckoning (1947) stars Humphrey Bogart as a fearless World War II veteran searching for his missing army buddy, who disappears when returning home on a train. The search narrows to a gritty Southern city, a shady nightclub, and the buddy's prewar girlfriend (a potential femme fatale well played by hottie Lizabeth Scott). The bad guys include a passive-aggressive nightclub owner (Morris Carnovsky) and his brutal sidekick (a menacing Marvin Miller). The plot is easy to follow until the dramatic climax, when the twists and turns come fast. Even so, it's an excellent film noir.

Dead Ringer (1964) stars the great Bette Davis as identical twins estranged for 18 years because one of them ("Margaret") stole the man that her sister ("Edith") hoped to marry. When Margaret's husband dies, Edith attends the funeral and Margaret tries to make amends. Their toxic relationship worsens, leading to murder and much intrigue. This noirish crime thriller has more twists and turns than a mountain road but isn't confusing. Karl Malden co-stars as a police detective involved with Edith. Peter Lawford makes a late appearance to spring another surprise, and then another. The only fault is André Previn's overly dramatic score.

Dead Ringers (1988) won praise as a great horror movie despite a plodding plot that's more love-hate triangle than horror show. The highlight is Jeremy Irons' dual performances as identical twin doctors. Irons plays these look-alike characters so skillfully that they're distinctly different. One is studious and shy; the other is cunning and suave. They are Jekyll and Hyde in two brothers psychically tethered as Siamese twins. Geneviève Bujold ably plays the third corner of this dysfunctional triangle. The creepiness? The twins are maverick gynecologists. After a long, dreary romantic drama, one of them invents medical instruments resembling medieval torture tools (as the opening credits foreshadow). Women who dislike OB/GYN exams should avoid this movie.

Deadlier Than the Male (1947): see Born to Kill.

Deadline at Dawn (1946) is an odd but fascinating film noir. Who killed the floozy? Instead of calling the police, the person who discovers the body embarks on an amateur manhunt. There are reasons; it's complicated. Gradually more people join the quest. It almost becomes a madcap comedy as one bad decision leads to another, especially as they get closer to the killer. Good acting and a dramatic twist save the day. Unusual for a film noir, the central male character (Bill Williams) is a cute dunderhead who joins forces with a clever dime-a-dance girl (Susan Hayward).

Deadline-U.S.A. (1952) champions newspapers as a bulwark of American democracy but is eerily prescient — it's about the death of a newspaper. Humphrey Bogart stars as a crusading editor hoping to topple a local gangster. Unfortunately, the paper's founder is dead and his greedy heirs want to sell the sheet to a rival who plans to fold it. This fast-moving film noir realistically evokes the hectic pace and aggressive spirit of a great newspaper in an era when the ink-stained press ruled mass media. Bogart looks authentic, and the cast brims with famous supporting actors. This movie is one of the best newspaper dramas.

The Deadly Mantis (1957) typifies monster movies of the 1950s: talky, trite, dated, and fun. When a volcanic eruption frees a giant praying mantis trapped in ice for eons, authorities dismiss the early reports as fantasies or illusions. Soon it's wreaking havoc and devouring people. Like all movie monsters, it's inexplicably attracted to famous landmarks, in this case the Washington Monument. And like all 1950s monster movies, it features a token female adept at screaming, and it shows off the U.S. military's Cold War might. (Government film footage of artillery and fighter jets were a staple of this period.) The papier-mâché mantis is actually pretty good. Lame attempts at humor include girl-crazy airmen. Cringeworthy, yes, a reminder of simpler times.

Death At a Funeral (2007) is a funny British farce about a family gathered for the requiem of its patriarch. Even before they arrive at the country manor where the services will be held, things get off on the wrong foot. A hopeful fiance takes a dose of the wrong pills; his rival entertains foolish notions of reviving a dead romance; an elderly uncle in a wheelchair is a curmudgeon; a mystery guest bears bad tidings. Except for some coarse language and one overindulgence in potty humor (literally), this is a lightweight and enjoyable comedy.

Death of a Salesman (1985) faithfully adapts Arthur Miller's classic Broadway play about a traveling sales rep eroded by age, weariness, and broken dreams. This CBS production ranks among the best TV movies ever made. It was nominated for ten primetime Emmys and won three, and Miller supervised the work to keep it closer to his 1949 script than some previous adaptations. Dustin Hoffman stars as Willy Loman, the aging salesman who is faltering physically, mentally, and professionally but is in denial. Hoffman verges on overacting at times but stays true to character and commands almost every scene. Kate Reid is perfect as the devoted wife, especially when delivering a blistering monologue defending Willy's wounded dignity. John Malkovich and Stephen Lang play their aimless adult sons who worsen their father's distress over lost opportunities. Hoffman and Malkovich won Emmys for their performances, and the Art Direction won an Emmy for the stage-style open sets. This fraught drama critiques age discrimination, wealth disparity, and the business world's betrayal of employee loyalty.

Deathdream (1974): see Dead of Night.

The Debt (2011) is a well-told thriller about Israeli Mossad agents trying to snatch a Nazi war criminal in East Berlin during the Cold War. The story straddles two periods — the 1960s, when the dangerous mission takes place, and the 1990s, when a book celebrating the mission is published. But a secret hidden for 30 years suddenly becomes worth killing and dying for. Brilliantly told with flashbacks, this film stars Helen Mirren and Jessica Chastain as one of the Mossad agents during both time periods. Plot twists and gradually dissolving mysteries maintain the suspense. Unlike many modern spy thrillers, the action scenes in this one are believable. It will keep you guessing until the final credits roll.

The Deep End (2001) is an outstanding murder thriller about a harried housewife whose ill-considered decisions get her into deeper and deeper trouble. Unlike most movies in which the characters focus on nothing but the main events of the plot, this film is a more realistic view of a busy soccer mom who is frequently interrupted by her young children, a clueless father-in-law, car-pool obligations, and other distractions of everyday life. These exasperating diversions may seem oblique to the main story, but actually they help explain her manic reactions to unimagined problems. All of the acting is superb, and Tilda Swinton stands out as the bedeviled housewife.

The Deer Hunter (1978) deserves its Academy Award for Best Picture (among four others) despite controversy over its depictions of the Vietnam War, North Vietnamese soldiers, and Viet Cong guerrillas. It's also faulted for a lengthy wedding scene. Nevertheless, it's an epic story of three Pennsylvania steelworker friends who enter the U.S. Army with patriotic fervor that's severely tested in combat. Yet it's not a traditional war movie. It's about deep male friendships that leave feelings not only unspoken but disguised in profane banter and boyish horseplay. Robert De Niro, Christopher Walken, and John Savage play these rowdy buddies to perfection. (Walken won the Oscar for Supporting Actor.) Their military service changes them irrevocably. Coming only three years after the fall of Saigon in 1975 made the war a lost cause, this film was a bitter retrospective. It was also controversial for a harrowing scene in which Viet Cong use Russian Roulette to torture American POWs. Although such examples are undocumented, equally brutal torture was common. Russian Roulette symbolizes the random violence of combat. This haunting drama also won Oscars for director Michael Cimino and for Film Editing and Sound. Other nominees were De Niro (Actor), Meryl Streep (Supporting Actress), Original Screenplay, and Cinematography.

Dementia a/k/a Daughter of Horror (1955/57) is a rare example of American avant-garde filmmaking in the staid 1950s. It's a nightmarish vision of a strange young woman who interacts with unsavory characters on the dark streets of a city plagued by mysterious stabbings. Oh, and she packs a switchblade. Men are brutes in this offbeat film noir, and the women aren't much better. One ghostly scene in a cemetery recalls the fates of her lowlife parents. Amateur actress Adrienne Barrett nails her central role as the odd femme fatale. There's no dialogue; the ample substitute is an eloquent score by George Antheil, the experimental musician and engineer who helped Hedy Lamarr invent frequency-hopping radio technology during World War II. The 1957 version of this film added unnecessary narration and was ineptly renamed Daughter of Horror.

Dementia 13 (1963) was Francis Ford Coppola's directorial debut, and for that alone it's worth a look. Although it's not bad, it doesn't foreshadow his future as a great filmmaker. On release, it was a shocking horror film that graphically portrayed axe murders. Today it looks tame, of course, and the story (also by Coppola) is routine. Nevertheless, it's suspenseful and has interesting characters — chiefly an eccentric doctor played by Patrick McGee, later the brutalized writer in A Clockwork Orange (1971). The story depicts a family gathered at their Irish castle for a memorial to the matriarch's dead daughter. Greed and family secrets cause more deaths. Coppola deserves some allowances for filming this production in only nine days while working around the shooting schedule for another movie that used the same location, sets, and actors.

Demon Witch Child (1975) was Spain's response to The Exorcist (1973), an American movie that broke all records in the horror genre. Demon is a lower-budget production that fails to match the thrills and chills of its inspiration. Nevertheless, it has some campy charm. Like The Exorcist, it's about a young girl possessed by an evil spirit and a Catholic priest struggling with human frailties. Marián Salgado plays the demon girl but is no substitute for Linda Blair despite having dubbed her voice in the Spanish-language release of The Exorcist. Julián Mateos is a little better as the priest but has a smaller role. In an amusing twist on Blair's head-spinning scene in the American picture, Salgado spins her entire torso. This film is more fun than frightening.

The Departed (2006) is another urban gangster drama by Martin Scorsese, the master of this genre. It's as intense as Goodfellas (1990) and as rife with brutal characters as Gangs of New York, but the former film remains Scorsese's masterpiece. The Departed never quite delivers the same barrage of unforgettable scenes. The cast is awesome: Alec Baldwin, Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen, Mark Wahlberg, among others. Their acting is superb. But something subtle is missing, perhaps lost in translation from the original Hong Kong movie on which it's based, WuJianDao. And the conclusion is a bloodfest that makes the audience wonder why the movie invests so much time developing its characters.

Der Golem a/k/a Der Golem, Wie Er In Die Welt Kam (1920): see The Golem: How He Came Into the World.

Der Letzte Mann (1924): see The Last Laugh.

The Descendants (2011) is an emotional family drama starring George Clooney as the husband of a thrill-seeking woman who has been stricken comatose in a speedboating accident. As the "runner-up parent," he must take charge of their unruly adolescent daughters while coping with other family pressures and a momentous business deal. The mood shifts frequently from Kleenex scenes to comic relief without seeming strained or contrived, and all the performances are well done. Anticipating plot developments isn't too hard, though, especially if you have seen the trailer. What I liked about this film is that by the end, almost imperceptibly, all the major characters have grown in some way.

Desk Set (1957) reunites Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn for their eighth appearance together in a romantic comedy. Although their frequent pairings relied on their famous screen chemistry, it's missing here. Hepburn plays the super-smart supervisor of a reference department at a major TV network. Tracy plays a soft-spoken efficiency expert who's secretly planning to install a newfangled IBM computer that may threaten their jobs. Gig Young co-stars as Hepburn's fiancé, but the setup hints that Tracy is the real suitor. Despite much flirty banter — which seems unrealistic for these middle-aged singles — the romance never quite gels. And when the computer appears, it's absurdly unrealistic for 1957 technology, and the story turns silly. This movie has seen better days.

Desperate (1947) builds suspense by making you wonder how much dumber the lead character can be. He's an innocent truck driver framed for a robbery that kills a police officer. Instead of squaring himself right away, he makes one stupid decision after another and soon is fleeing from both the cops and the bad guys. His inexplicable behavior also baffles his bride. She knows nothing of his predicament, yet he repeatedly demands her trust without trusting her with the truth in return. It's maddening. But if you can overlook the Swiss-cheese plot holes, this film noir is a tight thriller. Raymond Burr (later of the Perry Mason TV series) stands out as the evil gang leader.

Despicable Me 2 (2013) is an animated feature that will entertain the kids without boring the adults. The sequel to Despicable Me (2010), it continues the story of former villain Gru (voiced by Steve Carell), now reformed and the single parent of three young adoptees. Drafted to fight a mysterious super villain, he is paired with a manic woman agent (perfectly voiced by Kristen Wiig) and assisted by his usual gang of babbling minions. It's funny and well rendered (released in both 2D and 3D). Like almost all of today's animated features, however, it's a bit too frenetic for my taste. Sometimes the artwork is so interesting that I just want to admire the view.

Destino (2003) is a surrealistic animated film that began in 1946 as an improbable collaboration between Walt Disney and Salvador Dali. It had never progressed beyond the storyboard stage until taken up again by Disney's nephew, Roy Disney, and it was executed with a combination of traditional hand-drawn animation and computer graphics by Disney's studio in Paris. Only seven minutes long, the film was released in 2003 and nominated for an Academy Award. There is no dialogue, and the story is almost plotless, but the animation is beautiful and intriguing. Destino was distributed with The Triplets of Belleville, a feature-length animated film from France.

Detour (1945) packs a film-noir masterpiece into an efficient 68 minutes. Tom Neal stars as a hitchhiker who catches a ride to hell. It starts uneventfully until an unexpected event turns his life upside-down. Desperate to avoid police trouble, he starts making decisions that mire him even deeper into trouble. Then femme fatale Ann Savage appears and makes things even worse. Not a scene is wasted in this tale of woe. Far from being depressing, however, this must-see classic can seem darkly amusing as we second-guess the characters' choices and feel wise for not hitching a ride down the same bleak road.

Devil at the Crossroads (2019) honors Robert Johnson, a 1930s blues guitarist who has influenced generations of blues and rock 'n' roll musicians. This 48-minute documentary uncovers more details about his obscure background and brief life, including interviews with his grandson and a former girlfriend. Of course, it also retells the legend of Johnson's midnight meeting with the devil at a rural Mississippi crossroads to trade his soul for guitar skills. Other interviews include Keith Richards, Taj Mahal, Bonnie Raitt, Keb' Mo', and Terry Harmonica Bean. It's a good introduction to a seminal blues master.

Devil Doll (1964) bears no relation to The Devil-Doll (1936) and isn't nearly as much campy fun. It's a conventional thriller about a British vaudeville hypnotist and ventriloquist whose dummy doll has unusual qualities, including the ability to walk. For that reason, his master locks him in a cage when not performing. Bryant Haliday dominates the screen as the mesmerist with the hypnotic stare. The beautiful Yvonne Romain plays a wealthy heiress who becomes the target of his seductive powers. This picture churns slowly toward its revealing climax, which is barely worth the wait.

The Devil-Doll (1936) is a wonderfully eccentric mix of 1930s-style horror, science fiction, crime drama, and special effects. Credit this unlikely blend to Tod Browning, who also directed Dracula (1931) and Freaks (1932), and a screenplay cowritten by Erich von Stroheim, the notorious German silent-filmmaker. Now add the imperious acting of Lionel Barrymore — who appears mostly in drag! — and an over-the-top performance by Rafaela Ottiano, who evokes Elsa Lanchester's Bride of Frankenstein and Margaret Hamilton's Wicked Witch of the West, even though the latter role was three years in the future when this film was made. The story revolves around Barrymore's character, a banker who escapes prison to seek revenge against the business partners who framed him. He joins forces with a mad scientist and his freakish wife (Ottiano), who can shrink animals and humans to doll size. The shrinkage is supposed to save humanity from starvation by stretching food supplies, but the little people also make stealthy assassins. And just when you think this movie has reached its explosive climax, it continues to an unexpected conclusion.

The Devil Wears Prada (2006) is a smartly written comedy about a young journalism graduate (played with aplomb by Anne Hathaway) who lands her first job as an editorial assistant to a fashion-magazine editor who's the boss from hell (expertly played, as always, by Meryl Streep). Plunged into the snobby, back-biting world of high fashion, the bright-eyed youngster soon finds her life upended. Her boss is impossible to please. Her colleagues cut her down at every opportunity. Her raggedy boyfriend offers little sympathy. Driven to tears, she redoubles her efforts and relents to a fashion makeover by the magazine's art director (Stanley Tucci at his flaming best). Then her turnaround causes new trouble in her personal life. Women bond with this movie, but it's not just a chick flick. Hasn't everyone had a job like this?

The Devil's Rain (1975) wastes a great cast on a dull devil-worship horror thriller. Familiar stars include William Shatner, Ida Lupino, Ernest Borgnine, Eddie Albert, Keenan Wynn, Tom Skerritt, and John Travolta. It's worth watching only for the climax, which has gruesomely good special effects and startling pyrotechnics.

Dial M for Murder (1954) is a talky chamber piece that director Alfred Hitchcock and writer Frederick Knott adapted from Knott's stage play. It's an odd "thriller" that has little mystery. From the start, we know who's planning the murder, his motivation, his accomplice, and the intended victim. The only drama is whether the plot succeeds and how the guilty will be caught. Ray Milland plays the husband plotting to kill his wife, the beautiful Grace Kelly. It boggles the mind that anyone would be unhappy with Kelly, but he's got his reasons. The stiff British dialogue comes thick and fast, making the story hard to follow. In particular, the characters' confusion over multiple latch keys (English lingo for front-door keys) is confusing for us, too. This picture isn't one of Hitchcock's best.

The Diary of Anne Frank (1959) would be powerful even if it weren't true. It draws heavily from the adolescent but presciently mature writings of a teenage girl hiding with her parents, sister, and four other Jews in the cramped attic of a small Amsterdam workshop. Outside, World War II rages, and Nazi soldiers are arresting millions of victims for the Holocaust. Anne's detailed record of more than two years in hiding survived her and became the world's most famous diary. Millie Perkins, as Anne, dominates this appropriately claustrophobic drama. The entire cast is outstanding, including three actors from the Broadway play on which the film is based. It was nominated for eight Oscars, including Best Picture, Director (George Stevens), Actor, Supporting Actress, Cinematography, Art Direction, Costume Design, and Score. Shelley Winters won Supporting Actress, and two more Oscars went to the art directors and cinematographer. This picture is notable for respecting the source material (unlike most Hollywood productions) and for successfully betting on Perkins, an untrained newcomer. It's an indispensable WWII film and history lesson.

Die Another Day (2002) is a typical James Bond romp with eccentric villains, unbelievable spy toys, sexy women, fast cars, and jackhammer pacing. Halle Berry is the new "Bond woman," and Pierce Brosnan continues his successful rule as the latest incarnation of Agent 007. The storyline involves African conflict diamonds and North Korean bad guys, but that's not important. Ever since the Bond movies became self-parodies in the post-Sean Connery era, the plots have been secondary to the action. As an amusement-park ride, this one is as good as any.

Dinner for One (1963) is an 18-minute film of a British comedy sketch that inexplicably has become a New Year's Eve tradition on German TV since 1972. It features only two characters — an elderly woman and her elderly butler — who host a dinner every year for four of her closest male friends. Except they're dead, so their presence is honorary. The butler sets the table for them anyway and drinks their toasts, gradually becoming more inebriated. Oddly, this film is almost unknown in its country of origin, whereas Germans think it's perennially funny. Go figure.

Dinosaur (2000) is an odd beast — a Disney film that's too scary for small children and a bit too cartoonish for dinosaur-enthusiast adults.

The Dirty Dozen (1967) is a violent World War II drama for fans of high body counts. Lee Marvin plays a tough U.S. Army officer who recruits 12 soldiers convicted of serious crimes. Their mission: destroy a French chateau that German army officers use as a hotel and brothel. Mission survivors get pardons. In this cartoonish fiction, everyone has submachine guns that always score hits when pointed in the general direction of a target and always fire more rounds than their magazines could hold. NFL fullback Jim Brown plays a soldier who can smash through thick wooden doors and almost outrun bullets. There's more nonsense, but you get the idea. It was a hit, though.

Dirty Harry (1971) inspired four sequels starring Clint Eastwood as a maverick San Francisco homicide detective who clashes with his own superiors as often as he confronts criminals. Eastwood is appropriately stoic as Harry Callahan, a trigger-happy cop who totes a .44 Magnum revolver, which he brags is "the most powerful handgun in the world." When this film was made, the counterculture viewed police as establishment pigs. Dirty Harry twists that view to portray Callahan as an antiestablishment establishment figure who cares little for Constitutional rights. (One scene, however, misconstrues evidentiary rules to justify releasing a murderer.) This famous crime thriller evokes brutal westerns and film-noir classics to exploit the lust for no-nonsense law enforcement.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988) stars Michael Caine and Steve Martin in a hilarious comedy about two rival con men who fleece women on the French Riviera. It's a remake of Bedtime Story (1964), which starred David Niven and Marlon Brando. The new casting is better for the material and especially for Martin's slapstick role. It showcases his improvisational skills and uncanny ability to parody Caine's proper British manners. Another major character is their main target, an American woman played by the late Glenne Headly. Her pitch-perfect performance adds much to the movie, which has many entertaining twists and turns. This 1988 comedy holds up well and never resorts to the crude gross-out humor that has become popular in the years since.

Dishonored Lady (1947) can't label the main character a slut, because the Hays Production Code that ruled Hollywood in those days forbade such blunt language. Nevertheless, that's the clear implication. The beautiful Hedy Lamarr plays this bold woman, a flashy art director at a fashion magazine. When dissatisfaction with her promiscuous lifestyle drives her to a psychiatrist, she tries to change. New love offers redemption — until a crime interferes. Although this noirish drama shows the double standard imposed on strong women in the 1940s, the message was probably unintended; it's clearer in retrospect. This picture is one of Lamarr's best. Watch for Margaret Hamilton (the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz) and Natalie Schafer (Mrs. Howell in Gilligan's Island) in effective bit parts.

District 9 (2009) is a wrenching science-fiction film with strong social overtones. Filmed in quasi-documentary style, it begins after a huge spaceship appears over Johannesburg, South Africa. Inside are thousands of half-starved intelligent aliens who walk upright like humans but resemble reptilian lobsters. Their mission is unclear, so they are removed and segregated in a refugee camp. Twenty years later, their population is rapidly growing, and humans view the squalid camp with rising dread. A heavily armed attempt to move them to a more secure location leads to trouble. This powerful film can be interpreted as a commentary on illicit weapons trading, apartheid, illegal immigration, or even the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Though gory, it is vividly rendered and has great spirit.

Disturbia (2007) is a surprisingly good riff on Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954). Updated for the Internet age, with the starring roles played by teenagers, Disturbia shifts the story of amateur surveillance and suspicion from the big city to the suburbs. A troubled high-school boy under electronic house arrest spies on his neighbors for amusement and gradually comes to believe that the man next door is a serial killer. Is the boy right, or merely paranoid? This version isn't as classy as Hitchcock's classic and drops the interesting little subplots, but it's still a masterful thriller.

Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (2002) is a real emotional roller-coaster, careening from outrageous humor to tearful drama — often in the same scene. Sandra Bullock is a young playwright who spills the story of her unsettling childhood to Time magazine, sparking a rift with her mother, played by Ellen Burstyn in the present and Ashley Judd as a depressed young woman. Her mother's lifelong friends try to rescue the relationship. There's some good writing and acting here, if you can overlook two annoying flaws: it overplays the joke of Southern ladies swearing like drunken sailors, and it suffers from a serious time warp. Bullock's character is a 12-year-old in the 1950s, yet is only 30ish almost 50 years later, while everyone else has aged at the normal rate. Still, women in particular seem to love this movie.

DOA (1949): see D.O.A.

Doctor Sleep (2002): see Close Your Eyes.

Doctor Strangelove (1964): see Dr. Strangelove.

Doctor Zhivago (1965) ranks among the best motion pictures ever made. Everything about this epic is superlative: the screenplay, acting, direction, cinematography, music, costuming, art direction, and set design. But it came out the same year as The Sound of Music, another blockbuster that won the Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best Director. Nevertheless, Doctor Zhivago nabbed five Oscars, including Best Supporting Actor for Tom Courtenay. Placed before, during, and after the Russian Revolution of 1917, it skillfully blends that dramatic history with a romantic quadrangle involving a sensitive Moscow doctor/poet (Omar Sharif), his devoted wife (Geraldine Chaplin), an emotionally damaged lover (Julie Christie), and Christie's secret admirer (Courtenay). Rod Steiger is characteristically great as an amoral member of the doomed upper class. Alec Guinness is deadpan menacing as a revolutionary, and Klaus Kinski makes a brief but bold appearance as a conscripted laborer. This film shows ordinary people struggling to control their lives against a tsunami of tragic historical events. One measure of cinematic greatness is the number of memorable scenes; this masterpiece has many.

Dog Day Afternoon (1975) showcases the immense talent of Al Pacino. In this drama with flecks of dark comedy, he plays an amateur bank robber who bungles the job, creating a tense hostage stand-off with the police. Things go from bad to worse as he tries to negotiate a deal while the siege becomes a news-media spectacle. Further developments reveal his bizarre motive for the heist. This exceptional film was nominated for six Oscars, including Best Picture, Director (Sidney Lumet), Actor (Pacino), and Supporting Actor (Chris Sarandon), but only Frank Pierson won for his original screenplay based on a true event. Although Pacino lost the Oscar to Jack Nicholson (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), his performance is unforgettable.

Dog Soldiers (2002) pits British soldiers on practice maneuvers against werewolves lurking in the Scottish Highlands. The men think they're on a harmless exercise but soon find themselves in a violent struggle for survival. This horror thriller is exceptionally gory and profane, and American viewers may have trouble understanding the British accents. As usual, the victims often hasten their demise by behaving stupidly. This independent film employs dim lighting and fleeting glimpses of the werewolves to artfully conceal its low budget. The acting isn't low budget, though.

Dogma (1999) proves that not everything touched by Ben Affleck and Matt Damon turns to gold. This mess of a movie is ruined by a few vile scenes and cheap philosophy, wasting what could have been an intriguing story about two fallen angels trying to get back to heaven.

Dogtown and Z-Boys (2001) is a brilliant documentary about the renaissance of skateboarding in the 1970s. The unorthodox, abrasive film editing and hard-rock soundtrack are perfect complements to the story: how a group of vagabond teenagers (the Zephyr Team) from a tough Santa Monica neighborhood (Dogtown) catapulted skateboarding from a pale imitation of surfing into a thrilling, extreme urban sport. Filmmaker Stacy Peralta combines archive film footage and photographs with amusing interviews of the skaters today.

Doing His Best (1914): see Making a Living.

A Doll's House (1973) adapts Henrik Ibsen's 1879 play about a Norwegian woman entangled in difficulties that simmer beneath a placid surface before boiling over. Some critics disparage this adaptation for adding scenes barely mentioned in the play, which is a one-room chamber piece. But the central theme remains, so these filmic departures shouldn't matter if you're unwedded to a faithful stage production. Of more concern is the uneven tone; both main characters seem bipolar. Jane Fonda as Nora is a shallow housewife in one moment and a deceptive schemer in the next. David Warner swings from overbearing husband to tender lover, sometimes in consecutive sentences. Also, time has altered perceptions of this marital drama. The final scene was shocking before the 1960s, then became a manifesto of female empowerment, and can be seen today as a breach of family duty. More than most films, this one leaves judgment to the viewer.

Donnie Darko (2001) achieved cult status in the early 2000s and foreshadowed the odd characters that young star Jake Gyllenhaal would play in later movies. Perhaps one reason for the cult following is that multiple viewings help to untangle the story. It's a confusing mix of psychodrama, cultural satire, teen angst, mental illness, and science fiction. Gyllenhaal is appropriately unsettling as a mentally disturbed high schooler who sees a strange creature resembling a monster rabbit. Is it real or a delusion? When the creature says the world will end in 28 days, normal life turns heavy. Now add a freak accident, young love, a time-travel subplot, and juvenile delinquents. If you like weird movies that challenge the audience, you'll like Donnie Darko.

Don't Blink (2015) makes little sense unless you already know more about photographer/filmmaker Robert Frank than this documentary tells you. The title is apt, because director Laura Israel presents her film in frantically quick, short sight-bites that you'll miss if you blink. Frank is most famous for The Americans (1958), a book of iconic photographs he took while traversing the U.S. on a Guggenheim Fellowship in the 1950s. As a recent Swiss immigrant, he saw America through clearer eyes than most contemporaries, and his work was enormously influential despite withering reviews. Later he became an independent filmmaker and photo-montage artist, though less successfully. Viewers of this documentary are advised to first study The Americans at a library and read some history of the Beat Generation so the barrage of photos, film clips, names, and faces that flash by will mean something. Otherwise, you'll wonder what all the fuss is about.

Don't Bother to Knock (1952) features one of Marilyn Monroe's best performances. Breaking from her previous comedy roles, America's most famous sex symbol plays an emotionally fragile woman who reluctantly agrees to babysit a young girl while the parents enjoy an award ceremony in the hotel ballroom. Monroe performs brilliantly, gradually revealing her character's physical allure, crumbling personality, pathological lying, and potential danger. Two excellent co-stars are Richard Widmark and Anne Bancroft in a broken-romance subplot that merges into the main plot. Elisha Cook Jr. is equally good as the troubled woman's uncle and the hotel's obsequious elevator operator. This well-crafted movie starts innocently but steadily builds suspense toward an unusual climax.

Don't Go to Sleep (1982) is an unimaginative horror thriller about a family haunted by a dead girl. The seed for these evil-child movies was planted by The Bad Seed (1956), fertilized by Village of the Damned (1960), and blossomed in The Exorcist (1973). By 1982, when this movie was made for family-safe network TV, the idea was already a cliché, and the script doesn't offer a new twist. However, the stars (including Dennis Weaver, Valerie Harper, and Ruth Gordon) were familiar to contemporary viewers and bring some energy to the tired plot.

Don't Look Now (1973) pairs Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie in a slow but unsettling horror film loosely based on a Daphne du Maurier short story. Its theme is premonition. Sutherland plays a restorer working on a crumbling church in Venice, Italy. Christie plays his wife, emotionally fragile after a recent tragedy. Their chance meeting with a blind woman who has "second sight" leads to danger. The exceptional cinematography exploits the disorienting claustrophobia of Venice's labyrinthine alleys and repeatedly employs the color red to signal ominous warnings. This movie is also known for a controversial sex scene that some insiders claim was unsimulated, which the actors deny. Although the plot is too subtle for some viewers, it leaves a lasting impression on others.

Don't Look Up (2021) brilliantly lampoons Trumpism, social media, entertainment media, conspiracy theories, science denialism, billionaire capitalism, and other 21st-century American foibles. When a young astronomer (Jennifer Lawrence) discovers a huge comet on a collision course with Earth, her professor (Leonardo DeCaprio) concludes it will destroy civilization and kill almost everything. But they have trouble communicating the gravity of the problem, starting with the U.S. president (Meryl Streep) — a ditzy narcissistic Trump type who won't take the threat seriously. Then she exploits it for political gain and later for financial gain before starting a red-hat "Don't Look Up" movement to deny the comet's existence. Parallels with climate-change and pandemic denialism are obvious. It's wickedly funny, and it wickedly hurts. Four Oscar nominations include Best Picture and Original Screenplay. Be sure to keep watching through the final credits — all the credits.

Doomsday Machine (1972) bears watching only if you can bear it. This awful production was typical science-fiction fare until the first Star Wars movie in 1977 upped the ante forever. The premise is illogical (Why does Chairman Mao want to blow up Earth?), the plot is absurd (How can a small expedition to Venus preserve civilization?), the script is turgid (Why so much pointless NASA blather?), the acting is trite (Would highly trained astronauts behave like dolts?), and the special effects are amateurish (Why is the spaceship represented by at least three completely different models?). Thankfully, this mess is a relic of a bygone age.

Double Indemnity (1944) adorns Barbara Stanwyck in a trashy blonde wig to enhance her role as a femme fatale. Although it's overkill for an actress of her talent, it thickens the film-noir atmosphere to this cold-blooded crime thriller. Stanwyck plays a dissatisfied wife who wants to buy accident insurance on her hostile husband. Fred MacMurray is equally convincing as the insurance salesman instantly attracted to the flirty blonde. Together they hatch a greedy murder plot. Edward G. Robinson co-stars as an insurance adjuster skilled at exposing fraudulent claims. It's a volatile formula for intrigue and suspense. The great Billy Wilder directed and co-wrote this picture with crime novelist Raymond Chandler. Like most films noir, the dialogue is fast and snappy. Unlike some, the plot is easy to follow.

Double Jeopardy (1999) doesn't suck, like remakes of good old movies usually do. Tommy Lee Jones and Ashley Judd bring the 1955 original up to date.

Doubt (2008) is a rare pleasure — a true actor's movie. No special effects, action scenes, violence, or choppy editing are allowed to interfere with the uniformly outstanding performances of the players. The camera lingers on their faces, often in taut close-ups, and sometimes in dramatic scenes lasting several minutes. And the players are equal to this scrutiny. Meryl Streep stars as a Catholic nun who is the principal of a parish school, ruling with an iron hand. Philip Seymour Hoffman co-stars as a priest whom she suspects of having an improper relationship with a young altar boy. Both performances are superlative, and Amy Adams matches their skill in her role as a younger nun caught between these two powerful figures. Viola Davis has a brief but stunning part as the boy's world-weary mother. Director John Patrick Shanley also wrote the screenplay and stage play on which this movie is based, avoiding the ruin that usually befalls good dramas when translated into film by ham-handed Hollywood directors.

Down With Love (2003) is the kind of smart and funny movie that Hollywood rarely makes these days. Set in Manhattan in 1962, it's a clever parody of the madcap romantic comedies of that era, starting with the supergraphic opening credits and carried through the dialogue, costumes, art direction, and music. Renee Zellweger plays the Doris Day-like lead role of a pixie-blonde librarian from Maine who writes a sex-and-love advice book for women. When it unexpectedly becomes a bestseller and she achieves celebrity status, a man-about-town bachelor who writes for a men's magazine (Ewan McGregor) tries to slyly seduce her. You don't have to be a film buff to dig the wit of this meticulously crafted satire.

Downfall (Der Untergang, in German with English subtitles, 2004) is a stunning and historically accurate drama about Adolf Hitler's last days in his Berlin bunker near the end of World War II. It's by far the best German film about Hitler since the seven-hour "Our Hitler" (Hitler: ein Film aus Deutschland, 1978), an experimental work best appreciated by film buffs. Downfall is a more conventional historical drama, though its attention to detail is refreshingly unconventional. Told mainly through the eyes of Hitler's personal secretary, Traudl Junge, it portrays both the personal side of Hitler and the better-known image of a ruthless dictator lost in his hate and delusion. The acting is universally superb, the drama taut, and the cinematography succeeds in capturing the claustrophobia of the Fuhrer bunker deep under embattled Berlin. That we know how the drama ends only strengthens the foreboding that Hitler and his entourage are living in their tomb.

Downton Abbey (2019) is a feature-length sequel to the popular but discontinued PBS series about an English estate family in the early 1900s. Like the series, it's a high-class big-budget soap opera that finds drama "upstairs" (among the estate's owners) and "downstairs" (among the servants). Unlike the series, the movie compresses several story arcs into two hours instead of dragging them out for months. This drama is placed in 1927 and revolves around a royal visit to the estate by King George V and Queen Mary. The personal stories pick up where the TV shows left off, and the final act leaves only one thread hanging. Overall, the movie meets expectations, so longtime fans should be pleased. Those unfamiliar with the series will be perplexed.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920) departs in several ways from Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 novel but is a classic of silent cinema. John Barrymore stars as the saintly doctor who concocts a potion that splits his personality into the evil Mr. Hyde. Vigorous acting, creative makeup, and early special effects show the gruesome transformation. Departures include new characters — such as Millicent Carewe, Jekyll's love interest — and a different ending. The story doesn't suffer from these changes. Despite more than a dozen remakes and a few silent predecessors, this version remains memorable for Barrymore's performance and its gloomy Victorian atmosphere.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) remakes the 1920 silent film as a talkie and keeps the same new characters that don't appear in Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 novel. John Barrymore declined to revisit his famous 1920 performance as the doctor who concocts a potion that splits his good and evil personalities. Fredric March accepted instead and won Best Actor — the first Oscar for a horror thriller. His gruesome transformations are impressive, thanks to colored lights and filters that gradually reveal his Mr. Hyde makeup on b&w film. Because this picture precedes the Hays Code, it flashes more flesh and violence than the 1920 film and some later remakes. It was also nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay and Cinematography; the camera work is remarkably fluid for 1931.

Dr. Phibes Rises Again (1972) is the disappointing sequel to The Abomidable Dr. Phibes (1971). Although it has some of the same actors (including Vincent Price as the title character) and the same marvelous production design (by Brian Eatwell), it's less creative and often disjointed. After reviving from suspended animation, Dr. Phibes searches for an underground river that supposedly gave the ancient Egyptian pharaohs eternal life. He wants the magic waters not for himself, but for his deceased wife. A new rival seeks the same goal. Despite some innovative murders along the way, this campy thriller is lifeless.

Dr. Seuss' The Lorax (2012) brings computer animation to a 1971 book written by the famous author of The Cat In the Hat. Published a year after the first Earth Day launched the modern environmental movement, the book is about a world that chops down all its trees to make a silly consumer product. Years later, a boy tries to find a surviving tree. The film adaptation (released in both 2D and 3D) has the same environmental zeal, adding musical numbers and voices by Danny DeVito, Zac Efron, Taylor Swift, and Betty White. By preaching against clear cutting, blind consumerism, and corporate greed, it has won the embrace of tree-huggers and the ire of conservatives. Putting politics aside, however, it presents a contradiction: Who wouldn't want to live in the ersatz but wonderful city portrayed in this movie?

Dr. Strangelove a/k/a Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964) is a brilliant dark comedy that exploits Cold War fears of a nuclear holocaust. Famed director Stanley Kubrick co-wrote the screenplay and cast Peter Sellers in three roles: the U.S. president, a British RAF officer, and an ex-Nazi scientist. Sellers is outstanding in all three but is nearly overshadowed by equally great performances from George C. Scott as the chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Slim Pickens as a USAF B-52 pilot, and Sterling Hayden as a USAF general who goes wonky. Although the drama centers on Hayden's character trying to start a nuclear war, it's merely a stage for dark satire on Cold War strategy and doomsday weaponry. Some dialogue may puzzle young viewers unschooled in 1960s language. Nevertheless, this classic is an excellent film and a time capsule of a nervous era.

Dracula (1931) launched Bela Lugosi to everlasting fame and has inspired an endless number of sequels, imitations, spinoffs, and parodies. Based loosely on Bram Stoker's 1897 novel, it stars Lugosi as the undead vampire who can seduce victims with his hypnotic stare. Victims are usually beautiful young women, and the sexual overtones are obvious, even in this early version. It departs from the famous silent-film adaptation, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922), by depicting Dracula as a suave aristocrat who mingles in high society, not as a ratlike creature who could barely pass as human. Lugosi's Hungarian accent was a plus in this role and became an iconic part of his characterization, along with his black cape and creepy demeanor. Although the production may seem dated now, it's an all-time classic and a must-see for horror fans.

Dracula a/k/a Bram Stoker's Dracula a/k/a Dan Curtis' Dracula (1974) is known by three titles due to confusion with the 1931 classic Dracula and Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 remake, Bram Stoker's Dracula. Dan Curtis directed this 1974 version for British TV. It's noted for starring Hollywood heavy Jack Palance as Count Dracula — arguably the best since Bela Lugosi played the role in 1931. It begins much like Bram Stoker's 1897 novel before taking the usual detours. Nigel Davenport ably plays Van Helsing, the vampire hunter, but Palance lifts this thriller above average.

Dreamboat (1952) finds light comedy in a dilemma that likely wouldn't matter today. Clifton Webb is perfectly cast as Thornton Sayre, a stiff college professor whose secret past as "Bruce Blair" in 1920s silent films is revealed when his old melodramas appear on broadcast TV. His students laugh at him and the college trustees want to fire him. Nowadays, we'd admire his history, but the professor tries to preserve his injured dignity by stopping the film revival. Ginger Rogers ably plays his former on-screen flame who wants to resurrect their dormant careers. Although this movie isn't hilarious enough to be a screwball comedy, it's amusing. One highlight is a bar brawl in which the prof is inspired by his impossibly heroic screen persona. One lowlight is a needless subplot involving Anne Francis as his bookish daughter and Jeffrey Hunter as her admirer. At a time when Hollywood felt threatened by the new technology of television, this movie broadly mocks the medium as vacuously commercial, even though most people didn't yet own a TV.

Dreamgirls (2006) is an overlong adaptation of a hit Broadway musical. It's loosely based on the Supremes and other Motown singing groups from the 1960s that became crossover pop acts. As a motion picture, Dreamgirls would work better with more spoken-word dialogue and less sung dialogue, preserving the suspension of disbelief so necessary to a successful story told in film. The live performances and recording sessions depicted in the movie would provide plenty of opportunities to stage the exquisitely produced musical numbers. Eddie Murphy is a surprise standout in a supremely talented cast that includes Jamie Foxx, Beyonce Knowles, Danny Glover, Jennifer Hudson, and Keith Robinson. Fans of Motown, R&B, and flashy dancing will love this rousing production.

Dredd (2012) takes another crack at the Judge Dredd character in the 2000 AD comic strips. The first try (Judge Dredd, 1995) starred Sylvester Stallone as the high-tech cop who serves as judge, jury, and executioner in a dystopian future. This one is more reboot than remake because it sticks closer to the original character. Karl Urban plays Dredd, who breaks in a mutant rookie (Olivia Thirlby) with mind-reading powers. Unlike Urban, Thirlby's face isn't hidden in a huge helmet, so her performance is more memorable. She also gets the best scene when she penetrates a perp's mind. The rest of this extremely violent movie is a relentless shoot-em-up.

The Dress (2020) is a 30-minute Polish short film about a dwarf hotel maid who yearns for a lover but is shunned by taller men. Her luck seems to turn when she meets a sympathetic truck driver. This hard-edged drama was nominated for an Oscar in the Live Action Short Film category and has one sexually explicit scene. Although it could portray any lonely soul, casting a physically different woman doubles the pathos.

Dressed to Kill (1946) is the last of 14 movies starring Basil Rathbone as English private detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. In this adventure, which alludes to some actual Holmes stories but is an original screenplay, three plain music boxes leave a trail of intrigue and murder. What is their significance? As a criminal gang pursues the boxes, Holmes joins forces with Scotland Yard to solve the mystery. Not for the first time in this 1939–1946 series, the gang leader is a fashionably attired femme fatale. In one interesting scene, Holmes and Watson visit a buskers' pub to seek help from a honky-tonk piano player. Although this installment was the last, it sustains the quality of its predecessors.

Dressed to Kill (1980) is an example of an unchanging artwork that's viewed differently in a changing world. When this sexy and violent crime thriller premiered, transgender people were talk-show curiosities, as one scene recalls in a clip from the real-life Phil Donahue Show. Since then, they have become a hated target of conservatives. Because this movie suggests that the main suspect in a slasher murder is a male transitioning to female, it seems to support the opinion that transgender people are dangerous predators. Although writer/director Brian De Palma depicts the suspect as a troubled mental patient, the screenplay doesn't assert that gender dysphoria is inherently psychotic, much less violently so. Unfortunately, today's culture wars can radically change our impressions of a skillfully crafted picture that's a homage to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960).

Drive a Crooked Road (1954) stars Andy Rooney as an auto mechanic and amateur racer lured by a femme fatale into a criminal plot. Underrated as an adult actor, Rooney convincingly plays a character with big ambitions but low self-esteem, making him vulnerable to a suspiciously friendly beauty (a perfect Dianne Foster). Kevin McCarthy also excels as a suspiciously friendly "businessman" who promises to make big ambitions come true. The drama dives deeper into film noir toward a climax that embroils everyone. Fans of this genre shouldn't miss it.

Driving Lessons (2006) is a quirky British film about a teenage boy (played by Rupert Grint, of Harry Potter fame) who finds a part-time job as a household helper for an eccentric older lady (Julie Walters). She draws him into misadventures that break him loose from his strict religious upbringing. Although both stars do their best — Grint can do more acting with his eyes than most actors can do with their whole bodies — the screenplay can't match their efforts. One problem is that the film seems to preach that the only alternative to strict religion is irresponsibility. Another flaw is the waste of the talented Laura Linney, who is relegated to playing the cardboard character of an uptight religious mom who's really a hypocrite.

Drums Along the Mohawk (1939) distorts Revolutionary War history on the western frontier, but it's broadly representative of brutal conflicts in which separatist colonists fought Tory loyalists and their Native American allies. This frontier was upper New York state, where the British tried to invade New England from the west. Local militiamen helped Continental Army regulars defend remote forts and farms. To personalize this drama, director John Ford cast Henry Fonda and Claudette Colbert as newlyweds caught up in the fighting. Edna Mae Oliver was nominated Best Supporting Actress for her comic role as a cantankerous widow. Although this picture is idealized, some scenes are generally realistic.

The Drums of Jeopardy (1931) remakes a 1923 silent film. It's a crime thriller in which an eccentric doctor blames his daughter's suicidal death on a Russian prince recently deposed by the Bolsheviks. Problem is, he doesn't know which prince in the royal family is the true culprit. Solution? Kill 'em all! The best part of this unremarkable picture is a cranky auntie with an amusingly sharp tongue. And in an odd coincidence, the doctor character's name is Boris Karlov. British actor Boris Karloff played the monster in Frankenstein, released the same year.

Duel (1971) ranks as one of the best movies ever made for broadcast television — so good that it was later lengthened for theatrical release. Now regarded as an influential classic, it was director Steven Spielberg's first feature, not counting a feature-length episode ("L.A. 2017") of the TV series The Name of the Game. Noted writer Richard Matheson adapted the screenplay from his own story about a homicidal big-rig trucker who harasses a businessman on a desert highway. Dennis Weaver nails the innocent-victim role. Hollywood stunt driver Carey Loftin expertly drives the killer truck but is barely seen. Outstanding mobile camera work accelerates the suspense, which races toward a brilliantly filmed ending. It's really a monster movie, but the monster is a truck.

Dunkirk (2017) dramatizes Operation Dynamo, which rescued more than 400,000 British and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk, France, in World War II. Surrounded by Germans, harassed by bombers, the Allied troops were trapped against the English Channel. To evacuate them, the British desperately mobilized hundreds of fishing boats and pleasure craft. Study this history before seeing the movie, because writer/director Christopher Nolan offers no help. Unsatisfied with history's gift of a strong story, he brings confusion to the screen with his scrambled editing and deliberate discontinuity. Is it day or night? Is it today or tomorrow? Is it England or France? Nolan undermines his fine actors and special-effects wizards. With more respect for the story, this could have been a great film.

Earth vs. the Spider a/k/a The Spider (1958) is a routine 1950s monster movie. True to template, clueless teenagers discover a giant spider inhabiting a cavern outside their small town. No one except their science teacher takes them seriously until the sheriff leads a posse to check their story. Then the teens do more stupid things, and the adults aren't much smarter. (Why does no one bring a flashlight into the cave?) An early scene in school obviously reveals the method by which they will kill the creature. This low-budget flick never crawls above average.

East of Eden (1955) is one of only three films starring James Dean, and it's a must-see classic. In this modernized Cain and Abel tale adapted from the John Steinbeck novel, Dean stars as Cal, the wayward son of a rigid father (Raymond Massey) who owns a large farm in California. Richard Davalos plays Aron, the good son. In different ways, they compete for father's approval. Complications include their missing mother, a neighborhood girl (Julie Harris) in love with Cal, the father's ambition to expand the market for his lettuce, and the economic disruption of World War I. The Cain and Abel allegory twists around to find good in evil and evil in good. All of the acting is superb, and Jo Van Fleet won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress as a whorehouse madam. But Dean's posthumous Best Actor nomination lost to Marlon Brando for On the Waterfront. (Dean was killed in an auto accident five months after East of Eden was released.) Most actors are proud to perform one memorable scene in a movie; Dean delivers several in this one. Although we'll never know if his manneristic style would have survived a longer career, this performance cements him forever as one of Hollywood's greatest talents, and East of Eden is one of the greatest films.

East of Shanghai (1931): see Rich and Strange.

Easy Rider (1969) is easily the best of the 1960s biker movies and is a classic time capsule of 1960s counterculture. It bridges two subcultures of that era: outlaw motorcyclists who reveled in cynicism, and peacenik hippies who tried to embody their idealism. Both groups were social dropouts who rejected mainstream morals, but they rebelled in different ways. Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper star as bikers hoping to score big bucks by smuggling cocaine. On their road trip, they encounter friendly farmers, unfriendly cops, a hippie commune, a drunken small-town lawyer (Jack Nicholson), hostile rednecks, and whorehouse hookers. Fonda and Hopper wrote the Oscar-nominated screenplay with journalist Terry Southern, and Hopper directed. Nicholson was nominated for Best Supporting Actor and became a major star. Famous scenes include smoking marijuana around a campfire, a sojourn to a sadly realistic commune, and an LSD trip portrayed with psychedelic cinematography. The soundtrack features contemporary songs by Jimi Hendrix, the Byrds, the Band, Steppenwolf, and Bob Dylan. This zeitgeist film is a must-see.

Echo in the Canyon (2019) is a pleasant documentary about the popular-music culture that thrived in the Laurel Canyon area of Los Angeles during the mid-1960s. The highlights are recent interviews with such luminaries as Jackson Browne, David Crosby, Roger McGuinn, Graham Nash, Tom Petty, Michelle Phillips, Ringo Starr, and Stephen Stills. But much of the film is actually about Jakob Dylan and several friends (including Fiona Apple, Beck, Cat Power, and Norah Jones) recording and performing 1960s-era songs by the Byrds, Buffalo Springfield, the Beach Boys, the Mamas and the Papas, and other bands connected with Laurel Canyon. Although their renditions are faithful, they rarely improve on the originals. Nevertheless, it's an appreciated attempt to expand the film's audience beyond nostalgic Baby Boomers, and Dylan's interviews elicit some funny anecdotes about wild parties and musical influences.

Edge of Doom (1950) thrives on Farley Granger's energetic performance as an industrious young man who can't afford the medical care his elderly mother badly needs. In the days before Medicare and Medicaid, scarce charity was the only hope for the working poor. But this drama doesn't dwell on health-care inequities. It's a film-noir crime thriller in which the killer of a Catholic priest wrestles with guilt and his hate for the Church — which refused a sacred burial for his father, whose suicide violated Catholic doctrine. Dana Andrews plays a smooth-talking parish priest who tries to reform the bitter youth. The priest is the "good cop" to Robert Keith's "bad cop," a hardened detective who books suspects on a whim. Despite the sacrilegious crime, this picture tries to show that a criminal can be redeemable.

Edge of Tomorrow (2014) is the evil twin of Groundhog Day (1993). Tom Cruise plays a cowardly U.S. Army public-relations officer who pisses off a general, is busted to private, and is transferred to an infantry squad before a major battle. The enemies are invading space aliens. Through a quirk of fate, Cruise's character discovers that when he's killed in combat, he relives the same day again and again but can alter his actions to survive. In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray's character discovered the same unexplained ability and used his reincarnations to become a better person and a worthy lover. In Edge of Tomorrow, Cruise's character uses his reincarnations to become a better killer. Both films may be Buddhist allegories, but this one replaces Nirvana with Valhalla. Normally, it's unfair to judge one movie against another if their storylines are unrelated. In this case, they're so similar and so different that they're almost mirror images of parallel universes. If you see one, you must see the other. Both are good in their own ways. But Edge of Tomorrow is more unsettling as it shows a weaponized twist on the Buddhist quest for enlightenment.

Effigy: Poison and the City (German: Effigie: Das Gift und de Stadt, 2019) dramatizes the true story of Gesche Gottfried, Germany's first known woman serial killer. She murdered her parents, a brother, two husbands, a fiancé, and some friends and neighbors. This film, placed in 1828, depicts her discovery and arrest. Although its broad outlines are historically accurate, it makes some changes — for example, the investigatory law clerk is now a young woman (well played by Elisa Theimann). Director/cowriter Udo Flohr says the substitution is more dramatic and "Maybe it takes a woman to catch a woman." Suzan Anbeh plays Gesche, bringing an unsettling mix of beauty, deviousness, and craziness to the role. A subplot adds political intrigue, but the quest to find a motive for these motiveless crimes is the real mystery. Effigy is an excellent first feature for Udo Flohr that has won numerous film festival awards. [Disclosure: I played a very small part in this production and am credited as a "Directing Department's Consultant."]

Eight-Legged Freaks (2002) is a campy film that harkens back to the monster movies of the 1950s, and it never stops poking fun at itself. Like all classic horror flicks, it builds slowly, postponing a close look at the monsters. Then it explodes like a firecracker. This time, a small desert town is invaded by spiders made giant by spilled toxic waste. While the bugs run amok, a gutsy woman sheriff (one of the few nods to modern times) and an intrepid mine owner fight to save the town. Thankfully, Eight-Legged Freaks avoids the gore of modern horror films and limits most of the graphic bleeding to the spiders.

Eight Men Out (1988) dramatizes the "Black Sox" scandal in which gamblers bribed some Chicago White Sox players to lose the 1919 World Series to the Cincinnati Reds. Although the cheating outraged the public and nearly derailed professional baseball, this movie generally sympathizes with the players — especially those who spurned the plot, but even those who didn't. Writer/director John Sayles shows that greedy owners underpaid their players and locked them into long contracts, ripening them for temptation. This retelling is mostly accurate and will entertain baseball fans, but strict defenders of the sport's integrity may find it too soft on the bribed players.

Eighth Grade (2018) realistically portrays American middle-school students in the social-media era. Elsie Fisher, herself a 13-year-old while filming this movie, is sheer perfection as an eighth-grader in her final days of middle school. It hasn't been the fabulous experience she was expecting, so she's not looking forward to more of the same in high school. Although she enjoys posting her own instructional videos on socializing, self-confidence, and other self-help topics, she lacks the qualities she promotes. That her classmates vote her the Quietest Girl of her class is another downer. ("I'm not quiet," she says; "I just don't feel like talking.") Rookie writer/director Bo Burnham adapted his YouTube comedy sketches to create this screenplay, which deftly captures tween-age awkwardness and the new pressure of maintaining a social-media persona.

El Conde (2023) imagines former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet as a 250-year-old vampire whose disgust with the 1789 French Revolution leads him to fight revolutionaries throughout time. Repeatedly faking his death to resurface under new identities, he eventually migrates to Chile and in 1973 overthrows the elected government of democratic socialist Salvadore Allende. After faking his death again in 1990, the weary vampire plans to die for real. This radical revision of vampire legend is boldly imaginative but also more "accurate" by showing how blood-suckers might behave if they truly existed. At times it's graphic and bloody, tempered somewhat with black-and-white cinematography (nominated for an Oscar). It combines fictional horror with dark political satire and factual references to Pinochet's real-life reign of torture, executions, and corruption. The Chilean cast is brilliant. Although viewers who know Chilean history will understand more of this film, others can appreciate it as a creative reinvention of the vampire genre.

Election (1999) works as a teen comedy, as a dark adult comedy, and as a political commentary. Reese Witherspoon flashes her early acting brilliance as Tracy Flick, an overachieving high-school girl hell-bent on winning the election for student government president. Her performance is satirical but realistic, stirring memories of similar go-getters we've known. Matthew Broderick skillfully plays a teacher who tries to derail her campaign, triggering a series of hilarious mishaps. Chris Klein — an actual student who passed an audition for his part — plays an injured football star who becomes Tracy's rival. Jessica Campbell plays his lesbian sister who stumbles into the drama. The Oscar-nominated original screenplay cleverly tells the story from all four of their viewpoints, essential to understanding their silly motivations. It's fiction, but it's funny because it's all too real.

The Electric House (1922) stars the great Buster Keaton in a 22-minute silent comedy with some of his cleverest prop gags. Mistaken for an electrical engineer, Keaton's character installs elaborate gadgets in a mansion. These include escalator stairs, a model railway that serves meals, an automatic ball-recovery and racking mechanism for a pool table, and a dishwasher fed by a conveyor belt. Of course, the gadgets malfunction hilariously. It's impressive that Keaton and his crew spent so much effort designing and building these Rube Goldberg props for a short film.

Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB (1967) is a 15-minute student film by George Lucas, who later won fame as the superstar director of such classics as American Graffiti (1973) and the Star Wars series. Electronic Labyrinth is a futuristic drama about a man named THX 1138 4EB who's trying to escape a vast underground city. It's atmospheric but minimalist. In 1971, Lucas remade it as a feature-length film, THX 1138. Although it flopped at first, it showed enough promise to launch one of Hollywood's most successful film careers.

The Elephant Man (1980) was nominated for an impressive eight Academy Awards but won none. Although we can speculate that Oscar voters objected to the numerous inaccuracies in a motion picture that claims to tell a true story, historical distortion is common in Hollywood. In any case, this remarkable work is best approached as fiction based loosely on truth. The real Elephant Man was Joseph Merrick, an Englishman born with extreme deformities in 1862. Despite his disabilities, he was intelligent and found acceptance in London society. In this dramatization, John Hurt laboring under heavy makeup skillfully plays Merrick. Anthony Hopkins ably plays the doctor who befriends him, and Anne Bancroft appears as a sympathetic stage actress. This feature was director David Lynch's first after Eraserhead (1977), and he transposes the unsettling atmosphere from that notorious horror film. It's great.

Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007) stars Cate Blanchett reprising her role as Queen Elizabeth I in Elizabeth: The Virgin Queen (1998). The Golden Age takes place in 1585, when the Queen is threatened by assassination plots and England is attacked by the Spanish armada. As usual, Blanchett is brilliant, alternating between moods of self-confidence and self-doubt, fear and courage, cold-hearted resolve and emotional vulnerability. She is wooed by Sir Walter Raleigh, played as a swashbuckler by Clive Owen. However, the movie goes overboard in portraying the Spanish as bad guys, dressing them in black Darth Vader costumes. Inexplicably, Spanish plotters seem to spend all their time dyeing red cloth. And the climactic battle with the armada is highly condensed. But overall, this is a good historical drama.

Elvis (2022), surprisingly, is the first theatrical biopic of Elvis Presley, the most famous entertainer on Earth. (Previous biopics were TV movies or documentaries.) Why so long after Presley died in 1977? Maybe it was too hard to find an actor who could measure up to the role, or maybe the prickly Presley estate was a legal obstacle. In any case, this picture is suprisingly good, despite some inaccuracies. In another surprise, it focuses on Presley's relationship with his manager, Colonel Tom Parker. It implies that Presley might have flopped without Parker's relentless promotion; they were a mutually dependent team. But the film also shows that Parker financially abused his star. In one dramatic scene, Presley loudly fires Parker on stage during a Las Vegas performance — an embarrassing spectacle that never happened. Austin Butler was nominated for an Oscar as Elvis, and even sings some songs himself. In an interesting twist, the filmmakers don't show Presley's physical decline over time; Butler always appears as the young Elvis. By contrast, Tom Hanks as Parker does age as the years pass. The old Elvis appears only near the end in archival film of a late-life concert. In this way, the movie affirms what his fans know: Elvis is timeless.

Elvis & Priscilla: Conditional Love (2023) documents the courtship and marriage of Elvis Presley and Priscilla Beaulieu. Writer/director Finlay Bald inexplicably pads this often-told story with irrelevant film footage yet still finishes in only 50 minutes. A segment on Presley's army service in Germany, for example, includes archival film of Nazi soldiers fighting in World War II, which happened 15 years before Presley was drafted. Other clips show unrelated movie stars and even blank screens salvaged from the ends of film reels. The high points are insightful interviews with members of the "Memphis Mafia" — Presley's buddies who served as bodyguards and servants. The general opinion is that Presley loved Priscilla but wasn't a loyal husband: "She was married, but he wasn't."

Elysium (2013) is an dystopian science-fiction drama placed about 200 years in the future. Earth's wealthy have retreated to a lavish gated community in orbit, leaving the overpopulated mass of humanity to fend for itself on the polluted planet below. It's really an allegory of today's disparity between First World and Third World health care. In this future world, the rich own machines that can instantly cure any disease or repair almost any injury, whereas the Earth-bound people are lucky to get approximately the same level of care offered in the emergency rooms of today's inner-city hospitals. Matt Damon plays a sick parolee on the surface who desperately needs the cure available only in orbit. Jodie Foster plays a scheming bureaucrat who ruthlessly blocks health-care refugees and other illegal immigrants from sneaking onto the idyllic space station. The conflict quickly escalates but gets bogged down in too many gunfights and fistfights. And although this future world is plausible, the climax is not. The filmmakers prove no better at solving these problems than today's politicians.

The Emperor's Club (2002) resembles Dead Poets Society (1989) with its story of a inspiring teacher leading teenage boys toward manhood at an exclusive boarding school. But the second half of the film leaps forward 25 years to show how the boys turned out. Although this drama strives to be a lofty morality tale, the climax is unsatisfying. Ultimately, the noble teacher shirks his civic responsibility and his own sermons of courage by remaining silent in the face of corruption.

Empire of the Ants (1977) delivers almost everything we expect from a creature feature: giant creatures, sexy women, screaming women, heroic men, cowardly men, and a few surprises. Missing: military versus monsters. Joan Collins plays a bitchy real-estate agent who's pitching bleak beachfront property to freeloaders on a sales tour. The alpha male is Robert Lansing as a grizzled boat captain. The ants are encouraged by radioactive waste (of course) to develop a taste for homo sapiens. The last act springs surprises, though — pay attention to the lesson about pheromones and aphids. This ant flick isn't as classically campy as Them! (1954) nor as brilliantly original as Phase IV (1974), but it's okay.

Empire of the Sun (1987) would be much better with less of director Steven Spielberg's syrup. It's an epic production with a great cast, thousands of extras, and huge set-piece scenes filmed with Oscar-nominated cinematography. Plus, it highlights a lesser-known aspect of World War II: British and American civilians who were trapped in Shanghai during Japan's invasion of China, then confined for the war's duration in bleak internment camps. To bring human scale to this drama, the screenplay focuses on an overprivileged British schoolboy (a young and excellent Christian Bale) who finds himself adrift in the violent new order. All these elements promise a classic motion picture, and indeed it's very good. But Spielberg undermines it with too much treacle and an overwrought John Williams soundtrack, especially near the end. Although it's still worth watching, a lighter touch would have made a better movie. Nominated for six Academy Awards, it won none.

End of the World (French: La Fin du Monde, 1931) was France's first major talkie. Unfortunately, only 105 minutes remain from the original three-hour epic. The sad result is a choppy film that's often incoherent. Based on an 1894 French sci-fi novel (Omega: The Last Days of the World), it's about a famous astronomer who detects a comet on a collision course with Earth. He tries to use the impending calamity to avert a world war and unify the planet under a benevolent government, should anyone survive. He's opposed by skeptical financiers whose stocks crash after his announcement. This visionary film reflects its time, when war worries were rising again after the slaughter of World War I and the League of Nations was ailing. A modern satirical take on this theme is Don't Look Up (2021).

Ender's Game (2013) is an excellent adaptation of the 1985 science-fiction novel by Orson Scott Card. Screenwriter/director Gavin Hood (Tsotsi, 2005) and child star Asa Butterfield (Hugo, 2011) bring life to the central character, Andrew "Ender" Wiggin, a videogame prodigy recruited by the military for his special skills. Placed 40 years after Earth repels an alien invasion at great cost, the story begins with Ender's difficult path through military school en route to a counterattack on the alien's home planet. Butterfield's performance not only captures the physical and mental stresses on a child soldier but also a moral dilemma that does not trouble his pragmatic adult leaders. Co-stars Harrison Ford, Viola Davis, and Ben Kingsley add weight to the cast, and the shiny special effects fully visualize the novel, but this picture hinges on Butterfield, who doesn't disappoint. The only discordant note is the final scene, which is implausible but paves the way for future adaptations of the two sequels in Card's trilogy: Speaker for the Dead and Xenocide.

The Endless Summer (1965) instantly gained cult status for its humor and dynamic cinematography of young surfers, inspiring an endless wave of surfing documentaries. Today, writer/director Bruce Brown's narration is corny and sometimes cringeworthy, but the film still hangs ten. It follows two young men (Robert August and Michael Hynson) who search for perfect waves in Hawaii, Africa, Australia, Tahiti, and New Zealand. They make new friends and entertain locals who sometimes had never seen surfing. Even landlubbers will love this one.

The Enemy Below (1957) strives for greater realism than most war movies by showing the minute details of antisubmarine operations during World War II. Although a few details are wrong, it's far above average, and the sound effects won an Oscar. Robert Mitchum plays the unflappable captain of a U.S. Navy destroyer escort in the South Atlantic. Curt Jurgens plays an experienced but war-weary U-boat captain in the German Kriegsmarine. Their lengthy duel is the guts of this drama. Although the fiery climax may seem improbable, it's based on an even more dramatic battle between the USS Buckley and the U-66 in 1944.

Enemy at the Gates (2001) is about a duel between German and Russian snipers during the Battle of Stalingrad in World War II. It's worth seeing if only because it's a rare example of an American-made war movie told from the Russian point of view. Jude Law and Ed Harris excel as the Russian and German snipers with their own scores to settle. A love-story subplot meshes well with the main plot — another rarity in war movies. Still, I'd like to see an epic motion picture about Stalingrad, which this film looks like until the story focuses on the private battle of the snipers.

Enigma (2001) is based on the true story of British codebreakers who cracked the secrets of the German "Enigma" cipher machine in World War II. But the real enigma is how a story with so much real-life drama could be turned into such a preposterous and jumbled plot. Could an unstable mathematician and a lowly clerk really steal the only Enigma machine in Allied hands from the codebreaking headquarters at Blechley Park? Could they hide such a large machine in a small roadster so that even veteran cops and intelligence agents couldn't find it? Could they appear unannounced at a top-secret military listening post and walk away with valuable documents? What's even more unbelievable is that Enigma was written by Tom Stoppard, whose outstanding credits include Shakespeare In Love (1998), Empire of the Sun (1987), and Brazil (1985). Somebody must have run this script through an Enigma machine without decoding it.

Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room (2005) documents the rapid rise and faster fall of Enron, a Houston-based energy-trading company. Once hailed as a model of future corporate America, the 29,000-employee company collapsed into bankruptcy in 2001 when journalists and whistleblowers revealed massive fraud and corruption. For years, huge losses were booked as huge profits using various accounting tricks. Some top executives escaped with fortunes while everyone else lost their jobs, pensions, and retirement accounts. Politically connected with the G.W. Bush administration, Enron lobbied for energy deregulation. When California deregulated its electricity market, the company secretly triggered blackouts to spike prices, robbing $30 billion from the state and provoking the recall of its governor. This Oscar-nominated documentary does a reasonable job of explaining Enron's complex financial machinations.

Eraserhead (1977) ranks among the creepiest motion pictures ever made. The eccentric creation of auteur writer/director David Lynch, it's best described as a horror film, but it's nothing like mainstream examples of the genre. Instead, it's a nightmarish vision of a man with a weird haircut (Jack Nance) who moves through scenes of bleak squalor, mysterious symbolism, and surreal imagery. Filmed in raw black-and-white with an undercurrent of industrial noise, it conjures an atmosphere of unsettling gloom. Don't expect a clear narrative; in fact, the dialogue is sparse and absent altogether for long stretches. Near the end of this bizarre art film, a new horror emerges. This unforgettable movie is best appreciated by fans of unconventional cinema. It would make a great trilogy with Rosemary's Baby (1968) and Alien (1979) that expectant mothers should never see.

Erin Brockovich (2000) is a well-made tale based on a true story about a single mom who becomes a crack legal assistant on the warpath against a big utility company. Poor people are getting sick from pollution, and they need help. Julia Roberts dresses like a Pretty Woman and won an Academy Award for Best Actress; thank heavens they cast Albert Finney instead of Richard Gere as her lawyer-boss. In a rare twist for a Hollywood movie, the real-life Erin Brockovich is as pretty as the actress (Roberts) who portrays her on screen.

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) is a science-fiction drama inspired by The Matrix (1999), so it's really a violent martial-arts movie behind a sci-fi facade. Too bad, because it had better potential — the casting is contrarian and the production is creative. Like The Matrix, it depicts ordinary people suddenly thrust into alternative realities. But instead of revealing that our reality is a computer simulation, Everything reveals that our reality is merely one of many parallel universes. It's less confusing if the multiverse concept is familiar, but you won't learn more. It's essentially a fight fest. Removing the gratuitous violence might chop the 140-minute running time to 70 minutes. One twist is that the superhero is a middle-aged Chinese-American laundromat owner (Michelle Yeoh). The unusual casting and interesting interludes between the tedious fight scenes were good enough to win six Oscars: Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, Actress (Yeoh), Supporting Actress (Jamie Lee Curtis), and Supporting Actor (Ke Huy Quan).

The Evil of Frankenstein (1964) stars Peter Cushing as Baron Frankenstein in a colorful British production by Hammer Films. It's one of several Frankenstein reboots that were popular in the 1960s, when the classic 1930s and '40s horror thrillers found new audiences on TV. Color film and looser censorship enabled more-vivid depictions of a mad scientist assembling a monster by scavenging body parts from fresh corpses. This one isn't gory by today's standards but surpasses the b&w movies of previous decades. The laboratory props and effects are marvelous. Due to legal restrictions, however, the monster looks different than the classic Universal Pictures character that Boris Karloff made famous.

Evolution (2001) is afflicted with moronic Hollywood toilet humor as it tries but fails to imitate Ghostbusters. It has a few laughs, though, and the special-effects wizards show off their technology by creating a veritable zoo of rapidly evolving alien creatures who arrive on a flaming meteor. David Duchovny (The X Files) is the wry community-college instructor who leads the battle against the invaders. The only thing more embarrassing to Duchovny than acting in this movie is that he didn't use a stunt double for his mooning scene.

Ex Machina (2015) is an intriguing science-fiction film about a wealthy Internet entrepreneur who's trying to invent an artificially intelligent android. To test his invention, he recruits one of his brightest young programmers to conduct a Turing test — an evaluation of artificial intelligence first proposed by Alan Turing, the British math genius who helped crack the Nazi's secret codes in World War II. From the start, this eerie film hints that neither the programmer nor the movie audience should take things at face value. And sure enough, the plot soon begins to unwind. Some twists are expected, but clever misdirection leads to surprises. This film is artistic without being arty and uses special effects without being flashy. It could almost be a prequel to the classic Bladerunner (1982).

Exodus (1960) adapts the 1958 Leon Uris novel about the migration of European Jewish refugees to Palestine after World War II and their founding of Israel. Despite its 3.5-hour length, it provides little background, so it helps to review Middle East history before watching. Otherwise, you'll be puzzled by references to the Haganah, Palmach, and Irgun — Jewish independence groups with different strategies. Paul Newman plays a no-nonsense Haganah activist who promotes migration; David Opatoshu plays his estranged uncle, an Irgun fighter who promotes violence. Eva Marie Saint seems misplaced as a neutral American widow who warms to the Jewish cause even though Zionists killed her husband. Like most big-budget Hollywood productions, this one is well made but takes liberties with historical accuracy.

The Exorcist (1973) was a huge hit that spawned many prequels, sequels, and imitators. Its influence still possess the souls of today's horror filmmakers. Despite controversies over its blasphemous symbolism, graphic imagery, fringe Catholicism, and misleading R-rating, it attracted audiences in hordes and was the first horror film nominated for Best Picture. Although it won only two Oscars (Best Sound and Adapted Screenplay), it was nominated for ten — honors usually reserved for only the best mainstream movies. William Peter Blatty adapted the screenplay from his own 1971 novel about a young girl possessed by a demon, and William Friedkin was nominated for directing. Linda Blair, only 14 at the time, was oddly nominated for Best Supporting Actress despite her central role. Ellen Burstyn, as her frightened mother, was nominated for Best Actress. Jason Miller was nominated Best Supporting Actor for playing a faith-troubled Catholic priest who fights to exorcise the demon. This masterpiece raised horror to a new level and remains one of the scariest films ever made. For horror fans, it's a must-see classic.

Exterior Night (1993) is an arty 36-minute short film that combines black-and-white scenes from classic films noir with modern actors in color. Using rear-screen projection, writer/director Mark Rappaport turns the classic films into background scenery. The new characters enact a noirish story in which a young man explores his family's past — his grandfather wrote detective novels that became B-grade movies. Although the filmmaking technique is interesting, the story is bland.

The Extraordinary Voyage (French: Le Voyage Extraordinaire, 2011) documents the difficult restoration of A Trip to the Moon (1902), a/k/a Le Voyage dans la Lune. This 16-minute French silent film by pioneering director Georges Méliès was a groundbreaking work in many respects. The original hand-colored version was thought lost forever until a reel was found in Spain in 1993. But the old film was fused to itself, and separating it risked irreparable damage. Not until 2010 was it fully restored and digitized by working piece by piece on all 13,375 frames. Missing frames were patched together from existing black-and-white prints. This excellent documentary describes not only the restoration but also Méliès' revolutionary contributions to filmmaking and special effects. Of the 520 films that he made, fewer than half survive, but A Trip to the Moon is the most famous and is the grandfather of today's science-fiction movies.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (2011) personalizes the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks by focusing on the emotional debris of one shattered family. The main character is a precocious young boy (precociously played by Thomas Horn) whose father (Tom Hanks) was killed in the World Trade Center. After finding a mysterious key in his father's closet, the boy embarks on a seemingly hopeless quest to find the secret it unlocks. Sandra Bullock plays his bereaved mother to perfection, and Max von Sydow has a strong supporting role as a mute stranger. The climax manages to be satisfying and unsatisfying at the same time, which is appropriate. Moral: some things just don't make sense.

The Eye (2008) is a modern horror movie that doesn't shock with gore — a respite from the usual blood porn. Jessica Alba plays a blind woman who regains her sight after a double-corneal transplant. Then she begins seeing apparitions blending with the real world. Are they hallucinations, premonitions, or real visitations? This question holds little suspense, because it's a horror movie, after all. But the full truth isn't revealed until an explosive climax, and it's worth the wait. The main shockers are creepy visions, mysterious events, and things that abruptly jump out of the screen.

Eye of the Devil (1966) wastes a good cast on a mediocre thriller. Deborah Kerr plays the oblivious wife of a suave Frenchman (David Niven) whose noble family has owned a splendid country estate and vineyard for centuries. Trouble starts when the grapes grow sickly — a common viticultural problem that here requires the bizarre rituals of a satanic cult. Kerr's clueless character repeatedly ignores warnings and dangers while unraveling the mystery. Supporting actors include Donald Pleasence as a spooky priest, David Hemmings as an eerie archer (before his fame in Blow-Up), and Sharon Tate as his menacing sister (her first film role, only three years before her cruel murder by Charles Manson's ghouls). This movie needed a smarter heroine.

Eye of the Needle (1981) cleverly builds a fictional spy thriller on true events in World War II. Donald Sutherland is pitch-perfect as a ruthless Nazi spy who discovers that the Allies are tricking the Germans into wrongly guessing where the 1944 D-Day assault will land. During a chase when he tries to relay the vital secret, he's marooned on a remote Scottish island inhabited by a bitterly disabled man, the man's neglected wife, their child, and a drunken lighthouse keeper. Now the war's fate hinges on these few isolated people. Kate Nelligan is brilliant as the lonely wife. Her interaction with Sutherland drives this drama, which unusually casts her in a powerful role. The tension rises to the final scene.

Eye in the Sky (2016) stars Helen Mirren and the late Alan Rickman as British military officers waging antiterrorist warfare — by remote control. Using real-time satellite links, they coordinate with drone pilots at a U.S. Air Force base in Las Vegas, intelligence officers at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., a national security adviser at the White House, a British cabinet minister visiting Singapore, and Kenyan Army special forces in Nairobi. Their joint mission to capture some high-value terrorists suddenly changes when they discover a suicide-bomber plot. Now they face a decision: Should the drone fire missiles at the terrorists despite the high probability of civilian collateral damage? This tense, well-made drama explores every aspect of this dilemma except one — it's nothing new. All weapons cause collateral damage, and all military commanders waging war from remote locations make decisions that will kill innocent people (including soldiers). Some historical context would have made this good film even better.

The Eyes of Tammy Faye (2000) is a documentary about former televangelist Tammy Faye Baker by two gay filmmakers — which might seem ridiculous. But it's surprisingly genuine, sympathetic, and funny without mocking its strange subject.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) is bizarre, twisted, and possibly brilliant if you're into Stanley Kubrick. It's also subject to multiple interpretations, so pay attention, especially during the orgy scene.

A Face In the Crowd (1957) debuts Andy Griffith in a dynamite performance that will shock viewers who know only his mild-mannered TV characters in the Andy Griffith Show and Matlock. He plays Larry "Lonesome" Rhodes, a lazy drifter in the drunk tank of a county jail who's discovered by a local radio reporter (Patricia Neal in an equally strong performance). When she airs him on her father's small radio station to spin tall tales, play guitar, and dispense hokey folk wisdom, he's an instant hit. Soon he's moving up to Memphis TV and then to a network show in New York. But his ability to sway a gullible public grows out of control and is hijacked by ambitious politicians. This remarkable film anticipates today's "Internet influencer" culture and political populism. There's a direct line from Jimmy Cagney's similar character in A Lion Is In the Streets (1953) to this 1957 production, then to Peter Finch's manic news anchor in Network (1976), and finally to Fox News, Donald Trump, and MAGA madness.

Factotum (2005) is the best movie about barflies since ... well, since Barfly (1987). It's no coincidence, because both are based on the life and writings of Beat poet and novelist Charles Bukowski. In Factotum, Matt Dillon plays the Bukowski-like character, portrayed so brilliantly in Barfly by the king of down-and-out roles, Mickey Rourke. Dillon's interpretation is surprisingly good, even when compared with Rourke's in Barfly or Dillon's Oscar-nominated performance in Crash (2004). Dillon gets strong support from the talented Lili Taylor, who plays a lush reminiscent of Faye Dunaway's character in Barfly. Both films show an alcoholic writer wallowing in self-destruction, yet never losing his dark humor. Also rewarding are the numerous small roles played by character actors who make the most of their brief screen time.

Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) is director Michael Moore's unabashed attack on President George W. Bush, his administration, and his war on Iraq. Almost all the information in this documentary is old news: the financial ties between the Bin Laden family and other Saudi Arabians with the Bush family; the Bush administration's secret movement of Bin Laden's relatives out of the U.S. in the days following the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks; the token military forces deployed against al Qaeda terrorists in Afghanistan; Iraqi civilians killed in U.S. air strikes; lies about weapons of mass destruction; abuse of Iraqi POWs; no-bid multibillion-dollar contracts awarded to VP Dick Cheney's former company; and on and on. But never has everything been assembled into one hard-hitting package for a mass audience, so lots of this information will come as a revelation to viewers. The tone swings from outrageously funny (Moore asking skeptical congressmen to enlist their sons and daughters in the army) to tragic (a Michigan mother reading the last letter from her dead son, an American soldier in Iraq who opposed the war). Fahrenheit 9/11 is undeniably powerful. But it persuaded few voters to change their minds about Bush, despite the cracking illusion that our invasion of Iraq was part of the war on terror.

Fahrenheit 11/9 (2018) is gadfly Michael Moore's partisan broadside against President Donald Trump, although he bashes former President Barack Obama and the Democrats, too. This powerful documentary starts by reviewing Trump's upset victory over Hillary Clinton, which Moore predicted. He traces Trumpism to former President Bill Clinton's compromises with Republicans and the Democrats' embrace of corporate cash. Much of the film finds a metaphor of working-class abandonment in Flint, Michigan, which is Moore's hometown. When a Republican governor replaces the mayor with an "emergency manager," the city switches water supplies, poisons the tap water with lead, and denies the problem for more than a year. Even Obama doesn't intervene. Moore also finds obvious parallels between Trump and other authoritarian strongmen, then warns that democracy is fragile and the point of no return is easy to miss. Although Moore reveals no new information, he deftly interprets the chaotic events of recent years to draw a coherent picture, and it ain't pretty.

Fail Safe (1964) is a tense drama based on Cold War fears of nuclear war. By accident, a group of USAF bombers heads toward Moscow, mistakenly believing a war has started with the Soviet Union. Both sides try to avert the attack. Peter Fonda plays the U.S. president more convincingly than an actual recent U.S. president. Co-stars include Frank Overton as a USAF general, Walter Matthau as a controversial military adviser, and Larry Hagman as the president's Russian interpreter. Released only two years after the Cuban Missile Crisis that brought the U.S. and U.S.S.R. to the brink of nuclear war, this movie reflected genuine fears of a holocaust and is an excellent time capsule. However, it premiered shortly after a movie with a similar plot: Dr. Strangelove, which is wildly satirical and a more-famous classic.

Fair Game (2010) would be a thrilling drama even if it weren't true: a U.S. president repeats a lie in his State of the Union address, spurring the nation toward an unnecessary war; a former diplomat exposes the lie in The New York Times; a top White House aide retaliates by revealing that the former diplomat's wife is a CIA agent, ruining her 18-year career. All of it actually happened in 2003. This dramatization stars Sean Penn as Joe Wilson, the former diplomat, and Naomi Watts as Valerie Plame, his wife. The long chain of events is easier to understand when compressed into a two-hour movie. More important, the film — unlike most of the news reporting — holds focus on the central issue, which was the cooked intelligence about Iraqi weapons of mass destruction, not Wilson's exposé or his wife's job.

Fallen Angel (1945) leans heavily on film-noir atmosphere but swerves a little off-course — for the better. Dana Andrews stars as a smooth-talking sharpie who can bluff a stranger into sharing a hotel room, persuade skeptics to buy tickets to a phony mesmerist show, and lure two beautiful women into engagements after only one date. Charles Bickford plays the usual hard-nosed cop who delights in aggressive policing. Linda Darnell plays a no-nonsense diner waitress and sex siren pursued by multiple men. Alice Faye plays the nice girl who's stupidly innocent. To these typical character types add the usual shadowy lighting and devious plots. But this picture departs from the film-noir canon by lowering the body count and by delaying the dirty deeds until the second half. It's a good thriller that loves painting the main character in dark colors.

Fanny: The Right to Rock (2021) documents the first female rock band to release albums on a major label. Formed in Southern California in the 1960s by two Filipino-American sisters, the musicians were first known as the Sveltes before signing with Reprise Records in 1969. As Fanny, the four-piece group released five albums, then broke up in 1975. This almost-forgotten band won praise from David Bowie, Bonnie Raitt, John Sebastian, Cherie Currie, and other contemporaries. The documentary blames their obscurity on three obstacles: sexism ("girls can't rock"), racism (their Filipino heritage), and homophobia (some were lesbians). Interviews include five surviving members: guitarist June Millington, bassist Jean Millington, drummers Brie (Brandt) Darling and Alice de Buhr, and later guitarist Patti Quatro. Filmmaker Bobbi Jo Hart makes a strong case that Fanny blazed the trail for future female rockers.

Fanny Hill a/k/a Russ Meyer's Fanny Hill (1964) loosely adapts John Cleland's infamous 1748 pornographic novel. So loosely, in fact, that only the barest plot points and a few characters remain. As reimagined by directors Albert Zugsmith and Russ Meyer (under protest), it's an inoffensive burlesque that seduces viewers with double-entendre dialogue and bawdy slapstick. Italian bombshell Leticia Román plays an orphaned young woman desperately looking for work in Olde London. Tricked into employment at a bordello, she's too innocent to perceive its actual business. Miriam Hopkins is delightful as the madam who keeps trying to initiate the oblivious virgin into the sex trade. This farce is basically a one-joke comedy that's amusing if you like broad humor.

Fantastic Machine (2023) starts obscurely as people marvel at examples of camera obscura — a natural optical phenomenon that projects images through a small opening onto a surface. As one person notes, it's the basis of all photography. Thus begins an eclectic documentary about the social effects of photography since its debut in 1839. When anthropologists photographed Papua New Guinea tribesmen for the first time, the instant prints mesmerized the subjects; one man became uncomfortably self-conscious. In our culture, self-awareness leads to elaborately staged selfies; Internet "influencers" promote themselves on YouTube and TikTok. This fascinating film avoids conclusions except to show that photographic images are a human obsession.

Far From Heaven (2002) is a film about the 1950s that wouldn't have been made in the 1950s. It peels back the glossy exterior of an upper-middle-class American family to tell a story about forbidden love — both interracial and homosexual. But it tries too hard to draw a sharp contrast between the Life Magazine image of the 1950s and actual reality. Even on the surface, the decade was never as formal or as rose-colored as this movie makes it appear. This overdrawn, cartoonish portrayal undercuts the emotional drama. Still, it's almost worth seeing just for the marvelous set design and classic cars.

The Farewell (2019) blends drama and comedy in a story about Chinese-American culture. Grandma in China is terminal, but the family doesn't want her to know, so they hastily arrange a wedding between a grandson and his girlfriend as an excuse for a family reunion and final farewell. Awkwafina delivers her second consecutive standout performance (after Crazy Rich Asians, 2018) as a granddaughter living in New York who doubts the wisdom of this well-meaning charade but travels to China anyway for the ceremony. Shuzhen Zhao is equally excellent as the oblivious grandmother masterminding the wedding plans. The conflict of first-generation immigrants torn between two cultures provides fodder for both the drama and the comedy. Asians generally agree it's more realistic than Crazy Rich Asians. (Note: English and Mandarin with English subtitles.)

A Farewell to Arms (1957) seems promising: a classic base novel by Ernest Hemingway, screenplay by Hollywood veteran Ben Hecht, lavish Technicolor production by David O. Selznick, Rock Hudson as the male lead, Jennifer Jones as the female lead, spectacular location scenery in Italy and the Alps, and an army of extras befitting an epic drama of World War I. Sadly, it fails. Middle-aged Hudson and Jones are miscast as young lovers; the drama feels strained; attempts at humor fall flat; and the Italian accents of supporting actors make some dialogue unintelligible. This 152-minute flop is one of the rare movies I couldn't finish. I switched channels to a baseball game.

Farewell, My Lovely (1975) remakes a 1944 adaptation of a 1940 Raymond Chandler crime novel. It retains the original title and is more faithful to the book. Although the 1944 version (Murder, My Sweet) is a great film-noir classic, it veers from the book's plot. Farewell, My Lovely stars film-noir vet Robert Mitchum as Philip Marlowe, a shabby private detective. Mitchum is effective despite being old for the role. The story is a convoluted mystery in which a recently paroled bank robber hires Marlowe to find his heartthrob, a skid-row nightclub singer. The body count climbs in a gritty underworld of secrets, treachery, and deceit. Superb supporting actors include Sylvia Miles as an alcoholic informant, Charlotte Rampling as a sexy trophy wife, and Kate Murtagh in a small but meaty role as a whorehouse madam. Sylvester Stallone has a small part. This picture is a fine neo-noir that would improve in black-and-white.

Fargo (1996) falsely claims to be a true story. Actually, its truth is general, not specific. Whereas movies usually portray criminals as masterminds playing chess with the police, most are stupid, impulsive people who immerse themselves in deeper and deeper trouble until caught. This brilliant film shows a routine kidnapping plot steadily unraveling toward a catastrophic climax. Frances McDormand stars as a pregnant Minnesota police chief who couldn't be more different than the usual Hollywood cop. Her businesslike homicide investigation leads her to the kidnapping scheme and a loosely organized gang of incompetent crooks. It's funny/sad fiction that's utterly believable. Every performance is excellent. McDormand won the Oscar for Best Actress and William H. Macy was nominated Best Supporting Actor for his role as a conniving car salesman. Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare are fantastic squabbling kidnappers. Joel and Ethan Coen won Oscars for Original Screenplay; Joel was also nominated for directing. In addition, the film was nominated for Best Picture, Cinematography, and Film Editing. It's a classic.

Faust (1926) a/k/a Faust—A German Folktale (Faust—Eine Deutsche Volkssage) flopped on release but now is lauded as a major example of German Expressionism in silent film. Director F.W. Murnau's last German picture before moving to Hollywood adapts the folk legend of a doctor who makes a pact with the devil. In this version, an archangel bets the devil that he can't corrupt Dr. Faust. The bet looks shaky when Faust pledges his soul to the devil in return for youth and wishes. This stylish production has impressive special effects, humorous interludes, and German actress Camilla Horn as a lovely maiden. Multiple versions exist, but all end with a judgment that seems to make the wager irrelevant. Murnau's earlier films — Nosferatu (1922) and The Last Laugh (1924) — win higher praise.

The Favourite (2018) recounts the fierce intrigue between two women seeking favor in Queen Anne's court in early 1700s England. Fragile health and mental depression make the queen (Olivia Colman) susceptible to the influence of her lady-in-waiting (Rachel Weisz) and an ambitious servant (Emma Stone). This film is a rare example of a major motion picture that revolves around strong female characters while relegating the men to supporting roles. All three actresses seize the opportunity to deliver Oscar-nominated performances. As usual, the filmmakers take unnecessary liberties with history, although the story's broad outlines are true. The only disappointment is a rather abrupt ending that seems more like a film-editing mistake than a thoughtfully scripted conclusion. But anyone who likes costume dramas should not miss this movie, which was nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture; Colman won the Best Actress award.

The FBI Story (1959) dramatizes the growth of the Federal Bureau of Investigation from a tiny, toothless agency into a large, powerful law-enforcement organization. Of course, this account is sanitized — it was produced in the rah-rah 1950s under the supervision of FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover. (He briefly appears and gives himself plenty of credit.) Even so, it's fairly realistic when covering the breadth of the bureau's crime-fighting campaigns. It also personalizes the story by starring James Stewart as a young agent who progresses with the FBI over a 35-year career. Vera Miles plays his reluctant but supportive wife. Though overlong at 2.5 hours, and baldly propagandistic, this movie shows the dedication of brave G-men.

Fear and Desire (1953) was famous director Stanley Kubrick's first feature, and he dismissed it as an amateurish failure. Nevertheless, it showed promise, and it foreshadows two of his later pictures that also portray the bleakness of war: Paths of Glory (1957) and Full Metal Jacket (1987). In Fear and Desire, four soldiers in an anonymous war survive a plane crash behind enemy lines and struggle to find friendly territory. They're distracted by a pretty young woman, an enemy headquarters, one soldier's mental breakdown, and constant bickering. Kubrick shot this low-budget production on silent film and dubbed the sound later. The dialogue veers from banal chatter to puzzling philosophy. Today, it's interesting mainly to Kubrick completists.

Fear in the Night a/k/a Dead of Night (1946) stars DeForrest Kelley in a crime thriller 20 years before his fame as Dr. Leonard "Bones" McCoy in the TV series Star Trek. Kelley delivers a routine performance as a bank teller who dreams of committing a murder — then finds clues suggesting it was real. Sick and confused, he seeks help from his brother-in-law, which leads to trouble. This low-budget quickie wrings some drama from the implausible plot but may put you to sleep.

Fearless (1993) is a sublime story of life, death, faith, tragedy, and redemption. Jeff Bridges plays an architect who survives a horrific airline crash while leading some fellow passengers to safety. Although he was previously reluctant to fly, his near-death experience suddenly makes him fearless — of anything. But it's not courage. It's a new-found belief that life and death are perhaps insignificant, if not completely meaningless. Nevertheless, he goes to extreme lengths to help a fellow survivor (Rosie Perez in a well-deserved Oscar-nominated supporting role) who is devastated by her baby's death in the crash. This film is philosophical and open to interpretation, marred only by a confusing climax that makes little sense.

Feels Good Man (2020) is a dynamite documentary that explains how Internet meme spreaders, conservative commentators, and alt-right weirdos stole and altered a cartoon character for their own purposes. California artist Matt Furie created Pepe the Frog in 2005 for his "Boy's Club" satirical comics, which received little attention. Then other people began copying the character. The initial adaptations were innocuous, so Furie didn't object. But when conservatives began using Pepe to promote anti-Semitism, racism, and other malicious propaganda, Furie engaged copyright attorneys in a belated attempt to reclaim his rights. This film shows how something as innocent as a cartoon frog can be drafted to fight in today's culture wars.

Female Jungle (1955) ruins a gritty film-noir crime thriller by solving the whodunit so clumsily that three characters spend the final minutes explaining it. And the sensational title is 1950s clickbait. The stars are Lawrence Tierney as a drunken cop, John Carradine as an enigmatic suspect, and blonde bombshell Jayne Mansfield as a blonde bombshell. Tierney and Carradine are perfunctory. Mansfield, in her film debut, is pretty good for a newbie whose day job at the time was selling popcorn at a movie theater. This low-rent production had potential but needed defter hands than first-time director Bruno VeSota.

Femme Fatale (2002) is a clever heist film in which director Brian De Palma once again returns to the creative well of Alfred Hitchcock. This time, De Palma combines elements of Rear Window, Vertigo, and Double Indemnity in a sharply cut drama about jewel thieves in Paris. The Hitchcockian references, multilayered plot, and surprise ending will thrill film buffs. The gratuitous sex and violence also make the movie trashy enough to entertain modern audiences. (Hint: watch the clock!)

Une Femme Mariée (1964): see A Married Woman.

Fences (2016) adapts August Wilson's play about a working-class family ruled by a flawed father in 1950s Pittsburgh. He's a former baseball player who failed to move from the Negro Leagues to the white-dominated Major Leagues, so now he's a garbageman. He clashes with his teenage son to whom a college recruiter is offering a chance to play football. Is the father truly worried that sports will lead to another dead end, or does he fear his son will succeed where he failed? Additional conflicts involve his wife, an older son from a previous relationship, and a brain-damaged brother. All of the leads in this dialogue-dense drama brilliantly reprise their Broadway stage roles. Acting gets no better than this. Denzel Washington, who also directed, delivers an Oscar-nominated portrayal of the father's complex personality. Viola Davis won the Academy Award for Supporting Actress as his loyal wife. The playwright was posthumously nominated for Adapted Screenplay, and the film was nominated for Best Picture. It's exceptional.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) was an instant hit and remains one of the most-loved teen comedies. It was written and directed by John Hughes (1950–2009), the master of this genre in the 1980s. Matthew Broderick stars as Ferris, a high schooler who fakes illness to skip classes and spend the day having outrageous fun with his best friend Cameron (Alan Ruck) and girlfriend Sloane (Mia Sara). They're pursued by the school's rigid dean of students (Jeffrey Jones) and eventually by Ferris's jealous sister (Jennifer Grey). All these actors, and others, are perfect. The main attraction is this movie's lighthearted innocence. But its wistful subtext also strikes a chord with teens and adults. It's a moment in time when these close friends are verging on a grown-up world that may separate them and make such a day of youthful frivolity impractical under the burdens of adult responsibilities. Broderick, as Ferris, breaks cinema's "fourth wall" to address us directly: "Life moves pretty fast; if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Field of Dreams (1989) achieved a rarity: it's a fantasy that inspired reality. Kevin Costner stars as an Iowan farmer and baseball fan who attracts ridicule when he hears a mysterious voice say, "If you build it, he will come." He interprets the vague suggestion to mean he must plow under some corn to build a regulation baseball diamond, complete with bleachers and stadium lights. Everyone thinks he's crazy. Then an apparent ghost appears: "Shoeless" Joe Jackson, a ballplayer from the 1910s who'd been dead for decades. Soon more old-time players appear, but only he and his family can see them. This lovingly crafted movie was nominated for three Academy Awards (Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Score). It became so popular that Major League Baseball was inspired to play two actual games on the field (which had been preserved as a tourist attraction) in 2021 and 2022. It's one of the greatest baseball movies.

Fiend Without a Face (1958) ends with such shocking special effects that British censors cut the goriest parts before release. Today these scenes look tame, of course, and they're not even in color. But they're impressive for a low-budget British sci-fi flick of this period. Attribute some of the shock to a routine prelude. The first hour of this 77-minute movie plods along like most 1950s thrillers. Although a few victims die, the creatures are invisible, and most scenes are talky. Not until the last act does the action shift into high gear. Creepy stop-motion animation makes the creatures visible, and they suffer gory deaths when shot. Watch it to see what was horrifying in 1958.

The Fifth Estate (2013) is a fictionalized drama that tries to tell the inside story of Wikileaks, the mysterious organization that has exposed voluminous government and corporate secrets on the Internet. Among those leaks were the Iraq War "collateral murder" video and the 250,000 U.S. diplomatic cables that led to Private Chelsea Manning's 2013 court-martial. British actor Benedict Cumberbatch plays Julian Assange, the eccentric Australian leader of Wikileaks. Spanish actor Daniel Brühl plays an early Wikileaks recruit who becomes disillusioned with Assange's behavior and unbending vision. Cumberbatch's role is the more difficult, because Assange's public persona gives us a reference point. But the screenplay — based on two exposé books — goes beyond the public image to portray the Wikileader as a rude, arrogant zealot. Assange is reportedly livid over this movie's portrait of him and his organization. The movie's worst flaw, however, is its jumbled plot, amplified by frantic film editing. It assumes the viewer is thoroughly versed in the Wikileaks controversy and international events. It's hard to follow and is unflattering to almost everyone.

Fight Club (1999) = Freedom Club. Tyler Durden = Ted Kaczynski. Operation Mayhem = the short path from personal rebellion against civilization to forcing everyone else to live without civilization. This surprisingly good but seriously misinterpreted film is what American Beauty wanted to be.

The Fighter (2010) is based on the true story of Massachusetts welterweight Micky Ward. It follows the template of boxing movies — a working-class underdog must battle adversaries both inside and outside the ring to prove his doubters wrong. Mark Wahlberg stars as Ward and clearly prepped for his role by adding muscle and learning the moves. But his measured performance is outpunched by his co-star, Christian Bale. While Wahlberg was bulking up, Bale lost 60 pounds to play Ward's crack-addict half-brother and flaky trainer. Melissa Leo adds more family drama as Ward's helicopter mom, abetted by a bevy of rowdy sisters and half-sisters. The performances are so entertaining that the boxing matches are almost a diversion. This film doesn't quite score a KO, but it's a respectable TKO.

La Figlia di Frankenstein (1971): see Lady Frankenstein.

Filibus (1915) mixes sci-fi with gender-bender comedy in a crime caper starring a female antagonist. This Italian film would be remarkable anytime but is even more amazing for an early silent feature. The title character is an elusive jewel thief who disguises herself as either a feminine baroness or a heroic count when infiltrating uppercrust society. As Filibus, "The Mysterious Sky Pirate," she dresses and behaves like an athletic man who commands a futuristic airship crewed by male inferiors. When a noted private detective hunts her, she adroitly frames him for her robberies. This historic film shows that gender fluidity in pop culture isn't new.

Film (1965) is an obscure 20-minute short scripted by playwright Samuel Beckett (Waiting for Godot). Beckett's only film is as opaque as his absurdist stage plays. Silent-film star Buster Keaton portrays an odd man who abhors being seen, even by his own parrot and goldfish. In a stark departure from Beckett's wordy plays, Film has no dialogue or music. The only sound is a woman warning "Shhh!" Like Waiting for Godot, this slightly amusing work is open to interpretation.

La Fin du Monde (1931): see End of the World.

Finding Dory (2016) is a cute sequel to Pixar Studio's Finding Nemo (2003) and has even better computer animation. It won't matter if you haven't seen or can't remember the previous film, because the plot is pretty simple: a memory-impaired fish named Dory (perfectly voiced by Ellen DeGeneres) tries to find her long-lost parents. She gets help from two clownfish (voiced by Albert Brooks and Hayden Rolence), a shape-shifting octopus (Ed O'Neill), and various other sea creatures. It's fun but repetitive and overlong for a kid's movie. Viewers young and old alike may get restless as each scene basically repeats the same theme.

Finding Forrester (2000) stars a masterful Sean Connery in a fictional tale that's reminiscent of the 1994 documentary Hoop Dreams. Connery plays a reclusive novelist, and newcomer Robert Brown excels in his role as a black urban teenager who loves writing as much as basketball. He gets critical help from Connery. F. Murray Abraham plays the villain, a private-school instructor who doubts the kid's talent.

Finding the Money (2023) tries to explain a contrarian macroeconomic view known as Modern Monetary Theory (MMT). Unfortunately, it garbles the message with choppy cuts of archival film footage and sound bites that are often inadequate, argumentative, redundant, or irrelevant. Doing justice to any economic theory is college-level stuff to begin with, so this manic style is a poor approach. After economics professor Stephanie Kelton says at the start that her MMT lectures need at least two hours to win over an audience, this 95-minute film wastes about half its time. It also leaves some key points dangling. Long after explaining that the government issues all of our money, it suddenly adds that banks create lots of it, too. Although this documentary means well, it's too scattershot to hit the target.

Finding Nemo (2003) is another success for Pixar Studios, which seems to have discovered a secret formula for making animated feature films (Toy Story, Toy Story 2, A Bug's Life, Monsters, Inc.). Actually, it's no secret: the ingredients are clever writing, state-of-the-art computer graphics, instantly likable characters, and an adventurous sense of humor. This time the story takes place in the ocean, where a nervous clown fish embarks on a perilous journey to find his lost son, Nemo. Ellen DeGeneres almost steals the show as the voice of Dory, a forgetful fish whose imitation of "whale language" is one of the funniest scenes in any movie you'll see this year.

Finding Neverland (2004) is a biopic about Sir James Matthew Barrie, the British author of Peter Pan. Johnny Depp plays Barrie in an uncharacteristically subdued manner, practically sleepwalking through a role that cries out for more life. (His Oscar nomination for Best Actor was probably a redress for so many oversights of his superlative past performances.) Kate Winslet costars as a single mom whose children inspire Barrie to write his famous play, and Julie Christie has a cameo as the starchy grandmother. The conclusion is so well-crafted it almost makes you forget the well-worn clichés and the underdeveloped subplot of Barrie's unhappy marriage. Overall: flawed, but worth seeing.

Finding Vivian Maier (2014) is an intriguing documentary about an elderly Chicago woman who died in 2009 and left behind a storage locker filled with personal effects. Among them were more than 125,000 photographic negatives, color slides, 8mm movie films, and self-recorded tapes. Vivian, it turns out, was an extraordinary amateur photographer whose work — especially her urban street photography — compares favorably with that of the best professionals of the 20th century. Yet she never published, exhibited, sold, or shared her work with anyone. She labored her whole life as a nanny, caring for the children of affluent families. And she was mysterious. She never dated or married, never discussed her own family or background, and sometimes used an alias. What were her secrets? Why did she hide her talents? John Maloof, the young man who discovered Vivian's artwork, explores her life in this startling but ultimately puzzling film.

The First Great Train Robbery (1978): see The Great Train Robbery (1978).

First Man (2018) dramatizes the authorized biography of Neil Armstrong, first man on the moon. It opens with him as an X-15 test pilot who's selected as an astronaut for Project Gemini and later for Project Apollo, the moon mission. Ryan Gosling plays Armstrong as a stoic character unfazed by danger but heartbroken by his young daughter's premature death. Claire Foy delivers an exceptionally strong performance as his worried wife. Gosling's performance is good but perhaps overplayed, although Armstrong was such a reserved public person that his private personality is hard to fathom. He clearly sensed his place in history but employed modesty and self-effacing humor to put others at ease. Despite the well-known historical record, this movie remains suspenseful and reminds us of the courage, sacrifice, and science that enabled the 1960s space program to succeed. It's also an uncomfortable reminder of a troubled time when America was nevertheless capable of great achievements.

First Reformed (2017) showcases a terrific performance by Ethan Hawk but ultimately disappoints. Hawk plays a troubled Protestant minister, an ex-military officer new to the cloth. His first assignment is to pastor a 250-year-old church that's a minor tourist attraction owned by a nearby 5,000-seat megachurch. Among his tiny congregation is a pregnant woman and her husband, a despondent environmental activist. Counseling this young couple is his first big ministerial test, and it goes awry almost immediately. This quiet but rumbling-subsurface film has great potential until the third act. Writer/director Paul Schrader (who also wrote Taxi Driver and Raging Bull among many others) wrestled with alternate endings before giving up altogether. It's a shame, because he wastes Hawk's performance and dooms what could have been a great picture.

A Fish Called Wanda (1988) ranks among the best comedies of the 1980s and holds up well today. It's hard to miss with an Oscar-nominated John Cleese screenplay and a comedy-rich cast including Cleese as an uptight English barrister, Michael Palin as a stuttering animal lover, Jamie Lee Curtis as a conniving sex babe, Tom Georgeson as a criminal mastermind, and Kevin Kline as a crazy accomplice. Cleese is the clueless defense attorney after the others execute a brilliant jewel heist spoiled by a betrayal. The real fun starts when the gang searches for the hot jewels and Curtis tries to seduce the barrister. This fast-paced plot twists and turns, demanding close attention. Charles Crichton was nominated Best Director, and Kline's manic performance won him the Supporting Actor award.

Fitzcarraldo (1982) is best known for its production difficulties. To make a movie about hauling a large river steamboat over a mountain, German director Werner Herzog actually hauled a large river steamboat over a mountain. He filmed in the Amazon for nearly a year and employed hundreds of native extras, some of whom died or were badly injured. Result: an obsession drama reminiscent of Apocalypse Now (1979), though without a war. Volatile German actor Klaus Kinski is perfect as Fitzcarraldo, a failed businessman hoping to reach a remote stretch of river lined with valuable rubber trees. Why? To earn enough money to bring European opera to his Amazonian frontier town. It's a preposterous plot loosely based on real history. Rarely has a labor of love demanded so much labor — both from the obsessed fictional characters and from the obsessed filmmakers.

Five Against the House (1955): see 5 Against the House.

Five Easy Pieces (1970) was nominated for Best Picture but today is interesting mainly as a relic of 1960s restlessness and for one famous scene. Jack Nicholson delivers his usual over-the-top performance, this time as a classically trained pianist from a cultured family who rejects his heritage for an aimless life as a laborer, partyer, and philanderer. Even so, he considers himself better than his trailer-trash friends, and his putdown of a diner waitress is classic. When his father falls ill, he returns home for the first time in years — reluctantly bringing his dim but loving girlfriend (the marvelous Karen Black, nominated for Best Supporting Actress). Although this movie wanders like Nicholson's character, it reflects the disillusion of the late 1960s, when the Vietnam War and political assassinations could make ambition seem pointless.

Flags of Our Fathers (2006) is another unfortunate example of a historical drama botched by Hollywood. In this case, director Clint Eastwood starts with a ready-made great story — the famous flag raising at the battle of Iwo Jima in 1945 — and turns it into a confused mess of flashbacks, flash-forwards, and flash-sideways. All continuity of storytelling is lost as the film jumps in a different direction with almost every successive scene. In addition, viewers unfamiliar with the details of World War II receive no explanation or historical context for one of the bloodiest battles in American history. To muddle things further, the film revolves around the controversy of the flag raising — who was actually in the picture? — without answering the question in an understandable way. Too bad, because good editing could have saved this film.

Flamingo Road (1949) stars Joan Crawford as a small-time carnival dancer who reinvents herself as a respectable politician's wife. Few actresses have played romantic leads into middle age as successfully as Crawford, and she pulls it off again in this drama. Her tough feminine character tangles with a corrupt sheriff — the always-great Sydney Greenstreet. The rest of the cast mostly orbits around them. Both nail some great lines, and the movie sparks when they're butting heads. Although the sheriff has the upper hand, Crawford's characters are rarely the victims for long.

Flash of Genius (2008) falls decidedly in the middle of the bell curve, as movies go. It's more generic than genius. Greg Kinnear stars as Bob Kearns, a mechanical engineer in Detroit who perfected the intermittent windshield wiper in the 1960s. Initially, Ford executives seemed interested in using the invention. Then they dropped Kearns like an untouchable and introduced a strikingly similar wiper design. Thus began a long emotional and legal battle that pitted a little guy against a big corporation. Kinnear is believable in the lead role, but compressing years into minutes is always difficult, and the plot is always predictable. I admired the art direction, which reproduces the interiors of middle-class homes in the 1960s and 1970s with startling realism.

Flashdance (1983) stars Jennifer Beals as a blow-torch steelworker who moonlights as a sexy nightclub dancer while yearning to be a classical ballerina. She lives in a Pittsburgh warehouse, commutes on a bicycle, and spends her nights dancing in a gritty steelworkers' bar that strangely has an extravagant Las Vegas-style stage. Then she dates an admirer who happens to be her day-job employer. Only Hollywood could dream up this improbable story and make it work. Flashdance didn't impress critics but was a huge box-office success, largely due to Beals' standout performance as a working-class underdog struggling against odds to realize her artistic potential. Nominated for four Oscars, it won Best Song ("Flashdance ... What a Feeling") despite competing against another nominated song ("Maniac") from the same movie. Suspend your disbelief and be entertained.

Flesh for Frankenstein a/k/a Andy Warhol's Frankenstein (1973) brings graphic gore and bizarre sex to the classic tale of a mad scientist who grafts parts of corpses together to make a new creature. Shun this campy horror show unless you can tolerate blood, guts, and aberrant sex. But in a certain frame of mind, it's darkly funny. Udo Kier's performance as Baron Frankenstein exults in wanton madness. Other notables are Monique van Vooren as his sex-starved sister/wife, Arno Juerging as his quirky lab assistant, and Joe Dallesandro as a horny laborer. This multinational production was filmed using a 3-D color process (Spacevision) that required polarized eyeglasses, not the usual red/blue lenses. Nowadays it's commonly screened in 2-D. Despite its better-known title, Andy Warhol contributed almost nothing to this gorefest but his famous name.

Flight From Destiny (1941) mixes comedy, drama, morality, and philosophy in a thought-provoking film that somehow works without seeming preachy or pretentious. Thomas Mitchell skillfully plays a mild-mannered philosophy professor whose incurable heart condition leaves him less than six months to live. What shall he do with his limited time? One of his intellectual friends suggests murdering a person who's unrepentingly evil but has escaped the law's grasp. Because, for a terminal patient, capital punishment is no deterrent! This theoretical scenario becomes a real possibility when a conniving art-gallery owner entraps the prof's favorite former student. But is cold-blooded murder ever justifiable, even when it's socially desirable? It's a philosophical dilemma that bedevils the learned man. This forgotten gem balances its moral weight with light comedy, and at times even pokes fun at itself.

The Flim-Flam Man (1967) pairs George C. Scott and Michael Sarrazin in a wild buddy comedy that holds up pretty well. Despite awful make-up intended to age his appearance, Scott convincingly plays Mordecai Jones, a traveling con man in the rural South whose petty tricks are good enough to fool the local yokels. Sarrazin plays Curley, an aimless army deserter who reluctantly joins forces with Jones to keep from starving. Curley questions the morality of cheating honest people of their money, but Jones says their victims are more greedy than honest and keeps proving it. Highlights include their simple schemes and a madcap car chase.

The Florida Project (2017) stars Willem Dafoe as the manager of a low-rent motel in Orlando. It caters to the poor, not to tourists, and fronts a busy boulevard lined with other cheap motels, tourist shops, casual diners, and the occasional fancy resort hotel. His character's thankless job is to maintain the property while enduring the misbehaviors of his troubled tenants and their unruly children. This fictional drama is essentially a documentary of suburban American poverty. Filmed on actual locations, it employs largely unknown actors and amateurs. Although Oscar voters nominated Dafoe for a Best Supporting Actor award, the aforementioned players deliver the best performances. In particular, Bria Vinaite is outstanding as a heavily tattooed single mom who loves her six-year-old daughter but is an unfit parent and a lowlife troublemaker. Brooklynn Prince is equally impressive as the running-wild daughter who seems destined to become as derelict as her mother. This underside of America is all too real.

Flower Drum Song (1961) relocates Oklahoma to San Francisco's Chinatown. Or so it seems, when famous songwriters Rodgers & Hammerstein apply their Oklahoma! (1955) style to a lavish production with a Chinese motif. The songs are pleasant enough but reek of traditional Broadway/Hollywood musicals, making only slight pentatonic references to traditional Chinese music. The prefeminist lyrics are a hoot, too, but are appropriate for a movie that treats single women as nothing more than wives-in-waiting. Novel for featuring the first nearly all-Asian cast in a major Hollywood motion picture, Flower Drum Song is about a Chinese immigrant (played by Miyoshi Umeki) who sneaks into San Francisco to find the man (Jack Soo) to whom she is betrothed in an arranged marriage. But alas, he's a high-living nightclub owner who covets one of his dancers (Nancy Kwan). An alternative arrangement with a college student (James Shigeta) causes complications. The song-and-dance scenes in this rom-com are the highlights, and their clumsy characterizations of Asian-American culture are even funnier today. They also grow increasingly bizarre — the last big number is virtually an LCD trip. This dated film is often cringe-worthy but not too offensive.

The Fly (1958) stirred quite a buzz on release and now is honored as a sci-fi horror classic that inspired sequels and remakes. Unlike in most such movies, the central character is a woman — even the great Vincent Price has a lesser role. Patricia Owens is pitch-perfect as the wife of a brilliant scientist whose teleportation experiments go tragically wrong. David Hedison (later Captain Crane in the 1960s TV series Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea) is competent as her husband, but his highlight is a climactic scene in which his life is threatened and he frantically pleas "Help me! Help me!" It's one of the most chilling and famous scenes in sci-fi horror.

The Fog (1980) is a horror thriller in which ghosts from a sunken clipper ship arrive in a mysterious fog to threaten a small California coastal town. One century before, the town's founding fathers lured the vessel to a fatal collision with an offshore reef. Now the ghosts seek revenge against the descendants. John Carpenter directed this low-budget fear fest, which stars his wife Adrienne Barbeau, Jamie Lee Curtis, her real-life mother Janet Leigh, and Hal Holbrook. John Houseman briefly appears to frame the story. Although relatively violent for its time, it's tame by today's standards, yet still effective. It avoids social commentary but can be interpreted as delayed punishment for the historical sins of other founding fathers.

Following (1998) was famous director Christopher Nolan's first feature film. It's a noirish drama about a poor aspiring writer who becomes the accomplice of a smooth burglar. But that's just the beginning of a complex story that twists and turns before ending in a surprising climax. Unfortunately, this movie originates Nolan's annoying habit of shuffling the scenes to tell a story out of chronological order. Usually, directors employ this technique to disguise a weak screenplay that makes the audience feel smart for having figured it out. Here, it's wasted on a good plot. Nolan's edits are so confusing that the Criterion Collection DVD includes an alternative cut in chronological order. His next film — the great Memento (2000) — is linear, but told backwards. In Dunkirk (2017), Nolan rearranged the scenes so haphazardly that it rendered a dramatic historical event almost unintelligible. Now lesser directors often imitate the technique.

Food Inc. (2008) is a well-made documentary about the U.S. food industry. In addition to revealing inside views of meat-packing plants, chicken farms, cattle feedlots, and slaughterhouses, director Robert Kenner interviews several natural-food advocates and farmers. Among them are author Eric Schlosser (Fast Food Nation), author Michael Pollan (The Omnivore's Dilemma), and Barbara Kowalcyk, whose son died of E. coli poisoning, inspiring the stalled "Kevin's Law" to grant more regulatory authority to the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA). Like similar documentaries, it argues that industrialized agriculture is unhealthy for farmers, food-processing workers, farm animals, consumers, and the environment. It also shows healthier alternatives that could be equally productive. This film was nominated for an Oscar and won an Emmy.

Foolish Wives (1922) shows what's left of a never-released eight-hour director's cut — the first million-dollar motion picture ever made. Infamous German filmmaker Erich von Stroheim wrote, directed, and starred in this silent drama, now restored to about 2.5 hours. The rest of the footage is lost. This was Stroheim's third feature and the one that marked him as a talented but eccentric artist who bullied his actors, crews, and studio bosses. Despite the drastic cutting, it's a good story about a con man (Stroheim) and two female accomplices who pose as Russian royalty to pass counterfeit money and fleece an American diplomat's wife. Stroheim is by far the strength of this film. His acting is superior, and he directed the construction of lavish sets, including a full-size replica of a Monte Carlo casino. However, the studio cut several scenes deemed too objectionable for 1920s audiences, leaving some abrupt transitions and discontinuities.

For Love of the Game (1999) masterfully juggles two sports: love and baseball. It's another home run for Kevin Costner, who has completed a trilogy of successful baseball movies that started with Bull Durham (1988) and Field of Dreams (1989). Kelly Preston co-stars as the woman who competes with baseball for the undivided attention of Costner's character, a veteran Detroit Lions pitcher. Like baseball, it's a game that can't end in a tie.

For Your Consideration (2006) is a light comedy from the ensemble of improvisational players who made A Mighty Wind (2003), Best in Show (2000), Waiting for Guttman (1996), and other intellectual satires. This time, they mock the cast of a low-budget Jewish-themed art film ("Home for Purim"). Seizing upon an obscure Internet rumor, the small-time members of this cast manage to convince themselves that Academy Award nominations are in the wing. Media hype reinforces their delusion. Soon they become jealous of each other, and everyone from the director to studio execs begins tinkering with the project. For Your Consideration isn't as hilarious as the ensemble's previous films, but it's passable, and best appreciated by fans of ethnic (Jewish) humor.

Forbidden City, U.S.A. (1989) documents America's first all-Chinese nightclub, which thrilled San Francisco audiences in the 1930s, '40s, and '50s. Filmmaker Arthur Dong interviews several former singers and dancers, including Larry Ching ("the Chinese Sinatra"), Toy Yat Mar ("the Chinese Sophie Tucker"), Dorothy Fong Toy ("the Chinese Ginger Rogers"), and Paul Wing ("the Chinese Fred Astaire"). These skilled entertainers overcame prejudice and stereotyping to present dazzling floor shows rivaling those at the best white nightclubs. This interesting 56-minute documentary unearths an almost forgotten part of the Chinese-American experience.

Forbidden Planet (1956) is a must-see science-fiction classic. Unlike nearly all other 1950s movies in this genre, it's not a low-budget farce with pathetic special effects. Loosely based on Shakespeare's "The Tempest," it stars Walter Pidgeon as a scholar marooned on a distant planet. When a rescue ship arrives, he's curiously unwelcoming and warns of danger. The rescuers persist and begin unraveling the secrets behind his unusual survival, his surprising inventiveness, and the mysterious threat. Pidgeon is perfectly passive-aggressive, and Leslie Nielsen is equally adept as the ship captain. Anne Francis is the scholar's naïvely sexy daughter. Despite some silliness and cringeworthy male seduction, this movie treats sci-fi seriously, paving the way for future works.

Foreign Correspondent (1940) premiered shortly after World War II started but before the conflict spread to the U.S. Yet it's placed shortly before September 1, 1939, when the Nazis started the war by invading Poland. The timing matters because it backdrops this drama of an American reporter covering the impending debacle. Then and now, everyone knows the war happened, but in 1940, Americans worried it would soon hit home. Today, without that suspense, this picture loses some energy. And the plot is overcomplicated, hinging on a peacemaker who knows a secret that can alter the war's course. Despite these drawbacks, it's swifter and less propagandistic than most wartime dramas, thanks to Alfred Hitchcock's skillful direction. (His better wartime film is Lifeboat.) It was nominated for five Oscars, including Best Picture, Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Art Direction, Visual Effects, and Supporting Actor (Albert Basserman, the peacemaker).

The Forgotten (2004) is a passable thriller about parents of missing children — or are they really missing? Family photos and videos suddenly seem altered, the children deleted. One mother, played with tenacity by Julianne Moore, learns from her husband and her psychologist that memories of her nine-year-old son are delusions caused by the trauma of miscarriage. Then she finds a man who appears to share the same delusion. This film plays heavily on the fear of unseen powers that is such a common thread in modern American cinema. The conclusion is typical, too, with its unsettling mix of partial victory and unresolved mystery.

The Founder (2016) dramatizes the founding of McDonald's fast-food restaurants in the 1950s. Michael Keaton stars as Ray Kroc, the founder — although his legacy is debatable. Two brothers in southern California actually opened the first McDonald's restaurant and created an efficient method for rapidly preparing hamburgers, french fries, and soft drinks with consistent quality. Kroc stumbled onto their innovation in 1954 while selling milkshake machines. Quick to realize its potential, he ingratiated himself with the brothers and turned their failed attempts at franchising into a nationwide chain. Eventually he squeezed them out and cast himself as the founder. This largely true drama is a fascinating business lesson, and all the performances are well done.

Frankenstein (1910) brought Mary Shelley's 1818 novel to the screen for the first time, but it's a short (14-minute), silent, and loose adaptation. Dr. Frankenstein tries to create his perfect man from scratch in a vat of chemicals, not by assembling body parts stolen from graves. In a clever visual effect, director J. Searle Dawley burned a skeletal mannequin to ashes, then ran the film in reverse. The result is a monster more closely resembling a hairy, clawed ghoul than the iconic creature invented by Universal Studios in 1931. As usual, though, the monster turns on its master — yet the climax is quite different. Believed lost until a nitrate print surfaced in the 1970s, this seminal horror film remains in poor condition even after restoration, but it's an interesting historical artifact.

Frankenstein (1931) remains an all-time classic. Departing drastically from the first adaptation in 1910 — a 14-minute silent short — this talkie version stays closer to Mary Shelley's 1818 horror novel yet still takes many liberties. Nevertheless, it's the version that influences all of the numerous sequels and spinoffs that have followed. Director James Whale conjured a horror film that still resonates today — perhaps even more so than in 1931, when science was much further away from creating life. Buried under heavy makeup, Boris Karloff plays the speechless monster to perfection, evoking both horror and sympathy. Colin Clive is equally iconic as the mad scientist who exults "It's alive! It's alive!" when lightning ignites the first spark of life. His laboratory is a marvel of creative props. Every real Frankenstein lab since 1931 must have whirling gizmos, huge knife switches, and a Jacob's Ladder. Additional touches that became clichés are the hunchback lab assistant and the mob of angry villagers wielding torches and pitchforks. In 1931, these features were original. Horror fans and film buffs must see this still-impressive motion picture.

Frau im Mond (1929): see Woman in the Moon.

Freaks (1932) is a must-see classic. It stars real circus "freaks" — people with physical defects — in a creepy story of intrigue and betrayal. So shocking in its time that some viewers reportedly fled theaters, it's even more disturbing now, because it uncomfortably recounts an era when deformed people sometimes had to make a bare living by publicly displaying their flaws for money. Skip it if you're easily offended. Although hostile critics say it's exploitative, actually it shows the dignity of these people, their fierce loyalty to each other, and their disdain for "normal" people who insult them. Unfortunately, poor prints of this film abound, obscuring the dialogue. The year before Freaks, director Tod Browning shocked the public with another classic, Dracula.

Freaky Friday (2003) is a seemingly frivolous comedy about a middle-aged single mom (Jamie Lee Curtis) and her teenage daughter (Lindsay Lohan) who awake one morning to find themselves inhabiting each other's bodies. It is indeed a comedy, with plenty of laughs, but it also has a serious side. Mom learns that her daughter's complaints about school and wicked friends aren't just adolescent angst, and the girl learns that her mother's worklife and pending second marriage aren't as rock-solid as they seem. Inevitably there's a true meeting of the minds.

Free Solo (2018) won a well-deserved Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. It shows mountain climber Alex Honnold completing the first-ever "free solo" climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. A free solo is a lone climber operating without safety ropes, pitons, or other equipment. Using only his bare hands and feet, Honnold scaled the 3,000-foot sheer granite wall in only 3 hours and 56 minutes. (The first climbers to scale El Capitan, in 1958 using standard equipment, took 45 days.) Honnold's feat is astonishing, and so is the dizzying cinematography. The camera operators were experienced climbers who not only documented Honnold's eccentric life on the ground but also followed him on his epic conquest. In every way, this film is a tour de force.

The French Connection (1971) won five Oscars: Best Picture, Film Editing, Director (William Friedkin), Adapted Screenplay (Ernest Tidyman), and Actor (Gene Hackman). It was also nominated for Best Sound, Cinematography, and Supporting Actor (Roy Scheider). These are the accolades of a timeless masterpiece. But except for Hackman's performance and a great car chase — actually, a car chasing an elevated train — it looks routine today. Hackman and Scheider play rough NYC detectives whose usual perps are small-time druggies until they catch wind of big-time French heroin smugglers. The best parts are the white-knuckles chase and lengthy sequences showing the cops shadowing their suspects on foot through the city. Otherwise, this movie's success rode mainly on its antihero theme, which was popular after Hollywood's self-imposed censorship expired in the 1960s. Today it stands as an excellent action thriller but not quite a timeless masterpiece.

Frequency (2000) has a clever time-travel twist that elevates it above the average Hollywood cop thriller. It's about a New York cop who cracks a decades-old serial-killer case by getting advice from his dead father over a shortwave radio from the Twilight Zone.

Frida (2002) biopics Frida Kahlo, the Mexican surrealist painter (1907–1954). Salma Hayek was nominated Best Actress for playing the artist, whom she closely resembles. Hayek spent years promoting this project and was a producer. The only flaw in her performance is that she doesn't visibly limp after the tragic accident that forever changed Kahlo. Art lovers may be disappointed that this drama focuses more on Kahlo's turbulent personal life than on her boldly personal art, although some brilliant special effects show her life experiences merging with her paintings. The main thread is her romance with Diego Rivera, the famous Mexican muralist. Some scenes may confuse viewers unfamiliar with them; historical knowledge of the 1920s and '30s helps.

Friends With Money (2006) is a rare character drama about middle-aged women — and a rare opportunity for a cast of veteran actresses to shine. They do. Joan Cusack, Catherine Keener, and Frances McDormand play successful, wealthy women in L.A. whose younger friend, played by Jennifer Aniston, is struggling to find her way in life. Aniston's character has dropped out of teaching and is barely scraping by as a cleaning maid, while her friends casually donate large sums to charity. Worst of all, she's still unmarried and hung up on a married man she dated only a few months. Some reviewers complain that nothing much happens in this film. But it's thrumming with the drama that flows under everyday lives.

The Front Page (1931) was the first screen adaptation of a popular 1928 stage comedy that lampoons newspaper reporters awaiting the hanging of a convict. Dark comedy, to be sure. The reporters are lazy misfits who fabricate stories, the politicians are corrupt incompetents, and the convict is a ditzy commie who killed a cop. The stars are Pat O'Brien as a crusading reporter and Adolphe Menjou as his conniving editor. This early talkie features novel camera angles and movements that enliven the stagy chamber piece. Oscar nominations included Best Picture, Director (Lewis Milestone), and Actor (Menjou). Because this movie preceded the infamous Hays Production Code, watch for uncensored tidbits: a reporter flashes his middle finger at the mayor, and the condemned man's admirer describes herself as an "common streetwalker." There's also some racist dialogue.

The Front Page (1974) adapts a popular 1928 Broadway comedy that inspired several previous films and TV shows. This one, directed by the famous Billy Wilder, is arguably the best. Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau play Chicago newspapermen frantically chasing a scoop while a convict is scheduled to hang. Susan Sarandon plays the frustrated fiancée of Lemmon's character, who keeps trying to quit the paper to marry her. Matthau is perfect as his conniving editor. Carol Burnett makes a flashy appearance as the convict's daffy admirer. Although Burnett later criticized her performance, in retrospect it amplifies the broad humor of this quick-witted romp. You won't see many movies funnier than this one.

Frost/Nixon (2008) tries hard to dramatize the TV interviews that British talk-show host David Frost conducted with Richard Nixon three years after his resignation from the U.S. presidency in 1974. Although the interview scenes are faithful to actual transcripts, the backstory is fictionalized to show the financial and professional risks that Frost and his crew undertook. Michael Sheen is miscast as Frost, a larger man who was more self-assured and less flippant than Sheen portrays him. Frank Langella is the standout, creating an eerily accurate picture of Nixon despite having only a passing physical resemblance. Overall, director Ron Howard has made an interesting but flat adaptation of the stage play by Peter Morgan, who also wrote the screenplay.

The Frozen North (1922) stars Buster Keaton in a 17-minute silent comedy that differs from his others. First, it was filmed not in sunny Hollywood but at snowy Donner Lake in Truckee, California. Second, it portrays Keaton as a crooked adventurer who mistakenly shoots a pair of lovers because he thought the woman was his wife. Third, it has few of the amazing stunts for which Keaton is famous. This film departs from his usual formula to lampoon another silent-film star, William S. Hart. Keaton disliked Hart for siding against Keaton's friend Fatty Arbuckle in an infamous scandal. Although contemporary viewers found the subtle insults amusing, they are lost on modern audiences. Nevertheless, this picture remains a good slapstick comedy.

La Frusta e il Corpo (1963): see The Whip and the Body.

Funny Face (1957) oozes 1950s atmosphere in a romantic musical starring Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire. As expected, Astaire's athletic dancing is dazzling, especially when he twirls his umbrella like a baton and swirls his trenchcoat like a bullfighter's cape. The surprise is Hepburn's showstopper in a Paris beatnik café. Revealing a previously hidden talent, she blends modern-dance moves with ballet routines that don't pale in Astaire's shadow. The story is pedestrian, though; a women's magazine editor tries to convert Hepburn's bookworm character into a high-fashion runway model. Astaire plays a photographer based on real-life Richard Avedon. Their romance looks mismatched in lifestyle (fashion photog + beatnik babe) and age (Astaire + 30 years over Hepburn). Enjoy this classic musical for the spectacle, not for the fairy tale.

Funny People (2009) is the first Adam Sandler movie I've really liked — maybe because he plays a more serious role, and I've never found Sandler particularly funny. But he's perfect for this film. He plays a spoiled, rich comedian who's diagnosed with a terminal disease, prompting regrets of his past mistakes and insulated life. His supporting cast (including Seth Rogen, Eric Bana, Jason Schwartzman, and Leslie Mann) is wonderful. Despite the heavy plot, this movie has lots of laughs, and it's an especially good look at the competitive world of entertainment. The only disappointment is the fixation on penis jokes, which cheapens the laughs. If the writer/director weren't Judd Apatow — who also wrote Knocked Up (2007) and The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) — it might be an intentional comment on the state of stand-up comedy.

Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus (2006) is another Hollywood distortion of history. What a shame. A faithful biopic of photographer Diane Arbus would be fascinating. To its credit, at least, this bizarre film admits that it's almost pure fiction — both in the title and in two disclaimers during the opening and closing credits. Knowledgeable Arbus fans will find only tidbits of truth. Nicole Kidman is an improbable choice to play Arbus, but she does her best with an offbeat script. Robert Downey Jr. plays a former freak-show attraction who falls in love with Arbus and introduces her to other circus freaks. You won't see any genuine Arbus photographs here; understandably, her estate refused the filmmakers permission to use her works in this abomination. Diane's husband, Alan Arbus, suffers a great injustice — unlike his portrayal, he was very supportive of her art.

Further Tales of the Crypt (1973): see The Vault of Horror.

Fury (1936) was inspired by the real-life 1933 lynching of two kidnappers in San Jose, California, but it bears little resemblance to that incident. Instead, Fritz Lang co-wrote and directed a fictional anti-lynching film — his first U.S. project after fleeing Nazi Germany — that dramatizes an injustice then rampant in his adopted country. Spencer Tracy stars as the wrongly accused everyman who finds himself the target of a revengeful mob. In one of his best early performances, Tracy plays a transformational character who dominates every scene. Sylvia Sidney co-stars as his loyal fianceé, and Walter Brennan appears as a loose-lips deputy sheriff. Although the anti-lynching theme is heavy handed, studio censorship squelched any hint that black people were the usual victims.

Fury (2014) stars Brad Pitt as an American tank commander fighting in Germany in the waning days of World War II. The plot is classic war movie: hard-nosed sergeant (Pitt in top form) shapes up bright-eyed young replacement who gets his first baptism of fire. Unlike movies made by the actual WWII generation, however, this one strives for greater realism. That means more gore, of course, but it also tries to show the soul-hardening effects of mortal combat. These tank crewmen are beyond war weary; war is their normal life now. We won't be surprised by anything they do, which is portrayed most effectively by a nerve-racking scene in which they barge into the apartment of two young German women. Writer/director David Ayer artfully extends this scene much longer than you can hold your breath. But as the film rolls toward its climax, the old war-movie clichés emerge, and you'll almost wish these soldiers will die heroically so they won't have to face a bleak life of maladjustment back home.

Galaxy Quest (1999) is a funny satire about actors on a TV science-fiction show who suddenly find themselves enmeshed in a real galactic adventure. Tim Allen and Sigourney Weaver star. Although it's not a Star Trek movie, it's best appreciated by self-effacing Star Trek fans.

Gallipoli (1981) won acclaim for showing Aussie spunk and courage at Gallipoli during the First World War. In that catastrophic campaign, British, Australian, and New Zealand forces suffered heavy casualties in siege battles against the Ottoman Turks. The battle scenes come late in the film, however. The main thread follows two young Australians who first meet after competing in a trophy foot-race. One of them (played by Mark Lee) is underage but eager to enlist, unlike his new mate (Mel Gibson in an early role). Both actors are superb. Despite some historical inaccuracies, this picture vividly captures the rowdy spirit of young Aussies in 1915. A contrary view is that it dramatizes the masculine posturing that makes senseless slaughter in warfare not only possible but glorious. For a less ambiguous look at World War I, see Paths of Glory (1957).

Gandhi (1982) is an epic biopic of Mahatma Gandhi, the hero who championed Indian independence from Great Britain by means of nonviolent protest. Nominated for an astonishing 11 Academy Awards, this outstanding movie won eight, including Best Picture, Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Director (Richard Attenborough), and Actor (Ben Kingsley as Gandhi). It's superlative in every respect. It's also largely accurate, which is unusual for biopics. More than three hours long, it covers Gandhi's life from his 20s, when he was a British-educated lawyer, to his assassination in 1948, shortly after India won its freedom. And it doesn't dodge the dark side of his independence movement, such as the Hindu-Muslim violence and separation of Pakistan that followed. It's a valuable history lesson wrapped in an inspiring drama.

Gangs of New York (2002) is a masterful look at a scarcely remembered chapter in American history: the clash between Irish immigrants and anti-immigration nativists in the 1860s. Leonardo DeCaprio delivers a superbly mature performance. Daniel Day-Lewis won Best Actor for his brilliant portrayal of a brutal nativist gang boss. The violence is gory, but historical. Modern critics of Vietnam War protests will be stunned by this film's faithful retelling of the much more violent antidraft riots during the Civil War. However, a few plot points ring false: DeCaprio's character probably wouldn't survive his knifing, and it's doubtful that Day-Lewis's one-eyed character could throw knives so accurately. Still, Martin Scorsese deserved to win his first directing Oscar for this epic, which also won awards for Best Picture, Original Screenplay, and Cinematography.

The Gangster (1947) is a strange film noir that falls short of its aspirations. Barry Sullivan stars as a small-time waterfront gangster, although he doesn't really have a gang and is never seen conducting underworld business. Instead, he spends nearly the entire movie wearing a hang-dog expression as he clumsily dates a nightclub singer and occasionally excuses his crimes by ranting about his rough childhood. His girlfriend loves him, but he's too cold to return the love. Meanwhile, bigger gangsters are threatening. Although this movie aspires to explain gangland crime and the love problems of wrong-headed men, its zigzag plot and odd subplots undermine the effort.

Garage Days (2003) rocks! This Australian comedy-drama is about a rock 'n' roll garage band that desperately wants a big break. They seem to get it when the bandleader accidentally meets Australia's hottest record producer. Then everything goes wrong: tensions among the band members explode into serious arguments, old romances break up, new romances form, mental illness cripples one musician, drugs take their toll, and the band's manic manager is demoted to roadie. It looks like curtains, but the bandleader struggles to keep things together. A great ensemble cast and raunchy Australian humor bring this flick alive. It's a great flip side to this year's other hilarious musical comedy, A Mighty Wind.

The Garden of Allah (1936) deservedly won an Academy Award for its dazzling Technicolor cinematography, uncommon for its time. This love story between an aimless young woman and a renegade Trappist monk is beautifully photographed (and restored). Marlene Dietrich stars as a wealthy convent-school graduate who's searching for meaning in her life. On the curious advice of her former Mother Superior, she journeys to the Sahara Desert. There she meets a strangely unworldly man (Charles Boyer) who recently fled his monastery to experience life outside. Keeping his past secret, he reluctantly falls in love. Unfortunately, Dietrich's and Boyer's performances are disappointingly flat. Their romance is drab in comparison with the exotic scenery, colorful Arabs, and lush production.

Garden of Evil (1954) tells a story of greed, lust, and love in a Western drama placed (and filmed) in Mexico. It stars Gary Cooper as a quietly stoic hero, Richard Widmark as a wisecracking gambler, and Susan Hayward as a gun-toting gold digger (in both the literal and colloquial senses). She hires four men to help rescue her lover (Hugh Marlowe), a mining engineer trapped in a collapsed gold mine. To reach him, they must cross a blackened volcanic landscape that gives this above-average picture its name. Alpha-male rivalries and hostile Apaches add more danger. Best line: "I guess if the earth were made of gold, men would die for a handful of dirt."

Gargoyles (1972) is a made-for-TV movie that became a minor cult classic, partly for its camp. Cornel Wilde stars as a college professor writing a book about demon mythology who discovers the real thing in a southwestern U.S. desert. Ex-footballer Bernie Casey plays the gargoyle king, but he's unrecognizable under a rubber mask and makeup. Watch for a young Scott Glenn as a rowdy biker. Some good character acting lifts this low-budget thriller above average for its type.

Garry Winogrand: All Things Are Photographable (2015) documents one of America's most famous street photographers, who died at age 56 in 1984. Winogrand is known for his chaotic compositions, tilted frames, prolific output, and a controversial book of random women photographed in public. Director Sasha Waters Freyer assembles archival film footage, recent interviews, and a broad selection of Winogrand's work to praise him as an innovative artist and to defend his sometimes perplexing choices. Notably, this documentary shows some of his lesser-known color photos and 8mm color movies — interesting departures from his customary black-and-white stills. The silent movies echo his usual style by candidly focusing on random people doing ordinary things in public places. Freyer pays special attention to Winogrand's unfinished work, including thousands of exposed but undeveloped rolls of 35mm b&w film. Rebutting some critics, she makes a case that Winogrand continued making good photographs until he died. She presents so much of his work, however, that first-time viewers won't have time to fully appreciate the informal compositions as they flash by on screen. May it inspire you to explore his work in depth.

Gaslight (1940) was such a memorable thriller that it inspired gaslighting as modern slang for tricking someone into doubting their own perceptions. This film is the original British adaptation of a popular British stage play (Gas Light, 1938), not to be confused with the better-known American remake (Gaslight, 1944). Although the British production is more faithful to the source material, it's not quite as good as the Hollywood version. Diana Wynyard doesn't match Ingrid Bergman's Oscar-winning performance as a young newlywed whose suave but conniving husband tries to persuade her she's crazy. Likewise, Anton Walbrook is less convincing than Charles Boyer as the two-faced husband, and Cathleen Cordell falls short of Angela Lansbury as the surly servant. (Boyer and Lansbury both garnered Oscar nominations.) Nevertheless, this thriller is well done and would rank higher if not eclipsed by the 1944 remake.

Gaslight (1944) remakes the 1940 British adaptation of a popular 1938 stage play. This American version is better known and more responsible for making gaslighting a modern slang term for tricking someone into doubting their own perceptions. Ingrid Bergman plays the young newlywed whose suave but conniving husband tries to convince her she's crazy. Although this remake deviates further from the stage production, the screenplay won an Oscar. It's a showcase for fine acting. In one of her top performances, Bergman won the Oscar for Best Actress. Charles Boyer was nominated Best Actor as her greedy husband, and newcomer Angela Lansbury was nominated Best Supporting Actress for playing a quietly surly house servant. This dark, moody film was also nominated for Best Picture and Best Cinematography. For subtle evidence of the latter, watch closely during the climax as the catchlights in one character's eyes glow fiery when he confesses his lust for jewels, then extinguish when he blinks and faces reality. Brilliant!

The Gene Krupa Story (1959) is a biopic about the famous big-band musician who helped elevate the drum kit from a glorified metronome to a solo instrument. Produced when Krupa was still alive and active, it takes the usual Hollywood liberties but is fairly accurate. Instead of ignoring his headline arrest for marijuana possession — a potentially career-ending offense in 1943 — it shows his struggle to regain lost fame. Oddly, Sal Mineo is cast as Krupa, despite their lack of physical resemblance. Mineo performs well, however, especially when drumming. Although Krupa actually recorded all of the drums on the soundtrack, Mineo convincingly mimics him, hitting the skins and cymbals in seemingly perfect synchrony. James Darren, a heartthrob in 1959, plays Krupa's trumpeter buddy. Susan Kohner plays Krupa's sometime gal, but the script limits her to repetitive scenes. The musical interludes make this formulaic rags-to-riches story worth seeing.

The General (1926) is a classic silent film starring Buster Keaton as a railroad engineer who yearns to be a Confederate war hero. When Yankee raiders hijack his locomotive (named "The General"), he gets his chance. Most scenes in this wild comedy depict the ensuing train chase, foreshadowing the lengthy car chases that became a Hollywood staple much later. Keaton, who also co-wrote and co-directed, is brilliant in scene after clever scene, always performing his own dangerous stunts. Because they are sight gags, they're perfect for a silent film, and this one is probably the funniest ever made. Another marvel is the climax, in which a train plunges into a river — featuring a real train, not a model. (It was the costliest scene ever shot for a silent film.) If you've never seen a silent, this one is a great place to start.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) splashes the screen with Technicolor eye candy, high-class women's fashions, blazing diamonds, and unabashed sex appeal. It was part of a 1950s Hollywood campaign to lure people away from their tiny black-and-white TV sets and back into theaters. It worked for a while, because this romp became an instant classic. Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe star as nightclub dancers on a husband hunt that takes them to Paris. The brunette (Russell) wants romance; the blonde (Monroe) wants money. The story is mainly an excuse for them to wear a different outfit in every scene, flash their charms at various men, and break into lavish song-and-dance routines. In 1950s vernacular, this movie is full of fleshy cheesecake — and beefcake, when they meet a group of male Olympic athletes. The highlight is Monroe's spirited rendition of "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend."

Get Low (2010) is an actor's film and a joy for audiences who love good acting. Robert Duvall plays an aging but feisty hermit who has lived in a remote cabin for 40 years, hiding from the world and atoning for secret sins. Sissy Spacek is a former beau from his youth; Bill Murray is the local undertaker; Bill Cobbs is a wise old black preacher. When the hermit wants to stage his own funeral party before his death and invite everyone in the county, he sets in motion a chain of events that leads to a public and private revelation. The story isn't particularly strong and the climax isn't earthshaking, but the veteran actors make the most of their screen time, and the re-creation of small-town America in the 1920s is particularly good. Relax and enjoy the view.

Get Out (2017) is a brilliant mash-up of comedy, horror, and social commentary. Writer/director Jordan Peele lampoons traditional horror tropes (withholding the "monster" until the third act), modern horror tropes (eccentric homicide weapons), and black-white relations in a divisive America that was supposed to be "post-racial" after the election of our first African-American president. British actor Daniel Kaluuya is equally brilliant as a young black man dating a white woman who brings him home to meet her parents. Initially, the weekend stayover seems to go smoothly. Then disquieting clues begin adding up ... to what? The surprising climax is both violent and hilarious, but pay attention for the big reveal. In this rapier film, Black Lives Matter to white people for outrageous reasons.

The Getaway (1972) showcases Sam Peckinpah's gory directorial style. Freed from the Hays Code that had censored Hollywood movies since the 1930s, Peckinpah became infamous for his violent films and antiheroes. In this one, Steve McQueen plays a criminal released from prison by the influence of a crooked businessman who needs him to rob a bank. Ali McGraw co-stars as McQueen's wife, who makes her own unsavory contribution to his parole. The violence starts when the robbery goes wrong and continues relentlessly as they struggle to escape. Two double-crosses keep them on edge. This crime thriller tried to match the critical and box-office success of Bonnie and Clyde (1967), but it's less artful and lacks the humor that helped make its predecessor a classic.

The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini (1966) was the last and worst of the Beach Party movies starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello. Except this stinker has no beach and doesn't star Frankie or Annette. Instead, it takes place in a haunted house and wastes Boris Karloff, Basil Rathbone, and Nancy Sinatra in puny parts. Although none of the Beach Party movies aspired to great art, they at least created a rollicking image of the Southern California surf scene that entertained everyone stuck in landlocked towns. By contrast, this alleged slapstick comedy totally wipes out.

The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1966) was the first of several feature-film comedies starring Don Knotts after his long-running role as deputy sheriff Barney Fife on TV's The Andy Griffith Show. Knotts built a surprisingly successful career playing essentially the same character type: a bumbling but lovable fool who talks big while not-so-secretly fearing everything. In this amusing comedy/horror flick, he's a small-town newspaper typesetter who yearns to be a scoop reporter. To break a story, he tries to spend one night in a haunted mansion. Many jump-frights and bug-eyed reactions later, he uncovers genuine shenanigans. Whether you enjoy this movie depends on your affinity for farcical comedy and Knotts' jittery acting style. This picture is one of his best.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947) blends fantasy and romance in a story about a dead sea captain who haunts his seaside English house and the widow who rents it. When the captain's ghost fails to frighten her away, an improbable relationship blooms. It's easy to understand why he gradually falls for her — Gene Tierney is beautiful in this role, and her character is a sympathy sponge. The reverse attraction is less obvious, although apparently her late husband was passive and dull, not manly and seasoned. (We never see the husband, but watch for Natalie Wood as their young daughter.) Rex Harrison plays the ghost as a salty man of the world, gruff but not dangerous. The climax is a tearjerker. More than 20 years later, this middling movie inspired a TV sitcom.

The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre (1964) was originally the pilot for a new TV series that never appeared. It stars Martin Landau in the uninspiring role of a ghost hunter who specializes in exposing pranks. He investigates the case of a blind man and his wife who supposedly are haunted by the man's dead mother, who was entombed with an active telephone within reach. Are her spooky calls real or faked? This movie initially tries to keep us guessing but is sabotaged by incoherent dialogue, storytelling, and film editing.

Ghost World (2001), a quirky tale of teenage angst, follows the adventures of best friends Enid and Rebecca during their first summer after high school. Although the girls couldn't wait to put school behind them, they begin to realize their lives have irrevocably changed — not always for the better. Enid develops an odd friendship with a middle-aged collector of curios, while Rebecca struggles to establish her independence in the adult world. The theme and especially the ending are reminiscent of The Graduate (1967), which better portrays generational conflict. Today, the main attraction of this black comedy is 17-year-old Scarlett Johansson in her breakthrough role as Rebecca.

The Ghost Writer (2010) stars Ewan McGregor as a freelance writer paid $250,000 to help a former British prime minister finish his memoirs. It's a lucrative assignment, but there's one catch: the previous ghost writer died under mysterious circumstances. This well-paced political thriller has good supporting performances by Pierce Brosnan (the former P.M.), Olivia Williams (his disillusioned wife), Tom Wilkinson (a college professor with suspicious connections), Robert Pugh (a former British cabinet minister), and others. Suspense builds as the writer foolishly stumbles deeper into jeopardy. Directed by Roman Polanski, this tight film reeks with intrigue and paranoia.

Ghostbusters (1984) was a huge comedy hit that spawned a sequel and remake that failed to match the original's charm. Saturday Night Live alums Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray joined Harold Ramis to play three buddies who start an exterminating business ridding haunted buildings of bothersome ghosts. Instead of religious incantations, they use custom equipment that sucks the manifestations into a special container. Their supernatural vacuum cleaner works great until something inevitably goes wrong, with hilarious results. Aykroyd and Ramis also penned the screenplay that director Ivan Reitman brought to life with impressive special effects. Sigourney Weaver and Rick Moranis co-star as hapless hosts for ornery spirits. It's still one of the all-time best comedies.

Ghostbusters a/k/a Ghostbusters: Answer the Call (2016) remakes the 1984 comedy but lacks its lively spirit. Misogynists rudely bashed its female stars, including Kristen Wiig, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones. Those Saturday Night Live vets joined Melissa McCarthy to play the original male roles of exterminators who use high-tech equipment to capture annoying ghosts. You'd think such a cast of accomplished comediennes couldn't miss, but the screenplay flounders and eventually drowns in a CGI cacophony of overdone special effects. Too bad, because it had great potential.

The Ghoul (1933) was the first British horror talkie. It capitalized on the 1931 successes of Universal Studios' Dracula and Frankenstein. To make it, Gaumont British Studios temporarily brought Frankenstein star Boris Karloff back to his English homeland. Unlike his Frankenstein's monster role under heavy makeup, Karloff is more recognizable in this film, but the makeup is equally good. He plays a dying man who believes an ancient Egyptian jewel will bring eternal life. He threatens to return after death to kill anyone who steals it from him. Karloff is obviously the highlight, although he has barely more dialogue than his speechless role in Frankenstein. The story is slow in parts and adds an odd comedic touch when an Egyptian sheik mesmerizes a clueless young woman. But this historic film has great atmosphere and is well preserved, thanks to the accidental discovery of a pristine negative in the 1980s.

Ghoulies (1985) inspired three sequels despite its dullness. Some folks consider this thriller bad enough to be campy, though. The only highlights are its animated puppets — small, gross creatures who grin and growl like misshapen trolls. They haunt an old house inherited by a devil worshiper's orphaned son, who soon follows in his father's footsteps. This movie also preserves some 1980s pop culture, such as a drunk white kid lamely trying to break dance at a party.

Giant (1956) is one of only three James Dean films, and it was his last before dying in an auto accident. Most critics rate it behind his other two pictures, East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause, both released in 1955. But it's a measure of Dean's fame that Giant is equally a must-see classic. It foreshadows a future that never was, in which Dean would have lived to play roles other than maladjusted youths. In this epic that spans decades in screen time, his character is a Texas cowboy who becomes an oil baron and a thorn in other people's lives. He ages from an ambitious youth to a bitter middle-aged man. This role demanded more of Dean, and even if he doesn't quite match his earlier performances, he still dominates his scenes and shows a glimpse of the mature actor he could have become. He more than holds his own alongside co-stars Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, Dennis Hopper, Sal Mineo, and other talents. Giant was nominated for 10 Oscars and won Best Director for George Stevens. It's long (almost 3.5 hours) but never boring.

The Giant Claw (1957) is an awful monster movie that makes you wonder how its creators found a producer for such an absurd script. Some scenes are utterly nonsensical. (Would the U.S. Air Force send a civilian engineer, his mathematician girlfriend, and a random farmer on a mission to save the world?) The dialogue is equally ridiculous. And the flying monster is laughable, even by low-budget 1950s standards. This flick isn't even good enough to be a good bad movie. But kudos to the writers for getting it made.

The Giant Gila Monster (1959) is a low-budget horror film oddly considered a cult classic by some fans. Yet it's no more than average for the 1950s monster movies that were pitched mainly to teenagers. It stars Don Sullivan as a hot-rodder mechanic who battles a Mexican beaded lizard amplified on screen as a dangerously hungry creature. In an awful musical interlude, Sullivan performs a tedious song that's supposed to become a hit record. Not a chance. Although he's not a bad singer, it fatally stalls the action and puzzles the teen audience it intends to impress.

Gidget (1959) starts like a typical 1950s teen comedy, but it grows more serious and was surprisingly influential. Sandra Dee stars as the manic title character, a petite 16-year-old Southern California girl. Older surfers at a local beach dub her Gidget ("girl midget") and adopt her as a mascot. Soon she's enthralled with surfing and yearns to become truly one of the gang. It's for laughs until she considers sacrificing her virginity to impress two older guys: sexy James Darren as Moondog and Cliff Robertson as the alpha-male Big Kahuna. This hit movie popularized the SoCal surfing culture and inspired many more beach comedies (including three sequels, 1961–1969)) plus a TV series (1965–1966). The TV show launched the career of Sally Field, who later won two Academy Awards for Best Actress and a nomination for Supporting Actress.

Gigot (1962) stars Jackie Gleason in an Oscar-worthy performance that unfortunately wasn't even nominated. Gleason was best known for hosting his popular variety show in the 1960s. In this touching story (which he wrote and scored), he plays a poor mute janitor in Paris who's a big-hearted friend of animals, homeless children, and the recently departed — even if he never met them. He's also the target of ridicule by unthinking friends and strangers who mock his disability and poverty. Although Gleason's acting chops are equally apparent here, this film didn't equal the acclaim for his famous role as pool-shark Minnesota Fats in The Hustler. Too bad, because Gigot is a gem.

Gilda (1946) is a true classic that launched Rita Hayworth to stardom. She plays a sexy nightclub singer/dancer who marries for money while clinging to her wild ways. (Her best line: "If I were a ranch, I'd be named the Bar None.") George McCready is wonderfully creepy as her older casino-owner husband who's running a mysterious side business. To this volatile mix add Glenn Ford as a cheating gambler who becomes the casino manager. A love/hate relationship soon blossoms on all sides. Although nominally a crime thriller with film-noir overtones, Gilda is really a love-triangle drama in which all the characters are dishonest and more than a little dirty. It coats the sleaze with glamorous evening gowns, musical interludes, and clever dialogue. Highly recommended.

Girl in the Moon (1929): see Woman in the Moon.

Girl, Interrupted (1999) drags teenage angst to new depths and is an above-average tale of mental illness and mental institutions, but it's a far cry from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest (2010) is the third and last installment in the Swedish "Millenium" trilogy of violent thrillers, based on the novels by Stieg Larsson. (Previous episodes were The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, 2009, and The Girl Who Played With Fire, 2010.) Noomi Rapace returns as Lisbeth Salander, the spunky punk babe who helps a journalist (reprised by Mikael Nyqvist) solve a murder mystery and expose a long-hidden conspiracy. The previous installments are prerequisites to comprehending the tangled plot, which is difficult to follow in any case. The movie needlessly prolongs crucial developments, particularly during a murder trial, when damning evidence is withheld interminably. These obvious attempts to heighten suspense only slow the action and require the talented actors to play unnecessary scenes. Nevertheless, all loose ends get tied up, so anyone who saw the first two films might as well see this one. (In Swedish with English subtitles.)

The Girl Who Played With Fire (2010) is the second film in the "Millennium" trilogy of Swedish novels by Stieg Larsson. It picks up where the first film, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009), left off. Renegade computer hacker Lisbeth Salander (spookily played, as before, by Noomi Rapace) returns to Sweden from her tropical hideaway and soon is suspected of multiple murders. She hunts the real killers but gets deeper enmeshed. Meanwhile, her journalist friend (reprised by Mikael Blomkvist) tries to prove her innocence. This sequel is faster paced than the first film and explains more about Salander's mysterious past. It's a good thriller and seems less violent, but only because the first one was over the top. It strains credulity, however, when one character seems to rise from the grave. (In Swedish with English subtitles.)

Girl With a Pearl Earring (2003) is a showcase for Scarlett Johansson — the young, moody actress whose quirky talents contributed so much to Lost in Translation (2003) and Ghost World (2000). This time she plays a Dutch maid in 1665 who inspires the artist Johannes Vermeer to paint his famous portrait from which the movie draws its name. A modernist actress like Johansson might seem out of place in a historical drama, especially one that frankly portrays the brutishness of 17th-century city life, but she rises to the occasion with an irresistible performance. Although the story is pure fiction, it's a plausible speculation about an inspiring artwork and the anonymous girl whom it immortalizes.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009) is a surprisingly dark and violent Swedish murder mystery. The elderly head of a wealthy family hires a crusading journalist to investigate the 40-year-old murder of his favorite niece. The reporter gets reluctant help from a goth computer hacker (the girl with the dragon tattoo) who is ruthless when crossed. A brutal rape scene and its aftermath are detours from the main story, which already is complicated by a surplus of suspects. After what seems like the dramatic climax, the story continues for a little too long, deflating the drama with a redemptive coda that doesn't quite fit the film's darker tone. Sometimes less is more. Another 15 minutes of footage should have been left on the cutting-room floor. Two sequels based on novelist Stieg Larsson's "Millenium" trilogy were released in the U.S. in 2010: The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. (All three in Swedish with English subtitles.)

The Girlfriend Experience (2009) is an interesting but disappointing indie film directed by Steven Soderbergh, who climbed to fame on Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989). Both are explorations of sex and lies about sex. This time, real-life porn star Shasha Grey plays Chelsea, a pretty "escort" who charges $2,000 a night — but not just for sex. She pretends to be their girlfriends, too. Most clients are middle-aged businessmen. She goes on dates with them, cuddles with them, tolerates their incessant worrying about money, and sometimes just talks with them. A few men become so enamored that the fantasy flirts with reality. The same delusion tugs at young Chelsea, who mistakes her sexual experience for life experience. Is she a savvy career woman, a professional escort who offers optional sex, a high-class call girl, a common prostitute, a gold digger, or a potential Miss Right? A disordered timeline keeps us from sharing Chelsea's self-discovery, and the indie-film obsession with ambiguity is too much like Chelsea's confusion.

The Giver (2014) is a mediocre sci-fi tale about a future society that has eliminated crime, war, civil strife, and poverty by also eliminating emotion, free enterprise, most personal freedom, and all memories of human history. It's a wrap-around society in which utopia meets dystopia. The sole exception is The Receiver, a special person chosen to receive all memories and experiences of the past in order to offer occasional advice to the political leaders. Despite adequate performances by Meryl Streep (the Chief Elder), Jeff Bridges (the aging Receiver), and Brenton Thwaites (the next-generation Receiver), this movie goes downhill fast after the young man discovers his society's secrets. Huge plot holes appear, and the climax veers from sci-fi to sheer fantasy. Similar films (The Village, 2004) have suffered similar fates; the classic in this genre is Logan's Run (1976).

Gladiator (2000) is a must-see if you thought that film spectacles like Ben Hur had gone the way of 25-cent popcorn. Russell Crowe even improves on Charlton Heston in this Roman epic. The battle scenes are realistic but not gratuitously gory.

Glass Harp Circa 72 (1972) is a rare video recording of a legendary concert by Glass Harp, an Ohio-based band that pioneered Christian rock music in the late 1960s and early '70s. This performance was reportedly the first TV-studio rock concert that was broadcast live simultaneously on public television and FM radio. The broadcasters were WVIZ-TV and WMMS-FM in Cleveland. A small audience of young folks witnessed this event on the cramped studio's floor. Glass Harp was led by guitar virtuoso Phil Keaggy, whose signature technique was wringing violin-like sounds from his Gibson Les Paul by manipulating the volume knob with the little finger of his right hand while picking his rapid-fire intricate solos. (As a teenager I saw Keaggy play in a church concert; I've never seen a better guitarist.) Also impressive are drummer John Sferra, who sometimes plays acoustic guitar, and Dan Pecchio, who plays electric bass and flute. All three are singers and composers. The amazing climax of this long-lost recording is an 18-minute version of "Can You See Me," which features guitar, drum, and flute solos. This band was famous in Northeast Ohio but never achieved the national acclaim it deserved. Watch this video to see what you missed.

The Glass Key (1942) buries a simple murder mystery under a convoluted plot and talky dialogue, even by film noir standards. The only interesting scenes are two confrontations between a political candidate's right-hand man (Alan Ladd) and a mob boss's brutal thug (William Bendix). One scene involves a vicious beating and daring escape, which leads to a second meeting and a tense display of passive aggression. Bendix is more convincing in his role. (In one scene he accidentally knocked Ladd unconscious.) Ladd seems out of place; he's better in Westerns. Veronica Lake is dull as a potential femme fatale.

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022) is the sequel to Knives Out (2019), but you needn't see the first picture to enjoy this one. The only common character is Daniel Craig as brilliant detective Benoit Blanc. This time he travels to the private Greek island of an American billionaire who stages a murder-mystery party for his friends. Of course, the party game leads to a real murder. This exceptionally funny and clever comedy thrives on a twisty plot and grand performances by a starry cast that includes Edward Norton, Janelle Monáe, Leslie Odom Jr., and Kate Hudson. (Watch for subtle cameos by Ethan Hawke, Hugh Grant, Angela Lansbury, Stephen Sondheim, Yo-Yo Ma, Jake Tapper, Serena Williams, and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.) Writer/director Rian Johnson scored another hit and a nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) is David Mamet's screen adaptation of his own Pulitzer Prize play about desperate real-estate salesmen. Mamet's trademark style is a barrage of f-bombs and other profanities. If you've seen any stage or screen production of Death of a Salesman, this movie illustrates the decline of dramatic playwriting since the 1950s. In fact, Mamet has loaded this screenplay with even more coarse language than was in his play — mainly, by adding an explosive sales conference in which Alec Baldwin plays a well-heeled heel from hell. But enough about the Pulitzer committee's questionable judgment. The performances of a great ensemble cast make this drama worth watching. In addition to Baldwin, it features Jack Lemmon, Al Pacino, Alan Arkin, Ed Harris, Kevin Spacey, and Jonathan Pryce. The cast is so impressive that its members impressed each other. Here is one of the purest examples of an actor's movie.

The Goat (1921) is a 27-minute silent-film short starring Buster Keaton, the master stuntman of physical comedy. This time he plays a penniless bum mistaken for an escaped murderer, which leads to a hilarious foot chase and some remarkable acrobatics. His frequent co-stars during this period include Virginia Fox (as a woman in distress whom he saves), and Edward F. Cline (as a corpulent cop). As usual, Keaton is brilliant.

Gods and Generals (2003) is a ridiculously awful film about the early days of the Civil War, 1860–1863. Produced by Ted Turner, it's the prequel to Gettysburg, a much better work. It's told mostly from the Southern point of view, heavily sanitized. In this fantasy version of history, no unhappy slaves appear, a black cook eloquently prays for freedom with Confederate General Stonewall Jackson, army officers quote long passages from Roman memoirs before joining battle, the Confederates conveniently forget they turned a secession crisis into civil war by firing the first shot at Fort Sumter, and everyone speaks in stilted dialogue, even under the most dire circumstances. As a final insult, the four-hour film ends with credits that flash by so quickly they're impossible to read.

Godzilla (2014) updates the 1954 original — again! — with a bigger incarnation of the monster and better special effects. This time, however, Godzilla is almost a minor character. Two other prehistoric monsters revived by radiation take center stage as the main baddies, leaving a trail of destruction from Tokyo to Honolulu to San Francisco. Godzilla, their natural predator, pursues them toward a climactic showdown. The human star is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who plays a U.S. Navy ordnance-disposal specialist amazingly cross-trained as a HALO paratrooper and Minuteman ICBM expert. But realism isn't the point of this movie; it's pure summer blockbuster fun. Still, I miss the Japanese guy in the Godzilla suit.

Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1956) spawned all the Godzilla sequels that followed but isn't the first Godzilla movie. That honor belongs to Gojira, a 1954 film released only in Japan. The 1956 version "Americanized" it by dubbing English dialogue and by combining most of the original footage with new scenes of an American reporter played by Raymond Burr (later the star of TV's Perry Mason series). Burr acted his scenes in the U.S. with Japanese stand-ins to make it appear he was in the original production. The splicing works surprisingly well, and the monster flick became a hit. It's still good, and it gains nostalgic charm with its pre-computer special effects. In particular, the modelers excelled at constructing buildings, bridges, and electrical towers that look real and crumble realistically. Despite stiff acting, this classic remains fun to watch. Darker interpretations see Godzilla symbolizing the U.S. bombing of Japan during World War II. Some scenes resemble the fire bombing of Tokyo; others that show radiation poisoning recall the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Godzilla Minus One (2023) takes place during and after World War II. But it's a new storyline, not a prequel to the first Godzilla thriller, Gojira (1954). The main character is a kamikaze pilot who shirks his suicide mission. He freezes again during Godzilla's attack on a Japanese air base. Shamed by his cowardice and Japan's defeat, he returns home to a bombed-out Tokyo. His chance for redemption comes when Godzilla attacks the city. Although this movie is the first Asian production to win the Oscar for Best Visual Effects (deservedly so), the story is absurd. To fight the monster, Japanese war veterans form a volunteer citizens' brigade. The Japanese and U.S. governments do nothing for fear of worsening "U.S.-Soviet tensions." We're supposed to believe that the wreckage of Tokyo and Godzilla's fatal attacks on Pacific shipping (including U.S. warships) aren't sufficient provocation. The climax is silly, too. This movie could have been much better.

Gog (1954) captures the 1950s sci-fi movie spirit with saturated color and marvelous sets, props, and costumes. It was filmed in 3D, too, but one of the stereoscopic prints faded, so the restoration is flat. Despite futuristic paintings of rockets and space stations behind the opening credits, everything happens in a secret laboratory beneath an American desert where scientists are inventing those technologies. Sabotage threatens to thwart them. The lavish production design of this film presents a very 1950s view of the future, including two elaborate robots (Gog and Magog) that perhaps inspired the Doctor Who daleks. Some scenes are very 1950s sexist, too. But this movie anticipates future developments, such as orbital solar power and computer malware. It's a colorful trip.

Going in Style (1979) stars veteran actors George Burns, Art Carney, and Lee Strasberg as elderly roommates who decide to enliven their boring dotage by robbing a bank. Although played for laughs, this film also dramatizes the regrets and restlessness that can haunt people who have nothing more to do before they die. Two scenes featuring Burns and Strasberg are especially poignant. It helps that these actors have aged into their roles, and Strasberg is the famous proponent of "method acting" whose Actors Studio in New York was the launch pad for many famous Hollywood stars. Remade in 2017 with Alan Arkin, Michael Caine, and Morgan Freeman.

The Golden Age (1930): see L'Age d'Or.

The Golden Beetle (1907) is a stunning three-minute short film created at the beginning of the motion-picture industry. An Arab sorcerer conjures a beautiful fairy with golden wings, but taming her isn't easy. This historic picture is distinguished for its dazzling special effects, opulent set, gorgeous costumes, and hand-tinted color. It's a fantasia.

The Golem: How He Came Into the World (German: Der Golem, Wie Er In Die Welt Kam, 1920) dramatizes the Jewish legend of a clay creature magically brought to life to wreak vengeance on wrongdoers. But sometimes he turns on his makers, foreshadowing a theme that Hollywood later popularized in Frankenstein (1931). This early silent film in German Expressionist style has marvelous art direction, much like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and Nosferatu (1922). It portrays the Golem as a supernaturally strong creature who oddly resembles a monotone Japanese samurai. Though created to defend the Jewish community of a medieval town against forced exile, he soon goes out of bounds. Caligari and especially Nosferatu are superior films in this style, but The Golem remains a seminal horror classic.

Gone In 60 Seconds (2000) is a tolerable Hollywood action film about professional car thieves who have to steal a bunch of cars before a deadline to keep a loved one from getting rubbed out by bad guys. There's a better-than-average car chase at the climax, but otherwise this movie rarely rises above average.

Gone With the Wind (1939) was a huge blockbuster and instant classic. It's largely faithful to Margaret Mitchell's bestselling novel, and it stars Clark Gable as lady's man Rhett Butler and Vivien Leigh as the headstrong beauty Scarlett O'Hara. Set before, during, and after the Civil War, it's the story of a Georgian plantation debutante (Scarlett) and the good-natured scoundrel (Rhett) who pursues her. Their fortunes rise and fall through love, war, and tragedy. The supporting cast is superb: Leslie Howard as Scarlett's elusive love interest, Thomas Mitchell as her stalwart father, Olivia de Havilland as her angelic cousin, and Hattie McDaniel and Butterfly McQueen as her loyal servants. This epic won eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director (Victor Fleming), Screenplay (Sidney Howard), Color Cinematography, Actress (Leigh), and Supporting Actress (McDaniel, the first African-American winner). Memorable scenes include antebellum life on the O'Hara plantation (Tara), Confederate casualties during the siege of Atlanta, a desperate escape from the city's conflagration, and Rhett Butler's famous last line. Although critics bash its racism, GWTW inadvertently documents a racist 1939 view of a racist 1860s culture and war, so it's two history lessons in one. It still impresses despite its flaws.

Gonzo: The Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson (2008) is an interesting but inconclusive documentary about the "gonzo journalist" who is best known for his stories in Rolling Stone and for his reportage in such books as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail 1968. This is an honest documentary that examines Thompson's personal foibles (heavy drinking, drug abuse, philandering, destructive tantrums) as well as his talents for deep reporting and entertaining writing. But it avoids judging the most vital aspect of Thompson's work — credibility. Gonzo journalism blurs the boundaries between fact and fiction, between point of view and self indulgence. Ultimately, Thompson's writing undermined the effectiveness of his reporting, which perhaps explains why he has few imitators today.

Good Bye, Lenin! (2003) is a brilliant commentary on the reunification of Germany, the lies of totalitarianism, the broken promises of communism, the greed of capitalism, and the joys and sorrows of freedom. But that description makes Good Bye, Lenin! sound like a pedantic documentary, which it most certainly is not. Instead, it's a witty drama about an East German mother and her teenage son. When she awakens from a coma after a heart attack, she is unaware of recent events: the collapse of the Berlin Wall and East Germany. To protect her from a potentially life-threatening shock — she's a devoted communist — her son goes to extreme lengths to maintain the illusion that East Germany still exists. His deceptions soar to incredible heights, creating many comic situations and subtle comparisons to life under a totalitarian regime. By the end, he becomes poignantly ensnared in his own well-meaning deceits. (German with English subtitles.)

The Good German (2006) tries to re-create a 1940s film-noir thriller by shooting in black-and-white with vintage camera lenses and techniques, scoring similar music (nominated for an Oscar), and incorporating historical newsreels. Unfortunately, director Steven Soderbergh also employs a screenplay as confusing as many film-noir potboilers. George Clooney plays an American war correspondent returning to a bombed-out Berlin a few months after Nazi Germany's surrender in World War II. He is immediately ensnared in a tangle of intrigue involving his former German stringer, his black-marketing jeep driver, the driver's desperate German girlfriend, a U.S. Army officer who's prosecuting Nazi war criminals, a conniving Russian general, and a secret Allied campaign to snatch German rocket scientists. Clooney, Tobey Maguire, and Cate Blanchett deliver faultless performances, but sorting out the twisted plot detracts from the drama.

The Good Girl (2002) stars Jennifer Aniston in a sordid morality tale about middle-class angst. Aniston plays the bored 30-year-old wife of a pot-smoking oafish husband (John C. Reilly). A casual fling with a younger man (Jake Gyllenhaal, who plays an identical character in Lovely & Amazing) leads to predictable trouble. Would any sensible, attractive woman have an affair with a college dropout who obsessively reads Catcher In the Rye and even renames himself after Holden Caulfield? This film tries to make a statement about the restrictive boundaries of middle-class American life, but it's hard not to notice that the characters are constraining themselves.

The Good Liar (2019) is an expertly acted drama about an elderly con man (Ian McKellen) who tries to rip off a wealthy widow (Helen Mirren). If you've ever heard the expression "There's no honor among thieves," you'll appreciate the twists and turns in this entertaining story. Sometimes, accomplices become adversaries and new adversaries appear when least expected. As secrets are gradually exposed, the plot thickens but never freezes. And although the conclusion stretches belief and requires close attention, it's plausible and reveals the film's title as a double entendre.

Good Night, and Good Luck (2005) reconstructs the historic confrontation between U.S. Senator Joseph McCarthy and CBS TV's seminal newsman, Edward R. Murrow. Placed in the 1950s, it shows a crusading journalist using a new medium to question the abuses of the anticommunist "witch hunts" during the Cold War. But the battle of principles between Murrow and McCarthy is really a sideshow. Director and co-writer George Clooney puts TV on trial in this highly charged film. The Murrow-McCarthy affair is overshadowed by the clashes between Murrow and his profit-minded corporate bosses at CBS. And the story is bracketed by Murrow's uncompromising speech to a crowd of broadcast-industry swells, in which he challenges them to make TV more than a wasteland of shallow entertainment and diversion. Filmed in lush black-and-white, this drama convincingly re-creates an era that's more relevant today than ever. David Strathairn deserves an Oscar nomination for nailing Murrow's on-screen persona with eerie realism.

The Good Old Naughty Days (2002) is an eye-popping French documentary about pornography in the silent-film era. If you think porn was tame in the olden days, prepare for a shock. These anonymous film clips date from about 1905 to 1930 and were screened in the waiting rooms of high-class French brothels. With one exception, they are XXX hard-core porn, including a hilarious animated cartoon at the end. There's lesbianism, male homosexuality, oral sex, ménage à trois, ménage à quatre, spanking, and even mild bestiality. Everyone seems to be having fun, but skip this unusual history lesson if you're easily offended.

Goodbye, Columbus (1969) ranks lower than The Graduate (1967) and Easy Rider (1969) as a time capsule of the tumultuous 1960s, but it deserves higher regard. On one level, it's a troubled love story between a librarian (Richard Benjamin) and a businessman's lovely daughter (Ali MacGraw, one year before she starred in Love Story). On another level, it's a class conflict — he's a low-paid public servant; her family is rich. On yet another level, it's a generational clash — the father (Jack Klugman) is grooming his adult son to inherit the unglamorous business, but the son is a dull jock obsessed with his former college sports glory. For additional color, they're all Jewish, which brings social stereotypes and expectations into play. This Oscar-nominated screenplay based on the Philip Roth novel deftly balances all these levels to portray the friction that frustrated the stodgy elders and restless youths of the 1960s.

Goodfellas (1990) remains one of the greatest organized-crime films of all time. Loosely based on a true story, it follows a young boy in a rough neighborhood who matures into a remorseless crook — yet he isn't deeply evil. Ray Liotta is outstanding as the apprentice criminal who narrates his own rise and fall. The entire cast is fantastic. Robert De Niro plays his buddy and is excellent as usual but for once doesn't steal the show. Joe Pesci won Best Supporting Actor for his chilling performance as a seemingly genial but hair-trigger sociopath. Paul Sorvino is a calm but menacing crime boss. Lorraine Bracco was nominated for Best Supporting Actress as the rising criminal's equally ambitious wife. It's a shame this instant classic landed only one Oscar; it was also nominated for Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, and Film Editing. Its brilliance is vivid characterization and insight into the antisocial logic of career criminals.

Gorillas in the Mist (1988) fictionalizes Dian Fossey's ground-breaking study of endangered African mountain gorillas starting in the 1960s. Emphasis on "fictionalizes": she suffers the usual Hollywood mistreatment. The opening scene is all wrong, and later scenes concoct fictitious events, such as Fossey crazily staging a poacher's mock execution and setting native huts afire. Sure, this isn't a PBS nature documentary, but we expect some allegiance to reality. The fake drama undermines Sigourney Weaver's Oscar-nominated performance as Fossey and the brilliant costuming that keeps actors in gorilla suits from looking like actors in gorilla suits. (The baby gorillas were disguised chimpanzees.) Despite its flaws, this movie is educational for those who find PBS documentaries too boring.

Gosford Park (2001), a gorgeous Robert Altman film, is a social drama set in 1932 England among the upper-class gentry at a splendid country estate. It's a time of great homes staffed with well-trained servants who fulfill every whim — and who fill the relative emptiness of their own lives with endless gossip about the private lives of their employers. The film's examination of this society is almost documentary, though almost certainly oversexed. The plot seems to have no particular direction until a dramatic event reveals hidden relationships and passions. English accents make it difficult for American audiences to follow the dialogue, but the rewards are worth the effort.

Grace of Monaco (2014) purports to tell the story of American actress Grace Kelly, who married Prince Rainier of Monaco in 1956. By most accounts, her transition from Hollywood movie star to royal princess wasn't a fairy tale, and this film focuses on an especially rocky period in the early 1960s when France threatened to punish the small city-state over a tax dispute. Although some critics bashed Nicole Kidman's performance as Kelly, it's the only reason to watch this teapot tempest. Kelly's adult children strongly objected to gross historical inaccuracies, so we don't know what to believe. Production arguments over the film editing (three versions exist) aborted a theatrical release and relegated this overwrought drama to TV.

The Graduate (1967) brilliantly captures the confusion of many young Americans in the late 1960s yet remains relevant today. Dustin Hoffman soared to stardom as a recent college graduate who isn't ready for adult responsibilities, a middle-class suburban life just like his parents', and a boring career track to retirement. His indecision is disrupted by a seductress — a middle-aged woman (Anne Bancroft) who happens to be a family friend and whose daughter (Katharine Ross) is a better match. Both actresses in this sordid triangle are superlative. The famous climax summarizes the generation gap in one exchange: "It's too late!" screams the mother; "Not for me!" shouts the daughter. The final scene, without dialogue, questions the morality of the resolution and suggests that no matter which woman he chooses, the relationship is as doomed as his generation's idealism.

Gran Torino (2008) is a well-crafted drama with a heart. It stars Clint Eastwood as a grumpy, racially prejudiced, retired autoworker who clings to his modest house in a declining Detroit neighborhood. Bad memories of combat trauma in the Korean War are never far from his mind, and now he's surrounded by poor Asian immigrants. The recent death of his wife hasn't improved his disposition. He kills time by drinking cheap beer and polishing his 1972 Ford Gran Torino — like himself, a no-nonsense relic from another age. Then a clash with a local gang begins changing his outlook. Eastwood also directed this morality tale, which shows the dilemma of urban violence without overindulgence. His character could just as easily be a retired Dirty Harry. Moral: heroism is costly.

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) is a stylish comedy written and directed by Wes Anderson. Like his previous film, Moonrise Kingdom (2012), it combines elaborate art direction with quirky characters, a starry cast, and a lively plot. It's placed in a fictional world based on 1930s Eastern Europe during the rise of fascism. Ralph Fiennes stars as the conniving concierge of an ostentatious hotel catering to Old Europe aristocracy. Tony Revolori co-stars as the Lobby Boy, a lowly assistant who gradually gains the concierge's trust. The sudden death of a wealthy widow (played by an almost-unrecognizable Tilda Swinton) throws them into conflict with her greedy heirs and the changing political climate. The brilliance of this picture is its odd combination of absurdity, fantasy, and realism. It's like a cartoon that really happened. It also avoids gross-out humor and respects its characters' humanity.

The Grand Space Journey (1975) proves that communists are as good as capitalists at making bad science-fiction movies. Produced in the former Soviet Union, this curiosity stars three 13-year-old children (two boys and a girl) as cosmonauts selected for a deep-space flight. Although their commander is an adult, soon after launch he's forced into quarantine on the ship. Not until the climax is it apparent why he can't continue issuing orders by intercom. Instead, the kids take over. Their mission is unclear and gets muddier when they reach a space station. This film has relatively high production values — the sets are more lavish than those in some American sci-fi flicks. But the screenplay is awful and includes some truly bizarre song-and-dance routines. If nothing else, this movie is an interesting artifact.

Grandma (2015) stars Lily Tomlin as an eccentric grandmother whose teenage granddaughter desperately needs $630 for an abortion. Both are nearly broke, so they embark on a journey to collect old debts or borrow money from friends. It sounds depressing, but the movie is pitched as a comedy-drama that finds dark humor in quirky personalities and relationships. Much of the humor, though, revolves around the Hollywood cliché that coarse language and outrageous behavior are endearing in older people. Tomlin steals the show, as intended, and it's a good show. But it would be much better if writer/director Paul Weitz (About a Boy, 2002) had exploited more dimensions of Tomlin's comedic talent.

The Grapes of Wrath (1940) tells the tragic story of Native American Cherokees forced off their lands by the U.S. government in the 1830s and driven westward on the "Trail of Tears" to Oklahoma, where they were further exploited by greedy white people ... no, wait! Wrong relocation! Actually, this movie adapts John Steinbeck's famous novel about white Americans forced off their lands in Oklahoma by U.S. banks in the 1930s and driven westward on a tearful trail to California, where they were further exploited by greedy white people. Although the mass eviction of poor "Okies" during the Great Depression was indeed ironic, no such irony colors this film. Instead, it focuses on the Joad family, tenant farmers who endure many hardships as they struggle to survive corporate agriculture and the inequities of capitalism. To satisfy Hollywood censors, Nunnally Johnson's screenplay suppresses the novel's darkness and politics, keeping only a few scenes hinting that organized labor deters exploitation. Since 1940, another irony has emerged: the despised foreign migrants who now supply the low-wage labor on California's factory farms were once despised domestic migrants. Nevertheless, this production is a masterpiece by John Ford (who won the Oscar for Best Director) and cinematographer Gregg Toland. Henry Fonda is perfect as the wayward son who seeks his way while skirting the law. Jane Darwell won an Oscar for playing his sad but strong mother, and John Carradine delivers an eccentric performance as a former preacher. The supporting cast is superb. Despite its omissions, this film is a classic.

Gravity (2013) is the best and most realistic outer-space drama since Apollo 13 (1995), which had the advantage of being a true story. Although Gravity is science fiction, it's as plausible as the historic Apollo mishap. Debris from a shattered satellite turns a routine NASA orbital mission into a fight for survival. A veteran astronaut (George Clooney) and a rookie mission specialist (Sandra Bullock) must battle weightlessness, inertia, dwindling oxygen, and the prospect of a very lonely death. Whereas Clooney plays to type as a self-confident pilot, Bullock's performance really carries this film. Finding the perfect mix of fear and determination, she plays a scientist who is competent in her field but not a professional astronaut. When trouble strikes, this newbie must rely on her training — only six months' worth. Besides Bullock's performance, another highlight of this movie is the special effects, especially in 3D on a big screen.

The Great Dictator (1940) lampoons Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini, and other Nazi-era figures in a brilliant satire by the great Charlie Chaplin. It premiered after World War II started but before the U.S. joined the conflict. Chaplin wrote and directed the picture and plays two characters: Adenoid Hynkel (a Hitler parody) and The Barber (a Jew who resembles Hynkel and Chaplin's silent-film persona, the Little Tramp). Although this movie was Chaplin's first true talkie, much of the humor is visual, per his style. It ridicules the fascist dictators and their cultish followers while condemning anti-Semitism and military aggression. Yet it's compassionate when showing Hynkel's persecution of his enemies. (Keep in mind this film was made before liberation revealed the Holocaust's full horrors.) Two scenes are most famous: one in which Hynkel juggles an inflated globe while fantasizing about world domination, and the climax in which The Barber (mistaken for Hynkel) delivers a stirring speech calling for world peace. This masterwork is a must-see classic.

The Great Escape (1963) dramatizes the true story of British POWs organizing a mass escape from a German prison camp during World War II. After a year's work, dozens of men tunneled out. In this Hollywood version, American POWs play a larger role than they did in real life and many other details are fabricated. Nevertheless, it's generally realistic, and it's a truly great drama. The starry cast includes Steve McQueen, James Garner, James Coburn, David McCallum, Charles Bronson, David Attenborough, and Donald Pleasance. (Attenborough and Pleasance actually served in the Royal Air Force during the war, and Pleasance was a POW.) Among the highlights are the elaborate tunnel schemes and McQueen's motorcycle stunts. The morals are that prisoners needn't be passive captives and that escape can be more dangerous than combat.

The Great Gatsby (2013) takes place during the 1920s Jazz Age, but this movie's soundtrack makes it seem like the Rap Age or Disco Age. Mashups of modern and contemporary music form a strange backdrop to elaborately staged scenes of epic parties at the Long Island mansion of Jay Gatsby, the central character of F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic 1925 novel. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Gatsby, the mysterious millionaire who mesmerizes New York's high society. Tobey McGuire plays Nick Carraway, a Wall Street bond salesman who falls into Gatsby's circle and narrates his story in flashbacks. Fitzgerald's morality tale of upper-class extravagance would seem to be especially relevant after the 2008 Wall Street crash and subsequent concentration of wealth — hence, perhaps, the mashup soundtrack. But Gatsby's obsession with a lost love (played by a curiously unmagnetic Carey Mulligan) overshadows the social commentary. Fitzgerald's novel, like Tom Wolfe's 1987 homage, The Bonfire of the Vanities, inevitably loses some power when adapted to film.

The Great Train Robbery (1903) effectively launched the American motion picture industry. It was the first U.S. film to tell a complete dramatic story, whereas previous motion pictures were mostly comic skits or short clips of everyday life. Only 11 minutes long, this film depicts an armed gang violently robbing a train's strongbox and passengers before escaping on the decoupled locomotive and on horseback. Next they celebrate their feat at a square dance. Finally they're pursued by lawmen and engage in a gunfight. In addition to its narrative innovation, this picture is notable for hand-tinted color and a final image of a grim robber firing a revolver at the camera, which shocked early audiences. Today's movies are descendants of this seminal work.

The Great Train Robbery a/k/a The First Great Train Robbery (1978) places a fictional heist drama in 1855 Victorian England. Sean Connery stars as the devious ringleader who enlists his lover (Lesley-Anne Down), an expert lockpick (Donald Sutherland), and a cat burglar (Wayne Sleep) in a complicated plot to steal British gold. Michael Crichton — better known for science fiction (Jurassic Park, The Andromeda Strain) — wrote and directed this highball film. It's notable for Connery performing his own dangerous stunts atop a fast-moving train and for Sleep (a ballet dancer in real life) actually climbing walls in his scenes. Clever capers and double-entendre dialogue add to the fun.

The Great White Hope (1970) is loosely based on Jack Johnson, a black heavyweight boxing champion in the early 1900s. In this drama, he's Jack Jefferson, brilliantly played by James Earl Jones. An introductory screen says "Much of this story is true," which is Hollywood talk for "Much of this story is untrue." Fictionalized biopics muddy the waters by mixing truth with untruth without telling them apart. Although we don't expect a documentary, we'd hope that only the minor details are fudged. The main threads of this film (which adapts a 1967 stage play) are reasonably accurate. Johnson/Jefferson was a fierce boxer and high-living carouser who tried to exist as though his race didn't matter. Unfortunately, it did. Jane Alexander is superb as his white lover (a true detail, to a point). Their acting energizes this still-relevant social commentary.

Green Book (2018) is loosely based on the experiences of a cultured African-American pianist who hired an Italian-American nightclub bouncer to drive him on a concert tour through the Midwest and Deep South in 1962. The title refers to an actual guidebook that helped black people find safe places to eat and sleep in the days when racism and Jim Crow laws kept them out of whites-only establishments. Both characters in this well-crafted drama undergo emotional changes by the end of the tour, which is marred by the expected social discomfort and occasional violence. This is an actor's film with Oscar-worthy performances by Mahershala Ali as pianist Dr. Don Shirley and Viggo Mortensen as his rough-edged driver, whose son co-wrote the screenplay. Ali won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. Although easily dismissed as a Hollywood "magic Negro" cliché, Green Book won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 2018.

The Green Mile (1999) is overlong, cliché-ridden, and wastes several good performances on an overwrought story about saintly convicts and evil prison guards.

Greendale (2004) is the eccentric film version of Neil Young's hard-rockin' concept album of the same name. It's not a music video, but a visualization of the stories told in the lyrics. Young's Crazy Horse band supplies the grungy soundtrack. Shot in gritty Super 8 film, with no dialogue save for lyrics, Greendale weaves a drama of small-town moral tragedy, political machination, and environmental activism. Although it swings wildly between literalism and allegorical fantasy and isn't for everyone, it kept me riveted through the final credits.

Gregory Crewdson: Brief Encounters (2012) documents the art photographer who stages elaborate scenes to make just one extremely detailed picture. Crewdson and his crew create some of their tableaux outside in ordinary neighborhoods and others on carefully crafted indoor stages. They employ the same set design, lighting, actors, costumes, and makeup as a motion-picture production — but the result is always one large-format still image. Crewdson's photographs are so detailed that viewers can find multiple compositions within them. Art galleries sometimes sell his huge prints for more than $100,000. This documentary shows his working methods and explains his philosophy but leaves some questions unanswered. For instance, are the amateurs in his photos paid for their roles, perhaps with a share of the sales?

Greyhound (2020) dramatizes a strategic aspect of World War II that Hollywood movies rarely show: the Battle of the Atlantic. This naval conflict pitted Nazi German U-boats against Allied convoys carrying vital supplies and troops across the Atlantic Ocean to Great Britain. Although it was fought throughout the war, it was particularly contentious in the early years when U-boat "wolfpacks" were sinking ships faster than the Allies could build them. Tom Hanks adapted this tight screenplay from a C.S. Forester novel (The Good Shepherd) and stars as the captain of a U.S. destroyer escorting merchant ships crossing the North Atlantic. Except for a superfluous flashback with his fiancée (Elisabeth Shue), the whole film takes place on the destroyer, and the action is almost continuous. Despite the usual historical inaccuracies, it's an overdue tribute to the sailors who braved this dangerous duty and enabled the Allies to liberate Europe.

Groundhog Day (1993) seemed like a casual comedy at its debut. Since then it has gained popularity as an entertaining holiday-themed movie while achieving stature as a philosophical allegory. In those ways, it resembles It's a Wonderful Life (1946). Bill Murray stars as a cynical TV newsman reluctantly covering the annual Groundhog Day event in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, in which the community gathers to see if a local rodent emerges from its burrow. If the animal sees its shadow, tradition says the region will get six more weeks of winter. This folk legend has become a blatant tourist promotion, of course, and the newsman treats it so. Forced to overnight in town, he awakens to find the previous day repeating itself — but only he notices. When it keeps happening day after day, he grows desperate and even suicidal. His struggle to escape has been likened to Buddhist reincarnations in the progression toward perfection, among other high-minded interpretations. On any level, this sleeper hit is a great classic.

Guadalcanal Diary (1943) dramatizes the U.S. Marines' first assault on a Japanese-held island in World War II. Made shortly after the pivotal battle ended, it's typical of upbeat wartime propaganda but is fairly accurate by Hollywood standards. Notably, it shows heavy U.S. casualties and the bodies of fallen Americans at a time when wartime censorship forbade journalists to do the same. Although rife with war-movie clichés that later became standard, it realistically portrays the initial emotions of bravado and uncertainty, soon replaced with grim resolve and fatigue. William Bendix is particularly good as a boisterous Brooklyn cabbie who ponders fate while sheltering with fellow Marines during a pulverizing bombardment from Japanese battleships. Like other wartime movies, this one is racist toward Japanese soldiers, but it acknowledges their skill and spirit.

Gun Crazy a/k/a Deadly Is the Female (1950) is a famous film noir. John Dall and Peggy Cummins star as lovers of guns and each other who graduate from carnival sharpshooting to armed robbery. Blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo co-wrote the excellent screenplay, which borrows from the Bible to cast Cummins as the "Eve" who lures Dall's "Adam" into evil. Despite comparisons with Bonnie and Clyde — infamous lovers and bank robbers in the 1930s — this movie has little in common with them. Director Joseph H. Lewis animates the tight script with innovative camera angles, lots of action, and sustained suspense. The climax departs from convention with a moody, misty showdown.

Haiku Tunnel was one of the best comedies of 2001. It's an indie film co-written and co-directed by Josh Kornbluth, who also stars. Kornbluth shows potential as the new Woody Allen in his neurotic role as an office temp at a San Francisco law firm. After the firm unexpectedly hires him full-time, his carefree life as a rootless temp starts to rapidly go downhill — with hilarious results. Despite a few inside jokes about law firms and San Francisco, the movie still works as a topical satire of the modern office. Vote independent and see Haiku Tunnel.

Half Nelson (2006) is one of the best films about drug addiction ever made. It's not preachy, it avoids stereotypes, and it has great soul. Ryan Gosling delivers a stunning performance as an inner-city schoolteacher addicted to crack cocaine. He struggles to hide his drug habit and steady descent into dereliction. He gets help from an unexpected source: one of his 13-year-old pupils, a black girl played with insightful reserve by Shareeka Epps. Gosling's performance teeters on the edge of excess, but never loses balance. This is a serious film that doesn't pull punches. It's marred only by a series of abrupt history-lesson scenes that seem forced and out of place.

Hamilton: One Shot to Broadway (2017) documents the genesis of the smash-hit stage musical Hamilton. Although this 90-minute documentary is unauthorized, it includes comments from writer/composer/actor Lin-Manuel Miranda clipped from various public appearances. Interviews with theater critics and other Broadway personalities contribute valuable insight on Miranda's background, working methods, and creative genius. Highly recommended for Hamilton fans.

The Hangover (2009) is a rollicking comedy that could have been better with less juvenile humor. Four men descend on Las Vegas for a bachelor party, which predictably veers out of control. To its credit, the movie departs from the usual formula by not showing the party. Instead, the men awaken the next morning with terrible hangovers and drug-induced amnesia. Their hotel room is a wreck. And one man — the groom — is missing. For the rest of the movie, they hunt for him and try to reconstruct what happened. It's a great premise and very funny at times. But too often the scriptwriters couldn't think of a joke and resort to teenage slapstick.

Happy Birthday to Me (1981) was a sleeper hit at drive-in theaters. It rode the new wave of teen-slasher flicks that continues to this day. Memorably promoted by a poster illustrating a shish-kabob skewer impaling a teenage boy, this movie has all the usual elements: a group of clueless kids killed one by one in increasingly bizarre ways, witless behavior devoid of all logic, and a convoluted twister climax. The biggest star is Glenn Ford, slumming in the nadir of his career.

Hard Luck (1921) is a 22-minute silent-film short starring Buster Keaton and Edward F. Cline. Keaton plays a despondent poor man who keeps failing to commit suicide until he finds a new job as an armadillo hunter. Although Keaton considered the final scene to be the funniest of his outstanding career, this film features more of his slapstick comedy and fewer of his impressive stunts. Other Keaton shorts from this period seem funnier today.

The Harder They Fall (1956) is among the best of many boxing movies made in the 1950s. The sport was immensely popular then, and corruption was rampant. Humphrey Bogart plays a laid-off newspaper columnist who reluctantly becomes the press agent for a huge but inept South American rookie (6-foot-8 Mike Lane in his movie debut). Rod Steiger is dynamite as the silent partner who fixes fights to pave the rookie's way for a heavyweight championship bout. Two real-life heavyweight champions (Max Baer and Jersey Joe Walcott) play the reigning champ and the rookie's trainer. The fight scenes, especially the climax, are brutally realistic. This picture sympathizes with exploited boxers and is notable as Bogart's last before dying of cancer the next year at age 57. He looks unwell but delivers a typical Bogey performance. Ironically, Steiger delivers the last line of dialogue to him: "I wouldn't give 27 cents for your future."

Harold and Maude (1971) instantly became a cult classic often screened at art theaters and colleges before VCRs, DVDs, and video streaming brought offbeat films home. Bud Cort is absolutely perfect as Harold, a depressed, alienated teenager with a wicked sense of humor. His favorite stunt is faking suicide, and for fun he attends funerals. At one of them he meets an unlikely soul mate in Maude, an eccentric elderly woman living in an old railroad car. Ruth Gordon is divinely excellent in this role. Their odd adventures freak out other people. Spawned by the rebellious 1960s, this movie broke societal norms by depicting an age-disparate relationship in which the male is the much younger half. It's best appreciated by tolerant fans of dark humor.

Harriet (2019) dramatizes the life of Harriet Tubman, an escaped slave who rescued dozens of enslaved people on the Underground Railroad in the 1850s. She also became a public speaker at abolitionist gatherings and led a Union Army raid to free more people during the Civil War. This fictionalization is well done and generally accurate, save for one imagined scene when she confronts a slaveowner at gunpoint. It could have happened, though, because Tubman was genuinely prone to trancelike spells in which she claimed to glimpse visions of the future. So her premonition of a coming war that would exact a bloody cost for the sin of slavery is an imaginative invention. Cynthia Erivo (British!) was nominated for Best Actress; this film should have been nominated for Best Picture.

Harriet Craig (1950) stars Joan Crawford in a suitable role: a strong-willed woman with a mean streak. Her title character is a domineering wife so passively aggressive that her smitten husband is oblivious despite four years of marriage. He begins to awaken after their first separation when she travels to visit her mentally ill mother. The alarm bells clang louder when his job threatens a longer separation. Wendell Corey's performance as her henpecked hubby isn't bad but appears merely adequate alongside Crawford's tour de force; different casting might have made this good movie even better. Already, it was the third film adaptation of a Pulitzer Prize play (Craig's Wife, 1925). The final showdown was probably the fiercest marital combat on screen until Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? shattered all norms in 1966.

Harriet the Spy (1996) adapts Louise Fitzhugh's 1964 children's novel. The title character is a precocious 11-year-old girl who aspires to be a famous writer. She gathers material by spying on her friends, family, and neighbors, recording everything she sees, hears, and thinks in her ever-present notebook. Her adventures are insightful and fun — until she gets into trouble. Although this movie has a talented cast of child performers and stays largely faithful to the novel, the relentlessly upbeat background music is extremely annoying. It often overpowers the dialogue and voiceovers, and it generally undermines the serious themes that made the book controversial in its time. Some scenes are unnecessarily frivolous. Fitzhugh's classic deserves a better adaptation.

Harriet Tubman: Visions of Freedom (2022) documents the extraordinary life of the African-American woman who escaped slavery and rescued many other enslaved people via the Underground Railroad. Before the Civil War, Tubman made at least 13 dangerous forays into Maryland (then a slave state) to escort escapees to freedom. During the war, she rescued nearly 800 by leading Union troops on a raid in South Carolina. She was also an influential public speaker at abolitionist rallies. Using interviews and dramatizations, this well-made one-hour documentary summarizes her life and activism.

Harry Brown (2010) stars Michael Caine as a British pensioner living in an urban apartment complex that has seen better days. Now overrun by vicious youth gangs and drug addicts, its law-abiding residents withdraw in fear. Caine plays a retired Royal Marine who reaches the breaking point. Although this is a vigilante movie, it's not as wanton as most other examples of the genre. Caine's character is motivated as much by despair and weariness of living as by a thirst for revenge. His performance is well-rounded and sympathetic. Even the bad guys are well drawn. Though graphically violent, this film says more about life than about death.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (2001) is a lavish special-effects production that hews closely to the best-selling children's novel of the same name. But it's awfully long and intense for very young or impressionable children. And although it's a better-than-average story about magical people in a fantasy land, it lacks the same sense of wonder and delight that marks true classics like The Wizard of Oz. Better luck next time.

Harry and Tonto (1974) bookends the usual coming-of-age stories — it's a going-of-age story. Art Carney won the Best Actor award as Harry, an elderly widower who's forcibly evicted from his NYC apartment to make way for an urban-renewal project. After a brief and uncomfortable visit with his eldest son's family, he embarks on a cross-country trip with Tonto, his beloved cat. His adventures include encounters with young folks who can't help making him feel even more outdated. The Oscar-nominated screenplay finds humor in his waning years without sugar-coating the inevitable depressions. Although today's audiences will likely miss the 1970s topical references, the basic theme still holds true. Those young folks are now Harry. The final scene inadvertently shows that we've grown more fearful since 1974 — today, it might get him arrested.

Harvard Beats Yale 29–29 (2008) recounts a historic college football game played 50 years earlier: the 1968 showdown between two undefeated Ivy League schools. Even the Harvard players knew the Yale team was superior, but they hoped sheer grit could help them win. Their defeat looked certain until fate intervened. This fascinating documentary interviews former players from both teams, now much older and wiser. Filmmaker Kevin Rafferty intersperses archival game footage with the player's insightful comments. It's apparent that this dramatic game affected their lives far beyond football and college. Among the surprising tangents: one player's roommate was future President George W. Bush; actor Tommy Lee Jones was a Harvard guard who roomed with future Vice President Al Gore; and another player was dating a young Meryl Streep.

The Haunted House (1921) is a 21-minute silent-film short starring Buster Keaton and Edward F. Cline. Keaton plays a clumsy bank teller who stumbles onto a gang of counterfeiters led by Cline's outsize character. It's funny but has more pratfalls and fewer of the startling stunts for which Keaton became famous in his other films of the 1920s.

Haunted House of Horror (1969) is a stupid British slasher flick with only one redeeming quality: it's a veritable time capsule of 1960s Swinging London and Carnaby Street fashions. It also features Frankie Avalon not at the beach. Tellingly, violence-porn director Quentin Tarantino selected this movie for his first self-named film festival in 1996. It's so bad, he wished it was his.

The Haunted Strangler (1958) stars Boris Karloff in a good British crime thriller. Although 70 years old at the time and in poor health, Karloff delivers a surprisingly energetic performance as a novelist trying to prove that an innocent man was hanged for serial murder 20 years earlier. The unofficial investigation provokes new murders in the same vein. The supporting cast is competent but bland; Karloff carries the weight. A last-act plot twist and dramatic climax elevate this picture above most other 1950s horror-theme thrillers.

Haunts of the Very Rich (1972) is an above-average vintage made-for-TV movie. Several wealthy people fly to a high-class resort so exclusive that its location is secret. On arrival, everything seems great. Then it gets weird, and the obedient resort manager becomes less helpful. Initial panic gives way to a philosophical debate about life and death. Like some other TV movies of its era, this one benefits from veteran actors hungry for parts: Lloyd Bridges, Cloris Leachman, Ed Asner, Anne Francis, Donna Mills, and even "Brady Bunch" father Robert Reed as a disillusioned priest.

The Haunting (1963) may appear tame now but still wins my vote as one of the all-time scariest horror movies. Julie Harris stars as a repressed spinster in a midlife crisis who joins a group of strangers investigating a reputedly haunted house. Her bleak life seems intertwined with the creepy mansion's tragic history, and soon she's the apparent focus of its mysterious evil. The skilled cast includes Claire Bloom as her liberated roommate, Richard Johnson as the group's sympathetic leader, and Russ Tamblyn as a cocky but savvy colleague. The unsettling mood energizes this psychological thriller, which rises to a shocking climax.

The Haunting (1999) remakes a 1963 horror thriller that was much better. This one sells its soul to overdone special effects, wasting a stellar cast that includes Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Owen Wilson, Lili Taylor, and Bruce Dern.

Haunting of Winchester House (2009) is a mediocre horror movie loosely based on the famous Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California. In 1884, the widow of the Winchester rifle inventor believed she was haunted by the ghosts of people killed by her late husband's guns. To confuse the ghosts, she built a sprawling, eccentric mansion that remained under construction until she died in 1922. This movie was actually filmed in a different location near Los Angeles, however, and even that house is rendered unrecognizable by a matte painting. The story takes place in the present when a young couple with a teenage daughter moves in. Strange things start happening immediately and soon turn dangerous. It's pretty standard haunted-house fare with the usual fright tricks and an overwrought soundtrack. The final twist is a rehash of several previous horror films.

Haxan a/k/a Häxan (1922) is a silent documentary that relates medieval witch hunts to the psychosomatic symptoms that some prominent 19th-century doctors blamed on female "hysteria." Made in Denmark by Swedish writer/director Benjamin Christensen, it opens pedantically with static images of historical drawings depicting witches, devils, and demons. Be patient, because it transitions to live-action re-creations of inquisition witch hunts, tortures, and trials. Swedish censors cut several graphic scenes, now restored. It's not a good look for the Roman Catholic Church, but it's a fascinating and artfully produced example of an early documentary film.

He's Just Not That Into You (2009) feels like an overlong episode of the TV series Friends. It even stars Jennifer Aniston. All the characters are affluent yuppies in newly renovated Baltimore apartments — think lots of skylights and unpainted brick interiors. At heart, it's a romantic comedy that riffs on the different male/female "signals" emitted by twenty-somethings cruising in the hook-up culture. The premise is interesting, but it's awkwardly implemented. Occasional voiceovers and direct-to-audience narrators try to explain the characters' motives or offer amusing teaching moments. Overall, it's a pleasant date movie, not much more.

He Walked By Night (1948) leans too heavily on corny narration but otherwise is a great film noir. Richard Basehart (later Admiral Nelson in the 1960s TV series Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea) skillfully plays a crime genius. He's a lock-pick burglar, armed robber, con man, electronics expert, and pistol sharpshooter who starts a crime spree in postwar Los Angeles. He's also a man of few words, so Basehart brings him to life with fine acting. Whit Bissell shines too as a nervous businessman who gets entangled in the case. The cops are cardboard characters. Watch for Jack Webb (later Sgt. Joe Friday in the TV series Dragnet) as a lab technician. The novel climax wisely drops the narration and even dialogue for a thrilling chase in L.A.'s labyrinthine storm drains.

The Heat (2013) stars Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy in a buddy-cop chick flick. Bullock plays a tightly wound FBI agent on assignment in Boston, where she's unwillingly paired with McCarthy, a wild-child police detective. Normally, Bullock would have the lead role, but she yields equal screen time to McCarthy, who charmed audiences as the crude misfit in Bridesmaids (2011). McCarthy delivers another over-the-top performance in this film, winning hearts by playing a thoroughly abrasive character. Her chemistry with Bullock is explosively funny. Although this comedy has lots of laughs, its relentless profanity and occasional violence will bother some viewers.

Heathers (1988) shows how real events can change perceptions of an existing artwork. This dark comedy was funnier when it was made 11 years before Columbine opened the modern era of sociopathic school shootings. Viewed as contemporaries saw it, Heathers is a hilarious commentary on high-school social rivalries, female friendship cliques, adolescent angst, and bungled revenge plots. Viewed today, after many tragic school shootings and teen suicides, it's darker than intended. Although the art remains static, the world does not. Winona Ryder stars as Veronica, a confused teenager striving to join her school's elite social circle, which is ruled by three preppy girls coincidentally named Heather. They're arrogant, cruel, and drop-dead gorgeous. When they reject Veronica, her new relationship with an outcast turns homicidal. Christian Slater fits this role perfectly while channeling Jack Nicholson. The whole cast is excellent, and the dialogue is appropriately profane and slangy. Today this wicked satire has a sharper bite.

Heaven Can Wait (1943) remains funnier than many comedies of its era, thanks to wry humor, clever dialogue, and a superb cast. Don Ameche stars in this fantasy that spans 70 years in the life of Henry Van Cleve, a rich man's son who assumes he's destined for hell. When he dies and enters hell's lobby, the receptionist asks him to confess his crimes. In flashbacks, Henry recounts his birthdays in 1872, 1887, 1897, 1922, 1932, and 1942. The lovely Gene Tierney plays his love interest. This lightweight rom-com grows heavier with the passing years but never loses its humor. It was nominated for Best Picture, Director (Ernst Lubitsch), and Color Cinematography, losing the top awards to Casablanca.

Heaven Can Wait (1978) remakes Here Comes Mr. Jordan (1941), not Heaven Can Wait (1943). The confusion stems from its origin on a stage play by that name. Warren Beatty and Julie Christie star in the 1978 movie about a pro quarterback who dies prematurely and protests his heavenly destiny. He wants to play in the Super Bowl. Two heavenly hosts (James Mason and Buck Henry) try to comply by moving his soul into the body of a recently deceased rich man. This comedy was nominated for a surprising nine Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director (Beatty and Henry), Actor (Beatty), Supporting Actor (Jack Warden as a trainer), Supporting Actress (Dyan Cannon as the rich man's wife), Screenplay (Beatty and Elaine May), Art Direction, Cinematography, and Original Score. It won only one Oscar (Art Direction), which seems appropriate. It's amusing but not hilarious.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001) is a tragic transsexual love story, but the catchy tunes are the true heart of this harsh rock musical. Hedwig is a sexually abused German boy who finds a novel way to escape East Berlin during the Cold War: marry a U.S. Army sergeant. Now he/she is the lead singer in a rock band whose songs are stolen by a former lover. Hedwig's pursuit of justice — in matters of both law and of love — leads to a series of complicated personal relationships. Some scenes are uncomfortably raw, but the music is always redemptive, especially the allegorical "Origins of Love."

Hello, My Name is Doris (2016) stars Sally Field as an aging spinster who becomes infatuated with a much younger co-worker. It's a drama, it's a comedy, and it's good. Leading roles for 70-year-old women don't come along very often in Hollywood, so Field seizes the day. She nails her character's combination of bleak loneliness and residual youthfulness. Max Greenfield plays her object of affection in a cool straightforward fashion, creating room for Field's more lavish performance. Tyne Daly contributes atmosphere as Doris's close friend. Although the story is fairly predictable, screenwriters Laura Terruso and Michael Showalter resist the temptation to be crude or unkind.

Hells Angels on Wheels (1967) is best appreciated as a time capsule of 1960s biker-gang movies. The Wild One kick-started this genre in 1953 with Marlon Brando and Lee Marvin as unruly motorcyclists who terrorize a small town, but it was constrained by the strict Hays Production Code. By 1967, Hollywood was abandoning all such decorum, so Hells Angels on Wheels was free to run truly wild. Adam Roarke stars as the gang leader who recruits a local roughneck (the excellent Jack Nicholson). Although real-life Hells Angel Sonny Barger and his Oakland gang briefly appear during the opening credits to lend some realism, the actors are credible on their own. The story is mainly violent brawls, drunken parties, and crazy road trips. Made two years before the infamous Altamont rock concert when some Angels killed a man, this movie portrays the bikers as unfettered counterculture rebels — although one of Nicholson's lines suggests they are merely conformists of a different stripe. A better time capsule of counterculture bikers is Easy Rider (1969).

Helmut Newton: The Bad and the Beautiful (2020) documents the late professional photographer known mainly for his risqué fashion portraits. Unlike a similar 1989 documentary (Helmut Newton: Frames from the Edge), this one was made after Newton died in a 2004 car accident at age 84. Both films summarize his long career, during which he usually posed sexy female models in bizarre outfits and setups. Much of his work may be interpreted as fetish soft porn despite the high-fashion accouterments and occasional celebrity subjects. Among the latter who are interviewed are Isabella Rossellini, Grace Jones, Charlotte Rampling, and Marianne Faithfull. All praise his work and demeanor. Unlike the earlier film, this one digs a bit deeper into his past and motivations. His self-assessment: "I'm an anarchist and a naughty boy."

Helmut Newton: Frames from the Edge (1989) documents the late professional photographer (1920–2004) known mainly for his risqué fashion portraits. Newton favored young, tall, buxom models and typically photographed them in atypical poses: nude or seminude while immersed in seaweed, wielding sharp tools, wearing prosthetics, roasting whole pigs, humping finned Cadillacs, and many other gimmicks. His fetish erotica was unsuitable for most high-fashion clients, so he moved into art photography, selling books and prints. This documentary adequately shows his work and methods, but it grows repetitive, and it reveals little about his motivations.

Her (2013) stars Joachin Phoenix as a lonely dot-com worker who falls in love with the artificially intelligent operating system on his cell phone. Voiced by Scarlett Johansson, the OS is a clever computer program that learns and adapts to the user's personality. It's also capable of phone sex — between the user and the phone, that is. Although this story certainly has its comedic and romantic moments, the overall tone is rather morose. Writer/director Spike Jonze (Adaptation, Being John Malkovich) explores the meaning of love and the depth of object personification. His premise is not as far-fetched as it may seem. The technology is attainable, and emotional attachments to nonpersons are as common as household pets and religions. In the end, this cerebral film makes the point that love really is a two-way street.

Herbie: Fully Loaded (2005) is a reasonably good update of the long-running movie series about "Herbie," an old Volkswagen Beetle with a spunky personality. The original Herbie from 1966 spawned six sequels through Herbie, the Love Bug in 1982. In the latest version, an equally spunky young woman (Lindsay Lohan) rescues Herbie from a junkyard and helps her mechanic friend (Justin Long) restore the car to NASCAR specs. But her father (Michael Keaton), a race-team leader, forbids her to compete. This sets up the usual madcap conflict that ends predictably, but it's still funny — if you like the silliness of an old Beetle racing against modern NASCAR vehicles. Overall, this movie is no sillier or cornier than the originals.

Hereafter (2010) is a spiritual but not religious drama about life, death, and life after death. Clint Eastwood directed this addition to his impressive body of work behind the camera. He masters a difficult screenplay that tells three parallel stories and gradually connects the dots to draw a mysterious but fulfilling picture of broken lives mended. Matt Damon plays a psychic who can communicate with dead people but doesn't like to; Cecile De France plays a French journalist who suffers a life-changing trauma; and Frankie and George McLaren play young twins struggling to cope with troubles beyond their years. Although this film is suspenseful, it's not a schlocky thriller. It works on multiple levels and seems crafted to inspire thoughtful debate.

Hereditary (2018) is both a horror film and a family drama, and viewers will understandably disagree on whether it succeeds. The family (two parents and their teenage son and daughter) has just lost a grandmother who was more tolerated than treasured. Then strange things start happening, and a tragedy soon tears the family apart. But are their troubles natural or supernatural? This question isn't resolved until deep into the story, and the answer will satisfy some viewers while dissatisfying others. I'm among the latter, although the conclusion is perhaps inevitable. Nevertheless, this film unquestionably has excellent acting, dialogue, music, special effects, and a general aura of weirdness, so it's worth a watch. Newcomer Milly Shapiro, who plays the teen daughter, is particularly impressive.

Hero (2002-2004) is a gorgeous film about an ancient Chinese warrior, three super assassins, and the Chinese Emperor Qin Shi Huangdi, who first united China. The story is told in a series of repeating flashbacks, each with a different version of events, reminiscent of the Japanese classic Rashomon (1950). Mixing elements of history and fantasy, Hero explores the ambiguity experienced by people who are living through historical events, not studying them long afterward. The cinematography and art direction are spectacular, and the battle scenes glow with an artistry rarely seen in American film. Originally produced in 2002, this movie was released in the U.S. (with English subtitles) in 2004.

Hidden Figures (2016) is a drama about the African-American women who performed critical mathematical calculations for NASA's early space programs. It centers on three actual women who were known as "computers" when that term described a job, not a machine. Taraji P. Henson stars as Katherine G. Johnson, perhaps the most brilliant team member, whose outstanding service was later honored by NASA. The strong supporting cast includes Octavia Spencer and Janelle Monáe as fellow math whizzes, and Kevin Costner, Kirsten Dunst, and Jim Parsons as their white supervisors. Although this film is fairly accurate in portraying the early space program and the racism these women had to overcome, it needlessly exaggerates some incidents and presents some composite characters as one-dimensional people. Overall, it's a little too formulaic, but it tells an enjoyable story that needs to be told.

High Anxiety (1977) reverently spoofs Alfred Hitchcock's classic thrillers and a few other movies as well. Mel Brooks co-wrote, directed, and stars in this madcap comedy about an acrophobic psychiatrist entangled in a murder mystery. Hitchcock fans will find visual or verbal references to Call Northside 777 (1948), The Wrong Man (1956), Vertigo (1958), North By Northwest (1959), Psycho (1960), The Birds (1963), and more. Some references are subtle, but others are dramatic — especially a hilarious Psycho shower scene. Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-Up (1966) gets a nod, too. Funny co-stars include Madeline Kahn as a Hitchcock blonde, Cloris Leachman as a wicked nurse, Harvey Korman as a rival doctor, and Howard Morris as a mentor shrink. You needn't be a Hitchcock fan to enjoy this romp, but it definitely helps.

High Fidelity (2000) has John Cusak's best performance since The Grifters. He's the music-obsessed owner of a small record store catering to collectors, and anybody who hoards vinyl will identify with the cast of warped characters.

High Noon (1952) appears to be a good Western drama but was actually a rebuke of 1950s red-scare McCarthyism. Gary Cooper won the Academy Award for Best Actor as Will Kane, a retiring U.S. marshal who faces a showdown with a violent ex-con who wants revenge. Needing help, Kane tries to recruit volunteer deputies, but they're afraid. His strongest ally is his young wife (Grace Kelly in an early role), but even she doesn't want him to risk his life. The theme of ordinary people shying from a bully was aimed at Republican Senator Joseph McCarthy, who led the anti-communist blacklisting that ravaged Hollywood. Arch-conservative John Wayne never lost his hate for this film. Ironically, now it could be viewed as the patriotic story of a police officer who courageously stands up for law enforcement despite losing the support of his cowed community.

High Plains Drifter (1973) followed other revisionist Westerns in the 1960s and '70s but introduced a different atmosphere. Although it's more violent, nihilistic, and satirical than traditional Westerns, it doesn't exceed other reinterpretations in those respects. Instead, it's more bleak, unsettled, and cryptic. Clint Eastwood stars as a strange man of few words who rides into a small town and soon is both feared and lionized by the locals. He's a remorseless killer of men and a ravager of women, but they need his stoicism and fast guns to fight three bad guys seeking revenge. The amoral moral: might makes right. Eastwood also directed, and though this project was only his second, it's now a classic.

High Sierra (1941) is a must-see classic. Humphery Bogart achieved stardom as Roy Earle, a pardoned criminal who immediately returns to his old ways. Ida Lapino, who gets top billing, adeptly plays his gal. All the supporting actors are equally great. This thriller is notable for showing the bad guy's soft side, almost no authentically good characters, and an exciting car chase unsurpassed for decades. The climax melds drama and pathos without seeming melodramatic.

High Society (1956) remakes The Philadelphia Story (1940) as a musical starring Bing Crosby, Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong. Despite the impressive star power and glossy Technicolor production, it's not as funny as the original comedy with Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, and James Stewart. But contemporary audiences liked it, partly for the Cole Porter score and soft-jazz songs that Crosby and Sinatra croon at the peaks of their popularity. The score and one song ("True Love") were nominated for Oscars. Unfortunately for her fans, this picture was Kelly's last before ending her Hollywood career by marrying Prince Rainier III of Monaco.

High Wall (1947) is a stylish film noir starring Robert Taylor as an accused homicidal maniac and Audrey Totter as a sympathetic psychiatrist. Herbert Marshall co-stars as a book editor whose secretary was supposedly murdered by the maniac. Although there's little mystery to untangle, and the depiction of psychiatry is unrealistic, film-noir fans will appreciate the fervent acting, dramatic lighting, and subtle camera work. The climax even happens on a dark and stormy night. What more do you want?

Hillbilly Elegy (2020) would be better without the shaky camera, choppy editing, and randomized storytelling. Director Ron Howard employs these common disguises for a weak screenplay despite having a story compelling enough for a straight treatment. It dramatizes the 2016 memoir of J.D. Vance, a poor boy from Kentucky and Ohio who became a San Francisco venture capitalist before his 2022 election to the U.S. Senate and 2024 nomination for vice president under Donald Trump. Vance was raised mainly by his grandmother when his parents separated and his mother became a drug addict. Owen Asztalos and Gabriel Basso play Vance as a boy and as a young man, respectively, and they're competent. But Amy Adams as his dysfunctional mother and Glenn Close as his steely grandmother are outstanding. (Close was nominated Best Supporting Actress, losing the Oscar to Youn Yuh-jung in Minari.) The mystery of this rags-to-riches story is why Vance now supports policies unsympathetic to the hardships of his youth.

His Kind of Woman (1951) is an odd but watchable film noir, mainly because it stars Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Raymond Burr, and Vincent Price. It starts strong, with Burr (before his Perry Mason days) as a deported gangster planning to sneak back into the U.S. Mitchum is a gambler tricked, beaten, and bribed into playing a vital part in the plot. His role is a mystery, though, as he's sent to Mexico. Then the story stalls, as if the screenwriters struggled to fill time before the last act. As a diversion, they introduce Russell as a husband hunter, Price as her eccentric admirer, and even Jim Backus (later Mr. Howell on Gilligan's Island) as a sleazy Wall Streeter. It adds up to little until the final act, which suddenly veers between brutal violence and madcap comedy — the result of meddling by Howard Hughes, the producer of this bipolar picture.

Hitchcock (2012) dramatizes the story behind director Alfred Hitchcock and one of his most famous films, Psycho (1960). After the triumph of North By Northwest (1959), Hitchcock hungered for something different. Psycho, inspired by a real mass murderer, was a controversial project with little studio support, but its slasher horror spawned a new genre of American cinema. Anthony Hopkins excels as Hitchcock, playing the role expansively alongside Helen Mirren as Hitch's wife and Scarlett Johansson as Janet Leigh, the shower-scene victim. James D'Arcy adds an uncanny impression of Anthony Perkins, who played the spooky psycho killer. Although fans of Hitchcock and Psycho will love this back story, there's little else for others.

The Hitch-Hiker (1953) deserves its status as a classic film-noir thriller. William Talman is utterly convincing as a murderous fugitive thumbing his way to freedom in Mexico. Leaving a trail of dead motorists, he's picked up by two buddies (Edmond O'Brien and Frank Lovejoy) on a fishing trip. Their performances are good but can't match Talman's brutal creepiness. This movie sustains suspense from start to finish and is brilliantly directed by actress Ida Lapino, who co-wrote the script and directed only one more picture (The Bigamist, 1953) before turning her filmmaking talents to television. Talman later gained fame as the loser prosecutor Hamilton Burger in the Perry Mason TV series. But the Hitch-Hiker remains their outstanding work and is the only film noir directed by a woman.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005) tries hard to reproduce the cleverness and humor of Douglas Adams's classic science-fiction novel, and sometimes it succeeds. At times it seems choppy as it struggles to visualize the literary detours and casual asides sprinkled through the book, but any screen adaptation ignoring those devices would be a travesty. Even so, it's obvious that the film relies heavily on the nonfilm device of voice-over narration — in the form of whole passages from the novel quoted verbatim — to capture the absurdist spirit of Adams's story. The screenplay is generally faithful to the book, starting with the destruction of Earth for a galactic superhighway, followed by the misadventures of a tepid Englishman who finds himself caught up in a bewildering galaxy of eccentric space aliens. (Hint: Don't leave when the credits roll. At my screening, I was the only person in the theater to remain for the coda.)

Hitler: A Film From Germany (1977) ruminates on history's most infamous tyrant for nearly 7.5 hours. And German director Hans-Jurgen Syberberg's approach is as artistically unconventional as the running time. His production isn't the usual dramatization, documentary, or adaptation. Instead, it combines all those filmmaking techniques plus surrealism and seemingly irrelevant detours. Examples of the latter are recurrent images of Thomas Edison's Black Maria, the world's first motion-picture studio. This detour traces the development of mass media that the Nazis employed to mislead their followers. It's also a self-referential link between history and storytelling in film, which then becomes part of history. Another theme is that Adolph Hitler was not an aberration but rather a common spawn of Western civilization who was able to seize absolute power. Although in no way does it absolve Germany, neither does it absolve the world at large.

The Hitler Gang (1944) would today be called a docudrama — a mostly factual dramatization of historical events that fabricates dialogue. In 1944, it was wartime propaganda. This remarkable movie tells the story of Adolf Hitler's rise from a hospitalized World War I corporal to the dictator of Nazi Germany and instigator of World War II. The star is Bobby Watson, a little-known American actor whose uncanny resemblance to Hitler won him that role in ten films. Many other obscure actors also resemble their Nazi characters, a gang that includes Rudolf Hess, Joseph Goebbels, Ernst Röhm, Hermann Göring, and Heinrich Himmler. The screenplay is generally accurate but for some relatively minor mistakes and two major gaffes. First, it blames the Nazi campaign against Jews on a casual suggestion by a comrade instead of on Hitler's virulent anti-Semitism; and it falsely portrays Hitler as vehemently anti-Christian. The first gaffe is puzzling but perhaps sought to avoid uncomfortable comparisons with America's contemporary anti-Semitism. The second gaffe was probably a naked propaganda ploy. Despite these flaws, this movie is worth watching as an early docudrama and as a relic of Hollywood wartime propaganda.

Holiday (1938) stars Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in a lively romantic comedy with a twist of lifestyle rebellion. Grant plays the whirlwind fiancé of a pretty young woman whom he suddenly discovers is a high-society Manhattan debutante. But he's unimpressed by her wealth and by the lucrative Wall Street career it could bring. Instead, he yearns to fulfill his longtime desire to earn just enough money to quit work and "find himself." He's more like a free spirit of 1968 than of 1938, and he appears even more frivolous in the Great Depression than he would have in the Swinging Sixties. Although his starchy fiancée is unsympathetic, his plan appeals to her fun-loving sister (Hepburn), setting up an amusing love triangle. The supporting cast contributes a lot to this comedy, which remakes a 1930 film that adapted a popular Broadway play.

Hollow Man (2000) is a cheap and sleazy remake of The Invisible Man, ruining the best special effects of the year with a raunchy script. Still, it has those great special effects.

Hollow Triumph (1948) overstretches credulity but is still a fair film noir. Paul Henreid plays against type as the bad guy, and Joan Bennett plays against type as the good gal. When his robbery of a gambling den goes wrong, Henreid is on the lam from the mobsters who own the joint. In a lucky coincidence, he discovers his striking resemblance to a psychiatrist. If only he could fool the hit men by impersonating the shrink. Of course, he'd have to assume other aspects of his doppëlganger, such as his voice, medical practice, signature, and facial scar ... yep, it's practically impossible. Bennett plays the doc's secretary and secret lover who's been hardened by life's disappointments. Somehow they rescue this improbable plot, which ends in a karmic twist.

Home Alone (1990) instantly became a huge comedy hit and has joined the ranks of annually televised Christmas movies, even though it's only peripherally about the holiday. Child actor Macaulay Culkin famously delivered an outstanding performance as 8-year-old Kevin, a mischievous boy accidentally left home when his large family departs Chicago on a trip to France. They don't realize he's missing until midflight. Meanwhile, little Kevin enjoys his unexpected autonomy. When a pair of bumbling burglars (Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern) try to rob the house, he devises clever defenses. This hilarious movie never loses its charm and inspired several sequels and parodies. Pesci and Stern play their parts to perfection, with Pesci showing a flip side of his performance as a sociopathic gangster in Goodfellas, released the same year.

Home for the Holidays (1972) is an above-average TV movie with a good cast and thriller storyline. Sally Field, Jessica Walter, Eleanor Parker, and Jill Haworth play four estranged sisters visiting their dying father (Walter Brennan) and his second wife (Julie Harris) at Christmas. Dad suspects his wife is slowly poisoning him and draws them into the mystery. Jessica Walter plays a crazy-woman character similar to her famous role in Clint Eastwood's Play Misty for Me (1971). Sally Field shows hints of the talent that much later won her two Academy Awards. Walter Brennan and Julie Harris are underused, though. As the murders accumulate and the suspects dwindle, it's not hard to guess the culprit.

Honeyland (2019) is an outstanding documentary about a poor woman beekeeper in North Macedonia, but it's also a micro example of mercantile greed and environmental exploitation. The beekeeper gently tends wild bees, always careful not to harvest more honey than the hives can spare. She also cares for her 85-year-old invalid mother as they share a marginal existence in a crude shack. Despite the poverty and isolation, their lives are stable — until a bee hunter arrives with his large family. They raid the hives for too much honey, then drain them dry when a merchant offers cash for as much honey as they can find. The filmmakers spent three years working intermittently on this project while camping in tents. Because they couldn't speak the local dialect, they didn't understand a word until an interpreter joined them while editing the film. Honeyland was nominated for Best Documentary and Best International Film at the Academy Awards.

The Hoodlum (1951) starkly portrays the recidivism of an unrepentant career criminal. This bleak film noir casts tough-guy Lawrence Tierney as a parolee who won't go straight. Tierney's real-life brother Edward plays his movie brother, a straight-laced gas-station owner with a pretty fiancée. Lisa Golm, as their long-suffering mother, upstages Tierney in a melodramatic death-bed scene. Otherwise, it's Tierney who propels this tight drama from the opening credits to the last frame.

Hoop Dreams (1994) is an awesome documentary about black youths in Chicago who aspire to escape poverty by becoming professional basketball stars. Local high schools bent on assembling championship teams eagerly recruit young boys who show early talent on neighborhood courts. But the boys are soon under pressure to meet expectations while maintaining passing grades. They're frequently compared with past stars who made it to the NBA. Those who succeed in high school must then score high enough on entrance exams to win scholarships at top universities, where the pressure is even greater. Most players are sabotaged by injuries, mental breakdowns, unwise life choices, poor grades, neighborhood crime, and disappointing scholarships. It's heartwarming to watch these youths try to succeed while even the slimmest chance of success sustains their families' hope for a better future. It's heartbreaking to watch their failures. Director Steve James spent five years making this remarkable film, which says as much about urban poverty in America as it does about the harsh business of basketball. Critics loudly protested when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences snubbed it for Best Documentary Feature.

Hoosiers (1986) typifies feel-good sports movies in which underdog athletes overcome daunting obstacles to win. But it's so well done, the clichés don't matter. Gene Hackman stars as a disgraced college basketball coach who gets a last chance to redeem himself at a small Indiana high school. His militaristic manner and rigid training quickly alienate the townfolk. A holdout star, rebellious players, and clashes with a fellow teacher (Barbara Hershey) don't help. Nothing succeeds like success, however, and soon his scrappy little team is winning nail-biters. Dennis Hopper was nominated Best Supporting Actor for playing the town drunk and latent basketball genius. This sleeper hit realistically evokes its time period (1951) and always keeps its eyes on the ball.

Hope Springs (2012) is advertised as a romantic comedy but is actually a deeper drama about a long-married couple struggling to rejuvenate their relationship. Although there certainly are laughs, don't expect a light-hearted romp. Meryl Streep is excellent (as always) in her portrayal of a Midwestern housewife disenchanted with her 31-year marriage. Tommy Lee Jones, as her tax-accountant husband, rises to the level of Streep's performance. He shows us a loyal but emotionally withered middle-aged man who is comfortable with stasis. Steve Carell plays their marriage counselor, but his comedic talents are suppressed in this unusually straight role. Although this is a very good film that should be a popular couples movie, it has been miscast as a fluffy chick flick.

Hopscotch (1980) stars Walter Matthau as a CIA field agent who goes rogue when his boss demotes him to a boring desk job. This caper comedy is ridiculously implausible but amusing if you can overlook the silly premise. The CIA pursues Matthau all over the world when he begins writing a tell-all book that embarrasses the spy agency and especially his hostile boss. Ned Beatty and Sam Waterston play his main pursuers, and foxy Glenda Jackson is an ex-agent who offers refuge. As usual, though, Matthau's sardonic wit holds everything together.

The Horror at 37,000 Feet (1973) is a typical made-for-TV movie of its era: low budget, schlocky, yet creative and studded with recognizable actors looking for work. Among them are William Shatner ("Star Trek"), Chuck Connors ("The Rifleman"), Buddy Ebsen ("Beverly Hillbillies"), Russell Johnson (The Professor on "Gilligan's Island"), Roy Thinnes, Paul Winfield, and Tammy Grimes. They're all passengers or crew on a transatlantic airliner carrying sacred altar stones from an English abbey to the U.S. for reconstruction on a rich man's estate. Then strange things start happening in the cargo hold. The story keeps getting sillier, but it's better than most low-budget thrillers from previous decades.

Horror of Dracula (1958) stars Christopher Lee as the alpha vampire and Peter Cushing as Doctor Van Helsing, the vampire hunter. Both British actors reprised their roles in later horror flicks, but this one set a high standard that was hard to beat. As a Hammer Films production, it has elaborate sets, vivid color, just enough blood, and overt sensuality. Lee says little but always commands the room. Cushing is characteristically businesslike. Dracula's usual gorgeous blood donors include brunette vixen Valerie Gaunt, blonde beauty Melissa Stribling, and pale-but-pretty Carol Marsh. The famous final scene has outstanding special effects for its time. Although this thriller is unfaithful to Bram Stoker's novel, it's still great.

Horror Hotel (1962) is better known by its original title; see City of the Dead (1960).

The Horror of Party Beach (1964) is a low-low-budget thriller that melds two genres popular in the early 1960s: rubber-suit monster movies and bikini beach frolics. But don't look for Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello, the king and queen of silly beach classics. Instead, a no-name cast faces the horror of radioactive mutants from beneath the deep. Although it's pretty awful, it has some value as a time capsule, including scenes featuring group dance routines, an odd fistfight, a dorky beach band, and a girls' slumber party. Somehow this movie attracted a minor cult following, but don't expect too much.

Hot Spot (1941): see I Wake Up Screaming.

Hotel Rwanda (2004) is a powerful and compassionate drama about the 1994 Rwandan genocide, in which thousands of people identifying themselves as Hutu massacred about 500,000 fellow citizens identified as Tutsi. (They are not African tribes; modern Hutus and Tutsis are descendants of native Africans divided into two groups by former Belgian colonists.) Don Cheadle richly deserves his Best Actor nomination for playing the Hutu manager of a luxury hotel who shelters hundreds of Tutsis from the slaughter. Based on true people and events, this superlative film reveals the horror and absurdity of the killing without drifting from its central thread — the story of one man's humanity amidst madness. It's the Schindler's List of the Rwandan holocaust.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939) was the first of 14 films in which Basil Rathbone plays the fictional English private detective and Nigel Bruce plays his sidekick, Doctor Watson. It's based on the most famous Sherlock Holmes story by Arthur Conan Doyle. This screen adaptation is fairly faithful, although Doyle fans despise its depiction of Watson as a humorous bumbler. Nevertheless, the basic story of a mysterious killer hound that haunts the English moors remains intact. This picture has great atmosphere, eccentric characters, genuine mystery, and good performances. It set the tone for the subsequent 13 films in this series and is one of the best.

The Hours (2002) wastes superlative acting on a muddled story. It takes place in 1923, 1941, 1951, and 2001 in England, Los Angeles, and New York. The tenuous link is Virginia Woolf's novel "Mrs. Dalloway." Nicole Kidman — disguised in a fake nose that's sometimes visibly putty-colored — plays Woolf. Julianne Moore plays a quietly desperate 1950s housewife, her second such role this year (see Far From Heaven). Meryl Streep is a modern New Yorker who's nursing a male friend dying of AIDS. All are depressed, confused lesbians, and the story spasmodically lurches toward an emotional epiphany. Tears reign over coherence, but the performances are so good, most viewers don't care.

The House Across the Bay (1940) has a stellar cast: gangster-type George Raft, screen siren Joan Bennett, sidekick Gladys George, character actor Lloyd Nolan, and a youngish Walter Pidgeon. But the drama wobbles when Bennett's character invents a ridiculous way to protect her husband (Raft) from assassination by business rivals. After this strange turn, the story regains some balance, then falls apart more ridiculously at the end. Even one of the obligatory nightclub acts falls flat when Bennett sings a dreadful song. Nevertheless, this picture is watchable if you can forgive its flaws.

The House of Fear a/k/a Sherlock Holmes in the House of Fear (1945) is the 10th of 14 movies starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Loosely based on Arthur Conan Doyle's story "The Five Orange Pips," it's about an exclusive men's club in Scotland whose members are mysteriously dying one by one. Preceding each death, the victim receives an unsigned envelope containing orange seeds, their count matching the number of remaining members. Holmes and Watson are soon joined by Inspector LaStrade of Scotland Yard (Dennis Hoey in another repeating role). This installment ranks among the best in the series by creating a genuine puzzle that stumps even Holmes, along with gloomy atmosphere, great character acting, a few red herrings, and the usual assortment of amusing eccentrics.

The House of Mirth (2000) is a 19th-century costume drama about an upper-class woman who falls on hard times. Too bad it's so incomprehensibly edited that even a strong performance by Gillian Anderson (The X Files) can't save it.

The House on Telegraph Hill (1951) echoes Alfred Hitchcock's Suspicion (1941), which isn't a bad thing — director Robert Wise delivers the same surprises and suspense. Valentina Cortese plays the newlywed who fears her husband (Richard Basehart) plots to kill her. As a Holocaust survivor, she's already fragile. When she impersonates a dead friend to emigrate to America, she thinks her gravest danger is exposure. Then she discovers more secrets at her destination, a hoary old house in San Francisco. This thriller features good performances and actual locations in the city, including the Telegraph Hill house (the former Julius Castle restaurant where I once dined).

House of Wax (1953) was filmed in 3-D color and stereo sound when Hollywood was fighting the rapid rise of home television. The idea was to lure people back into theaters with gimmicks and big-screen epics that the tiny black-and-white TVs of the era couldn't emulate. But this movie needs no gimmicks to earn its rightful place among horror-thriller classics. Vincent Price stars as a wax-figure sculptor who barely survives an arson fire that destroys his masterpieces. Revenge leads to gruesome murders. Carolyn Jones (later Morticia Addams in the 1960s TV series The Addams Family) is amusing as a flirty young woman, and Phyllis Kirk ably plays her sensible roommate who becomes the sculptor's obsession. Unlike in most horror films, the actresses dominate — the male actors (Price excepted) are mundane. The drama and sets are superb. Don't miss a rare 3-D screening, because the effects are a delight. When viewing it flat, expect to see lots of things lunging toward the camera.

How the Beatles Changed the World (2017) is a remedial documentary for people who experienced the 1960s but may be revelatory for those who didn't. Writer/director Tom O'Dell uses archival film and new interviews to assert that the Beatles changed not only popular music but also popular culture, the music industry, and even religion. That their songs were innovative musically and lyrically is well known. But the Fab Four also changed how pop musicians interacted with the mass media and interfaced with political and social movements. Their first motion picture, A Hard Day's Night, was innovative as well. Among the talking heads are some famous music journalists and Barry Miles, a hometown friend of the Beatles from Liverpool. Naysayers who say the world changed the Beatles, not vice versa, must not have lived through the Sixties. The Beatles themselves modestly said they merely tapped into the zeitgeist, then adapted and amplified it. Either way, their influence was enormous, and this documentary makes a good case for its thesis.

How Green Was My Valley (1941) beat Citizen Kane to win the Academy Award for Best Picture — an upset debated ever since. Orson Welles' Citizen Kane undoubtedly is the enduring classic. How Green Was My Valley was good for its time but lacks the wit, flair, and creative cinematography of Welles' masterpiece, which nabbed only one Oscar: Original Screenplay. How Green Was My Valley was nominated for ten and won five, including Director (John Ford), Supporting Actor (Donald Crisp), B&W Interior Decoration (now obsolete), and B&W Cinematography (huh?). It's a sympathetic drama about a Welsh coal-mining family that perseveres through pay cuts, labor strikes, mine accidents, scandals, class prejudice, and other hardships. Although its setting in 1930s Wales looks remote today, some of those troubles remain uncomfortably relevant. Watch for Roddy McDowall as a child actor in his first American film.

How to Make a Monster (1958) is a surprising treasure for creature-feature fans. It's a meta-movie. When the heartless new owners of a studio lay off the talented makeup artist who dresses actors as monsters for horror movies, he seeks revenge by turning the actors into real killers. So it's not a movie about monsters; it's a movie about a monstrous person who makes fake monsters, and later those actors begin acting like real monsters. Get it? Wait, there's more! The fictional studio is American International, which is actually the real studio that made this movie after releasing a pair of real 1957 horror flicks: I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein. Whew! But don't worry, the plot is less confusing than it sounds, and Robert H. Harris is superb as the disgruntled makeup artist. As a final twist, the climax of this b&w production was filmed in color.

How to Steal a Million (1966) pairs Peter O'Toole with Audrey Hepburn in a lively heist comedy filmed on location in Paris. Our first glimpse of Hepburn shows her driving a sporty European convertible while dressed in space-age fashion: white outfit, a white dome hat imitating a space helmet, and goggle sunglasses. Thanks for the flashback, Givenchy! Hepburn plays the daughter of an art forger who's lending a priceless fake to a French museum. O'Toole plays a mysterious burglar trying to expose him. The plot gets complicated as they plan and execute a daring robbery, but it's fun.

How the West Was Won (1962) features a star-studded cast in an epic Western drama that spans four generations from 1839 to 1889. It's one of those big-budget big-screen productions that Hollywood hoped would lure TV viewers back to theaters. More than a dozen top movie stars appear, and Spencer Tracy narrates. George Peppard ties the chapters together as the ambitious son of Ohio settlers who fights in the Civil War, goes west with the U.S. cavalry to protect the construction of the transcontinental railroad, and finally serves as a gray-haired sheriff facing a showdown. This sprawling drama effectively employs the wide-screen Cinerama process and was a huge hit. Although it shows some sympathy for Native Americans, the driving theme is manifest destiny — the 19th-century belief that white people were destined to conquer the West. This picture is a splendidly produced epic that reflects the dominant American values of the 1800s.

Howl (2010) brilliantly dramatizes Allen Ginsberg's famous 1955 poem "Howl" and the 1957 obscenity trial it provoked. James Franco delivers a believable performance as young Ginsberg in the first public reading of the poem at the Six Gallery in San Francisco and in a post-trial interview. In the trial scenes — derived from actual transcripts — David Strathairn and Jon Hamm eloquently trade barbs as the prosecuting and defense attorneys, respectively. In nonspeaking parts, other actors portray Beat Generation writer Jack Kerouac, his friend Neal Cassady, and City Lights Books publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who triggered the controversy by committing "Howl" to print. What really sets this film apart, though, is its unconventional storytelling. In segments interspersed among the trial and interview scenes, Franco reads the entire poem (obscenities included), which is vividly illustrated in fantastic animations. This film is vital for anyone who loves Beat poetry, or who seeks insight into the 1950s Beat Generation, or who wants to understand why the "Howl" trial was a landmark case for First Amendment free-speech rights.

The Howl (Italian: L'Urlo, 1970) is an experimental film that tries to relieve the tedium of its incoherence by flashing quick cuts of nudity, sex, and graphic violence (both real and simulated). Before you'll make sense of one scene, another whizzes by. The Italian dialogue is equally nonsensical. This romp aspired to be a 1960s exercise in counterculture art, but it adds up to little and looks amateurish today.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994) is an offbeat comedy written and directed by the famous Coen brothers (Fargo, No Country For Old Men, The Big Lebowski...). The story is rather thin: a 1950s corporation hires a goofball as president to deliberately depress the stock price, which will enable the board members to acquire control on the cheap. But what if the goofball invents a hit product that spoils their plans? The real soul of this film is the execution, not the concept. It's a broad comedy spiced up with rapid-fire dialogue and brilliant art direction and set design. Tim Robbins, Paul Newman, and Jennifer Jason Leigh earn their stars. Relax and enjoy the zaniness.

Hugo was an oddity — the second movie of 2011 to honor silent film. (The other was The Artist). It's also the first children's movie directed by Martin Scorsese, more famous for his violent gangster pictures (Goodfellas, The Departed, Gangs of New York ...) But kids reared on today's fast-moving animated features and action flicks may find Hugo tough going. Placed in 1930s Paris, it's about an orphaned boy who secretly lives in a train station, maintaining the huge clocks looming over the lobby. Then the story veers toward an old man and a forgotten silent-film era. Children are too young for nostalgia and may be puzzled by the tribute to antique films, unable to appreciate an emerging technology that seems primitive by modern standards. For adult film buffs, however, Hugo is a marvel.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1923) survives as a silent-film classic only because a 16mm print was struck in the 1920s from the now-lost 35mm negative. The demise of this epic would have been tragic. In one of his best roles, Lon Chaney Sr. wears heavy makeup and a prosthesis to play Quasimodo, a severely disabled man who inhabits the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. Based on Victor Hugo's 1831 novel, the story takes place in 1483 during a period of civil unrest. Patsy Ruth Miller ably plays Esmeralda, a young "gypsy" woman who attracts three unlikely suitors: Quasimodo, a bishop's evil brother, and the captain of the king's guard. Their rivalry leads to an attempted kidnapping, a whipping, an attempted murder, dungeon torture, and a death sentence. To film this drama, Universal Studios employed thousands of extras on a 19-acre Hollywood set that reproduced medieval Paris and Notre Dame's facade. Despite the vast size of the production, it relates the story on a human scale that evokes sympathy for Quasimodo, who is cursed with ugliness, and Esmeralda, who is cursed with beauty. It's timeless.

The Hunger Games (2012) is based on popular young-adult novels about a dystopian future in which the U.S. has dissolved into several districts ruled by a totalitarian government. To punish the districts for a past rebellion, each must send two young people to compete in an annual survival game from which only one contestant emerges alive. The violent games are televised and promoted like gladiatorial dramas. Jennifer Lawrence brilliantly plays a contestant from a poor Appalachian district who must rely on guile instead of fighting skills. The supporting cast (including Josh Hutcherson, Stanley Tucci, and Wes Bentley) is superb. Although the handheld cinematography is annoying, and one critical scene is inconsistent, the storytelling is powerful. The most obvious inspiration was reality TV, but perhaps teens find this movie and the novels allegorical. In our day, we splurge fortunes on wars and weapons while slashing educational budgets and sacrificing the future of our youths.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (2013) is the second installment in a novel-based trilogy that eventually will be stretched to four films. In other words, don't expect a neat ending to this one. Jennifer Lawrence reprises her role as Katniss Everdeen, a young archer who lives in a future dictatorship that televises annual "games" in which the youthful contestants fight to the death. Having won the most recent competition (The Hunger Games, 2012), she now must endure a government-sponsored victory tour she despises. Although her fellow survivor (played again by Josh Hutcherson) is equally dispirited, they must pretend to be national heroes or face punishment. But their defiant victory has stirred a popular rebellion, and the government is brutally cracking down. This fast-moving film skillfully captures their moral dilemma and is a creepy extension of our own media-mad culture. It doesn't really catch fire, though, until it repeats the first film's greatest drama: the deadly games. The brewing revolution is a less interesting subplot that wants to be the main plot, probably to the detriment of future sequels.

The Hurricane (1999) is worth seeing, as long as you don't take it too literally. With such dramatic real-life material to work with, why do Hollywood directors insist on fictionalizing a story like this?

The Hurt Locker (2009) is an exceptional drama about the U.S. occupation of Iraq. Filmed in a quasi-documentary style, it follows a U.S. Army team of bomb-disposal experts led by a skilled but reckless young soldier (well played by Jeremy Renner). By killing off a star's character early in the picture, The Hurt Locker creates tension — any character can die at any time. Mark Boal wrote this masterpiece, a huge improvement over his previous work (In the Valley of Elah, 2007). Boal's screenplay is brilliantly visualized by director Kathryn Bigelow. War movies directed by women are rare, but this one ranks with the best. It was nominated for nine Academy Awards and won six: Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing, and Film Editing. Although it's nonpolitical, the subtext is inescapable: Why were we there?

Hush...Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964) reeks of Southern decay, moldy wealth, ruined finery, and family secrets. Nominated for seven Academy Awards (but winning none), it's a psycho thriller with impressive star power: Bette Davis as an aging Southern belle shunned for her involvement in a gruesome murder, Agnes Moorehead as her cranky servant, Olivia de Havilland as her visiting cousin, Joseph Cotten as her Southern gentleman doctor, Mary Astor as her mysterious rival, Bruce Dern as her secret lover, and Victor Buono as her dominating father. All deliver extravagant performances. Although this deliberately overdramatic drama tried to repeat the success of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962), in which Davis also played a crazy spinster, it falls a bit short. In particular, the climax is overlong and the surprises are clumsily revealed. Still, it's fun.

The Hustler (1961) confirmed Paul Newman's stardom and ranks among the best movies ever made. Newman skillfully plays "Fast Eddie" Felson, a young pool shark yearning to be a champion. He challenges alpha shark "Minnesota Fats" (Jackie Gleason, outstanding) to a grueling contest in a dingy New York pool hall. But winning or losing hinges on Eddie's moral character, not on his shooting talent, and that's his weakness. Piper Laurie deftly plays a damaged woman who enters his life as an alcoholic bus-station pickup but soon becomes a life changer. George C. Scott, always excellent, plays an amoral gambler who's either an angel or a devil, depending on his mood. Although the tense pool games are the film's highlights, it's mainly a morality tale of blind ambition, insatiable greed, troubled love, and subculture survival. It was nominated for eight Oscars, including Best Picture, Director (Robert Rossen), Actor (Newman), Actress (Laurie), Supporting Actor (Gleason and Scott), and Adapted Screenplay. Unfortuately, it won only two (black-and-white Cinematography and Art Direction). Nevertheless, it stands the test of time as a true classic.

Hypnotic (2002): see Close Your Eyes.

I Am Legend (2007) is a big-budget remake of The Omega Man (1971), which was a medium-budget remake of The Last Man On Earth (1964), which was a low-budget adaptation of a science-fiction novel by Richard Matheson (I Am Legend, 1954). Recycling is good for the environment but often toxic for cinema. In this case, computer-generated special effects overwhelm the story. And the story has changed from the lethargic, cultish zombie flick of 1964 into a killfest freak show resembling 28 Days Later (2002). A cancer cure goes bad, felling most of the world's population and transforming nearly all survivors into homicidal zombies. Oddly, the genetic virus gives the zombies superhuman athleticism, except in daytime if they're not wearing SPF-1,000 sunscreen. Will Smith stars as the last normal human, a role originally played by Charlton Heston and Vincent Price in earlier versions. This adaptation would have done better to rely more on Smith and less on cheap-thrill pixels.

I Am Not Your Negro (2016) is an Oscar-nominated documentary on American race relations based on notes for an unfinished novel by James Baldwin (1924–1987). The writer of Go Tell It on the Mountain and If Beale Street Could Talk related his personal memories of Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. — three famous black activists slain in the 1960s. Director Raoul Peck powerfully fleshes out the notes with archival film and recent scenes of racial unrest. Samuel L. Jackson reads Baldwin's notes as narration mixed with film of Baldwin himself speaking in interviews and to various audiences. The conclusion that America's fate is ultimately tied to its acceptance or rejection of a multiracial society is at once obvious and revelatory.

I Am Sam (2001) has Oscar-quality performances from Sean Penn and child actress Dakota Fanning, though only Penn was nominated. The dialogue, by screenwriters Kristine Johnson and Jessie Nelson, is powerful and honest. Unfortunately, Nelson didn't stick to writing — he also directed. Some of Penn's best scenes are massacred by Nelson's amateurish, herky-jerky film editing, which at times makes it difficult to even focus on Penn's face. Fortunately, the material is strong enough to prevail. Penn plays a retarded man trying to retain custody of his young daughter, who is rapidly overtaking her father's limited mental capacity. Michelle Pfeiffer plays his fast-living attorney. An excellent supporting cast helps to put this emotional movie over the top.

I Confess (1953) pits civic duty versus sacred honor in a low-key crime thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Montgomery Clift plays a Roman Catholic priest who hears a murderer's confession — but he can't tell the police without breaking his sacred vow to keep confessions secret. His dilemma deepens when he becomes a suspect. For more tension, his friendship with a politician's pretty young wife (Anne Baxter) looks suspicious. Although this film wasn't popular, it's a realistic drama that thrives on fine acting. Clift's stiff style (it's rumored he was often drunk) suits his priestly role. Baxter adeptly emotes in scenes with few words. Karl Malden plays to type as a dogged police detective, and O.E. Hasse nails his part as the confessed but unconfessed murderer.

I Heart Huckabees a/k/a I Love Huckabees (2004) is a strange, intriguing movie that aims high but sometimes descends into silliness. The cast is formidable: Dustin Hoffman, Lily Tomlin, Jude Law, Mark Wahlberg, Naomi Watts, and Isabelle Huppert, plus relative newcomer Jason Schwartzman in the leading role. Broadly speaking, the story is about a young environmentalist who engages an "existential detective agency" to investigate a coincidence: his three chance encounters with a tall, black African man. Schwartzman's character wants to understand the significance of these events. From this slim thread, the film launches into a philosophical exploration of personal connections, introspection, political activism, jealousy, love, and other weighty subjects. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. The dumbest scene is a muddy sex romp involving Schwartzman and Huppert, a French actress 27 years his senior.

I Married a Witch (1942) misses the mark as a lovable screwball comedy. Fredric March fills a role better suited to Cary Grant, and Veronica Lake just isn't as funny as her contemporaries in this genre (notably Claudette Colbert, Carole Lombard, and Jean Arthur). The fantasy element is another weakness. Lake plays the mischievous reincarnation of a 17th-century witch who curses her accuser's descendants before burning at the stake. March is one of those descendants, a candidate for governor on the verge of his sure-fire election and his political marriage to the reluctant daughter of an influential newspaper baron. Susan Hayward plays the daughter, a minor character. Swapping roles with Lake might have made a better picture. Nevertheless, it pleased critics and audiences, and it inspired the popular 1960s TV series Bewitched.

I Met My Love Again (1938) stars a young Henry Fonda as a bookish college student who loves an eager-to-marry coed (Joan Bennett, before she darkened her hair and became a wonderfully sleazy femme fatale). Frustrated by an overlong engagement, Bennett's character impulsively takes a detour. Fonda bounces from a cold, standoffish performance to sudden levity, then gets serious again. Bennett previews her future roles in an unexpectedly dramatic final act. Although this rom-com is uneven, it has its enjoyable moments.

I Never Sang for My Father (1970) is a sublime actors' film. Almost-forgotten director Gilbert Cates gives his talented players room to act, and they deliver. Although billed as a co-star, Gene Hackman commands the most screen time as the grown but cowed son of a dominating father played by Melvyn Douglas. Estelle Parsons is the daughter, once banished for an unapproved marriage but now returning to bolster her brother's courage. Their problem is that father refuses to admit his old-age decline and is even more the self-centered bully. Few movies are as emotional and effective as this one in showing the dilemma of preparing an aging parent for the inevitable. Yet it never descends into shallow pathos or tidy resolution.

I, Robot (2004) is a sorry interpretation of Isaac Asimov's classic science-fiction stories about robots and their interactions with humans. Although this movie claims Asimov's stories as parentage, the only significant vestiges are his famous Three Laws of Robotics, and even they get short shrift. Instead, we're subjected to an ordinary action movie with overproduced special effects and improbable action scenes. Will Smith plays a wisecracking Chicago police detective in 2035 who suspects that wayward robots killed a famous scientist. But apparently, technology has reached such a state of absolute perfection in his time (only 30 years distant from our own) that no one believes his suspicions are even remotely possible, much less plausible. From this absurd premise, everything goes downhill.

I See You (2019) is a tight thriller about a troubled family whose home seems to be haunted by a poltergeist. The father is a police detective assigned to a missing-children case that seems to involve a serial killer. Eventually these threads tie together, but not before some clever surprises. The performances are adequate: mainly, Jon Tenney as the detective/father, Helen Hunt as his wife, and Judah Lewis as their teenage son. Two more important characters played by Owen Teague and Libe Barer debut in the second act, and they're better. But this movie succeeds largely on the strengths of its plot twists, menacing music, and stalker-style cinematography.

I Tre Volti Della Paura ("The Three Faces of Fear"), 1963: see Black Sabbath.

I Wake Up Screaming a/k/a Hot Spot (1941) is a stylish film-noir crime thriller that's undermined by an odd musical score and hijacked by a supporting actor who overshadows the leading man. Victor Mature stars as a slick promoter who bets he can lift a lowly diner waitress to fame. In a rare dramatic role, 1940s pin-up hottie Betty Grable co-stars as the waitress's skeptical sister. After a murder, a gruff police detective enters the story — and steals every scene he shares with the top billers. Laird Cregar plays this menacing character to passive-aggressive perfection. Although this whodunit is above average, it would be better without the incongruent music, which veers from bouncy comic passages to "Over the Rainbow" schmaltz.

I Walked With a Zombie (1943) will likely disappoint fans of modern zombie movies. Don't expect gory scenes of brain-eating violence. Instead, it's a low-key horror thriller that succeeds on subtle mystery and creepy atmosphere. Frances Dee stars as a young Canadian nurse who agrees to care for a semi-comatose patient on a Caribbean island. The patient is married to the wealthy British owner of a sugar plantation that employs local people descended from slaves. Tension between the white boss and black workers haunts a story of more tension between Western medicine and voodoo superstition. Is the patient brain-damaged from disease, or is she an undead zombie? The plot echoes Charlotte Brontë's 1847 novel Jane Eyre, and the climax is laden with symbolism and is open to interpretation.

I Was a Teenage Frankenstein a/k/a Teenage Frankenstein (1957) tried to ride on the surprising success of I Was a Teenage Werewolf, released earlier that year. Whit Bissell again plays a mad scientist — this time, Dr. Frankenstein, a 1950s version of his European ancestors. At a seminar, he's mocked for believing he can transplant major organs and reattach severed limbs. Of course, these procedures are common today. But he goes further by assembling a completely new person from scavenged parts. To avoid the errors of his forebears, this Dr. Frankenstein tries to create a handsome, healthy teenager. As usual, the experiment goes awry. One novelty of this mildly amusing flick is the doctor's remedy for a meddling fiancée.

I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957) sired the packs of teen-oriented horror thrillers that thrive to this day. Focusing these flicks on teenagers attracted Baby Boomers and popularized the new youth culture: parties, dancing, cars, slang, and music. In fact, this thriller was the first to feature a rock 'n' roll song ("Eeny, Meeny, Miney, Mo"). The star is Michael Landon, later famous in three hit TV series (Bonanza, Highway to Heaven, and Little House on the Prairie). Landon plays a high school brawler who seeks anger-management therapy from a psychiatrist. Whit Bissell plays the doc as a mad scientist who tricks the boy into an evolution-regression experiment. This low-budget laugher became a huge hit and is now considered a classic. Critics overanalyzed it, even suggesting that the werewolf represents adolescent angst over the sudden growth of puberty hair. The film's success inspired I Was a Teenage Frankenstein, with Bissell again playing the mad doctor.

I'm Charlie Walker (2022) starts by claiming it's based on a true story and ends by claiming everything is fictional. Although the closing disclaimer was surely a legal necessity, it undercuts the credibility of this story about a real-life black truck driver who challenged workplace racism in San Francisco in 1971. After the disclaimer, summaries of Walker's subsequent legal troubles contradict his depiction as a sharp businessman who's always the smartest guy in the room. Between these footnotes is a dramatization of Walker's role in cleaning up a disastrous oil spill. It's amusing but riddled with clichés, and the climax is so contrived that names were changed to protect the innocent. A truer tale would be a better tribute to Walker, who died in 2023.

I'm Not There (2007) ranks among the strangest biopics ever made. This surrealistic drama employs six different people to play different phases of Bob Dylan's music career. These actors include four relatively conventional castings (Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, Richard Gere, Ben Whishaw), one cross-gender portrayal (Cate Blanchett), and one bizarre characterization (Marcus Carl Franklin, a 14-year-old black boy). Somehow, it all works, although the characters and scenes make sense only to well-informed Dylan fans. Blanchett actually garnered an Oscar nomination as Best Supporting Actress for her part as Dylan; she outshines the others at imitating his appearance and mannerisms. Franklin's performance is also remarkable as a young Dylan so enthralled with Woody Guthrie that he cops his folk hero's name. This artfully crafted film uses Dylan's music and quotations to obscurely but effectively portray one of our most enigmatic artists.

Ice Age (2002) is a lively animated feature about a woolly mammoth and a sloth who join forces during a winter migration in prehistoric times. When the unlikely pair unexpectedly rescues a human infant, they become a threesome that draws the interest of hungry saber-tooth tigers. The story is predictable, but the snappy dialogue and funny intervals with a hapless squirrel manage to keep it interesting for adults as well as children.

An Ideal Husband (1999) is a good choice if you're looking for a dose of Victorian drama with intelligent humor. Cate Blanchett and Minnie Driver star in this adaptation of an Oscar Wilde play.

Identity (2003) is an average thriller with a clever twist ending that skips by a little too quickly to tie up all the loose ends. John Cusack and Ray Liotta star as two "guests" stranded at a rundown Nevada motel during a storm. One by one, fellow guests start turning up violently dead. The surprise climax requires a stretch of imagination that seemed to confuse or disappoint the audience I saw it with. And it's not campy enough to be truly endearing.

IF (2024) stands for "imaginary friends," and it's disappointing despite a promising premise. When children grow up, they abandon their imaginary friends (which are real but invisible to others) to a dull existence until other children adopt them. It's a riff on Toy Story (1995), the quintessential fantasy tale of youthful innocence lost to adolescence. Unfortunately, this riff doesn't play as well. It blends animation with live action that flops despite some amazing special effects. (One character's transition from a painted portrait to a live actor is especially impressive, though almost too quick to appreciate.) One long scene is oddly extravagant. Kids might like the cartoonish slapstick while puzzling over the pathos.

Ikiru (1952) is arguably the greatest film by Japanese director Akira Kurosawa. That's high praise in view of his other works, which include Rashomon (1950) and Seven Samurai (1954). Like those classics, Ikiru ("To Live") stars the prolific Shinobu Hashimoto. This time he plays a mid-level municipal bureaucrat who questions the meaning of his life and career when stomach cancer leaves him only a few months to live. First he spends a wild night with a stranger. Then he's suddenly friendly with a much younger female underling. Neither experience satisfies. Just when this movie seems over, his other colleagues begin debating his legacy. On one level, this story is a personal drama of a routine-driven man facing death. But it also critiques an inefficient government bureaucracy that traps its public servants in monotony while diffusing responsibility. In the end, one man's self-reflection merely reflects the rigidity of his society.

Illegal (1955) remakes The Mouthpiece (1932) and The Man Who Talked Too Much (1940), all based on a stage play (The Mouthpiece, 1929). Only the "mouthpiece" titles make sense — it's an unflattering term for a criminal-defense attorney. This interesting film noir stars Edward G. Robinson as a public prosecutor who innocently sends an innocent man to death. Distraught and disgraced, he resigns and hits the bottle, then resurfaces as a defense attorney who specializes in questionable but effective courtroom tactics. His success attracts a gangland kingpin. Robinson's low-key, versatile acting propels this drama, which pits justice and ethics against a lawyer's obligation to defend guilty clients as well as those who are innocent.

The Illusionist (2006) is an artfully crafted film without the pretension of an art film. Set in Vienna during Victorian times, it stars Edward Norton in a role he was born to play — a brooding, mysterious magician whose stagecraft seems supernatural. When his love affair with a duchess (played by Jessica Biel) turns into a murder mystery, he plays coyly with a principled but pressured police inspector (the always wonderful Paul Giamatti). The only significant flaw in this film is a rather hurried series of flashbacks that tie up loose ends at the conclusion. Follow the story carefully; small details matter.

The Imitation Game (2014) is another misguided account of the British cryptographers who cracked Nazi Germany's Enigma-machine cipher to help win World War II. This film focuses on math genius Alan Turing, who helped design the machine that defeated the machine — the world's first programmable electronic digital computer. Benedict Cumberbatch delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as the brilliant but eccentric Turing. Kiera Knightly ably plays one of his assistants. But the screenplay, adapted by Graham Moore from a book by Andrew Hodges, commits the same sins as Enigma (2001), a previous film adaptation. It bastardizes a true story already dripping with drama by inventing things that never happened and needlessly altering things that actually did happen. A truer account would have been just as dramatic and more intelligent. Nevertheless, a thread of truth survives, and Cumberbatch's performance is not to be missed.

The Immigrant (1917) stars Charlie Chaplin as his "Little Tramp" character in a two-reel silent short film. The first part is aboard ship, and the second part in a New York restaurant. As usual, his sight gags are clever and expertly executed. Chaplin's co-star is Edna Purviance, his lover at the time. This lively comedy is one of many he made before gaining control over his productions.

Impact (1949) weaves an improbable story around a cheating wife's plot to murder her loyal husband. Still, it's an interesting film noir with a lovely femme fatale, a dogged police detective, historic views of postwar San Francisco, and a homey interlude in a small town. There's even a claim of amnesia, a rare condition peculiarly common in Hollywood dramas. Brian Donlevy stoically plays the husband to Helen Walker as the conspiratorial spouse. Ella Raines appears as a redemptive female who looks stunning in auto-mechanic overalls. Try not to laugh at the chinky tunes during Chinatown scenes.

In America (2003) is a wonderful film about an emotionally damaged Irish family that emigrates to New York City and struggles to make a fresh start. Traumatized by the loss of their youngest child, the parents deal with their grief in different (mostly unhealthy) ways. Their two young daughters — insightfully played by real-life sisters — invest a touch of magic in the story. It's a truly touching drama about life, death, and rebirth.

In the Bedroom (2001) is a well-acted but overrated drama that stars Sissy Spacek, Marisa Tomei, and Tom Wilkinson. It's about a family tragedy in a small fishing town in Maine. Although the vignette-style editing is a little annoying, the film's main flaws are that it feels too much like a soap opera and has an unsatisfying conclusion. A much better recent film in this vein was The Deep End.

In the Heat of the Night (1967) won five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Actor (Rod Steiger), and Adapted Screenplay (Sterling Silliphant), and it inspired two sequels plus a TV series. Oddly, the real star, Sidney Poitier, wasn't even nominated. Neither was the exquisite cinematography. But this crime drama was so controversial that Oscar politics were a trifle. Poitier plays Virgil Tibbs, a black Philadelphia homicide detective who happens to be passing through a small Mississippi town when the murder of a prominent white man abruptly changes his travel plans. Tibbs is a conspicuous fish out of water among sharkish racists. Steiger brilliantly plays the skeptical police chief who nevertheless needs Tibbs to help solve the crime. Made during a tumultuous period in the civil-rights movement, this movie pulls no punches. In one scene, a white supremacist slaps Tibbs — and Tibbs slaps him back. Then the chief questions Tibbs' own prejudice. Powerful stuff in 1967! Oscar-nominated director Norman Jewison inspired everyone to deliver scorching performances.

In a Lonely Place (1950) stars Humphrey Bogart and Gloria Grahame in a top-notch drama that blends romance with suspense. The romance blossoms between Bogart as a Hollywood screenwriter and Grahame as his smitten neighbor. The suspense is ostensibly whether Bogart's character committed a senseless murder, but this unorthodox film renders the usual storyline superficial. The real suspense is whether he will tame his volatile temper or lose his grip on all he holds dear. Rare for its time, this movie portrays the leading man as a pathological personality and potential domestic abuser. To stretch the bounds of mid-century Hollywood censorship even further, it hints that the leading lady has a lesbian relationship with her masseuse. Although this tale sounds sordid, it's actually compassionate, and the characters are complex. Superb acting and writing make this almost-forgotten picture a surprise treat.

In the Year 2889 is a nuclear-holocaust tale that seems to happen in 1969, when it was made for TV. Actually, it's a nearly identical color remake of Day the World Ended, directed by Roger Corman in 1955. Both low-budget productions are mediocre, but the original was better. They echo the popular Cold War theme of a few survivors struggling to cope with a radically changed world. Though not the best of their genre, they have some historical interest for students of the period.

Inception (2010) is a mind-bending drama about industrial spies who can enter the dreams of their targets to steal their most hidden secrets. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as the team leader who accepts an even more challenging assignment — plant an idea in an industrialist's mind and make it seem his own. This film glories in complex storytelling, unfolding a series of dreams within dreams. In an especially impressive special effect, a dream architect played by Ellen Page folds the city of Paris in half. Writer and director Christopher Nolan is famous for his mind benders, starting with Memento in 2001. But Inception would have been better with the low budget of Memento, a tightly edited film. Inception is filled with gratuitous combat, car chases, and explosions, as if Nolan forgot he wasn't making another of his Batman movies.

An Inconvenient Truth (2006) is an unusual documentary that swings back and forth between science lecture and autobiography. Mostly, it's a filmed version of a presentation on global warming that former Vice President Al Gore delivered all over the world for several years. Those segments are packed with the results of 50 years' scientific research into climate change, enlivened by Gore's surprising humor and slick computer graphics. Interspersed with those segments are montages about Gore's childhood, personal life, and political career. Although the montages keep the film from overwhelming the audience with science, they also encouraged the mistaken belief that Gore was preparing for another presidential bid. Nevertheless, this is an interesting and important film.

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957) employs impressive special effects, an eloquent script, and an earnest performance to lift a B-grade sci-fi thriller to classic status. Grant Williams stars as an ordinary man who starts shrinking after exposure to a mysterious mist. Although his plight has schlock potential, Williams plays it straight, and a midway surprise leads to dramatic action when the shrinking man struggles for survival against unexpected dangers. Richard Matheson based the script on his 1956 novel, but director Jack Arnold wisely modified it and fought the studio to preserve an atypically philosophical ending.

The Incredibles (2004) is incredibly inventive and entertaining — as we've come to expect from Pixar, the creators of Toy Story, A Bug's Life, and Finding Nemo. In this computer-animated feature, a secretive community of superheroes idled by lawsuits and ungrateful citizens returns to action and glory. The stars are Mr. Incredible (voiced by Craig T. Nelson) and his flexible wife, Elastigirl (Holly Hunter). Their children include Violet, with her powers of invisibility and force fields, and Dash, a superfast runner. Their nemesis is Syndrome (Jason Lee), a commoner with dreams of superheroism. The story, animation, and dialogue are first-rate, although there's more action and less emotion than in previous Pixar films. Hint: Watch the cape!

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008) flattens the characters into cardboard cutouts and buries the story under extravagant computer graphics. The special effects and wonderful sets are frequent distractions from the predictable plot and wasted actors. Harrison Ford seems to sleepwalk through his starring role as the adventuring archaeologist on the trail of an ancient crystal skull with mysterious powers. Cate Blanchett is woeful as a KGB femme fatale in leotards. Shia LaBeouf is annoying as the switchblade-slinging, hair-obsessed young sidekick. Steven Spielberg directed, but he's either out of practice or overenthralled with the latest technology. This series should have ended as a trilogy with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989).

Inglourious Basterds (2009) is gore-porn director Quentin Tarantino's romp on World War II. Tarantino also conceived the story and wrote the screenplay. Entirely fictionalized, it's about a U.S. Army team of Jewish guerrillas who parachute into Nazi-occupied France to terrorize Germans. Showing no mercy, they scalp their enemies and commit other war crimes. Meanwhile, the lone survivor of a French Jewish family plots her own revenge against the Germans. Naturally, these two story arcs collide in a gory climax. From the start, this film glows with intense acting, but it frequently flirts with parody — like a mash-up of The Dirty Dozen (1967) and Little Big Man (1970). Tarantino is generous with his camera, giving the actors plenty of screen time to play their scenes. However, as often happens in his films, when Tarantino runs out of ideas, the default denouement is a bloody rampage. The moral of the story is that there's no moral of the story.

Inherit the Wind (1960) adapts the Broadway play about the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925. The state of Tennessee prosecuted John Scopes, a high-school science teacher, for teaching Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, which the state had outlawed. The small-town trial became a national sensation. The lead prosecutor was William Jennings Bryan, a three-time Republican candidate for president. Scopes' lead defense attorney was the renowned agnostic Clarence Darrow. Among the journalists in court was H.L. Mencken, a famous columnist for the Baltimore Sun. Although this movie draws on trial transcripts, it's highly fictionalized. It changes the characters' names, invents a love-story subplot, and misleadingly rewrites several incidents. Nevertheless, the performances are intense, with Spencer Tracy as the prosecutor, Fredric March as the defense attorney, and Gene Kelly as the Baltimore reporter. It's good and would be even better if it stayed truer.

The Innocents (1961) skillfully adapts Henry James's 1898 novel The Turn of the Screw, thanks largely to a screenplay co-written by the great Truman Capote. Although it's a horror story, it's not gory, and it employs enough ambiguity to inspire multiple interpretations. Deborah Kerr is perfection as a rookie governess entrusted with two orphaned siblings on an isolated English country estate. The children — a preadolescent brother and sister who seem unnaturally mature — greet her enthusiastically but are quietly unsettling. (The child actors are perfect, too.) Soon the governess suspects they are possessed by their previous caretakers, now mysteriously deceased. Whether her fears are real or imagined is debatable. The subtle drama, deft acting, and atmospheric cinematography conjure an outstanding psychological thriller.

Inside Job (2010) is a clear-eyed documentary on the 2008 financial meltdown and its global aftermath. Filmmaker Charles Ferguson (No End in Sight, 2007) and his crack writers (Chad Beck and Adam Bolt) carefully explain the complex derivatives that torpedoed the real-estate market. They show Wall Street's greed and arrogance and review the role of government deregulation across multiple administrations. For those who have already studied the crisis, there's relatively little new information, but Ferguson's on-camera interviews with people involved in the machinations are revelatory. In particular, he shines an uncomfortable spotlight on business-school professors at major universities who are paid large sums by Wall Street to give speeches and write papers promoting self-regulation. Too bad this film won't be seen by those who need to see it.

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) is another quirky film written and directed by the Coen brothers (No Country for Old Men, Fargo, The Big Lebowski...). Placed in Greenwich Village, 1961, it's a week in the life of a fictional starving-artist folk singer, Llewyn Davis (played to perfection by actor-singer Oscar Isaac). Unlike most Coen brothers films, it's not about crime. It's funny in a rather bleak way as the hangdog guitarist struggles toward elusive stardom, couch surfing and scrounging meals from a small circle of friends and acquaintances. These are the days before Bob Dylan broke the folk scene wide open, and it's a tough life. All the acting is superb, especially a cameo by John Goodman. The period is reconstructed with uncanny detail and includes several inside jokes for folkies. As usual, don't expect a Hollywood ending from the Coens.

Inside Out (2015) is the brainiest animated feature ever made. Literally. Its main characters are four basic emotions inside an 11-year-old girl's brain: Joy, Sadness, Fear, and Disgust. Contending with each other for control, they steer the girl's behavior as she navigates her family's difficult move from suburban Minnesota to urban San Francisco. When a mishap leaves Fear and Disgust in total command, things go awry. Like almost all Pixar movies, Inside Out is intelligent enough to keep adults interested without going over the heads of children. In fact, it's fairly educational, but don't tell the kids that. (Its metaphors for memories are particularly clever.) Pixar keeps pleasantly surprising us and enlarging the once-tired genre of animated films.

The Insider (1999) gives you a chance to see Mike Wallace and 60 Minutes squirm for a change. It's a tense, sensational retelling of CBS's infamous retreat in the face of intimidation from Big Tobacco.

Insomnia (2002) is the first big-budget Hollywood film by Memento director Christopher Nolan. It's an above-average detective story that fails to match the offbeat attraction of his earlier work. Not that there's anything wrong with Insomnia. It stars Al Pacino as a sleepless LAPD detective who's out of water in a small Alaska town, Hilary Swank as an earnest local cop, and Robin Williams as a creepy villain. Insomnia is a well-crafted psychological thriller. But it lacks the innovation and energy of Memento — which only goes to show how difficult it is to make a truly exceptional film, regardless of the budget.

The Interpreter (2005) is a well-crafted thriller reminiscent of Charade (1963), whose main character was also a United Nations interpreter caught in a web of intrigue. But there are key differences. Charade used comic banter to forge a wary relationship between a government agent (Cary Grant) and the interpreter (Audrey Hepburn). In contrast, The Interpreter uses unhealed grief over lost loved ones to stitch an even more tentative relationship between the interpreter (Nicole Kidman) and the government agent (Sean Penn). Also, in The Interpreter, it is Kidman's character, not Penn's, who gradually becomes the focus of suspicion. After she overhears an apparent plot to assassinate the president of an African country, her involvement begins to seem less accidental.

Interstellar (2014) is an ambitious science-fiction film that strives to get the science approximately right while tempering it with a warm father-daughter relationship. Matthew McConaughey stars as an ex-astronaut who's now a cornbelt farmer in a near-future Dust Bowl II. He doesn't like farming, but climactic changes are making Earth untenable for humans, and every food crop is precious. The only hope seems to be finding another world to colonize. McConaughey dominates the screen with his space-cowboy persona, and the excellent supporting cast includes Michael Caine, Anne Hathaway, Matt Damon, and Jessica Chastain. In its epic scope, storyline, and length (almost three hours), this movie invites comparisons with Stanley Kubrick's classic 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). But Interstellar is tidier, leaving no room for interpretation. That choice doesn't necessarily make it worse, but it will likely provoke less debate, so it's unlikely to become another classic.

Interview (2007) is a superb indie film adapted from a play by Dutch writer Theodor Holman. Steve Buscemi co-authored the adapted screenplay, directed the film, and stars as a magazine journalist assigned to profile a B-movie actress (perfectly played by Sienna Miller). Buscemi's character would rather be covering Washington politics than writing fluff pieces about celebrities, but he gets pulled into an intense drama at the actress's Manhattan loft. Buscemi and Miller alternately feed and bleed on each other like Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966). Highly recommended.

Into the Wild (2007) is a powerfully made film and perhaps the best movie of the year. It's based on Jon Krakauer's book about Christopher McCandless, a disillusioned young man who journeyed alone into the Alaskan wilderness in 1992 to live off the land. Although McCandless' intentions were good, his ignorance and arrogance led him to tragedy. Woefully unprepared for survival in the wild, he soon discovered why our hunter-gatherer ancestors invented agriculture. This beautifully filmed adaptation, expertly directed by Sean Penn, loudly celebrates McCandless' passion for nature while quietly dropping hints that he didn't understand or respect nature's power. The opening scene sets the stage, as McCandless stomps into the snowy wilderness without boots. Emile Hirsch delivers a stunning performance as McCandless, anchored by a uniformly strong supporting cast. This is top-notch cinema. And it delivers an easily overlooked message: just because you love nature doesn't mean nature will love you back.

Intolerance (1916) was director D.W. Griffith's extravagant response to critics of his 1915 silent-film epic, The Birth of a Nation. Upset that many viewers objected to his glorification of the Confederacy and the Klu Klux Klan, he made this heavy-handed epic, which runs more than three hours — exceptionally long in silent-film days. Like his previous picture, it's technically innovative despite its controversial aspects. It deftly weaves together four stories told in parallel, not in sequence, a bold departure from the stagey structure of early silent pictures. These stories take place in ancient Babylon, in Judea when Jesus Christ was crucified, in France during the 1572 massacre of Protestants by Catholics, and in a modern American city rife with poverty and crime. Although intolerance is the common theme, the political slants differ. For example, the modern-day story portrays a rich capitalist unfavorably while sympathizing with the strikers who protest their pay cuts. But it also condemns a contemporary social-reform movement, portraying the upper-class women who lead it as damaging do-gooders busying themselves with misguided reform because they're too old to attract men. By contrast, the Babylonian segment features an independent-minded woman who spurns male domination and even fights as a warrior. She ultimately pays a price, though. The Jesus story is shorter and conventional. The French story leans Protestant but isn't virulently anti-Catholic. The overall theme of tolerance, love, and the evils of warfare reached theaters shortly before the U.S. entered World War I. This epic is less controversial than Griffith's previous film and ranks alongside it as a historic classic.

Invaders From Mars (1953) is a classic sci-fi horror flick that inspired many imitators and a 1986 remake that itself has a cult following. Its theme of alien-controlled people who subtlely lose their personalities reappeared in Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) and convinced some critics that both films reflect Cold War fears of communist infiltration. Although the filmmakers made so such claims, art is often influenced by the zeitgeist. In any case, this is a landmark thriller. Despite a low budget, it tells a lively story of a young boy who sees a spaceship land near his house. Almost no one believes him — except for the growing number of victims who fall under alien control. No wonder this movie scared kids! The alien master brain became a classic sci-fi icon.

Invaders From Mars (1986) remakes a classic 1953 sci-fi horror flick. It leans campy but honors its predecessor with numerous easter eggs that only fans will find. (Example: Jimmy Hunt, who originally played the boy, appears here as a cop. His best line: "I haven't been here since I was a boy.") As before, a youngster sees an alien spaceship land near his house, and people who venture there subtlely change. Hunter Carson stars as the frantic kid no one believes. Karen Black (his real-life mother) plays a sympathetic school nurse. Louise Fletcher (Best Actress as Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) is perfect as a teacher who gobbles a frog. The aliens are artfully created without computer graphics. This playful homage is best seen after viewing the original.

The Invasion (2007) is a competent but mostly predictable remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956, 1978). Nicole Kidman stars as a psychiatrist who gradually becomes aware that a mysterious alien spore is infecting people, turning them into emotionless doppelgangers. Newbies who haven't seen the earlier films will probably like this remake, but it's not as campy as the 1956 original or as creepy as the 1978 version. One missing element is the alien pods — in this film, victims are transformed, not duplicated. Although it's a minor departure, somehow it detracts from the horror. And although the new ending is more plausible, it's less satisfying.

Invasion of the Astro-Monster (1965) a/k/a Monster Zero (1970) stars Nick Adams as the only American in this Japanese creature feature. Deceptive aliens (Japanese actors in dark sunglasses and spacesuits) attack Earth using three classic Japanese monsters (Godzilla, Rodan, and Ghidorah). The acting is typically terrible. The main attraction is the climactic battle, when the monsters go on their usual rampage. Japanese model builders were experts at constructing highly detailed miniature structures that crumble realistically. One building even has a rooftop water tank that spills liquid! This Toho-produced 1965 flick was released in the U.S. as Monster Zero in 1970.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) became a sci-fi horror classic and even gained freight as an allegory of red-baiting McCarthyism during the Cold War. This interpretation is most likely ex post facto, but it could be a subliminally influenced undercurrent. Regardless, this movie is a great thriller. Kevin McCarthy stars as a small-town doctor who appears to discover an alien invasion. Strange flowers are spawning pods capable of replicating any organisms they touch. Human replicants are identical but emotionless — so the threat isn't human extinction, but rather the extinction of humanity. It's troubling because an emotionless world could be an untroubled world, which was attractive during the Cold War years when nuclear war seemed imminent. So perhaps the most unsettling undercurrent of this movie is that humanity must shed its humanity to survive.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) ranks among Hollywood's best remakes of a sci-fi horror classic. It amps the horror while staying largely faithful to the original. Indeed, it backfills the story by showing how gaseous alien lifeforms drift aimlessly through space, infecting habitable planets. Happening upon Earth, they land in San Francisco, spawning pod-bearing flowers that replicate any organisms they touch. As before, human replicants are identical but emotionless, shorn of their humanity. The remake features intense performances by Donald Sutherland as a diligent health inspector, Brooke Adams as his spooked colleague, Leonard Nimoy as a skeptical psychiatrist, Jeff Goldblum as a frustrated poet, and Veronica Cartwright as the poet's nervous wife. This movie gains meaning today as conservative conspiracy theories (especially "Replacement Theory") infect people psychologically instead of biologically. But a conspiracy theorist may view it as confirmation that outlandish theories are sometimes true — another layer that's even creepier.

The Invention of Lying (2009) is a rare modern example of intelligent comedy. Fans of adolescent Hollywood humor should move along. This thought-provoking film posits a world much like our own, except lies are unfathomable. There's not even a word to describe it. Then one man learns to lie, and a wealth of possibilities opens up. He discovers the differences between bad lies and white lies, small lies and big lies. He wrestles with the law of unintended consequences. One consequence has to do with religion — a weighty subject, even for a weighty film. Still, an undercurrent of humor keeps the story from toppling. Two flaws: although people can't lie, civilized social interaction would seem to require the ability to hold their tongues; and the religion angle might have worked better with a bit more ambiguity near the end.

Invictus (2009) stars Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela when he became president of South Africa in 1994. To help unite his racially torn country, Mandela encouraged a mostly white rugby team to compete for the World Cup championship in 1995. Matt Damon stars as the white team captain who met with Mandela and inspired his teammates to make a serious run for the trophy. This movie is a pretty standard sports drama with all the usual clichés, but the underlying theme of redemption — bolstered by good performances from Freeman and Damon — lift it above average. For viewers unfamiliar with rugby, the matches are a little tedious and confusing, though.

Invisible Agent (1942) wraps wartime propaganda around a mediocre sequel to The Invisible Man (1933). As before, a secret chemical formula renders a person transparent. This time, the inventor's grandson uses it to infiltrate Nazi Germany during World War II. Unfortunately for his underground German allies, his spycraft is as invisible as his body. His foolish attempts at humor and romance nullify one fellow agent and exposes another to arrest and torture. Oscar-nominated special effects can't save this outdated movie, which ignores his incompetence and grossly miscasts Peter Lorre as a Japanese agent who's also a baron (!?). Writer Curt Siodmak blew this one.

The Invisible Man (1933) adapts H.G. Welles' 1897 novel about a chemical formula that can render a person transparent. It's a more faithful adaptation than most Hollywood productions; Welles reportedly retained script approval when selling the motion-picture rights. Claude Rains stars as the British scientist who invents the concoction — and who proves again that absolute power corrupts absolutely. (Although Rains makes his talkie debut, he physically "appears" only at the very end.) James Whale directed this classic thriller for Universal Pictures two years after making his masterpiece, Frankenstein. Like its predecessor, it smartly blends science fiction with psychology, bits of humor, and impressive special effects. Its critical and box-office success spawned many sequels and parodies, but few are as good as the original.

The Invisible Man's Revenge (1944) scarcely relates to the original film that adapted H.G. Welles' 1897 novel (The Invisible Man, 1933). It's a different story, not really a sequel. Jon Hall stars as a fugitive who seeks revenge on the friends whom he believes robbed him of riches from an African diamond mine. John Carradine plays a rogue doctor who invents an invisibility formula. Get it? Revenge is best served unseen. It's a middling thriller with some overstretched humor, but the special effects are impressive for the period.

The Invisible Ray (1936) pairs Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in a horror thriller that eerily foreshadows Atomic Age movies exaggerating the dangers of radiation. Karloff stars as Janos Rukh, a rogue scientist who discovers "Radium-X," a mysterious element borne to Earth on a meteor. His careless exposure to its unusual radiation gradually makes him a deranged luminescent killer. Lugosi plays a famous scientist who doubts the discovery before embracing it. Supporting players include Violet Cooper as Rukh's blind mother, Frances Drake as his lovely young wife, and Frank Lawton as her secret admirer. This thriller is average but is notable for being 10–15 years ahead of its time. By the 1950s, creature features hyping the hazards of radiation were rampant.

Invisible Stripes (1939) departs from most crime thrillers of its time by dramatizing the hardships of ex-cons struggling to go straight. George Raft plays a parolee who regrets his criminal past but has trouble holding a job against distrustful bosses, hostile employees, and skeptical cops. Meanwhile his prison buddy (Humphrey Bogart) is thriving as a gangster, and poverty is tempting his younger brother (William Holden) to consider thieving. Raft is wooden, as usual, but suited to his part. This movie was made shortly before Bogart became a major star, so he gets fourth billing in a lesser role that nevertheless shows his talent in this genre. Holden wasn't a big star yet, either, but he's billed above Bogart, despite looking so young that he's nearly unrecognizable. Sympathetic without being preachy, this movie successfully weaves social commentary into a crime drama.

Iris (2001) stars Judi Dench as an English author and philosopher afflicted with Alzheimer's disease, and she deserves her Best Actress nomination. Kate Winslet also shines in her role as Dench's character at a younger age. Although the movie is an accurate account of the mental and physical decline wrought by Alzheimer's, it can't avoid compressing a ten-year ordeal into an hour or so, which makes it harder to identify with the emotions and motivations of the patient's friends and family.

The Iron Lady (2011) is an unsatisfying biopic of Margaret Thatcher, Great Britain's conservative prime minister, 1979–1990. Instead of focusing on Thatcher's remarkable rise to power and her reign as Britain's longest-serving P.M. of the 20th century, this movie wallows in her waning years of dementia. Flashbacks abruptly summarize her career — one moment, she wins her first election to Parliament, then suddenly she's a cabinet minister, and then suddenly she's vying for the top job. We get little insight into her appeal or political savvy. Conservative commentators blame the odd storytelling on liberal filmmakers, but the script does give voice to Thatcher's conservative philosophy on business, economics, terrorism, and the Falklands War. Put aside the shortcomings, though, because this film has one redeeming highlight: Meryl Streep's superb performance as Thatcher, for which she won the Oscar for Best Actress.

Iron Man (2008) is an above-average summer blockbuster based on the Marvel Comics character. Although it embraces the usual clichés — the tortured-soul superhero, the admiring girlfriend, the turncoat villain — its lively dialogue and self-deprecating humor keep it interesting. Props and special effects are outstanding, especially the robotic suit that turns Robert Downey Jr.'s billionaire-CEO character into a formidable fighting machine. Jeff Bridges leads a wonderfully crazed supporting cast. Those who wait until the final credits end will get a surprise.

Iron Man 2 (2010) brings back Robert Downey Jr. as the Marvel Comics hero in the mechanized flying suit. A star-studded cast that includes Don Cheadle, Gwenneth Paltrow, Scarlett Johansson, and Mickey Roarke tries to breathe life into a lifeless story that's mostly an excuse for pyrotechnic special effects. Roarke ably plays the villain, a nearly superhuman Russian scientist who builds his own super suit to seek revenge against Iron Man. Cheadle, Paltrow, and Johansson are slumming in this movie, playing secondary characters who exchange rapid-fire dialogue with Downey whenever there's a break in the action. Gary Shandling has a nice bit part as a smarmy U.S. Senator. This movie is a good amusement-park ride but not much else.

Ironweed (1987) flopped in theaters and drew harsh reviews from major critics, despite their praise for the Oscar-nominated performances of Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. Often the critics compared this Great Depression drama unfavorably with the Pulitzer Prize source novel, even though the same writer (William Kennedy) penned both. But a screen adaptation can stand on its own, and most viewers probably haven't read the book, anyway. Since 1987, this picture has gained stature as a downbeat but realistic story about homeless victims of economic misfortune, personal demons, and sodden alcoholism. Nicholson and Streep are outstanding as a dysfunctional couple drowning in their bottles. Tom Waits and Carroll Baker are superb in supporting roles. Ultimately, it hints redemption.

Island of Lost Souls (1932) superbly adapts H.G. Wells' novel The Island of Dr. Moreau. Despite the low status of horror movies at the time, Charles Laughton acts like he's starring in a Shakespeare play on a prestigious London stage. He dominates every scene in which he appears as a mad scientist who's trying to transform beasts into humans. His wonderfully creepy performance made him the logical choice to play another iconic film villain, Captain Bligh, in the 1935 production of Mutiny on the Bounty. Kathleen Burke also wins attention as Lota the Panther Woman. By contrast, famous Bela Lugosi is barely recognizable in hairy makeup as the hybrid man-beast leader of the mad doctor's other failed experiments. The atmosphere is beautifully creepy, too.

Island in the Sky (1938) boldly shows a woman driving the action in this crime thriller. Gloria Stuart plays the blonde secretary of a district attorney (Michael Whalen) prosecuting a seemingly open-and-shut murder case. Although he wins a conviction, his secretary — who's also his fiancée — believes the young defendant is innocent. Her unofficial investigation soon entangles her with gangsters and convicts. Like many a film noir, the plot gets confusing; female initiative is the sole distinguishing feature.

Island of Terror (1966) stars Peter Cushing as a pathologist summoned to an isolated Irish island to examine a cadaver mysteriously missing its bones. The culprit is a hungry creature accidentally created by cancer researchers. This mediocre movie abounds in characters behaving illogically, and it demotes Cushing to a relatively minor role. The liquefied corpses are rendered better than the rubber monsters but appear fleetingly. Skip this flick.

Isle of the Dead (1945) is a creepshow of a different sort. It's a psychological thriller that relies on a descending sense of doom instead of fake monsters. Boris Karloff stars as an uncompromising Greek army general during a war against the Ottoman Empire in 1912. He condemns a friend to death and later is accused of using artillery to collect taxes from peasants. The war is barely mentioned, though; it's merely the backdrop for a spreading plague. When the general quarantines himself on an island with a few civilians, he begins to suspect that a young woman is a vorvolaka — in Greek legend, an evil undead person who preys on the living. Ellen Drew (who resembles Hedy Lamarr) excels in this role. This haunting picture is gorgeously filmed in noirish lighting on artistic sets. It builds suspense by breaking fright-flick conventions.

It (1927) made cutie-pie Clara Bow the biggest female star in Hollywood until talkies, toxic relationships, and mental-health problems crushed her career. This hugely popular silent film also made the word "It" synonymous with magnetic personal attraction — especially sexual attraction. Overnight, Bow became "The It Girl." She plays a poor department-store clerk who schemes to attract the wealthy owner's attention. When she succeeds, he's immediately smitten, to the dismay of his classy fiancée. The love triangle is actually a rectangle because the boss's friend is involved, too. Although the outcome of this early rom-com is never in doubt, it's entertaining all the way, and Bow's silent-film acting skills are evident in her versatile facial expressions. Watch for Gary Cooper in a brief bit part as a newspaper reporter.

It! (1967) was inspired by a 1920s German silent film but gets dumber by the minute. Roddy McDowell struggles to save an awful script by overacting as the assistant curator of a London museum that acquires a strange statue. Soon the figure shows signs of spooky life, but this so-called museum expert is too stupid to act on his suspicions until two people mysteriously die. The figure, it turns out, is a golem — in Jewish legend, a clay creature that runs amok. One quick line of dialogue references "a 1924 German movie" about a golem. This must be The Golem: How He Came Into the World ("Der Golem, Wie Er In Die Welt Kam"), which actually premiered in 1920. Although It! is an unofficial sequel, it's a talkie that's much too talky, and it ends absurdly.

It Came From Beneath the Sea (1955) holds interest mainly as an example of Ray Harryhausen's wonderful stop-motion animation. For this sci-fi thriller, the special-effects wizard created a giant octopus that attacks San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Unfortunately, the low budget severely limited his wizardry. The rest of the movie is marred by unnecessary narration, a boring romance between a gruff submarine captain and a chilly scientist, and way too much blather. Oddly (for 1955), one scene includes a discourse promoting feminism, and another shows the woman scientist directing a military operation. The real star is the octopus.

It Came From Outer Space (1953) is one of the best sci-fi flicks of the 1950s. Unlike most others, it isn't excessively talky, it doesn't wait until the last act to reveal the space aliens, and it portrays them quite differently. The action starts quickly when a fiery object zooms across the Arizona sky and blows a huge impact crater in the desert. A writer and amateur astronomer who witnessed the event explores the crater and discovers that the object wasn't a meteor. Of course, no one believes him, and he didn't bring a camera. (In Hollywood movies, cameras are much rarer than unbelievable sights.) Pretty soon, strange things start happening in the desert and to local townsfolk. Famous science-fiction author Ray Bradbury wrote the treatments and reportedly much of the screenplay as well, so the human-alien interaction turns philosophical at times. It's an interesting counterpoint to The War of the Worlds, released the same year.

It Happened Here, long lost after its production in 1966, is a realistic and frightening portrayal of what life in England might have been like under Nazi occupation in World War II. The most striking aspect of this little-known British film is the ambiguity of collaboration with the enemy. In postwar France and other formerly occupied countries, many people were punished for this crime, even though some had to choose between reluctant cooperation or certain death.

It Happened One Night (1934) remains one of Hollywood's best romantic comedies and is one of only three movies (with One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Silence of the Lambs) to win all five major Oscars: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Adapted Screenplay. Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert star as strangers thrown together in a series of comedic situations. Although it wasn't the first "screwball comedy," it raised that genre to a new level and continues to inspire imitators. Gable plays to type as a raffish newspaper reporter who links up with a spoiled young heiress (Colbert) fleeing her overbearing father. Their screen chemistry is phenomenal as they stumble into one funny incident after another. It helps that famous director Frank Capra finished this masterpiece shortly before the infamous Hayes Production Code dropped a curtain of censorship on Hollywood. This picture is a must-see classic.

It Happened Tomorrow (1944) adapts the ancient Greek myth of Cassandra, who could foretell the future but was never believed. In this madcap comedy, Dick Powell plays an 1890s newspaper reporter who scores amazing scoops after mysteriously receiving copies of the next day's edition. Like Cassandra, however, he's disbelieved, which lands him in trouble. The beautiful Linda Darnell plays his love interest, a fake psychic in a nightclub act. Although the plot twists are amusing, this picture is merely average. It would be better if director René Clair had succeeded in replacing Powell with Cary Grant, who lit up another 1944 madcap comedy, Arsenic and Old Lace.

It! The Terror From Beyond Space (1958) supposedly inspired the great sci-fi thriller Alien (1979). In both movies, a predatory extraterrestrial creature sneaks aboard a spaceship to stalk the outmatched crew. Bigger-budget Alien is far superior, not least because the captain is a stronger character (Sigourney Weaver in an unforgettable performance). The 1958 flick suffers from the usual flaws of low-budget sci-fi at the dawn of the Space Age. Placed in 1973, its view of space travel is laughable. Would a Mars mission that's not expecting trouble bring pistols, rifles, grenades, poison gas, and bazookas? Yet the crew rejects the possibility that a previous mission fell victim to a mysterious Martian killer. Then why all the weapons?

It's My Life (1962): see Vivre Sa Vie.

It's a Wonderful Life (1946) is the Christmas classic aired repeatedly on TV during the holidays since its copyright expired. But it's worth a ticket price to experience this glorious film on a big screen in a real theater. (I've seen it on Christmas Eve at the beautifully restored 1925 Stanford Theater in Palo Alto, California.) James Stewart plays the ambitious son of a small-town savings-and-loan president whose big dreams are dashed by unexpected events. Nevertheless, he selflessly builds a good life — until more events turn against him and he becomes desperate. In his first role after harrowing World War II combat service, Stewart's performance reveals new intensity, reinforced by a strong supporting cast that includes Donna Reed, Lionel Barrymore, and Thomas Mitchell. This unusually philosophical "Christmas movie" is more about the mystery of life than about the holiday.

It's a Wonderful World (1939) stars James Stewart but is not to be confused with his Christmas classic, It's a Wonderful Life (1946). Instead, he plays a private detective who finds trouble while trying to prove his client innocent of murder. It's a screwball comedy much like It Happened One Night, the Best Picture of 1934. And indeed, Stewart's co-star is Claudette Colbert, the versatile actress who became the screwball-comedy queen after winning the Oscar for Best Actress in that 1934 film. This time, she's a poet who becomes entangled in the detective's investigation. The energetic screenplay by famous writers Ben Hecht (The Front Page) and Herman J. Mankiewicz (Citizen Kane) features lots of lively banter and running jokes that still hold up pretty well.

The Jackpot (1950) seems to lampoon postwar middle-class affluence in a screwball comedy starring James Stewart and Barbara Hale. They play an already affluent married couple feeling confined in adult routine. Their lives abruptly change when they win a national radio contest. The catch: the prizes are an avalanche of consumer products and services, not money. It's great until an accountant says they owe a huge income tax on the stuff. Now they're drowning in affluence, desperately trying to sell everything to pay the IRS. In 1950, this was a uniquely American dilemma while the rest of the world struggled to recover from World War II. On the surface this movie is for laughs, but the subtext — whether intended or not — cuts deep.

Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris (1975) adapts an offbeat stage play in this lively American Film Theatre production. Brel was a popular French singer whose songs fill nearly the entire running time of this avant-garde picture, which has no dialogue or cohesive plot. Instead, the songs tell stories of love, war, grief, history, religion, alienation, nostalgia, social commentary, and various philosophical musings. A few actors play multiple roles, and in some scenes hippies cavort in the background. The overall effect is odd but compelling. Because some lyrics are sung quickly, however, and because the audio quality is poor, I used closed-captions to understand everything. And although this is an English production, Brel sings one song in untranslated French, and another one has some untranslated Dutch.

Jagged Edge (1985) departs from most whodunits by offering only one murder suspect for most of the film. Did he or didn't he? Thanks to a slick performance by Jeff Bridges, we aren't completely sure until the very last scene. Indeed, the original version revealed the killer's face so briefly and obliquely that people bombarded reviewers with hundreds of phone calls, begging for clarity. A hasty edit added another, longer look to seal the mystery. Bridges' character can be adamant, emotional, or breezy, depending on the situation. Is he genuine, or is he a stone-cold killer? Glenn Close plays his reluctant defense attorney who flirts with legal ethics. Peter Coyote makes an excellent prosecutor, and Robert Loggia won an Oscar nomination for a smallish supporting role as a private detective. Despite the San Francisco setting, this crime thriller isn't quite noirish enough to be truly neo-noir, but it plumbs the same depths of evil and forbidden love.

Jail Bait (1954) may be the least awful picture ever made by Edward Wood Jr., Hollywood's most famous awful director. It has a coherent story, a climactic plot twist, moody atmosphere, and performances not much worse than those in many other low-budget films. It's definitely better than his landmark Plan 9 From Outer Space (1957), often hailed as the worst movie of all time. The only "star" is body-builder Steve Reeves, who finds an excuse to bare his barreled chest and rippled abs in one scene. The story (co-written by Woods) is about a young man who falls into crime, leading to a contrived situation in which his plastic-surgeon father must disguise a fugitive's face. The finale is implausible but amusing. The worst thing is the annoying soundtrack, which lays discordant piano chords atop a grating flamenco guitar.

Jailhouse Rock (1957) stars the young Elvis Presley shortly after winning fame as a rockabilly singer and before his conscription into the U.S. Army. At this early stage of his career, he was still playing the bad-boy rebel of rock 'n' roll. This movie, one of his best, reflects that image. His character is a roughneck construction worker who accidentally kills a man in a fist fight. In prison, his cellmate is a former country music singer who teaches the rowdy youth to play guitar and consider a music career. The plot resembles A Star Is Born as the student surpasses the master. Jailhouse Rock could be a good picture even without Elvis, but the highlights are his musical numbers, especially the wildly choreographed title tune. Sadly, he never could bear to watch the finished product, because co-star Judy Tyler died in a car crash just days after filming wrapped.

Jamaica Inn (1939) usually disappoints Alfred Hitchcock fans. The great director disliked it, too. One of his most difficult stars, Charles Laughton, was also a producer who wielded control over this picture. Laughton plays the secret leader of "wreckers" — 19th-century British criminals who lure ships onto rocky shores, loot the cargoes, and kill the crews. Maureen O'Hara debuts as a young woman who stumbles onto the gang and soon is over her pretty head. She's spunky, though, alternating between heroine and damsel in distress. Despite a few characteristic cinematic touches, Hitchcock's fingerprints are scarcely visible here.

Jarhead (2005) is based on Anthony Swofford's best-selling book about his experience in the U.S. Marine Corps during the Persian Gulf War. It's the kind of war movie that shows things rarely seen in traditional Hollywood war movies: the mind-bending boredom of waiting for something to happen, the irrationality of the combat that finally does happen, and the hint that wars are largely fought by immature young men emotionally unprepared for the consequences. In this case, it's also a war fought by young Americans raised on war movies, so Jarhead makes telling references to Apocalypse Now, The Deerhunter, Full Metal Jacket, and other pop-culture views of previous wars. One source of frustration for the Marines in this movie is that their war — the Persian Gulf War — ends too quickly to generate a similar aura.

Jason and the Argonauts (1963) still impresses, thanks mainly to special-effects wizard Ray Harryhausen's stunning stop-motion animation. In this adventure flick based on ancient Greek gods and legends, a slain king's son seeks a magical golden fleece that can restore his lost kingdom. Among the wonders he encounters are gigantic titans, bat-like harpies, hostile cliffs, a huge merman, a vicious hydra, and a gang of sword-swinging skeletons — all animated with Harryhausen's trademarked Dynamation process. Yes, close examination reveals artifacts, such as obvious matte paintings and shaky compositing. But the effects are nonetheless impressive, and they complement a good screenplay, attractive sets, and creative costuming.

Jaws (1975) is the summer blockbuster that started the trend of summer blockbusters. It also cemented Steven Spielberg as a top director. Adapted from Peter Benchley's 1974 novel, it's about a huge Great White shark that terrorizes a New England beach town. This classic holds up well against newer thrillers that have better special effects but less genuine drama and character development. Although it starts rather slowly, it gradually builds suspense, and the last third is rarely surpassed. Robert Shaw, Roy Scheider, and Richard Dreyfuss deliver unforgettable performances. It has spawned numerous sequels, imitations, and parodies, and John Williams' ominous score ("Dum-Da ... Dum-Da ... Dum-Da ...") is a pop-culture fixture.

Jazz (2001) is a 19-hour documentary first broadcast in ten parts on PBS. It ranks with Baseball (1994) as one of director Ken Burns's best works. It's perfect for anyone who's interested in the music but who knows little about its history, evolution, and landmark practitioners. Longtime jazz fans will probably learn something, too, although they may quibble with his judgments. Burns tells the story in his classic fashion by employing interviews, narration, and impressively researched photographs and motion-picture footage. Central themes are the African-American origins of jazz, its influence on race relations, the importance of Louis Armstrong as a key innovator, and Burns's nomination of Duke Ellington as America's greatest composer. But this documentary is entertaining, not pedantic. It illustrates these themes with the dramatic personal stories of famous jazz musicians and singers. It's the best short course on jazz you'll find.

The Jazz Loft a/k/a The Jazz Loft According to W. Eugene Smith (2016) is an excellent documentary on photographer W. Eugene Smith and the be-bop musicians who played all-night jam sessions in the rundown NYC building where he lived from the 1950s to 1971. Smith was a top photojournalist who worked for Life magazine and the Magnum agency during the peak years of photo-essay reportage. He was also an avid jazz listener who collected thousands of records, made his own tapes, and befriended musicians. This film draws on 4,000 hours of audio and 40,000 pictures he made there from 1957 to 1965. In one remarkable section, photos and tapes show Thelonious Monk patiently teaching other musicians how to play one of his songs in his eccentric style. Because this documentary divides its time between Smith and jazz, it's most interesting to fans of both. If you care only about one aspect, you may find half of it boring.

Je T'Aime Moi Non Plus ("I Love You Too," 1976) is a violent and sexually explicit French film about a gay garbageman who starts a sordid affair with a boyish female barkeep at a truck-stop diner. His volatile gay partner isn't pleased. It's a bleak story relieved only by Jane Birkin's performance as the bored femme at the remote diner. The only other reason to watch this picture is its views of a rural France rarely seen in French films — it strangely resembles the physical and cultural landscape of rural America.

Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) tests your patience with 3.5 hours of "slow cinema" that resembles home security-camera footage. Delphine Seyrig quietly dominates this French-language story of a young widow with a teenage son. She lives an empty, regimented life in their small Brussels apartment. To earn money, she screws a male visitor every afternoon, but don't expect a sex romp. Almost every minute of this lengthy film is a stationary shot of her prim character silently performing routine household chores. Her prostitution (mostly unseen) is merely another chore. The dialogue is sparse and usually perfunctory. This undramatic drama stretches for hours until two incongruous scenes reveal an unsatisfactory climax. Although the static filmmaking successfully conveys the bleakness of her life, it's relentlessly dull unless you like minimalist cinema.

Jennifer's Body (2009) is a strange but compelling tale of teenage angst, high-school blues, and demonic possession. From the start, during a scene in a mental asylum, one line of narration sets the tone: "Hell is a teenage girl." Expect lots of dark humor. The dialogue is sharp, witty, and trendy, penned by Diablo Cody, the former stripper turned screenwriter who won an Oscar for Juno (2007). Megan Fox plays the school sex queen in a rousing performance that's perfectly snobby, slutty, and menacing. Nearly as good is Amanda Seyfried as her dorky but devoted best friend. The demonic-possession angle leads to major bloodletting, though the violence is often suggested, not flaunted. This movie takes Heathers (1988) a demented step further. If you see it, be sure to persist through the closing credits, or you'll miss a classic ending.

Jeopardy (1953) starts slowly as a young mother describes her happy family embarking on a vacation to Mexico, but we know her narration is merely a prelude to the danger ahead. When this crime thriller shifts into high gear, it flips the usual formula by starring a woman as the character who must rise to the occasion when the going gets tough. Barbara Stanwyck excels as the mom whose husband faces certain death unless she can devise a rescue. When she finds help that becomes unhelpful, her own life and her son's are threatened as well. The climax is dramatic and seemingly out of character, but astute viewers can guess that she barters something precious to save things even more precious.

Jeremiah Johnson (1972) stars Robert Redford in a scenic Western drama that he considers his favorite role. Unlike most Westerns, it's placed in the 1840s, not after the Civil War. Redford plays Jeremiah, a young army veteran who journeys to Colorado territory to become a "mountain man." He seeks a solitary life of trapping and hunting but lacks the skills. A grizzled old grizzly-bear hunter (played colorfully by Will Geer) schools the young man. Later, Jeremiah befriends another eccentric (Stefan Gierasch, also colorful). This vivid film depicts a sparsely populated frontier still dominated by Native Americans friendly and hostile. Based loosely on a real person, the story feels authentic — sometimes peaceful, sometimes violent. We can both admire and pity the Indians and Whites whose desires for a free lifestyle made them enemies but that couldn't endure for anyone.

Jezebel (1938) beat Gone With the Wind to the punch by one year with its antebellum story of a brash Southern belle who has trouble keeping the man she truly loves. But this Best Picture nominee hasn't aged nearly as well, despite Bette Davis winning an Academy Award for Best Actress and Fay Bainter claiming another Oscar for her supporting role. Blame the uneven screenplay. Although Jezebel isn't bad, it lacks GWTW's epic scope, extravagance, memorable scenes, humor, and color. Then too, Henry Fonda's stiff male lead is no match for Clark Gable's flamboyant Rhett Butler. Placed in 1850s New Orleans, Jezebel fronts its love story against the background of a yellow-fever outbreak instead of the Civil War. Bette Davis is worth watching, as always, and her performance won the last of her two Oscars, although she would be nominated eight more times.

Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (2010) is a good documentary on the influential comedienne who doggedly continued to pursue her career at age 75. Rivers broke boundaries with her coarse humor in nightclubs and on The Tonight Show in the 1960s. This film provides historical context but focuses on the present (2010), as Rivers pounds the pavement looking for work, work, and more work. She was possibly the heaviest user (or abuser) of plastic surgery since Michael Jackson, and the camera is at times unflattering, but she didn't shy from risking public rejection. Show biz is a tough biz, and this film shows why.

Joe (1970) stirs a volatile cauldron of racism, sexism, class division, wealth disparity, gun worship, and generational jealousy that ultimately leads to violence. It eerily shows the roots of today's alt-right hate culture. Peter Boyle convincingly plays Joe, a crude working-class conservative who despises blacks, liberals, gays, welfare, and 1960s counterculture. Dennis Patrick is equally realistic as Bill Compton, a wealthy advertising executive whose hippie daughter (Susan Sarandon in her film debut) lives with a drug dealer. Although the two men seem worlds apart, they accidentally meet in a bar and find common ground — then share a dangerous secret. Tension builds as their uneasy affinity converges toward a collision. Released shortly after Ohio National Guardsmen shot 13 war protesters at Kent State, this controversial film was a hit with conservatives despite the stereotypes and hypocrisy. It dramatizes a social divide that has only widened since 1970.

John & Yoko: Above Us Only Sky (2018) documents the creation of ex-Beatle John Lennon's Imagine album in 1971, including the classic title song. Previously unseen film shows Lennon and session musicians at his Tittenhurst Park home studio in England, plus views of family life with Yoko Ono and son Julian. Among the musicians are fellow ex-Beatle George Harrison, bassist Klaus Voormann, keyboardist Nicky Hopkins, and drummers Alan White and Jim Keltner. Phil Spector shared producer credits with John and Yoko. Recent interviews with some of the participants and with Julian supplement the archival film. One revelation of this interesting documentary is Yoko's uncredited contribution to "Imagine," which partly sprung from her poetry book Grapefruit (1964).

Johnny Eager (1941) stars Robert Taylor and Hollywood hottie Lana Turner in a gangster drama soaked in sexual tension. Filmed during the Hays Production Code era, it never gets explicit of course, but the tension is palpable. Taylor plays the title character — a paroled gangster who entangles with Turner, who implausibly plays a sociology student interested in criminal behavior. Unfortunately, his narcissism obstructs her seduction. Van Heflin plays Johnny Eager's educated but drunken sidekick, an unusual role that won him an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. The climax is loaded with fireworks, irony, and six-shot revolvers that never run out of bullets.

Johnny O'Clock (1947) is a stylish, well-crafted film noir about a no-nonsense casino partner who navigates the no-man's-land between the law and the underworld of sleazy gamblers. Dick Powell is perfect as Johnny, the junior partner of the casino's crooked owner (Thomas Gomez, appropriately sinister). Lee J. Cobb is characteristically gruff as a cigar-chomping police detective on their trail. Nina Foch and Ellen Drew convincingly play sexy young women in love with the wrong men, and Evelyn Keyes shines as the innocent young woman who offers Johnny a path to redemption. Everything in this movie is polished: the acting, the rapid-fire dialogue, the bit-part players, the black-and-white cinematography, and even the tick-tock themed music. Although it's curiously less famous than other films noir, it's a first-class example of the genre.

Jojo Rabbit (2019) isn't a children's movie. It's about a 10-year-old boy in the Hitler Youth near the end of World War II. His imaginary friend is Adolf himself, played brilliantly by Taika Waititi, who also directed and adapted the screenplay with Christine Leunens from her novel Caging Skies (2008). Scarlett Johansson is perfect as the boy's mother, and Sam Rockwell is equally excellent as a demoralized soldier now commanding a Hitler Youth troop. But the foremost stars are Roman Griffin Davis, who plays the boy striving to be a good Nazi, and Thomasin McKenzie, who enlivens a role patterned after Holocaust victim Anne Frank. This stellar cast swings deftly from satire to slapstick to drama. Rare is the film that can mix these elements so well. Nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, it won Best Adapted Screenplay. It would make an interesting double feature with The Tin Drum (1979).

Joker (2019) tells the origin of Batman's nemesis, the Joker. But be warned: it's not about Batman (although Bruce Wayne briefly appears as a young boy), and it's definitely not for children. It's a graphically violent film that shows how a severely depressed and harassed young man is gradually driven to assume the persona of a killer clown. Essentially, it exploits a slim connection to the Batman genre to present a dim view of mental illness, public cruelty, shredded social services, and the growing discontent provoked by widening wealth disparity. Thus, it's actually a commentary on modern American society. Joaquin Phoenix delivers an astonishing Oscar-worthy performance in the title role. Film historians will have much to say about the descent of the Joker character from zany portrayals (by Cesar Romero and Jack Nicholson) to increasingly dark, violent portraits (by Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix). It's an ugly mirror, but perhaps one we need to see.

The Joneses (2010) is an indictment of American consumerism and consumer marketing, packaged in an unusual mix of comedy, drama, and romance. David Duchovny and Demi Moore star as the apparent heads of an affluent family that moves into an upscale suburban neighborhood. Their teenage son and daughter seem as perfect as their parents. Before long, the family's showy lifestyle makes them trendsetters. Everyone wants to wear the same clothes, buy the same gadgets, drive the same cars, and throw the same lavish parties. But their image is a false front for subliminal consumer marketing. As their new friends strive to keep up, the story turns darker. This is an entertaining and clever movie that makes you think.

Journey Into Light (1951) surprisingly casts Sterling Hayden as a minister in a Christian-themed morality tale. Hayden usually plays a tough-guy cop or criminal in film-noir crime thrillers, so he seems misplaced in the first scene when preaching from a pulpit. Then a strange woman staggers up the aisle, nearly interrupting the service. Soon we learn she isn't a stranger. When a personal tragedy prompts the minister to reject his faith and descend into despair, Hayden looks better suited to this role. His simmering volatility propels subsequent scenes that question social justice and religion. Although the redemptive ending is never in doubt, some heated religious debate lifts this drama above most of today's lukewarm Christian fluff.

Joyride (2001) has little to offer but cheap thrills. It's about two pranksters on a road trip who provoke the wrath of an anonymous truck driver. As the evil trucker seeks revenge with his seemingly godlike powers, the movie descends further into idiocy, stretching the audience's suspension of disbelief to the breaking point. Recommended only for those who like urban legends.

Jules et Jim (Jules and Jim, 1962) was a landmark film by French director François Truffaut, but its "French New Wave" fame is obscure today. It's a love-triangle story in which two men (Jules, a Frenchman, and Jim, a German) are such good friends that even fighting on opposite sides during World War I is merely an inconvenient interruption. When an attractive woman threatens to divide them, they remain unusually loyal. To their detriment, however, both men mistake her restless infidelity for boundless passion. The climax, though foreshadowed, is a surprise. This picture seems dated now, and all three characters are frustratingly indecisive.

Julianes Sturz in den Dschungel (Juliane's Fall into the Jungle, 1998): see Wings of Hope.

June Night (Swedish: Juninatten, 1940) isn't one of Ingrid Bergman's best Swedish films, despite a good performance. The fault is a languid screenplay and a morality so outdated that the story is hard to fathom. Bergman plays a young woman shot by her lover, a volatile seaman. She survives but is disgraced for having had a lover. Although she moves to a different city and changes her name, her past follows. To counter her injustice, this film inserts two peripheral characters: a late-night partyer and a newspaper editor. The partyer delivers a monologue about an ancient Roman holiday that overlooks transgressions; the editor scolds a scandal-seeking reporter. This mediocre melodrama convinced Bergman to move to Hollywood in search of better roles.

The Jungle Book (2016) seamlessly blends live action with computer graphics to bring unprecedented life to Rudyard Kipling's story of a young boy raised by wolves in the jungles of India. Child actor Neel Sethi brilliantly plays Mowgli, the orphaned "man-cub" who can talk to animals and who wants to continue living among them. When menaced by the ruthless tiger Shere Khan, however, he reluctantly begins a journey to live with his own kind. Various animal characters are amusingly voiced by Bill Murray, Ben Kingsley, Lupita Nyong'o, Scarlett Johansson, Christopher Walken, and the late Garry Shandling. To keep within a reasonable running time for restless children (108 minutes), the movie wisely condenses the novel. But it also contains several violent scenes that may frighten young children — much more so than Disney's 1967 animated version.

Juno (2007) was one of the best pictures of the year. Ellen Page stars as Juno MacGuff, a sassy 16-year-old who unexpectedly finds herself expecting after one tryst with her shy boyfriend. She considers abortion, then decides to give the baby to an affluent but childless yuppie couple. Although the subject is weighty, Diablo Cody's sharply written screenplay (which won an Oscar) uses sarcastic humor and teen slang to keep things from getting too ponderous. The soundtrack provides additional comic relief and actually plays a role in the story. Occasionally, however, emotions get raw. One scene with an ultrasound technician turns mean. In another serious moment, Juno asks a timeless question: "Is it really possible for two people to be happy together, forever?" This movie would have stood a better chance of winning a Best Picture award if Oscar voters didn't have a predilection for films with epic sweep and dramatic violence.

Jupiter Ascending (2015) makes me wish that someday Hollywood will outgrow its obsession with computer-graphics special effects. I'm tired of waiting for the story to resume while an overdone action scene veers into videogame mode — especially when the story is as interesting as this one. Channing Tatum, Mila Kunis, and Eddie Redmayne star in this science-fiction drama about a present-day immigrant house cleaner who unwittingly becomes the focus of galactic intrigue. It seems that Earth is merely an "estate" owned by capitalistic space aliens intent on economic exploitation, and a deceased owner has reincarnated to reclaim ownership. But whenever the story gets rolling, Tatum gets into a repetitive fight with various pixelsaurs. A lower budget that shortened the fight scenes would have helped this movie.

Jurassic Park (1993) revolutionized special effects and was a tremendous hit that inspired several sequels. It follows the basic plot of another sci-fi thriller, Westworld (1973), in which a futuristic amusement park goes awry with fatal consequences for the guests. Both movies are based on novels by Michael Crichton. But whereas Crichton directed that picture about rogue androids, Steven Spielberg brought his magic touch to this one about dinosaurs resurrected from DNA fragments. Sam Neill, Laura Dern, and Jeff Goldblum star as scientists awed by the technology before running for their lives when the creatures break jail. Sir Richard Attenborough is perfect as the visionary creator who's blind to the hazards. Because this is a Spielberg film, child characters also figure in the story; Ariana Richards and Joseph Mazello nail their central roles. Out-of-control science is always a popular theme, and dinosaurs always fascinate, so this combo plus outstanding special effects make this movie a must-see classic.

Jurassic Park III (2001) has something even more amazing than its special effects — the absurd premise that people as stupid as the characters in this movie could actually survive on an island with vicious dinosaurs. You will go mad watching these idiots stumble into one deadly situation after another, never seeming to learn that discretion is the better part of valor. The only thing that can save this waning series is a Jurassic Park IV that pits the dinos in a full-scale battle for dominance against humans on the mainland — a sequel that Jurassic Park III seems to foreshadow.

Jurassic World (2015) meets expectations. Faint praise, perhaps, but sequels to sequels to sequels can be dreadful. This fourth installment since Jurassic Park (1993) sticks to the successful formula: genetic engineers breed extinct dinosaurs for a theme park; the creatures escape their enclosures and eat people; some intrepid youngsters are repeatedly endangered; and the creatures eventually lose but leave an opening for another sequel. Also, as usual, the people frequently seem dumber than the Jurassic wildlife, calling into question 65 million years of evolution. Luckily, the main characters compensate for their stupidity with amazing talents, such as outrunning a T-rex in high-heeled dress shoes and squeezing rapid semiautomatic fire from a lever-action rifle. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018) celebrates the 25th anniversary of the Jurassic Park franchise with yet another sequel — but despite its recycled plots, the series never seems to grow old. In this installment, the good guys are animal-rights activists who are only slightly less stupid than the baddies who want to exploit the dinosaurs for profit. Throw in stellar special effects and an innocent little girl, and the time-tested formula is complete. Jeff Goldblum, the only original cast member, makes two cameo appearances without actually joining the dino action. These movies are like roller coasters that vary from one amusement park to another but use the same techniques to guarantee a thrill ride. This time, stay through the lengthy final credits for a surprise that suggests the next sequel.

Just Like Heaven (2005) unites Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo in an offbeat romantic comedy in which she plays a ghost. Although several previous Hollywood movies have similar plots, this one creatively updates the concept. Witherspoon stars as a workaholic doctor without a social life. Ruffalo plays a grieving widower without a social life. In arithmetic, adding two negatives yields a positive, and this story obeys the same math. Watch for good supporting performances by Ivana Milicevic as a hottie neighbor and Jon Heder as a quirky clerk in an occult bookstore. Location shooting in San Francisco contributes scenic atmosphere.

Kamikaze Hearts (1986) blends documentary filmmaking with fictional performances so seamlessly that we're unsure what is real or contrived. Ambiguity was a conscious choice by director Juliet Bashore; one working title was Truth and Fiction. Overall, it seems more truthful than not. It features real porn stars making a fictional porn film in San Francisco during the industry's peak. Some actors play fictional characters while others play themselves under their actual names or stage names. Two women are real: porn star Sharon Mitchell and her lesbian girlfriend Tigr Mennett. Their love-hate relationship centers the action, which includes much conflict, nudity, drug abuse, and pornography. This controversial production peeps behind the curtain to reveal the industry's sleaze but also the offstage camaraderie.

Kansas City Confidential (1952) is a marvelous film-noir crime thriller. It's tense, twisty, moody, and contemporary, and all the performances rock. John Payne, not often cast in this genre, stars as a war veteran wrongly implicated in an armored-car robbery. To clear himself, he pursues the real robbers to Mexico. He seems over his head but relies on guts and brains to survive. The supporting cast is superb. Neville Brand and Lee Van Cleef are fantastic as creepy crooks who try to look smooth but are always moments away from exploding. Preston Foster convincingly plays a retired cop on a fishing trip, and Coleen Gray is his daughter who falls for the good guy. The pacing is great, the plot is comprehensible, and the climax is fireworks.

Keeper of the Flame (1942) reflects wartime fears that American fascists posing as patriots were plotting to overthrow the U.S. government. These fears weren't unfounded after the fascist takeovers in Italy, Germany, and Spain. Also, in 1933 a retired U.S. Marines general revealed that some rich businessmen and military veterans were planning a fascist coup against newly elected President Franklin D. Roosevelt. This controversial film, released during World War II, warns that cultish patriotism is easily exploited. Spencer Tracy stars as a reporter hoping to write a laudatory biography of an American political hero who has just died in a car accident. Katharine Hepburn stars as the secretive widow. Unlike the breezy comedies of later Tracy-Hepburn pairings, this one is a noirish mystery. When the secrets are exposed, they are spookily prescient of Trump-era politics. A similar but better picture was Meet John Doe, released the year before.

The Kennel Murder Case (1933) was the fourth picture starring William Powell as Philo Vance, a suave private detective who helps the bumbling police solve tricky homicides. Powell later played a strikingly similar character (Nick Charles) in the long-running Thin Man series (1934–1947). Both roles are nearly seamless, and both series even pair him with a cute dog. Missing in Kennel, however, is Myrna Loy, his Thin Man wife, and the absence of a doppelgänger weakens this light thriller. Still, it's a clever and swift whodunit with the usual gaggle of suspects. The first act moves almost too fast in casting suspicion on people who despise the victim, but they're sorted out later.

Key Largo (1948) stars Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall in their fourth and last picture together. Married in real life, they were Hollywood's hottest couple in the 1940s. In this crime thriller, Bogart plays an unemployed World War II veteran visiting the father and widow of one of his fallen soldiers. Their Florida Keys hotel is empty in off-season except for some suspiciously shady types. A howling hurricane soon becomes the lesser danger. Bogart is good but is nearly eclipsed by sharp performances from Bacall as the sultry widow, Lionel Barrymore as the feisty hotelier, Edward G. Robinson as an arrogant gangster, and Claire Trevor as a drunken gun moll. Everyone gets at least one standout scene; Trevor won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Two interesting undercurrents are the fading hopes for a better postwar world and some pro-Prohibition dialogue that's really anti-Prohibition.

The Kids Are All Right (2010) is a family drama about an unconventional family — Annette Bening and Julianne Moore convincingly play the lesbian parents of a teenage daughter and son. Without consulting their moms, the kids find their biological father, a long-ago sperm donor played by the twitchy Mark Ruffalo. Naturally, the family reunion has unforeseen consequences. On the surface, lesbian parenthood isn't central to this film, because the story of an absent father reunited with his anonymous offspring would offer dramatic possibilities in any case. But the lesbian angle is actually the whole point. By dwelling on the women's taste in porn and a torrid affair, the film suggests that lesbian relationships are unfulfilling. Sexual guilt and perceived moral disapproval lead to an unjust firing. Another plot device uses oral gratification as a proxy for morality (cigarettes = evil, veggies = holy, wine = liberal). Indeed, the movie portrays California metro-culture to the point of satire. It's not a stretch to read this film as a clever attack on alternative lifestyles.

Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003) typifies writer/director Quentin Tarantino's simplistic filmmaking style. All of his pictures string scenes of gory violence on thin plots that are nonlinear to make them seem more complex. They imitate violent videogames, except they're noninteractive. Once you know the pattern, all the suspense derives from anticipating the next inevitable scene of gore. The two-part Kill Bill series is a homage to classic Hong Kong martial-arts fistfests. Although Tarantino consistently made popular movies featuring good performances — from Uma Thurman and David Carradine, in this case — his limited range grows tiresome. Unfortunately, he retired before daring to try something different.

Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004): see Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003) first — and maybe only, because Vol. 2 is more of the same, except longer. Thankfully, there will be no more sequels.

Kill the Messenger (2014) is based on the true story of a newspaper reporter who linked the Reagan administration's secret funding of the Contras guerrilla war in Nicaragua with drug dealers who exported tons of cocaine to the U.S. in the 1980s. His exposé of guns, money, and drugs initially won accolades but soon was attacked by the rival news outlets he had scooped. Jeremy Renner skillfully plays reporter Gary Webb as a crusading journalist with a flawed character who finds himself overwhelmed by the opposition he stirs up. Although the movie glosses over some inaccuracies in his reporting, it gets the basic facts right in an almost forgotten scandal.

Killdozer (1974) not only survives as an above-average made-for-TV movie of its era but also has gained status as a minor cult film. When a strange force inside a meteorite somehow inhabits a bulldozer, the newly intelligent machine goes on a rampage. Its confused victims are the hard-hatted and hard-headed men of a small work crew on a remote African island. As with many TV movies of the 1970s, this one has pretty good actors, including stoic Clint Walker as the crew boss, TV veteran Carl Betz as his assistant, film-noir veteran Neville Brand as his trusty mechanic, and Robert Urich as a heavy-machine operator. It's absurd, silly, and fun.

Killer Klowns From Outer Space (1988) spoofs classic sci-fi thrillers and became a classic itself. It's the brainchild of the Chiodo brothers (Stephen, Charles, and Edward) who wrote, directed, and produced it on a tight budget. Despite its limitations, the special effects and sets are surprisingly good, and the alien invaders are actors in marvelously designed clown suits. They zap some human victims with a ray gun that cocoons them in pink filaments resembling cotton candy. Another weapon spews popcorn that sprouts weird creatures. Their spaceship is a circus tent with otherworldly architecture. This campy farce makes fun of everything, including itself.

The Killer Shrews (1959) reeks of low-budget production but has some good moments. When a bizarre science project on a remote island goes awry, mutant dog-sized shrews begin devouring anything they can catch, including humans. Then an approaching hurricane prevents two visiting sailors and the island's few inhabitants from escaping. Like almost all 1950s thrillers, this one is too talky, but the action scenes aren't bad. This movie is among the few directed by Ray Kellogg, who later became a popular visual-effects artist. He stretches his poverty budget to make life-size puppets and dogs wearing rugs look like vicious freaks. The climax is creative, too. The only recognizable stars are James Best (Sheriff Coltrane on the TV series "The Dukes of Hazzard") and Ken Curtis (Festus on the TV series "Gunsmoke").

The Killer That Stalked New York (1950) is a different breed of crime thriller. Two separate manhunts search for the same suspect — an international jewel smuggler who's also the oblivious carrier of a dangerous disease. And the manhunt's target is a woman (Evelyn Keyes in a fine performance she despised). This picture, which is based on true events in 1947, successfully mixes a crime story with a medical mystery and a film-noir climax. The supporting cast does its duty, although we don't see enough of Dorothy Malone as a sympathetic nurse.

Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) dramatizes the true story of Native Americans in Oklahoma who were murdered for their oil wealth in the 1910s and '20s. Based on David Grann's 2017 nonfiction book, this epic by director Martin Scorsese recounts the crime spree through one representative family — a white man who marries an Osage woman for her "headrights" (tribal oil royalties). These rights were transferable only by inheritance, which tempted some white men to kill Indians, even their own wives. Local authorities turned a blind eye. Unfortunately, this 3.5-hour movie doesn't find time to briefly explain the legal background or why perfectly normal Indians were judged incompetent and forced to beg handouts of their own money from white guardians. The profusion of characters is also confusing. However, the performances and production values are superb. Leonardo DiCaprio plays the white man who marries an Osage woman (Lily Gladstone) and is torn between love and greed. Robert De Niro is typically convincing as his manipulative uncle. It's one of the best films of 2023 and a capstone on Scorsese's brilliant career.

The Killing (1956) established Stanley Kubrick as the promising young filmmaker who later directed Paths of Glory (1957), Spartacus (1960), Dr. Strangelove (1964), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), A Clockwork Orange (1971), The Shining (1980), and other masterpieces. The Killing is a tight film noir that shows flashes of brilliance but is marred by nonlinear storytelling and studio-mandated voiceover narration. The nonlinear structure portrays a complex heist caper in flashbacks that interrupt the dramatic flow. It was innovative in 1956 and inspired later filmmakers — particularly Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Nolan, who became so enamored with the technique that they're stuck in a rut. Kubrick (1928–1999) was more creative and found other ways to innovate.

The Killing Fields (1984) dramatizes the true story of New York Times reporter Sydney Schanberg and his Cambodian assistant/fixer Dith Pran as they covered the 1975 Khmer Rouge revolution. Sam Waterston, playing Schanberg, is convincing as a hard-driving foreign correspondent immersed in the violent turmoil. Haing S. Ngor, as Pran, is even better. Although he had never acted before, he was actually a survivor of the Khmer Rouge tortures, prison camps, and massacres. Ngor deservedly won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor and is the real star of this outstanding film. Nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, it won three, including Cinematography and Film Editing. One demerit is a fictional scene in which photographer Al Rockoff (John Malkovich) fakes a passport photo for Pran. It didn't happen that way, which pissed off Rockoff.

Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) features the most elegant Victorian dialogue you're ever likely to hear, which makes the droll humor in this British comedy even funnier. Although Dennis Price stars as the estranged heir to a wealthy dukedom, Alec Guinness stands out by playing eight different parts, including one in drag. You'll look hard to recognize him in some of his roles. Price plays the son of an upper-class woman who marries for love instead of social position. Her father, the duke, disowns her, dooming her son to a commoner's life. Disgruntled, he vows to kill his relatives until he's the only heir. It's a good setup made better by the stilted language and stiff Victorian manners. Produced in the postwar era when British estate capitalism was eroding, this picture is also a social commentary on the class divisions perpetuated by inherited wealth.

King Arthur (2004) advances the controversial theory that Arthur wasn't a native Briton with a contingent of knights in shining armor, but instead a Eurasian horseman pressed into military service by the Romans in the sixth century A.D. At the end of his 15-year hitch in Britannia, Arthur and his fellow conscripts must carry out a final mission to earn their discharges and return home. In the process, they begin to rethink their loyalty and their destiny. This questionable retelling of Arthurian legend is hampered by a predictable plot and some historical inaccuracies, such as Saxons armed with crossbows, battle axes hacking through stone walls, and Romans using saber tactics with long swords. Somehow, though, the earthiness of this film seems more realistic than the flashier portrayals of King Arthur and his knights.

King Kong (1933) is a must-see classic. It's so embedded in popular culture that nearly everyone has seen clips or stills of the giant ape perched atop the Empire State Building, swatting at Army biplanes attacking him like mosquitoes. That climax was dramatic, but the whole film is impressive. Fay Wray became world famous playing the young woman whom King Kong idolizes and threatens. Although the stop-motion animation is antiquated by today's CGI standards, it was startling in 1933 and remains so today. And since then, King Kong has acquired deeper meaning. Even in 1933, it questioned the morality of capturing a rare animal for public exploitation. Although the beast's eventual downfall is anthropomorphic — could a giant ape really go ape over a tiny human female? — this Hollywood classic holds up well.

King Kong (2005) is an impressive remake of a classic picture, with state-of-the-art special effects and a closer relationship between the giant ape and the young woman offered to him as a human sacrifice. Kong is now a fully developed character displaying a range of emotions, including anger, amusement, frustration, and (ultimately) resignation. Naomi Watts, reprising the Fay Wray role, forges a bond with Kong that at times makes each one seem like a beloved pet of the other. But despite all the spectacle and character development, director Peter Jackson undermines his homage with some poor decisions. At three hours eight minutes, the film is overlong, with redundant dinosaur battles and distracting bit parts. The derring-do sometimes gets ridiculous, and Jack Black seems miscast as the schemer who captures Kong and brings him to New York City as a tourist attraction. Still, this is a must-see film for any King Kong fan.

King of the Zombies (1941) is unusual for its time by featuring black supporting actors and actresses who deliver more dialogue than the white leading players. What's not unusual is that their roles portray racial stereotypes — particularly, wide-eyed fear and exaggerated ethnic dialect. Nevertheless, the black players get all the best lines, and I can't fault them for being captives of 1940s Hollywood culture. The real star of this low-budget comedy/thriller is Mantan Moreland, a black comedic actor who plays a white man's valet. His wisecracks, though sometimes cringeworthy, enliven this routine story of plane-crash survivors on an island of zombies ruled by a mysterious foreign doctor. It's a time capsule reminding us that African-Americans have always struggled for worthy roles in motion pictures.

The King's Speech (2010) is a superbly acted drama based on the true story of King George VI and his Australian speech therapist. George's frustrating stammer grew worse when his elder brother, King Edward VIII, unexpectedly abdicated the throne in 1936 to marry an American socialite. With World War II looming, the new king's speech impediment became a national handicap at a time when master orators like Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini were using mass rallies and radio to mesmerize their millions of followers. Colin Firth excels as the tongue-tied king, ably supported by Geoffrey Rush as his unrelenting therapist, Helena Bonham Carter as his supportive wife, and Guy Pearce as his impetuous and overbearing brother. David Seidler's witty screenplay breathes life into what is essentially a historical footnote.

Kingdom of the Spiders (1977) typifies the nature-gone-mad horror flicks popularized by Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds (1963). This time it's tarantulas terrorizing a remote small town. Lacking Hitchcock's direction, it's not as good as The Birds, but his work was the obvious inspiration. You'll see endangered children, a gasoline-station fire, the gruesome death of a prominent female character, closeups of ravaged corpses, and desperate people boarding up windows. There's even a biplane crop-duster scene lifted from Hitchcock's North By Northwest (1959)! The main star is William Shatner, who plays a veterinarian more interested in pretty women than sick animals. At times it's schlocky, but it's redeemed by a surprise (if controversial) ending.

Kinsey (2004) dramatizes the groundbreaking work of Dr. Alfred Kinsey, whose extensively researched books on human sexuality in the 1940s and 1950s provoked controversy and scandal. Liam Neeson stars in the title role, with Laura Linney as his wife and strongest supporter. The film is more educational than entertaining, although it definitely has its moments of comedy and drama. Kinsey is portrayed as a dedicated scientist who becomes overwhelmed by the ramifications of his work, eventually to the point of obsession. His objectivity suffers, and his research staff grows self-indulgent. In these ways, the film hints at the social, psychological, and moral effects of Kinsey's battle against sexual Puritanism. Kinsey's fans and critics can both walk away with reinforcement for their beliefs.

Kiss of Death (1947) vaulted Richard Widmark to fame in his first motion picture despite Victor Mature's decent performance as the top-billed star. Widmark was nominated Best Supporting Actor for his over-the-top portrayal of a sociopathic gangster. Alternately snarling and creepily giggling, his ratlike character Tommy Udo steals every scene from Mature. The height of his aggressively passive-aggressive performance is an infamous scene involving an invalid woman, a wheelchair, and a staircase. Mature plays a gangster who becomes a target while trying to go straight. Although this film noir is a classic, it's mainly due to Widmark. The Oscar-nominated story is merely average and ends implausibly.

Kiss of Evil (1963): see Kiss of the Vampire.

Kiss Me Deadly (1955) remains one of the most famous and mysterious film-noir crime thrillers. Ralph Meeker stars as Mike Hammer, a private detective embroiled in a murder case that leads to a strange box with unknown but potentially dangerous contents. Sadistic thugs want the box and are willing to torture or kill anyone to get it. Suspense builds toward a violent conclusion in which the box's contents may — or may not! — be revealed. The original 1955 ending was more ambiguous than a 1997 revision that restored 82 seconds of long-lost footage. This classic film noir also functions as a time capsule of 1950s Los Angeles locations, and the mystery box has inspired similar plot devices in several other pictures, such as Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and Pulp Fiction (1994).

Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (1950) stars the great James Cagney as a sociopathic gangster, a role he played often and well. This violent crime thriller starts with a prison break in which he shoots a fellow inmate who isn't running fast enough. And that's just the start. Cagney so skillfully plays the crook as a bipolar wisecracker/sadist that we never know what he'll do next. His boundless ambition leads to ever-riskier capers that ensnare others around him. Barbara Payton and Helena Carter play femme fatale types who could become gangster molls or mantraps. This film noir is unusually brutal for 1950 and makes the cops look nearly as bad as the bad guys. It deserves equal billing with Cagney's more famous gangster pictures: The Public Enemy (1931) and White Heat (1949).

Kiss of the Vampire a/k/a Kiss of Evil (1963) starts with a bang when a solemn funeral turns into the gory death of a vampire. Then it calms down and steadily builds suspense toward a wonderfully crazy climax involving a whole cult of vampires and a flock of vampire bats. This British horror thriller succeeds despite omitting the usual Dracula character in favor of a similar aristocrat. When he invites two stranded newlyweds to dinner at his castle, their interrupted honeymoon gets uncomfortably creepy. Things really get out of hand when they attend his wild costume party. Skip the version edited for American TV (Kiss of Evil) — it's butchered almost beyond recognition.

Kissing Jessica Stein (2002) begins with the usual Hollywood cliché that two beautiful, amusing, and intelligent women can't find Mr. Right. Then it blossoms into a wonderfully funny and brainy film. Out of desperation, the two women tentatively explore a same-sex relationship. Their clash of egos, morals, and libidos makes this movie a romance that anybody who isn't too conservative will enjoy. The two stars, Heather Juergensen and Jennifer Westfeldt, also wrote the witty screenplay.

Klute (1971) won Jane Fonda the first of her two Academy Awards for Best Actress, despite her initial doubts that she was right for the role. She plays a high-priced call girl spookily stalked by a past client. Donald Sutherland co-stars as a private detective on a missing-person case who needs her help. His performance is so stoic that it hardly seems like acting, but it's appropriate for his part. By contrast, Fonda is more demonstrative and justifies her Oscar. She displays a wide emotional range and is fully immersed in her complex character. The story is atmospheric but simplistic, offering few of the surprises expected of a crime thriller. Fonda's great performance is the only reason to watch this film.

Knife in the Water (1962) was Polish director Roman Polanski's first feature, and it was a promising start to his exceptional if sometimes eccentric career. This tidy drama stretches tension around three characters, a sailboat, and a switchblade. Two characters, married, find a younger man hitchhiking. With mutual reluctance they board the couple's boat for a brief lake excursion. The married man proves to be an experienced but bossy skipper; the young man is an inexperienced and increasingly resentful deckhand. When the knife appears, the suspense is quiet but palpable. Be patient with this deliberately slow movie, because surprises await you. It was the first from Poland to earn an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign-Language Film. (In Polish with subtitles.)

Knives Out (2019) is a fast-paced who-done-it with a stellar cast including Daniel Craig, Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, and Christopher Plummer. When a wealthy crime novelist (Plummer) apparently commits suicide, a Southern-drawl private detective (Craig) tries to prove it was murder. All of the family members are greedy heirs who lie about their behavior, so they're all suspects. But which one killed the old man — or was it really suicide? This entertaining comedy has frequent plot twists that contort into pretzels by the end. To make sense of it, pay attention to every line of dialogue, every camera close-up, every facial expression. The clues are subtle but rewarding to recognize. If your attention wanders, you'll miss the fun.

Knute Rockne, All American (1940) seems riddled with sports-movie clichés, but it created most of them. Pat O'Brien stars as the famous Notre Dame coach in the 1920s who turned the small Midwestern college into the football powerhouse it remains today. This rah-rah biopic is relentlessly upbeat, even when tragedy strikes. In one scene, Ronald Reagan plays George Gipp, a star halfback who died of pneumonia in 1920. On his deathbed, Gipp supposedly told Rockne to someday urge the team to "Win one for the Gipper" when the game looks bleak. Of course, they do. In the 1980s, President Reagan adopted the line as a political slogan. Though sugary, this film is a reasonably accurate account of Rockne's historic coaching career.

Kodachrome (2017) stars Ed Harris as a photojournalist who desperately wants to develop four rolls of Kodak's famous color-slide film before the last Kodachrome lab shuts down. Another deadline is that he's dying of cancer. This tear-jerker mourns the real death of Kodachrome in 2009 and the pending death of Harris' abrasive character. His estranged son (Jason Sudeikis) reluctantly agrees to drive him from New York to the last Kodachrome lab in Kansas, accompanied by his nurse (Elizabeth Olsen). Despite its contrivances, and an obvious climax, it's an above-average entry in the redemption-by-disease genre.

Konga (1961) proves that New York, Tokyo, Los Angeles, and San Francisco aren't the only cities vexed by movie monsters. In this British thriller, it's London that suffers the damaged infrastructure and stampeding crowds. You'll have to wait for the last act, though, because this flick takes a long time before unleashing its best special effects. Mostly you'll watch the usual rogue professor tinker with exotic genetics while getting entirely too cozy with a sexy coed. And when the British Army ultimately contends with the oversized results of his mad experiments, you'll wonder how soldiers firing tracer rounds point-blank can miss such a huge target.

Korla (2015) documents the amazing life of John Roland Redd, who achieved a successful musical career by masquerading as "Korla Pandit" — a fictional persona in a turban who claimed to be from New Delhi, India. Actually, Redd was born an African-American in Missouri in 1921. His secret wasn't revealed until after his death in 1998. But from a young age, his keyboard talent was real. Segregation and racism limited his prospects, so he began creating new images of himself. Eventually he settled on "Korla Pandit" and became known as the Godfather of Exotica for his eerie organ compositions. Korla soared to popularity on radio, TV, records, and stages. This fascinating documentary tells a story that's both inspiring (he found a path to success) and tragic (racism forced him to change his identity). It's a truly American story.

Koyaanisqatsi a/k/a Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance (1982) is an exotic documentary that immerses viewers in pure cinema without dialogue or narration. "Koyaanisqatsi" means "crazy life" or "life out of balance" in the Native American Hopi language. Although director Godfrey Reggio encourages interpretation, it's clearly a visual commentary on our manipulation of technology and nature. It begins with a static image of Native American petroglyphs before moving to an extreme close-up of a rocket launch. Then it shows mostly aerial views of wild nature. Technology abruptly arrives in the image of a huge truck. Reggio employs telephoto lenses and time-lapse photography (both fast- and slow-motion) to dramatize the spread of modern civilization. Sometimes he belabors the point to annoyance, and the soundtrack can also be grating. (It was scored by Philip Glass, whose signature style makes three-chord rock 'n' roll sound sophisticated.) But this cult film is fascinating if you like unusual cinema.

Kubrick By Candlelight (2017) is an 18-minute fictional short film guaranteed to confuse anyone not immersed in the works of director Stanley Kubrick (1928–1999). On the surface, it's a backstage romance during the production of Kubrick's Barry Lyndon (1975). Actually, it's a compendium of subtle references to Kubrick's many pictures, including Dr. Strangelove (1964), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), A Clockwork Orange (1971), The Shining (1980), and others. Eagle-eyed fans have found at least 90 of these Easter eggs. Viewers less obsessed with Kubrick will find this odd tribute confusing.

L'Avventura a/k/a The Adventure (1960) was Italian writer/director Michelangelo Antonioni's breakout film that portended even greater works to come. Today it might qualify as "slow cinema" for its deliberate 143-minute pace. At heart it's a contrarian romantic drama starring Gabriele Ferzetti as a handsome but fickle leading man. When his tepid fiancée disappears while boating, he diligently searches for her, then turns his attention to her friend. The beautiful Monica Vitti steals the screen in this role — a career breakout for her, too. In one unsettling scene, she's ogled by dozens of leering men who've never seen such beauty. This film revolts against the sugary romantic dramas of its era, and its mystery subplot foreshadows Antonioni's 1966 masterpiece, Blow-Up.

L'Urlo (1970): see The Howl.

La Città Delle Donne (1980): see City of Women.

La Frusta e il Corpo (1963): see The Whip and the Body.

La La Land (2016) is a lively modern-day musical that echoes the style of classic Hollywood musicals from the 1940s and 1950s. Ryan Gosling stars as a jazz pianist who yearns to open his own nightclub in Los Angeles. Emma Stone co-stars as a young actress struggling to win her first role in Hollywood. Their paths keep crossing until finally they join in a dance routine that's notable for being filmed in one long take — not a string of cherry-picked cuts spliced together to highlight their best moves. What's even more impressive is that Gosling spent hours learning to play piano so he could mimic his keyboard performances, although a pro dubbed the music. The plot is a classic Hollywood tale of two young lovers seeking fame — until the conclusion, which is a bit more modern. This film is for musical aficionados who miss Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. It won six Oscars, including Best Director for Damien Chazelle.

La Notte a/k/a The Night (1961) followed Michelangelo Antonioni's breakout film L'Avventura (1960), firmly establishing him as a major writer and director. This methodical Italian drama stars Marcello Mastroianni and Jeanne Moreau as a couple whose marriage is foundering on boredom and insecurity. He's a struggling novelist; she's a daughter of wealth — an imbalance barely mentioned but a source of discomfort. Too weary for catfights, they endure an aimless existence. An invitation to a rich man's lavish party sharpens their emotions and tempts infidelity. Monica Vitti as the host's daughter is especially alluring. The party scenes also lampoon Italian intellectual society and bourgeois frivolity. Although Antonioni's slow pacing frustrates some viewers, it reflects the suppressed tension of a crumbling marriage and the quiet anxiety of encroaching middle age.

Labyrinth (1986) flopped on release but has redeemed itself somewhat. It's a fantasy tale starring David Bowie as a Goblin King and Jennifer Connelly (then only 14) as Sarah, a teenager who accidentally wishes herself into his bizarre land. To rescue her infant brother from the king, she must navigate a labyrinth to find the king's castle. Along the way, she encounters outlandish obstacles but also befriends three helpful creatures. The story alludes to The Wizard of Oz (1939), even with a few musical numbers. Unfortunately, it lacks the same timeless charm. Highlights are the marvelous puppet creatures and elaborate sets designed by Muppets creator Jim Henson, who directed.

Ladies in Retirement (1941) deserves a better title, such as Murder in the Marshes. Otherwise, you'd think this Broadway adaptation is a light comedy about lovable old biddies. In some ways, it is, but it's mainly a crime thriller. It stands apart from most others of this period by starring women in nearly all the prime roles. The great Ida Lapino plays Ellen Creed, a servant and companion to an older spinster who dwells in a remote English cottage. When a London landlord evicts Ellen's two mentally challenged sisters, she convinces her host to board them for a while. Soon their antics make other arrangements necessary. Evelyn Keyes and Elsa Lanchester (Bride of Frankenstein) are convincing as the nutty sisters. Although Louis Hayward co-stars as a conniving relative, Lapino and Isobel Elsom (the host) command center stage. This picture wastes good performances on a slow-moving story that gradually builds suspense but is merely average.

Ladri Di Biciclette (1948): see Bicycle Thieves.

Lady Bird (2017) is an outstanding coming-of-age story about a teenage girl in Sacramento, California. Feeling stifled by an overbearing mother and the local social scene, she yearns to attend a liberal East Coast college, but her descending middle-class family can't begin to afford it. Meanwhile, her high-school social life is stagnant, and she's wrestling with her blooming sexuality. Although this comedy/drama sounds like many others, it's brought to life by Saoirse Ronan, a U.S.-born actress who was raised in Ireland and has revealed her talents in Brooklyn (2015) and The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), among other films. Laurie Metcalf is equally good as her strict mother, and the whole cast is praiseworthy. Lady Bird was one of the best pictures of 2017.

Lady of Deceit (1947): see Born to Kill.

Lady Frankenstein (Italian: La Figlia di Frankenstein, 1971) is an Italian horror movie starring an American actor (Joseph Cotten) as the mad scientist and an Italian bombshell (Rosalba Neri) as his madder daughter. When the experiment to assemble a superman out of dead body parts goes awry (as usual), the daughter intervenes to save her father's reputation. This flick is notable for its attention to gory detail and its lurid sex scenes — although the latter are often deleted for broadcast TV. It's wonderfully sleazy, and Neri is an alluring femme fatale.

The Lady From Shanghai (1947) was written and directed by Orson Welles, who also co-stars with his then-wife, Rita Hayworth. This combination virtually guarantees an interesting and eccentric experience. Unfortunately, as with many of Welles' projects, studio interference sabotaged his artistic vision. Nevertheless, enough survives to make this movie a classic film noir. Welles plays an Irish seaman infatuated with a rich lawyer's beautiful younger wife who is torn between love and money. Naturally, it leads to trouble, intrigue, and murder. The climax in an amusement-park fun house of mirrors is both dramatic and symbolic of the confusing plot.

Lady in the Lake (1946) stands out for its unusual cinematography: it's filmed mostly from the first-person viewpoint of the main character, private detective Phillip Marlowe. Because the camera moves as his eyes, we never see him except when he's reflected in a mirror or when he appears in a few incongruous narration scenes. As a result, Robert Montgomery has little actual screen time despite playing Marlowe. More visible is his co-star, Audrey Totter, who plays his client and potential femme fatale. The story, based on a Raymond Chandler novel, begins as a routine search for a missing person but soon becomes a complex web of murders. Watch for a young Jayne Meadows as another potential femme fatale who talks like a machine gun. The subjective viewpoint and sharp dialogue are the main attractions of this otherwise standard crime thriller.

The Lady Vanishes (1938) mixes English-style wry humor with a mystery thriller and romance that's staged mostly on a train. Alfred Hitchcock directed this intriguing picture before moving to Hollywood. It shows the rapid progress of his filmmaking skills in the 1930s. It also reflects English anxiety on the cusp of World War II, although it never names Nazi Germany — it's placed in the fictional European nation of Madrika. Margaret Lockwood plays a pretty young woman whose new friend (May Whitty) mysteriously vanishes. Michael Redgrave debuts as a fellow passenger who helps investigate the disappearance. The story starts rather slowly but picks up steam when the train rolls. Two wisecracking English men provide comic relief and bold hints of a homosexual relationship. This movie is an odd mix, but Hitchcock holds it together.

The Ladykillers (1955) parodies English eccentricity as a gang of misfit criminals plan to rob an armored car. Alex Guinness plays the oddball mastermind who rents a room from an elderly widow to hatch the plot. His sidekicks include Peter Sellers in a small role before his stardom. Katie Johnson is hilarious as the clueless widow who swallows the criminals' absurd cover story that they're classical musicians. Her innocent part in the plot leads to a cascade of mishaps. This cute comedy was nominated for a Best Screenplay Oscar and is still funny but was bested by an American remake in 2004.

The Ladykillers (2004) is an amusing remake of the 1955 comedy starring Alex Guinness and Peter Sellers. This version indulges in a more twisted brand of dark humor — unsurprising, because it was written and directed by the infamous Coen brothers (Fargo, The Man Who Wasn't There, Raising Arizona, Blood Simple, et al). This time, the story about a gang of misfit thieves is transplanted from England to Mississippi, and it stars Tom Hanks, Irma P. Hall, and Marlon Wayans. Hanks is the eccentric brains behind a plot to steal gambling money from a riverboat. They suffer one misadventure after another, and their worst foil is a clueless old black woman hilariously played by Hall. Although not as gloomy as Fargo or Blood Simple, it retains the Coen brothers' touch of the bizarre.

The Land That Time Forgot (1974) adapts an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel from 1918 about a German U-boat commandeered by the survivors of a torpedo attack. After failing to reach a friendly port, they discover an unknown island teeming with dinosaurs and primitive humans. This adaptation is relatively faithful until the end. Doug McClure stars as a resourceful American sailor among the British crew of the sunken freighter. John McEnery co-stars as a wise U-boat captain, and pretty Susan Penhaligon brightens the otherwise all-male cast. She's more than eye candy, though; she plays a biologist who can effectively wield a gun. The dinosaurs in this pre-CGI production are obviously rubber puppets but are well rendered, as are the prehistoric people. Plenty of action propels this above-average flick toward a dramatic climax.

The Land Unknown (1957) is an above-average monster movie despite cheap special effects. Three U.S. military men and a woman journalist embark on an Antarctic expedition to find a mysterious warm-water region. They discover more than they expected when their helicopter is forced down in a hidden valley with a tropical climate and prehistoric life. Dinosaurs and carnivorous plants are only some of their troubles. Curiously, no one thought to bring a camera. In several ways, this movie foreshadows the 1960 remake of The Lost World, which benefited from a somewhat larger budget. It's still fun, though.

Lars and the Real Girl (2007) is a moving film about a quietly disturbed young man and the tightly knit town that lives with his delusion. The talented Ryan Gosling plays Lars Lindstrom, who is barely noticed until he buys a lifelike sex doll on the Internet. But Lars is a pathological introvert, not a pervert. He believes the doll is a real person, to the point of imagining her half of their conversations. Gradually, the town goes along. Although this movie is promoted as a comedy and has many comic moments, it's a deeper examination of emotional trauma and community empathy. Gosling, who excelled in Half Nelson (2006), gives a standout performance as Lars. Patricia Clarkson invests the character of his doctor/psychologist with great subtlety and strength.

The Las Vegas Story (1952) offers fleeting views of Sin City before gigantic casinos displaced downtown as the main attraction. In fact, the hotel named the "Fabulous" in this film-noir crime thriller is today's Flamingo Hilton, although the original buildings are long gone. Jane Russell, Vincent Price, and Victor Mature form a love-hate triangle further complicated by deception, grudges, murders, and diamonds. The story is fairly routine until the frantic climax delivers a helicopter-versus-car chase and a shootout on an abandoned military base. Russell and Price provide relief from Mature's stony face.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco (2019) dramatizes urban gentrification and the damage that drugs inflict on black families and communities. Jimmie Fails stars as a character by the same name, which implies that this story may be partly true. He is superb as a young black man who covets a beautiful Victorian house in San Francisco occupied by a white couple. Without their permission, he tries to maintain it, even bringing his own ladder and paints while they're gone. He explains that his grandfather built the place in 1946, reproducing the ornate design of 1850s Victorians, before his drug-addicted father lost ownership. Meanwhile, Jimmie's outcast friend Montgomery (Jonathan Majors, excellent) struggles to write a play based on aimless black men who hang out on the street, talking trash. When the white folks leave the house and it becomes available, events converge on a dramatic conclusion. Family history has a gravity as hard to escape as any history.

The Last Castle (2001) is yet another in a long line of cliché-ridden prison dramas. As usual, the prisoners are the mistreated good guys and the warden is the evil villain. This time the setting is a military prison, but that's the only original twist. The outraged prisoners stage a revolt, led by a convicted but still-revered three-star general played by Robert Redford, who already explored this territory in Brubaker (1980). The acting is competent, but the denouement is never in doubt.

The Last King of Scotland (2006) is a fictional drama about a young Scottish doctor who impetuously travels to Uganda in the 1970s and unexpectedly becomes the personal physician to dictator Idi Amin. The only reality is Amin's sudden rise to power and growing brutality, which eventually killed 300,000 Ugandans. But the fiction is compelling. The restless, inexperienced Scot (well played by James McAvoy) is rapidly seduced by Amin's generosity and the luxurious lifestyle his inner circle enjoys. Then things turn ugly. Forest Whitaker delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as a dictator whose mood swings keep his followers (and the movie audience) in a constant state of suspense.

The Last Laugh (German: Der Letzte Mann, 1924) is a beautifully photographed and restored silent film about a proud hotel doorman who is demoted for "infirmity." The German Expressionist camerawork is extraordinary, especially in a drunken dream sequence in which the aged doorman fantasizes having great strength. Then he awakens to the harsh reality of his lowlier new job. This drama is so skillfully pantomimed that it needs only a few intertitles for context, none for dialogue. It also has two endings — one realistic, the other hilarious. Filmed by director F.W. Murnau during the chaotic Weimar Republic years, it presciently depicts the problems of wealth disparity and class status that ripened Germany for the later rise of Adolf Hitler.

The Last Man on Earth (1964) was the first and perhaps worst adaptation of Richard Matheson's novel I Am Legend despite his own screenplay and Vincent Price's appropriately depressive performance. Price plays the last survivor of a global plague who now is plagued by its dead victims arising as undead zombies. (He calls them vampires, but they are more zombielike.) To kill them permanently, he drives stakes through their hearts and burns their corpses during daylight hours when they're inactive. Although this film lacks energy, it has a low-budget nightmarish quality enhanced by the exotic architecture in Rome's Fascist-era RUR district. Later remakes — The Omega Man (1971) and I Am Legend (2007) — have more thrills but are less creepy.

The Last of the Mohicans (1992) adapts James Fenimore Cooper's classic 1826 novel about the last survivors of a Native American tribe who become embroiled in the French and Indian War of 1754–1763. British actor Daniel Day-Lewis is brilliant as Nathaniel "Hawkeye" Poe (a/k/a Natty Bumppo in the novel), a white man raised by Delaware Indians. As the war rages between the British, French, and their respective Native allies, Hawkeye protects a British general's two daughters and falls in love with one of them. Despite some historical inaccuracies, this beautifully produced drama personalizes a brutal frontier conflict that was later overshadowed by the American Revolution. Any performance by Day-Lewis is worth watching.

The Last Samurai (2003) occasionally slips into melodrama — especially toward the end — but still ranks among the best movies of 2003. Tom Cruise stars as a disillusioned U.S. cavalry officer in 1876 who accepts a lucrative offer to become a military adviser to the Japanese army. Japan is struggling to modernize and Westernize, but a rebel band of samurai warriors is resisting. Cruise's character, haunted by U.S. atrocities against Native Americans, soon questions why he is supporting a similar war in a strange land. The film foreshadows today's controversies over international arms sales, American interventionism, war profiteering, and the dark side of progress.

The Last Waltz (1978) still ranks as the best rock-concert film despite many imitators. Martin Scorsese, better known for directing fictional motion pictures, made this tribute to The Band — the 1967–77 group that artfully blended blues, folk, country, and rock. On Thanksgiving Day 1976, The Band played a farewell concert in San Francisco. Joining the group's five members onstage were musician friends they admired, including Bob Dylan, Bobby Charles, Paul Butterfield, Eric Clapton, Neil Diamond, Emmylou Harris, Dr. John, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Ringo Starr, Muddy Waters, Ronnie Wood, and Neil Young. Another notable was Ronnie Hawkins, the 1950s rockabilly star who launched the careers of Robbie Robertson and Levon Helms, who later co-founded The Band. This landmark film is a virtuoso musical and visual experience.

Laura (1944) remains a top-notch crime mystery despite lacking dramatic film-noir atmosphere. Dana Andrews stars as a no-nonsense police detective investigating the murder of a beautiful young woman (played by Gene Tierney). Among the suspects are a newspaper columnist (Clifton Webb), a slippery fiancé (Vincent Price), and a jealous rival (Judith Anderson). All play their roles well, Webb especially. Things get strange when the detective dozes in the victim's vacant apartment and awakens to a surprise. Is everything that happens next reality or a dream? Are the subsequent plot twists the unraveling of a complex conspiracy or the jumbled imagery of a sleeping mind? Enigmatic director Otto Preminger invites both interpretations, but it works either way.

Laurel Canyon (2003) is a light drama as directionless as its characters. Frances McDormand plays a middle-aged record producer who's a relic from the 1960s, still partying every night, smoking pot, and having affairs. Her adult son and his fiance move into her sprawling house in L.A. to launch their careers — one is a resident psychiatrist, and the other is writing a dissertation on the reproductive functions of fruit flies. They're both wound pretty tight, and sure enough, they loosen up as the story progresses. The acting is competent, but the plot never reaches a satisfactory conclusion or offers much insight into their lives. Take it or leave it.

The Lavender Hill Mob (1951) features Alec Guinness in a classic British heist comedy also known for Audrey Hepburn's first role in a major picture. Her appearance is fleeting, though, in the first few minutes. Guinness adeptly plays a meek bank clerk who supervises transfers of gold bullion. Frustrated by his stingy salary and static career, he plots to steal the treasure. For help, he enlists an eccentric sculptor and two small-time burglars. They're a clumsy "mob" played for laughs. It's amusing, but Americans may have trouble deciphering the English accents and idioms.

Leatherheads (2008) is a passable comedy about the early days of pro football. In 1925 the sport was overshadowed by college football and major-league baseball. Small-town teams mainly in the Midwest frequently moved or folded, unable to find a fan base. Leatherheads (named for the leather helmets then in vogue) is loosely based on Red Grange, a thrilling college star lured to the pros by a huge salary, bringing new attention to the struggling league. George Clooney directs and stars as the aging player/manager who hires the young man. Renee Zellweger plays an aggressive reporter for a big-city paper who doubts the college star's reputation as a war hero. Although this movie isn't bad, it never quite rises to the zany heights to which it aspires.

Leave Her to Heaven (1945) is sometimes miscast as a film noir, but it definitely has a femme fatale. Gene Tierney plays a lovely woman who jealously loves the dominant man in her life — first her father, then her husband. Cornel Wilde plays the smitten novelist snagged in her marital web. When the honeymoon ends, trouble starts. One tense scene that must have been shocking in 1945 shows her devious method of birth control. Although her fate seems inconsistent with her character, and her husband's fate seems inconsistent with justice, this drama holds up well.

Leave the World Behind (2023) narrows the focus of a catastrophe to two families: one middle-class white, the other upper-class black. The interracial characters and atypical status add tension to an already tense scenario that begins with an Internet blackout and gradually deteriorates. Julia Roberts and Ethan Hawke play the parents of two teenagers renting a luxurious Long Island vacation home. Mahershala Ali and Myha'la play a wealthy black investment manager and his precocious daughter seeking shelter. The situation is already uneasy when outside events eclipse their personal conflicts. This contrived but plausible thriller heightens suspense by withholding information until nearly the end. Optimists will see a call to change; pessimists will see a warning to prepare for the inevitable.

Leaving Home, Coming Home: A Portrait of Robert Frank (2004) inadvertently supports the common wisdom that artists are less interesting than their art. Another disappointment of this documentary on photographer and filmmaker Robert Frank is that it baffles people unfamiliar with his work. Although it shows many examples of his famous still photos and less-famous documentaries, it doesn't fully explain his fame or the importance of his 1958 photobook The Americans — perhaps the most influential such book of the 20th Century. Instead, director Gerald Fox presents a meandering portrait of Frank, his second wife, and his two deceased children. At times, Frank is surprisingly grouchy for the subject of a laudatory documentary, especially since he's a documentary filmmaker himself. Although Fox can't avoid Frank's unpredictable demeanor, this film offers little to existing Frank fans and even less to potential new fans.

Lee (2024) dramatizes the World War II career of Lee Miller, one of the few women credentialed to cover the conflict in Europe in 1944–45. Miller was among the first journalists to photograph the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp, and she famously posed herself in the bathtub of Adolf Hitler's Munich apartment. Kate Winslet delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as the war-weary photographer who never recovered from the psychological shock of the scenes she captured on film. Told in flashback, this drama also shows her carefree Bohemian lifestyle before the war and her flings with multiple lovers. It's a gritty testament to Miller's devotion to the truth, her determination to compete in a male-dominated field, and the respect her work never achieved during her lifetime.

The Leech Woman (1960) promotes African stereotypes in a horror thriller about the quest for eternal youth. Although the titular villain is female, the men in this low-budget picture look equally bad for their obsession with skin-deep beauty. When an elderly African woman tells an American doctor about a rare potion that restores youth, he badgers his older wife into journeying to the Dark Continent to find the stuff. Their expedition resembles a tour through a curated game park — stock footage shows an impossible congregation of wild animals from diverse jungles, rivers, and savannas. As usual, the natives are savages. The youth potion is real, though, and it leads to untimely deaths and a crashing conclusion. In this morality tale of the human jungle, pretty much everyone is a predator.

The Legend of Lizzie Borden (1975) is an above-average made-for-TV movie dramatizing the famous 1892 axe murders ("Lizzie Borden took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks; when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one.") Elizabeth McGovern, better known as Samantha in the 1960s TV sitcom "Bewitched," plays Lizzie, the oddball daughter accused of killing her father and stepmother. McGovern plays her role with subtlety, as befitting a proper lady in that period. But there's no doubt her character has secrets, and this movie takes a stand despite opening and closing title cards describing the case as an unsolved mystery.

LennoNYC (2010) documents John Lennon's life and death in New York City after the Beatles breakup in 1970. Angered by Lennon's political activism — especially his vocal opposition to the Vietnam War — the Nixon administration tried for years to deport him. For a while, Lennon separated from his wife Yoko Ono and behaved outrageously during a boozy exile to Los Angeles. After reconciling, the couple had a son, won their immigration case, focused on home life, and recorded their last album before his murder in 1980. This insightful documentary by Michael Epstein interviews Yoko, their former bandmates, their favorite NYC photographer, talk-show host Dick Cavett, TV newsman Geraldo Rivera, Elton John, and other eyewitnesses to his final years. It honors a great musical artist without overlooking his flaws.

The Leopard Man (1943), now a minor cult classic, leads viewers through a few twists before a resolution that amuses some people while disappointing others. By 1943, horror-movie conventions were already well established when this low-budget thriller mischievously broke them. From its double-entendre title to its surprising character treatments, it's unconventional. It starts strong when the percussive opening score melds into a flamenco dancer's castanets. Soon her clicks startle a supposedly tame black leopard, which escapes and terrorizes a small New Mexico town. Director Jacques Tourneur skillfully employs film-noir suspense in a long sequence involving a frightened girl. Later, he teases us again when a fortune teller foreshadows a woman's doom. The second half slows a bit and turns in yet another direction that may let down some viewers expecting a conventional climax, but it's actually more relatable today. Expect the unexpected.

Les Misérables (1935) is an outstanding early film adaptation of Victor Hugo's classic 1862 novel about justice and injustice. Fredric March stars as Jean Valjean, a desperately hungry young man sent to prison for stealing bread. Although the story takes place in 19th-century France, his plea for mercy after a fruitless search for employment resonated with American audiences when this movie premiered during the Great Depression. Hugo's story exposes the brutality and injustice of the French prison system in his time. But the injustice continues even after Valjean serves his lengthy sentence when he is pursued for years by a rigidly strict policeman. Charles Laughton excels in this role, overshadowing March's good performance. (The same year, Laughton played a similar character — Captain Bligh — in Mutiny on the Bounty.) Although this adaptation takes some liberties with Hugo's epic novel, it's largely true to the story and holds up well.

Les Misérables (2012) is the big-budget film adaptation of the hit stage musical inspired by Victor Hugo's classic novel. Despite its journey from 19th-century French literature to 20th-century Broadway theater to 21st-century Hollywood film, the story doesn't lose much in the translations. Hugh Jackman (formerly of Saturday Night Live) blossoms as Jean Valjean, a desperate Frenchman condemned to prison for stealing bread. The movie actually opens 20 years later, when he is reluctantly paroled by Javert (Russell Crowe), an overzealous gendarme. Valjean soon breaks parole, leading Javert on a chase that lasts 17 years. Although Valjean reforms, it means nothing to the obsessed Javert, whose misguided sense of justice blinds him to injustice. Some critics knock this film's vocal performances, which really aren't bad but were somewhat compromised by the unique approach of recording them live during filming instead of lip-syncing them later. Anne Hathaway, who plays a downtrodden woman, bursts forth with a surprisingly good solo. This aptly named story contains so much drama and truth that it can transcend any medium.

Let Us Live (1939) is an unusually cynical film for its era. Two taxi drivers wrongly accused of murder face execution unless a fiancée (Maureen O'Sullivan) and a suspended police detective (Ralph Bellamy) can prove their innocence — over the stubborn objections of the district attorney and police chief. This story is based on true events, but the filmmakers watered it down to please the actual authorities who nearly executed two innocent men. Although the Hollywood censorship code of this era required truth and justice to always prevail, the movie ends sourly. Henry Fonda excels as one of the innocent cabbies whose faith in truth and justice is shattered. The film doesn't explicitly oppose the death penalty but does question eyewitness reliability in capital-crime cases.

The Letter (1940) starts with a bang but is a whydunit, not a whodunit. Bette Davis stars in her Oscar-nominated performance as the wife of a rubber-plantation manager in prewar Singapore. She riddles a man with bullets, claims self-defense, and everyone believes her. Then a mysterious letter appears. Davis is brilliant as a classy society dame who simultaneously appears sincere and insincere. Only a great actress could portray this duality so effectively. She gets excellent support from Herbert Marshall as her unsuspecting husband, James Stephenson (nominated for Best Supporting Actor) as her loyal-to-a-fault attorney, Gale Sondergaard (in Chinese makeup) as the bitter Eurasian widow, and Victor Sen Yung as a conniving law clerk. This skillful adaptation of a W. Somerset Maugham play was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director (William Wyler), though unfortunately it won none.

A Letter to Three Wives (1949) is a rare woman-centric Hollywood film, although as usual the drama concerns their menfolk. Ann Sothern, Jeanne Crain, and Linda Darnell star as three wives who receive a catty note from their best frenemy — she has absconded with one of their husbands. But which one? Flashbacks build strong cases for any of them. Joseph L. Mankiewicz won Oscars for directing and adapting this clever screenplay, though he lost Best Picture to All the King's Men. The actresses won nothing for their ace performances, because even a woman-centric movie lives in a man's world. Some voice-dubbed sound effects are especially witty, and one husband (Kirk Douglas) delivers a rant that refers to smoking and cancer — an astonishing association at a time when Big Tobacco paid studios to show characters enjoying cigarettes. This film is a lark.

Letters From Iwo Jima (2006) is the companion picture to Flags of Our Fathers (2006), both directed by Clint Eastwood and partly filmed on location at the site of one of World War II's most vicious battles. Letters is by far the better work. It's a rare view through Japanese eyes — even the dialogue is in Japanese, with English subtitles. Unlike Flags, it's not a confusing mishmash of flashbacks. Letters stays focused on the plights of a low-ranking enlisted man and his commanding general, whose fates become intertwined as the great battle unfolds. Particularly by Hollywood standards, the movie is accurate. It shows the bitter interservice rivalries between the Japanese army and navy, as well as the declining morale but rigid fanaticism of Japanese troops as the war reached its climax. One flaw, however, is the lack of historical context, which may lead some viewers to wonder why the U.S. was so intent on taking Iwo Jima.

Libeled Lady (1936) stars William Powell, Myrna Loy, Jean Harlow, and Spencer Tracy in a speedy screwball comedy. The lovely Loy plays a rich heiress who sues a newspaper for $5 million after it wrongly accuses her of scandalous behavior. Tracy plays the managing editor who schemes to foil her suit. Harlow stands out among this great cast as his frustrated fiancée who reluctantly agrees to join the plot. Powell plays a suave smoothie who tries to lure the heiress into their trap. Typical of screwball comedies, this romp creates situations that always go hilariously wrong. It deserved its Academy Award nomination for Best Picture and should be more famous.

The Library That Dolly Built (2020) is an informative but overlong documentary about Dolly Parton's Imagination Library, a nonprofit venture that mails free books monthly to children from birth to age 5. The project's goal is to encourage parents to read books to their kids, which prepares them for kindergarten and infuses a love for reading. It has distributed more than 100 million books and reaches nearly 10 percent of all U.S. children in that age group. This film also covers Dolly's other charitable projects and business ventures, and it summarizes her life and career. Although it's interesting, at 90 minutes it's rather long, unless you're an avid Dolly fan.

Licorice Pizza (2021) is a quirky rom-com about an infatuated 15-year-old boy and an aimless 25-year-old woman. It's placed in 1973 Los Angeles, apparently to add some odd characters loosely based on real people: Sean Penn as aging actor William Holden, Bradley Cooper as Barbra Streisand's crazy lover Jon Peters, and Christine Ebersole as a Lucille Ball dopplegänger. But these cameos are detours that feel like padding. Cooper Hoffman (son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman) plays the boy, and Alana Haim (one of the Haim sisters of pop-music fame) plays the woman. Despite a seemingly doomed relationship and a wandering plot, this movie reaped accolades, including Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Director, and Original Screenplay. The title is a clue that these two characters don't mix well — and not just because of their ages.

Life of Brian (1979) angered Christian conservatives and was censored in its native U.K. and other countries, but it really isn't blasphemous. Although detractors claimed it mocked Jesus Christ, it actually mocks the time and place in which he lived. It's another British satire from the cast of the BBC-TV series Monty Python's Flying Circus (1969–1974) and the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975). Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin play multiple roles as hopelessly oppressed Jews, ineffective Jewish rebels, and imperious Roman soldiers and bureaucrats. The central character is Brian of Nazareth (Chapman), who's mistaken for the Messiah. One hilarious scene shows people misunderstanding the Sermon on the Mount. A repeating joke makes fun of squabbling activists who divide into splinter groups that thwart their common goals. This humor contains threads of truth that provoke its critics.

Life of Pi (2012) has stunning visual effects, especially when viewed in 3D. But the story, adapted from Yann Martel's mystic novel, is the main attraction of this outstanding film. The trailers sum it up: a teenage boy is the sole human survivor of a shipwreck, stranded on a small lifeboat with a live Bengal tiger. Although it appears to be a bizarre survival tale that only a writer could contrive, the climax reveals a much deeper contrivance. With a few deftly written lines of dialogue, the story suddenly assumes a whole new dimension that recasts everything seen before and invites different interpretations. Young Indian actor Suraj Sharma is nuance-perfect as the teenage boy, especially considering that his primary co-star (the tiger) was rendered later by computers, making his already difficult role a virtual solo performance.

Life Or Something Like It (2002) stars Angelina Jolie as a miscast and unbelievable Seattle TV reporter. Her life turns upside-down when a homeless man who claims to be a prophet predicts she will die in one week. Suddenly her skyrocketing career, pending marriage to a ballplayer, and personal relationships all come into question. This film tackles a worthy subject with a sense of humor. But though she's a fine actress, Jolie isn't right for this role, and the story gets weak-kneed at the wrong moments.

A Life at Stake (1955) is a mediocre film noir in which a down-and-out architect gets a second chance to build suburban homes in fast-growing Southern California — or are his business associates luring him into a scheme to collect on a big life-insurance policy? The subterfuge is a little too obvious, the acting a little too stiff. Bodybuilder Keith Andes plays the architect and gets to show off his muscular torso in the very first scene. The highlight is Angela Lansbury as a bathing-beauty femme fatale. Unfortunately, all these parts don't add up to much.

The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg (1993, revised 1997) profiles one of America's greatest poets. However, this documentary focuses more on his personal life than on his revolutionary poetry. Interviews with his aunt and brother discuss his childhood, which was greatly affected by his mother's mental breakdown. And we learn about his father Louis, also a poet. But most of the film recounts Ginsberg's friendships in the 1950s with other Beat Generation writers and his associations with hippies and various notables in the 1960s, '70s, and '80s. Although we see Ginsberg reciting excerpts from his famous poems "Howl" and "Kaddish," these clips are merely tastes of his work, not a satisfying summary of his prodigious output. For devoted Ginsberg fans, director Jerry Aronson later released an 11.5-hour DVD set that offers more interviews and recitals.

The Life and Times of Hank Greenberg (2000) seemed especially relevant in an election year with the first major-party Jewish vice-presidential candidate (Joseph Lieberman). This is a first-class documentary about Hank Greenberg, the great Jewish slugger for the Detroit Tigers in the 1930s and '40s who almost broke Joe DiMaggio's hitting-streak record. In many ways, Greenberg was the Jewish Jackie Robinson, and he endured similar prejudice.

Lifeboat (1944) was one of director Alfred Hitchcock's contributions to the war effort, but he wrapped the propaganda in a compact drama about survivors of a German U-boat attack during World War II. Conventional filmmakers would have introduced the characters aboard the doomed vessel before showing the attack and sinking. Instead, Hitchcock and screenwriter Jo Swerling (adapting a story by Nobel Prize novelist John Steinbeck) open with a tight shot of the merchant ship's smokestack already submerging amid bits of floating wreckage. Action then shifts to a lone lifeboat with a lone occupant: Tallulah Bankhead as a swanky war correspondent in a mink coat. Gradually more survivors arrive. The whole movie confines itself to the lifeboat and is appropriately claustrophobic. Co-stars include John Hodiak as an alpha-male seaman, William Bendix as his wounded buddy, Henry Hull as a rich industrialist, Hume Cronyn as the ship's radioman, Canada Lee as a black steward, and Walter Slezak as a conniving Nazi from the U-boat, which also sank. Although controversial in 1944 for its supposedly soft portrayal of the Nazi, today this movie is obvious wartime propaganda — yet it remains a good drama.

Light Years: Olive Cotton (1991) documents the amateur photography of Olive Cotton (1911–2003), an Australian housewife who abandoned her hobby for decades, then returned to it later and gained local fame. Using her favorite Rolleiflex — and occasionally an 8x10 view camera — Cotton took thousands of seemingly ordinary photographs of her family, friends, and Australian countryside. Their simple beauty and folksy style attracted art critics and the public, leading to numerous gallery exhibitions. This equally unpretentious 48-minute documentary interviews Cotton and shows some of her famous images.

The Lighthouse (2019) illuminates some of the best acting, sea-salty dialogue, and b&w cinematography you'll ever see. In return, you must stomach some bizarre violence, male masturbation, and a deliberately confusing story. Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson play 1890s lighthouse keepers on a remote island. Only a few other actors make brief appearances in nonspeaking parts, so this unusually arty dark thriller rides entirely on the stars' performances. Dafoe plays an old stump-legged mariner who talks in language inspired by Moby-Dick and other 19th-century literature. He's the lighthouse master, steeped in maritime tradition and superstition. Pattinson plays his assistant, a younger man new to the sea and bristling under the master's rigid rule. Naturally, they drive each other mad. The mysterious screenplay suggests hallucination, supernatural manifestations, and reincarnation. Dafoe's monologues are especially impressive, and the cinematography was nominated for an Oscar.

Lilies of the Field (1963) made Sidney Poitier the first African-American to win the Academy Award for Best Actor — a feat not repeated for 38 years. In this outstanding comedy-drama, Poitier stars as Homer Smith, an itinerant handyman who stumbles into a small Catholic convent of German nuns in the Arizona desert. Reluctantly, he helps them with a few chores that grow increasingly demanding. Then they tell him to build a chapel. Filmed at the height of the civil-rights era, this low-budget 14-day quickie was a surprise hit. It proved that a popular movie could star a black leading man, although the color barrier wouldn't fully crack for years to come. Lilia Skala as Mother Superior was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, and the film also garnered Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and B&W Cinematography. It holds up well despite its overt stance as a "message movie" that preaches as it entertains.

Limelight (1952) was the great Charles Chaplin's last American film and is a sweet comedy-drama co-starring Claire Bloom. And yes, it's a talkie. Chaplin plays a once-famous vaudeville comedian whose time has passed. Now poor, he drowns his sorrows. After he rescues a suicidal young ballerina (Bloom) and nurses her back to health, they try to reboot their careers. Chaplin also wrote, directed, and scored this touching story, which dwells on the chasm between old age and youth. The dialogue is clever and subtlely funny. One scene features Buster Keaton, Chaplin's peer in silent-film comedy. Chaplin's son Sydney plays a young composer who admires the ballerina. This film was Chaplin's last in America because conservatives wrongly believed he was a communist, even after he made the best antiauthoritarian movie of its time (The Great Dictator, 1940). They blocked his return after he traveled to London, and they canceled Limelight after the East Coast premiere. It didn't open in Los Angeles until 1972, when finally it qualified for Academy Awards. It won Best Original Dramatic Score, 20 years after release — Chaplin's only competitive Oscar.

Lincoln (2012) is the best dramatic film ever made about our greatest president, although some viewers may find it too cerebral. It focuses on just a few months near the end of the Civil War when Abraham Lincoln wrestled with Congress to permanently abolish slavery by passing the 13th Amendment to the Constitution. In an early scene, Lincoln admonishes his skeptical cabinet with a lengthy legal discourse on the urgency for the amendment and the flaws of his Emancipation Proclamation. It's an impressive explanation and an equally impressive scene that most screenwriters wouldn't write and most directors wouldn't film. Throughout the movie, Daniel-Day Lewis plays Lincoln more realistically than any previous actor. He gets uncanny support from Sally Field (as Mary Todd Lincoln), Tommy Lee Jones (as radical Congressman Thaddeus Stevens), David Strathairn (as Secretary of State William Seward), and many others. Although the film shows us the grubby backroom lobbying to gather the votes needed for passage, somehow Lincoln and his helpers appear all the more heroic for making such an effort in the cause of freedom.

The Lineup (1958) turned a popular TV series into a feature film at a time when most adaptations went the other way, from popular movie to TV. This crime thriller starts with a bang — actually, with several bangs, cramming so much action in the first two minutes that you'd better pay attention. Then it settles into a flat 1950s police procedural until the main bad guys show up. They're the real attraction. Eli Wallach stars as Dancer, a sociopathic member of a drug-smuggling ring that plants Asian heroin on unsuspecting American tourists returning to San Francisco. Dancer has higher criminal aspirations, so he travels with a slick life coach (Robert Keith, equally good). Richard Jaeckel also shines as their getaway driver. The cops are cardboard. This unusually violent picture is notable for its time-capsule views of San Francisco in 1958, like Vertigo in the same year.

Lion (2016) beautifully adapts a nonfiction book (A Long Way Home) about an Indian man who seeks his native roots after he's raised by adoptive parents in Australia. The first half is extraordinary. Child actor Sunny Pawar, then only eight years old, plays young Saroo, a clever boy from a poor village in India who becomes lost. His struggle to survive on the streets and avoid kidnappers is gripping. Flash forward 25 years and he's a sturdy young man played by Dev Patel (famous for Slumdog Millionaire, 2008). But haunted by dim memories, he interrupts his budding life in Australia to search for his nearly forgotten birth family. Here the film lags as he mopes around in frustration. Eventually it regains steam. Although nominated for six Oscars — Best Picture, Supporting Actor (Patel), Actress (Nicole Kidman), Adapted Screenplay, Cinematography, and Original Score — it finished empty handed. Still, it's good.

Lions For Lambs (2007) is an unsatisfying drama about the war on terror, directed by Robert Redford, who also stars as a college professor. It's mostly two long conversations, reminiscent of My Dinner With Andre (1981). In one exchange, a college professor questions a student's commitment to education and society. The other conversation pits a slick Republican U.S. Senator (energetically played by Tom Cruise) against a disillusioned liberal network-TV reporter (lethargically played by Meryl Streep). To relieve the tedium of talking heads, action scenes show combat in Afghanistan. Although some reviewers reflexively dismiss this film as a liberal diatribe, it actually promotes a conservative viewpoint that poorly represents liberal arguments. At the same time, it undermines the conservative arguments with a shallow presentation. Ultimately, this movie contributes little to the war debate and even less to the body of cinema.

Lisa and the Devil (1973) was rarely shown in theaters despite a warm reception at film festivals. Exhibitors apparently found this Italian horror film (dubbed in English) too esoteric for general taste, although it may have fared better in art houses. Its fantastic atmospherics, disjointed continuity, and creepy performances conjure a nightmarish aura. Elke Sommer stars as a tourist who detours from her guided group to explore an eccentric antique shop. There she finds a man who strangely resembles the devil in a medieval bas-relief sculpture she's just seen on a church. Telly Savalas plays this character with subtle wickedness. Additional encounters bring more odd characters into the story as time and space seem to warp. Bloody murders soon follow. This arty film invites immersion, not comprehension, so expect frustration if you prefer a conventional narrative. In 1975 it was heavily re-edited with new footage and released as The House of Exorcism, but aficionados prefer the original version.

Lisa Frankenstein (2024) surpasses even Andy Warhol's Frankenstein (1973) as a bizarre twist on the Frankenstein legend. Teengirl-whisperer Diablo Cody wrote this modern-day comedy/horror flick in the same vein as Jennifer's Body, her 2009 take on demonic possession. This time, the alienated teenager is Lisa Swallows, who's obsessed with the 1837 grave of an anonymous bachelor. When lightning restores his life (sort of), she gradually warms to his zombielike demeanor and desires. Kathryn Newton is fetching as Lisa; Cole Sprouse artfully plays the reanimated corpse. Their demented relationship soon leads to trouble with family and friends. It's not easy finding a new angle on the Frankenstein franchise, but this sly creation hits the mark while skirting an R-rating for sex and violence.

Little Caesar (1931) wasn't the first mobster movie but was the first to win mass appeal. It became the template for numerous imitations. Edward G. Robinson soared to fame as Rico "Little Caesar" Bandello, a small-town crook who aspires to bigger things. Relocating to Chicago, he joins a gang and earns a reputation for trigger-happy violence despite the disdain of his new boss. Soon he's the boss, though, as he climbs the crime ladder. Robinson plays his gangster to the hilt, overshadowing the mostly drab cast. Although this film preceded Hollywood's 1934 Hays Code, which dictated that bad guys cannot win in the end, Little Caesar gets his due in a famous climax.

The Little Foxes (1941) adapts a popular stage play about a dysfunctional Southern clan in 1900. Greed, jealousy, avarice, and pomposity undermine their attempt to bring a cotton mill to town. Promising a supply of low-wage nonunion Southern labor, they lure a Northern businessman into the deal, but they need money to invest. Their obstacle is one sickly patriarch (Herbert Marshall, who makes the most of his sparse screen time). Bette Davis stars as his conniving wife, adeptly playing the money-hungry matriarch. Although this drama often shows promise, it sometimes falls flat, perhaps explaining why it won none if its nine Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Actress, and two Supporting Actresses.

Little Man Tate (1991) says there's no substitute for a mother's love. Jodie Foster directed and stars in this touching drama about a cocktail waitress whose child is a multitalented prodigy. She soon realizes he's special, but she wants him to be normal. So does he. Then an institute for gifted children enters the picture. Good intentions aren't always rewarded with good results. This film rides on outstanding performances: Foster as the loving mother, Adam Hann-Byrd as her square-peg son, Dianne Wiest as his frosty headmistress, and Harry Connick Jr. as a wild college student. Herself a child prodigy, Foster poured herself into this production, and it shows.

Little Miss Sunshine (2006) is an offbeat comedy about a family of well-meaning losers. Dogged by bad luck, unrealistic dreams, and plain old stupidity, they struggle with one setback after another. Then the youngest member, ten-year-old Olive (perfectly played by Abigail Breslin), wins a regional beauty pageant and the opportunity to compete in the nationals. They pack up an old VW bus and set out for California. Result: more setbacks. It's frequently funny, sometimes touching, and occasionally laugh-until-you-cry hilarious. The cast is inspired, with Greg Kinnear as the ambitious but clueless father, Toni Collette as the sensible but confused mother, Alan Arkin as an eccentric grandpa, Paul Dano as an alienated teenager, and Steve Carell as a suicidally depressed gay uncle.

Little Richard: King and Queen of Rock 'n' Roll (2023) recounts the remarkable life and meteoric career of Richard Wayne Penniman, who as "Little Richard" scored several hit records in the 1950s, such as "Tutti Frutti" and "Long Tall Sally." This documentary goes beyond his music to examine his homosexuality and the tension between his wild lifestyle and his Christian religion. Although this film grants him too much credit for inventing rock 'n' roll, it shows that he pioneered the style and eroded the barrier separating white pop music from so-called "race music." Unfortunately, Little Richard never won the accolades he deserved.

The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) is the original low-budget comedy by director Roger Corman, later remade in 1986 as a big-budget musical. The original has unbeatable charm and deserves its cult status. Jonathan Haze never surpassed his role as Seymour, a daffy florist's apprentice who nurtures an exotic plant that thrives on human blood. Jackie Joseph sparkles as Audrey, his daffy girlfriend. Watch for character actor Dick Miller as a flower-eating customer and young Jack Nicholson in a bit role as a masochistic dental patient. The funky jazz score adds the atmosphere one might expect from a weary combo at a smoky late-night joint. This wicked little film is the goal to which all low-budget filmmakers aspire.

Little Women (1933) was the first talkie adaptation of the classic Louisa May Alcott novel. Katharine Hepburn stars as Jo March, the tomboy of the four March sisters whose lives are disrupted when the Civil War pulls their father away from home. Hepburn invests her character with vitality, rising above her sisterly co-stars. Joan Bennett plays Amy well enough but shows less talent than she later displayed after switching from blonde to brunette to become a film-noir femme fatale. All four actresses look a bit too old, though. Unlike some later remakes, the screenplay hews close to the novel. Like A Star Is Born, another often-remade movie, this Little Women is an interesting artifact of Hollywood history, apart from its adaptation of a beloved historical novel.

The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen, 2006) well deserved the Academy Award for Best Foreign-Language Film that it surprisingly won. It's a near-perfect drama about the Stasi secret police, which intimidated millions of people when East Germany was a communist state. With informants numbering in the hundreds of thousands, the Stasi was pervasive and ruthless. This German film brilliantly dramatizes the Stasi's reach by focusing on a playwright, his girlfriend, his suspicious friends, and a Stasi officer who spies on them. Ulrich Mühe is extraordinary as the rigid Stasi man, while Martina Gedeck excels in her strong supporting role as the actress/girlfriend. This film's portrayal of the Stasi's businesslike bureaucracy and the official corruption it served is chilling and believable.

Lives Well Lived (2018) is a documentary that interviews elderly people who reflect on their lives and offer advice for a happy life. It centers on filmmaker Sky Bergman's 103-year-old grandmother but includes several other people of age 75 or more. It's pleasant enough, but the advice is probably nothing you haven't heard before.

Living (2022) remakes Ikiru (1952), the masterpiece by Japanese director Akira Kurosawa. It's a homage, not a rip-off. British director Oliver Hermanus beautifully illuminates the new Oscar-nominated screenplay by Japanese-British writer Sir Kazuo Ishiguro. The story moves from postwar Japan to postwar England but otherwise is faithful to Ikiru ("To Live"): a mid-level municipal bureaucrat questions his life and career when his cancer turns terminal. First he spends a wild night with a stranger. Then he's suddenly friendly with a much younger female underling. Neither experience satisfies. Bill Nighy gracefully plays him with stiff upper-lip reserve, as did Shinobu Hashimoto in the original. (Nighy was nominated Best Actor.) Although the remake condenses the conclusion, it still critiques an inefficient bureaucracy that traps public servants in monotony while diffusing responsibility. Both films reflect the rigidity of their societies and social roles.

The Lobster (2015) is a strange tale about a society much like ours, except it outlaws singles. On reaching adulthood, or after a divorce, unattached people must stay at a strictly governed "resort" and find a match within 45 days or be transformed into the animal of their choice. Rogue singles are hunted, immobilized with stun guns, and captured — but their secret society is equally harsh. The protagonist is a newly divorced man who chooses to become a lobster if he fails to find a mate, and he's determined to find one at any cost. The film offers no explanations for this society and grows even more strange as it unfolds. Characters behave inconsistently, and the story is illogical and ultimately unsettling for no apparent purpose. Don't waste your time.

Local Hero (1983) relies on the Hollywood cliché that small-town life outshines big-city life — yet most people live in cities. It also portrays an old man living in a crude shack as a lovable eccentric, when in any city he'd be a homeless nutcase. Nevertheless, this picture charms us with friendly characters, earthy values, quirky humor, and a story that pits simple folk against a rich oil company. Said company wants to buy and demolish a Scottish fishing village and nearby farms to build an oil refinery and tanker port. Their representatives dazzle the locals with promises of riches before becoming enamored with the place themselves. It's fun, but sometimes it overworks to be offbeat, especially in needless scenes of the CEO (Burt Lancaster) and his psychotherapist.

The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927) is a silent crime thriller directed by Alfred Hitchcock, who considered it his first true suspense film. Although a commercial and critical success, it only hints at his future talent for this genre. The acting is hammy even by silent-film standards, the pacing is needlessly slow, and the story is mediocre. However, it does have a few Hitchcockian elements. The opening title credits were innovative for 1927 and foreshadow the graphics seen in his 1950s classics. Unusual camera angles are evident. One scene shows a "MacGuffin" — Hitchcock's term for an object or plot device that appears early in the movie to add suspense before it's revealed later. And another scene could be a premonition of the famous shower murder in Psycho (1960). Overall, though, this picture doesn't rank among the best of its time.

Logan's Run (1976) depicts a future post-apocalypse society in which the human survivors dwell in a domed city, never knowing the outside world. Life is luxurious but brief. Upon turning 30, they must "renew" — a bizarre ritual that falsely promises reincarnation. Michael York plays Logan 5, a "sandman" (police officer) who ruthlessly enforces the law until he goes rogue. Jenny Agutter plays Jessica 6, member of a secret rebel group. This big-budget production is interesting but has a distinct 1970s vibe that feels quaintly dated today. (Watch for 1970s poster queen Farrah Fawcett-Majors in a small part.) In tune with its era, this movie radiates youth culture, free sex, rebellion, environmentalism, and fear of authoritative technology. It was a hit before Star Wars vastly eclipsed its success a year later and made sci-fi mainstream.

Lone Survivor (2013) spoils its climax with its title, but most historical accounts have the same problem, so don't worry about it. The suspense is learning what happened. This fact-based drama tells the story of four U.S. Navy SEALs who penetrated a remote region of Afghanistan to capture or kill an important Taliban leader. Obviously, their mission went tragically wrong. The numerous combat scenes are superb, as are the performances, led by Mark Wahlberg. Even so, this movie can't help but be a downer. It struggles to end on a high note by showing that the lone survivor was aided by Afghan villagers whose custom is to protect guests from their enemies at all costs. But the film doesn't note a terrible irony — that the same custom led to the Afghanistan war in the first place, when the Taliban declined to surrender Osama bin Laden to the U.S. after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Stubborn devotion to culture can be a sword that cuts both ways.

Lonely Wives (1931) is an early screwball comedy, a popular genre in this era. The title is clickbait — don't expect a salacious story of prowling cougars. In this quick-witted sex farce, it's the husband who has wandering eyes. Edward Everett Horton stars as Richard "Dickie" Smith, a lady's man lawyer whose wife is out of town. (You may recognize Horton's voice as a narrator on the Rocky & Bullwinkle 1960s TV series.) To fool his mother-in-law while he escorts a pretty blonde client to a nightclub, Smith hires a vaudeville actor who specializes in impersonation. (With help from clever split-screen twinning, Horton plays both roles.) Chaos ensues when wifey unexpectedly returns home. Although this picture precedes the Hays Production Code that began censoring Hollywood filmmakers, it's innocuous and probably would have passed with only a few minor cuts.

The Long Goodbye (1973) turns Raymond Chandler's 1953 crime novel into a neo-noir drama starring Elliot Gould as private detective Philip Marlowe. Gould is surprisingly good as a bottom-feeding gumshoe always quick with a wisecrack — sometimes to his detriment. Murder, suicide, and lost drug money plunge him into a convoluted world of hurt. Danish actress Nina Van Pallandt plays a possible love interest or femme fatale; you won't learn which until the end. Film-noir vet Sterling Hayden is outstanding as her alcoholic husband and potential suspect. Baseball player Jim Bouton is oddly cast as a brutal drug dealer but ably fills the role. Arnold Schwarzenegger briefly appears as a menacing thug. Robert Altman directed the screenplay by Leigh Brackett, who wrote the noir classic The Big Sleep (1946). Both pictures end confusingly and are open to interpretation.

The Long Goodbye (2020) is a bitter British short film about immigrants terrorized by vigilantes. Although it won the Oscar for Best Live Action Short, it was the worst of the five nominees. It's marred by shaky camera work, overlapping dialogue, a nearly plotless plot, and a long hip-hop rap that's barely intelligible. It accompanied Riz Ahmed's record album of the same name.

The Long Voyage Home (1940) hasn't aged well despite six Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Cinematography. An early fistfight scene is ridiculous, and John Wayne is unconvincing as a homesick Swedish sailor. The great John Ford directed this film, which is considered Hollywood's first World War II drama. It's placed in contemporary time (1940) when the U.S. had not yet joined the conflict and Great Britain was struggling to ship supplies across an Atlantic Ocean infested with Nazi U-boats. This isn't really a war movie, though. Instead, it focuses on the antics of a roughneck crew aboard a tramp steamer. Today it looks overacted and often silly.

The Longest Day (1962) portrays the Allied landings in France on D-Day (June 6, 1944) with an all-star epic production. Cornelius Ryan helped to adapt his nonfiction book on the largest amphibious invasion in history, so it's more accurate than most Hollywood war movies. Even so, D-Day commander Dwight D. Eisenhower reportedly found it so lacking that he abruptly left the theater near the beginning of its three-hour run. Some scenes are verbatim accounts of real events; others are loosely told or fabricated. And most of the stars (especially John Wayne) are too old and unfit to play their real-life characters. But this grand-scale picture makes no claims to be a documentary (despite some documentary footage), and it does convey both the vast scope of the attack and the many personal stories within it. Some veterans of the battle actually re-enacted their experiences. Although Saving Private Ryan (1998) has a more visceral view of the landings, The Longest Day is more comprehensive and historical.

The Longest Yard (2005) is a close remake of the well-known film from 1974 starring Burt Reynolds, who appears as the coach in this version. The story hasn't changed: hard-luck inmates at a brutal state prison form a football team to challenge the prison-guard team. The lead role is played by Adam Sandler, perhaps the unfunniest comedian ever to succeed in Hollywood. Sandler deadpans his way through the film as a former NFL quarterback sentenced to prison and assigned the task of recruiting the inmate team. Everyone else is funnier than Sandler, especially Chris Rock, who plays a fellow prisoner. Although the movie is fundamentally a comedy, the sudden death of a main character briefly saddens the mood. Too bad the producers settled on Sandler to carry this project — he doesn't rise to the occasion.

Looper (2012) is an intriguing science-fiction drama in which future mobsters send their enemies back in time to the year 2044 for quick execution and untraceable disposal. The executioners are called "loopers" because someday they loop back in time for execution by their younger selves — dead men tell no tales. Like most time-travel stories, this one is occasionally difficult to follow as it confronts the inherent paradoxes. But it tries harder than most such stories to portray the emotional aspects. Bruce Willis stars as a retired looper who attempts to thwart his execution by his younger self (Joseph Gordon-Levitt). Good supporting performances by Paul Dano, Emily Blunt, Noah Segan, and Jeff Daniels keep this movie watchable, but it doesn't quite reach the heights of its genre.

The Lorax (2012): see Dr. Seuss' The Lorax.

Lord of the Flies (1963) adapts William Golding's famous novel about English schoolboys marooned on a Pacific island after a plane crash. Absent adult supervision, they start a signal fire, build shelters, and find food. Their organization soon deteriorates, however, and they descend into primitivism. It's an allegory of civilization's thin veneer and fragile democracy. Director Peter Brook recruited ordinary boys (not experienced actors) and skillfully improvised most of their action and dialogue. Their performances are highly realistic. This movie is largely faithful to the novel, which is sometimes an assigned text in sociology classes. Despite a bigger-budget 1990 remake (which I haven't seen), this black-and-white version remains the most memorable.

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (2001) might be required viewing for J.R.R. Tolkien fanatics, but for almost everyone else it's a ponderously long fable about mythical creatures and quests. The battle scenes are largely incoherent, substituting special effects and jerky editing for true drama. Rare are the pearls of wisdom for which Tolkien's novels are admired. Perhaps the next two installments in the trilogy (already filmed) will be better.

Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002) is a violent installment in which the forces of evil wizard Saruman clash with humans, elves, dwarfs, hobbits, and various other inhabitants of Middle Earth. As with the first film in this trilogy, the special effects are superb and there's plenty of action. But the plot will seem chaotic to those who aren't familiar with the J.R.R. Tolkien novels, and there's little evidence of the philosophical insight for which his writing is treasured.

Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) is an overlong but fitting conclusion to the ambitious Lord of the Rings trilogy. The special effects are outstanding — high praise in this age of ubiquitous screen magic. The acting is a little stiff, mainly because the characters rarely veer from their narrowly defined personalities. Fans of the J.R.R. Tolkien novels on which this film trilogy is based will almost certainly like Return of the King, but I find the genre highly contrived. The best example of lazy plotting is when the good guys suddenly remember that a large unbeatable army that owes them a favor is nearby. When nothing is impossible, can there be any real suspense?

Lost in Translation (2003) is a lost opportunity. Bill Murray plays a middle-aged Hollywood actor who travels to Tokyo to endorse a Japanese whiskey. Scarlett Johansson (The Horse Whisperer, Ghost World) plays the young wife of a photographer who's also in Tokyo on business. It's supposed to be a story about two lonely people, disoriented by a strange culture, who try to bridge the gap between mid-life world-weariness and youthful ennui. Instead, we get a passable travelogue, numerous shots of Johansson loafing around her hotel room in her underwear, and a vacant script that relies on the life experience of the audience to fill in the blanks. Writer/director Sofia Coppola did much better with her previous film, The Virgin Suicides (1999).

The Lost World (1925) introduced stop-motion animation to feature-length motion pictures for the first time, and it's spectacular. Based on an Arthur Conan Doyle novel, this silent film tells the story of explorers finding live dinosaurs on a remote plateau in the Amazon jungle. After the first expedition returned with no proof, a second one finds plenty. The animation is generous, with many scenes of dinosaurs foraging and fighting. Tinting adds some contextual color to the monochrome film — green in the jungle, yellow in sunlight, purple in a cave, red during a fire. The actors are unremarkable save for one: Lewis Stone plays a big-game hunter with eyes for a much younger woman, and he deftly shows his conflicted emotions when a young man woos her, too. Most of this movie was lost many years ago, but a 2016 restoration by Lobster Films carefully patched together remnants from multiple sources to make a new version nearly as long as the original. It's the ancestor of all monster movies to come, notably the Jurassic Park series.

The Lost World (1960) remakes the classic 1925 silent film about dinosaurs living on a remote Amazonian plateau. It's one of several remakes based on the Arthur Conan Doyle novel, and it's the first to introduce color and sound. Unlike the original, however, it lacked the budget for stop-motion animation. Instead, live lizards were disguised as generic dinosaurs. It's effective nonetheless and features a dramatic dino fight. The actors' performances are much improved over the original, with Claude Rains leading the expedition as Professor Challenger, Michael Rennie as the big-game hunter, David Hedison as the newspaper reporter, and Jill St. John as the attractive woman who will inevitably need a manly rescue. This movie is great fun and doesn't look as cheap as the budget. The climax veers from the original while adding a light touch.

Love & Mercy (2015) is an outstanding biopic of Brian Wilson, the troubled musical genius who wrote most of the Beach Boys' songs. Paul Dano expertly portrays the young Brian in the 1960s who crafts intricate pop hits while struggling against inner and outer demons. John Cusack doesn't look as much like Brian but plays him with grace in middle age — a barely functional man who is overmedicated and dominated by a quack doctor. The highlights of this film are the studio recording scenes, which show the measure of Brian's talent in arranging music that sounds light and breezy but is heavily layered and lovingly wrought. Paul Giamatti has a good turn as the overbearing shrink, and Elizabeth Banks convincingly plays the Cadillac salesperson who becomes a guardian angel. No Beach Boys fan should miss this.

The Love Nest (1923) stars Buster Keaton in one of his lesser silent-film shorts. It's not bad, but it lacks the astonishing stunts for which he's famous. He plays a jilted lover who flees to sea in a small, poorly equipped motorboat. Soon he joins the hapless crew of a whaler ruled by a captain (Eddie Kline, frequent co-star) who executes sailors for minor infractions. Of course, Keaton's character commits infractions in every scene, so it's the perfect setup for his clever sight gags.

Love Story (1970) still ranks among the all-time classic tearjerkers. It was an instant hit for multiple reasons: the screen chemistry between Ryan O'Neal and Ali MacGraw as a romantic young couple; a simple (simplistic) plot; a line that became a popular catchphrase ("Love means never having to say you're sorry"); and the opening revelation that MacGraw's character will die. Although removing suspense from the climax may seem counterproductive, it drapes doom over every prior scene of their happy relationship, repeatedly triggering mixed emotions in the audience. When she finally succumbs to Hollywood Movie Disease — a mysterious malady that preserves the victim's beauty — the inevitable ending is still a weeper. Less obvious now are the 1960s counterculture elements: profanity, premarital sex, class conflict, a secular wedding, and a son rejecting his establishment father. They added social relevance to a conventional tragic drama.

The Loves of Count Iorga, Vampire a/k/a Count Yorga, Vampire (1970) started production as a soft-porn film and retains some vestiges despite numerous cuts to obtain an MPAA rating for mature audiences. Placed in contemporary Los Angeles, it stars a suavely menacing Robert Quarry as the evil Count recently arrived from Europe. Four lovely young actresses play the unwilling blood donors, but the only relatively recognizable stars are Roger Perry as a doctor and Michael Murphy as a worried boyfriend. This passable thriller is bloodier and sexier than most; in one scene, a newly converted vamp is caught devouring her cat. As usual, the would-be wooden-stake heroes behave stupidly, so you'll scream at them more often than you'll scream with them.

Lovely & Amazing (2002) is about neurotic women and the men who don't love them. The story revolves around an unhappy former homecoming-queen housewife, her self-obsessed Hollywood starlet sister, her fat-phobic mother, and a younger adopted sister with an eating disorder. As if they don't have enough problems, the men in their lives always say and do the wrong things at the wrong times. Then the housewife gets involved with a teenage boy. The only thing that saves this soap-opera mess is good acting. It's the perfect date movie for couples who are breaking up.

The Lovers and the Despot (2016) tells how North Korean agents kidnapped a famous South Korean filmmaker and his actress ex-wife in 1978 and forced them to make movies for the pleasure of dictator Kim Jong-il (the father of Kim Jong-un, today's ruler). This interesting but slow documentary is based largely on interviews with the actress, Choi Eun-hee. Her ex-husband, director Shin Sang-ok, died in 2006 at age 79. Both were confined in North Korea until their escape in 1986. Skeptics claim they weren't abducted but instead defected. Either way, their exile was dramatic, although this sluggish film undermines the drama.

Loving (2016) is a fictional but uncommonly accurate portrayal of the mixed-race couple who successfully challenged the South's miscegenation laws in the 1960s. When Richard Loving, a white man, married Mildred Jeter, a black woman, they were arrested, charged, and convicted of felonies for violating Virginia's law against mixed marriages. Years later they appealed, and their case reached the U.S. Supreme Court in 1967. Although this movie is a fictionalized drama, it's based on Nancy Buirski's 2012 documentary (The Loving Story) and is an unusually faithful adaptation. Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga deliver outstanding performances as the Lovings and strongly resemble their real-life counterparts. The supporting cast is equally good. Best of all, by not overdramatizing these events, this movie shows that the Lovings were not civil-rights crusaders but merely two loving people who yearned to be left alone.

Lucy (2014) starts with the dubious premise that humans use only 10% of their brains. Soon it becomes even more dubious as a young woman gradually increases her utilization far beyond that amount. Scarlett Johansson stars as Lucy, the innocent girlfriend of a stupid drug courier. When she accidentally gets involved with Taiwanese drug dealers and overdoses on a freaky new substance, her brain goes hyperactive and develops fantastic new abilities. Most of them defy any extrapolation of existing abilities — but hey, this is a summer action flick, not a science documentary, despite scenes in which Morgan Freeman plays a brain expert delivering a college lecture. Some people interpret this film as an allegory of female empowerment. But it would serve that purpose better if Lucy used her new mental skills to outthink her foes instead of overwhelming them with brute-force telekinesis. Nevertheless, it's entertaining if you don't mind the fantasy and gory violence.

Lured a/k/a Personal Column (1947) shines when Lucille Ball is on screen as an American dancer in London who helps Scotland Yard find a serial killer. Her stunning beauty, expressive acting, and quick-witted dialogue brighten this film-noir thriller. When she's off screen, the film loses energy, despite a strong cast including George Sanders, Boris Karloff, George Zucco, Sir Cedric Hardwicke, and Charles Coburn. Nevertheless, she's the star — unusual in film noir — and the plot is above average. Beware of red herrings in the last act.

Luther (2003) is an intelligent, well-acted drama about Martin Luther's drive to reform the Roman Catholic Church in the 1500s. Although the ultimate result of his Reformation was to split off various Protestant denominations from the Church, this film accurately points out that Luther's original goal was to make the Church live up to its own ideals. Even hidebound Catholics shouldn't find offense in this uplifting movie. Joseph Fiennes excels in the title role, with strong support from Peter Ustinov as Prince Friedrich and Alfred Molina as a fire-and-brimstone indulgence-hawker. The medieval costumes and makeup are top-notch, too.

M*A*S*H (1970): see MASH.

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (2020) overdramatizes a 1927 studio session featuring Ma Rainey, a real African-American singer known as the "Mother of the Blues." In this stage play adaptation, Viola Davis plays Rainey as a prima donna who can boss her white bosses despite her black skin. Although Davis deserved her Oscar nomination as Best Actress, the script distorts Rainey's personality. Oddly, though, she's not the focus of this film. It revolves around her black musicians, chiefly Chadwick Boseman as a horn player. Boseman, too, deserved his Oscar nomination as Best Actor — before tragically dying of cancer shortly after filming. Despite outstanding performances all around, the story disappoints. It strives to show black people displacing their aggression against racism in different ways, but it feels overwrought, especially at the end.

Mabel's Strange Predicament (1914) was the first production featuring Charles Chaplin's famous "Little Tramp" character, albeit not fully formed. In this 17-minute silent slapstick comedy, Chaplin plays a clumsy drunk who harasses Mabel, a pretty young woman. What's equally notable about this historic film is that Mabel was played by Mabel Normand, a prolific actress who also directed the production, owned her own studio, and mentored Chaplin. Unfortunately, scandals and declining health led to her premature death at age 36 while Chaplin soared to fame. (Although he created the Little Tramp for this film, the character's first public debut was in Kid Auto Races at Venice, another short that was produced later but released two days sooner.)

The Machinist (2004) is a weird drama starring Christian Bale as an insomniac factory worker who is either hallucinating or is the victim of a co-worker conspiracy. As the story unfolds, he becomes less able to distinguish reality from fantasy — or is he experiencing both? Bale reportedly lost 63 pounds to play his emaciated character, and his performance is equal to his sacrifice. Jennifer Jason Leigh provides strong support as his hooker girlfriend. Some critics thought this picture Hitchcockian, but it's more dreamlike than Alfred's portfolio (including Vertigo). The more obvious influences are Kafka and Dostoevsky. Recommended only for fans of offbeat cinema.

Mad Love (1935) was Peter Lorre's first American film after fleeing Nazi Germany. His debut is spectacular as Dr. Gogol, a spooky surgeon who performs miracles on hopeless patients. The doc goes off the rails when he becomes obsessed with an actress married to a concert pianist. After a train wreck mangles her husband's hands, she begs Gogol to do anything to save them. So he does, with gruesome results. Frances Drake excels as the unobtainable woman of Gogol's haunted dreams, while Colin Clive is merely adequate as her pianist husband. Although some comedic touches lighten the mood, the suspense builds toward a great climax. Director Karl Freund, another German émigré, contributes a suitably noirish atmosphere to this outstanding horror thriller.

The Mad Magician (1954) tried to repeat the success of House of Wax (1953) by again starring Vincent Price and by again using early 3-D technology. Although no match for its classic predecessor, it's a decent thriller. Price plays Don Gallico, an inventor of elaborate magic tricks who yearns to be a famous magician himself. When his overbearing boss asserts ownership over his latest invention, Gallico makes the boss disappear — permanently. Eva Gabor, later of the Green Acres 1960s TV series, appears as Gallico's ex-wife, whom the boss also appropriated. This picture is usually screened flat today, but the gratuitous 3-D scenes are obvious.

Mad Max (1979) spawned three sequels that defy the usual pattern by surpassing the original. Nevertheless, the first movie was surprisingly popular and helped vault Mel Gibson to stardom. This low-budget Australian drama takes place in a dystopian near future when criminal gangs terrorize a broken society. Gibson plays Max Rockatansky, a highway patrolman seeking revenge for the murder of a fellow cop. Car chases, killings, and rapes dominate this violent film. Its enormous success inspired bigger-budget sequels that are equally violent but more refined.

Made for Each Other (1939) feels like a modern rom-com, not a typical 1930s sugar-coated fairy tale. James Stewart and Carole Lombard star as love-at-first-sight newlyweds. Their troubles start immediately with a helicopter mom-in-law and unfavorable office politics. Then it gets worse. But director John Cromwell deftly balances the romance, comedy, and drama to bring this fine picture to a stirring conclusion. It's also modernist in its portrayal of a black house servant. Although Louise Beavers is uncredited in this stereotypical role, she gets a real chance to act, offers sage advice to her white boss, and even helps the family when it falls on hard times. In tone and theme, this movie foreshadows It's a Wonderful Life (1946).

The Madness of King George (1994) dramatizes the true story of King George III's breakdown in 1788. Historians still debate whether the British monarch's odd illness was a liver disorder called porphyria or a purely mental disturbance. Either way, his behavior became so erratic that his eldest son sought a regency to govern in the king's stead. This costume drama is well made and leavened with humor. Nigel Hawthorne as the king and Helen Mirren as his queen were nominated for acting Oscars, and the screenplay (adapted from a stage play) was also nominated for an Academy Award. It won the Oscar for Art Direction. The most interesting aspect is a generally accurate peek into the private lives and machinations of an 18th-century royal court.

Maestro (2023) is a disappointing biopic of Leonard Bernstein (1918–1990), the famous American conductor, composer, and pianist. If you know little about him, you won't learn much more, except that he was a bisexual chain-smoking philanderer. It centers on his marriage to Felicia Montealegre, a stage actress. Although a few scenes show him conducting orchestras, composing music, and teaching youths, it ignores his philanthropy, influential music, and political activism. Of course, it's not a documentary, but it's not an illuminating biopic, either. The highlights are Oscar-nominated performances by Bradley Cooper as Bernstein and Carey Mulligan as Montealegre. It was also nominated for Best Picture, Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Makeup/Hairstyling, and Sound. Cooper directed and co-wrote the melodramatic script.

Magic in the Moonlight (2014) is an entertaining "Woody Allen movie," which means it's a light romantic comedy that sometimes veers philosophical. Actually, this one is more philosophical than most. It explores the conflict between reason and faith, and it pits the stagecraft of illusionist magic against hopeful belief in the supernatural. Colin Firth plays a famous English magician recruited to debunk a young, attractive psychic (Emma Stone in an equally fine performance). There's some intrigue, and some surprises, but the overall tone is carefully reserved, in keeping with the refined upper-class characters and historical setting (south of France, 1928). As with nearly all Woody Allen movies, this is a skillfully made actor's film that will please his fans.

The Magnificent Seven (1960) remakes Akira Kurosawa's famous Seven Samurai (1954) but now stands on its own as a classic Western despite a disappointing initial reception. Screenwriter William Roberts and director John Sturges relocate Kurosawa's drama from medieval Japan to the Old West while preserving the basic story: marauding bandits harass a small farming village, prompting the victims to hire seven professional fighters for defense. In this remake, the villagers are poor Mexicans and their defenders are American gunslingers. It's a morality tale of courage and cowardice in the face of evil. Yul Brynner stars as the stalwart leader of the defenders, aided by Steve McQueen, James Coburn, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter, and Horst Buchholz. Opposing them is Eli Wallach as the ruthless bandit boss. Because the story focuses on the gunslingers' personalities, a slow setup for the big showdown consumes most of the film. Nevertheless, the predictable climax is worth the wait.

The Majestic (2001) ironically celebrates an America that most Americans have abandoned: luxurious single-screen movie theaters, nonfranchise short-order diners, big-band swing music, community dances, walkable downtowns, passenger trains, and politically incorrect resistance to government intrusions on privacy. The storyline masquerades as a feel-good fable, with Jim Carrey miscast as a Hollywood screenwriter who runs afoul of Congressional commie-hunters in the 1950s. Struck with amnesia after a car accident, he starts a new life in a small town, where he helps to restore a dilapidated theater to former glory. But between the lines, the story drips with irony: the theater is too splendorous for a small town, the diner is a caricature, and a teenage clarinet player is said to have a "bright future," even though any modern filmgoer should know that clarinet-playing band leaders are about to become as obsolete as radio serials. But this film is so sugar-coated that few people will likely perceive its sly stabs at modern America.

Major Dundee (1965) helped to nickname writer/director Sam Peckinpah as "Bloody Sam" for his unusually violent Westerns. In this one, a ragtag outfit of Union soldiers, Confederate POWs, mercenary civilians, and frontier scouts get into fist fights, knife fights, and firefights with themselves, Mexicans, Apaches, and even French lancers. Charlton Heston plays the hard-nosed title character who commands the outfit. Richard Harris plays his foil, a former fellow officer who went Confederate and is now a bitter prisoner. It starts slowly as Dundee recruits his reluctant volunteers but eventually gets around to the action. An incongruous romantic interlude and musical score are minor distractions from this gritty drama created for fans of high body counts.

Making an American Citizen (1912) is an unusual 14-minute silent film that lampoons old-world versus new-world values. It's also one of the rare existing works by Alice Guy, a French woman who was the first female movie director. This short film may be viewed as a satirical comedy, a cautionary message, or a suffragette's political statement — or indeed, all three. It shows a Russian couple emigrating to America, where the abusive husband learns to treat his wife with more respect after neighbors and eventually a judge correct his misbehavior. Ironically, when Alice Guy married and emigrated to America, the motion-picture industry disrespected her experience and she never made another film — unlike her husband, who found steady work in Hollywood.

Making a Living (1914) debuts Charlie Chaplin in his first motion picture. Although it precedes his famous "Little Tramp" character, it previews elements of that comic persona and his talent for slapstick comedy. In this 12.5-minute silent film, Chaplin plays a mischievous grifter who steals a ring, a fiancée, and a newspaper scoop from the same victim. The result is a manic foot chase and fistfight with Keystone cops in pursuit. This historical artifact is worth watching despite its poor condition. (Alternate titles: Doing His Best, A Busted Johnny, Troubles, and Take My Picture.)

Making Waves: The Art of Cinematic Sound (2019) documents the history and technology of creating movie soundtracks. From the earliest silent-film days of the 1890s, filmmakers wanted to augment their productions with spoken dialogue, but synchronizing the audio with the images was too difficult. The first "talkies" in the late 1920s were a major breakthrough. Even then, sound editing was perfunctory; for decades, studios considered it a minor part of filmmaking. Further developments in the 1970s raised sound to a high art. This superb documentary clearly explains the technology and its various aspects. Among the people interviewed are prominent sound engineers and directors such as Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and Robert Redford.

Maleficent (2014) retells the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale from the viewpoint of Maleficent, the wicked witch who cursed the beautiful young Princess Aurora to eternal sleep. But in this revisionist history for the modern age, the wicked witch is not so much wicked as emotionally damaged. Betrayed by a lover, Maleficent (played with delicious verve by Angelina Jolie) becomes embittered and bent on revenge. Aurora (Elle Fanning) just gets in the way. Unlike Sleeping Beauty, Disney's 1959 animated adaptation of the legend, this live-action remake is noteworthy for showing good versus evil as shades of gray, not black or white, and for offering a path to redemption. Is it too Freudian for little kids? Probably not; they're more perceptive than we realize. But the computer-animated fire-breathing dragons and other violent scenes go far beyond the 1959 version, which was scary enough for small children. This movie is better suited to adolescents and adults.

Malena (2000) is almost identical to Summer of '42 (1971), only it's based in Sicily instead of the U.S. and has a different ending. It's a tragicomedy about teenage boys sexually obsessed with a beautiful woman whose absent husband is fighting in World War II. Director Giuseppe Tornatore is famous for Cinema Paradiso (1988). Monica Bellucci excels in the role played by Jennifer O'Neill in Summer of '42.

The Maltese Falcon (1941) deserves its status as the most classic film noir. Humphrey Bogart stars as private detective Sam Spade, who is hired by a deceptive client (Mary Astor). Right way the case gets deadly when his partner is murdered and he finds himself entangled in a mysterious plot to steal a statuette. As he struggles to solve the mystery and find his partner's killer, one strange character after another pops out of the woodwork, including those played by Sydney Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, and Elisha Cook Jr. All the performances are over-the-top great without quite crossing the border into campy. John Huston wrote the screenplay (based on the Dashiell Hammett novel and a 1931 film) and directed (his first production). Despite three Oscar nominations — for Best Picture, Adapted Screenplay, and Supporting Actor (Greenstreet) — it won nothing. Time is a better judge, however, and The Maltese Falcon has become one of Hollywood's best-loved motion pictures.

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018) is the sequel to Mamma Mia! (2008), except it's also a prequel. Two parallel storylines recount how Donna (the character previously played by Meryl Streep) arrived on the Greek island of Skopelos in 1979 and birthed her daughter Sophie (played here by Amanda Seyfried). In the 1979 flashbacks, young Donna is played by Lily James (from the PBS TV series Downton Abbey). In present time, Donna is deceased, her passing unexplained. Sophie has remodeled their old Greek farmhouse into a hotel and is planning a grand-opening party. Pierce Brosnan plays her father, or rather one of the three men who may be her father. It's all a bit confusing, especially when the parallel stories in different periods weave together using the cleverest match cuts I've ever seen. But the singing and dancing to Abba pop tunes remain the foundation of this joyous musical. Near the end, Streep and Cher make unforgettable cameos. Stay after the final credits for a last laugh.

The Man I Love (1947) blends film noir, romance, and postwar depression. Ida Lupino stars as a jazz singer who tries to keep a sleazy nightclub owner at bay while romancing a piano player broken by a bad divorce. Her ambitious brother tries to ingratiate himself with the sleazeball, and her sister struggles to raise a child while her war-veteran husband recovers from combat fatigue (PTSD). Their neighbors are a disloyal bleach-blonde who carouses while her devoted but clueless husband works the night shift. It's all melodramatic but well played. Lupino shines in her tough-but-soft role, and the climax avoids the usual clichés.

The Man I Married (1940) boldly dramatizes the danger of fascism and foreshadows the bloodshed of World War II and the Holocaust. Its timing is crucial to understanding its relevance. This picture was made in 1940 and released that December, more than a year after Nazi Germany started the war by invading Poland in September 1939. The U.S. didn't enter the war until December 1941, so audiences first saw this film one year before Pearl Harbor. Americans were divided among those who feared a looming threat, those who discounted the danger and promoted strict neutrality, and those who supported fascism. History validates the first group, led by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, but in 1940–41 the future was cloudy. This movie, set in prewar 1938, offers clarity. It stars Joan Bennett, who's a famous femme fatale but here plays the innocent wife of a German immigrant (Francis Lederer) who secretly admires the Nazis. His leanings are revealed during a trip to Germany. Otto Kruger plays his Hitler-hating father, and Lloyd Nolan is an eyes-wide-open American reporter. Although this movie is raw anti-Nazi propaganda, it's realistic, and it even foretells the concentration-camp murders that Allied liberation troops would expose years later. It's a good drama and a fascinating historical artifact that remains relevant.

Man Made Monster (1941) features Lon Chaney Jr. in his first horror flick, which convinced Universal Pictures to star him in The Wolf Man later that year. Chaney plays a traffic-crash survivor who has mysterious immunity to electric shock. Horror-film stalwart Lionel Atwill plays a mad scientist who tries to amplify the immunity to create a race of electrically powered supermen. Despite a low budget, this movie has good production values, including a skillfully modeled traffic accident and a mad-scientist laboratory that inherits flashy gizmos from the 1931 classic Frankenstein lab. The special effects when Chaney is electrified deserve a glowing review, too. Although this picture hasn't achieved classic status, it typifies Universal's horror theme in which the monster is an unwitting victim of fate or misguided science.

The Man in the Moon (1991) introduced 14-year-old Reese Witherspoon, launching a career that has so far achieved two Best Actress nominations and one Oscar (for Walk the Line in 2005). Her obvious talent shines in The Man in the Moon, in which she plays a 14-year-old girl in 1950s Louisiana who falls in love with a 17-year-old neighbor boy. Witherspoon's performance is precocious and crucial to the success of this family drama. She dominates a good cast that includes Emily Warfield as her sympathetic older sister, Sam Waterston as her strict father, Tess Harper as her pregnant mother, and Jason London as the boy next door. Rarely does a picture rely on an inexperienced child actor for so much. If you've seen and admired Witherspoon only in her later roles, you must see this film.

The Man in the White Suit (1951) stars a young Alec Guinness as an eccentric chemist who invents a fabric that's indestructible and never needs washing. It's miraculous — and dangerous to the garment industry, which fears that people will no longer have to replace their worn-out clothes. Union workers are upset, too, because they could lose their jobs. Even a poor washerwoman objects that she'll lose her sole livelihood. This comedy is really a social commentary on the insatiable consumption that feeds industrial capitalism. But the message of this Oscar-nominated screenplay is subtle, so enjoy watching Guinness in a rare comedic role.

The Man Who Cheated Himself (1950) improbably stars Lee J. Cobb as the romantic lead in a nonsensical film noir. Cobb plays a gruff police detective immersed in a secret affair with a rich married woman (Jane Wyatt). When she kills her husband, Cobb's character behaves illogically for a veteran homicide cop — he immediately concocts a cover-up despite her plausible motive of self defense. Wyatt becomes the equally improbable femme fatale when she gladly collaborates. The real intrigue starts when the cop's brother, a new detective, grows suspicious. San Franciscans will admire the location shots in the city, including a climax at Fort Point, later iconic in Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958).

The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976) stars David Bowie as a space alien who crashes in New Mexico while searching for water to save his parched planet. Bowie was almost an alien anyway, so this role suits him well. Able co-stars include Candy Clark as a lustful hotel housekeeper, Rip Torn as a philandering college professor, and Buck Henry as a gay patent attorney. Needing money to build a new spacecraft for his return trip, Bowie's character uses his advanced knowledge to start a hugely successful company. But this basic story is merely the stage for an odd film that's often incoherent and illogical yet still interesting. Also, be aware that the uncut version (now available for streaming) has X-rated sex scenes. The whole movie is nearly as perplexing as the last act in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and definitely isn't for people who prefer the straight storytelling of Star Wars, which premiered one year later and eclipsed offbeat films like this one.

The Man Who Knew Infinity (2015) dramatizes the life of Srinivasa Ramanujan, a poor math prodigy from India who amazed the faculty at Cambridge University in England during the 1910s. Dev Patel (hero of Slumdog Millionaire, 2008) convincingly plays Ramanujan as a young man driven to publish his mathematics discoveries and prove that a lowly clerk from a British colony is capable of intellectual greatness. Jeremy Irons is effective as Ramanujan's open-minded math professor and mentor. Unfortunately, director/writer Matthew Brown follows the usual course of distorting a dramatic true story when adapting it for film. He wrongly portrays Ramanujan's religion and marriage and miscasts Irons as a much older man. At least the math is fairly accurate, and it introduces Ramanujan and his genuine achievements to a popular audience.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934) was popular in its day but hasn't aged well, especially in comparison with the 1956 remake. Alfred Hitchcock directed both suspense thrillers. Filmmakers rarely remake their own films, so these two productions let us see how one of our all-time best directors handled the same story when given a second chance. Both tell the same basic tale of parents trying to recover a kidnapped child. Although movies tend to get more violent over time, the 1934 original concludes with a lengthy gun battle omitted from the remake. Unfortunately, the acting is mediocre. The exception is Peter Lorre, in only his second English-language role. This picture is mainly of interest to Hitchcock fans.

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956) is a rare example of a filmmaker remaking one of his own films. Alfred Hitchcock directed a 1934 version in England, then made this American version 22 years later. Both tell the same basic story of parents trying to recover a kidnapped child. This one has a lengthier climax that includes a wordless classical-music concert and another interlude in which Doris Day (who plays the child's mother) sings her Oscar-winning song, "Que Sera Sera." Although these scenes try to heighten the suspense at critical moments, they're a bit stretched. James Stewart is suited to his role as the child's father, but he's better in two contemporary Hitchcock classics, Rear Window (1954) and Vertigo (1958). This movie is definitely worth watching and suffers only in comparison with Hitchcock's superior works in the 1950s.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) questions our views of Western legends. James Stewart is great as Ranse Stoddard, a naïve frontier lawyer trying to bring order to the unruly Old West. His civilizing efforts are unwelcomed by outlaws, particularly a gang leader oddly named Liberty Valance. Lee Marvin plays this rough character to evil perfection. Stoddard gets help from a local cowboy who favors brute force over legal niceties. In typical style, John Wayne fills this role as a wisecracking roughneck. The tension builds to a final showdown that becomes legend. But this story is told in flashback, and time has polished the legend. What really happened? This classic is an early example of the revisionist Westerns that became popular in the 1960s and '70s.

The Man Who Wasn't There (2001) is a black-and-white film-noir homage starring Billy Bob Thornton and Frances McDormand. Based in Santa Rosa, California, in 1949, it continues the Coen brothers' long-running theme of crime as opportunistic misadventure, not mastermind plotting. Thornton plays the central character, a bored-of-life barber whose spontaneous grab for money triggers a chain of unintended and tragic consequences. McDormand excels as his disengaged wife. Somehow the movie goes overboard in imitating film noir without falling into comedic parody or high-art pretension. It has a lyrical, haunting quality not found in other Coen films. The only scene that rings untrue is a gratuitous sex tryst in a speeding car. Nevertheless, it's a masterwork.

The Man Who Watched Trains Go By a/k/a The Paris Express (1952/53) features Claude Rains as Kees Popinga, a Dutch bookkeeper who becomes embroiled in a company scandal. Soon he's over his head in a criminal underworld and a greedy scramble for stolen money. For some reason, the British studio lavished Technicolor production on this middling film noir. Popinga's personality morphs from moment to moment, veering from passive to aggressive, wily to clumsy, innocent to guilty, clever to crazy. Blame the script — adapted from a 1938 novel — not Rains, who manages to wear all these faces. Märta Torén has a good role as the femme fatale, but you'll be shouting "No-o-o!" at Popinga's every move.

The Man With the Golden Arm (1955) stars Frank Sinatra in his best performance. He plays Frankie Machine, a back-room card dealer and recovering heroin addict who struggles to stay straight after release from rehab. He's haunted by neighborhood lowlifes, his unrelenting pusher (Darren McGavin), a psychotic wife (Eleanor Parker), a hard-case cop (Emile Meyer), and a former lover (Kim Novak). Against those odds, he's destined for trouble. Although everyone excels in this skid-row drama, Sinatra dominates almost every scene, especially in the last act. He was nominated for Best Actor but lost to Ernest Borgnine in Marty. Nevertheless, he's better in this role than he was two years earlier when he won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in From Here to Eternity. I'm among the minority who believe Sinatra was a better actor than a singer.

Man With a Movie Camera (1929) is a virtual time machine. It's both a remarkable document of life in the former Soviet Union during the 1920s and a revolutionary preview of future cinematic techniques. Dziga Vertov spent three years filming this "day in the life" silent documentary in Moscow and three Ukrainian cities. Using multiple cameras, he even filmed himself making the film, including scenes of a woman editing the footage. Organized in six chapters, it shows ordinary people waking up, working, moving about town, marrying, giving birth, enjoying recreation, and finishing their day. It breaks with convention by employing montages, quick-cut editing, freeze frames, slow motion, fast motion, stop-motion animation, unusual camera angles, split-screen multiple exposures, and other advanced techniques. The sole surviving 35mm print has been restored to excellent quality. This innovative picture is a must-see for cinema fans.

The Man With My Face (1951) stars Barry Nelson as a victim of identity theft, 50 years before the Internet made it popular. In 1951, this wasn't as easy as stealing a Social Security number or computer password. Charles "Chick" Graham is just an ordinary guy who returns home from work one day to find an identical stranger with his wife and brother-in-law. They all swear the stranger is the real Graham. Thus begins a twisty plot involving a doppelganger bank robber, an unfaithful wife, and a big black attack dog. Intrigue leads to murder and an athletic climax. It's passable.

Manchester by the Sea (2016) is an almost flawless tearjerker with excellent writing and acting. Casey Affleck won Best Actor of 2016 as Lee Chandler, a handyman whose brother dies prematurely, leaving behind a teenage son (Lucas Hedges) and a will naming Lee as the legal guardian. But Lee's tragic past has left him a broken soul, reluctant to assume the responsibility. This film is unusual in portraying both the uncle and nephew as sympathetic but rather unlikable characters thrust into an uncomfortable situation. And it's realistic — too much so for some viewers. The only artistic flaws are a few needlessly confusing flashbacks. Nonlinear storytelling is often a device to disguise poor filmmaking, but this artful movie doesn't need it.

The Manchurian Candidate (1962) remains worth watching despite an excellent 2004 remake. This cult classic about a communist plot to control America stars Frank Sinatra as a U.S. Army officer, Laurence Harvey as an Army soldier brainwashed as a P.O.W. in North Korea, and Angela Lansbury as his devious mother. The plot involves the assassination of a U.S. presidential candidate. It's a well-acted and suspenseful thriller that ends differently than the remake, so you can watch both without spoiling the climactic surprise.

The Manchurian Candidate (2004) is a respectable remake of the 1962 cult classic starring Frank Sinatra, Laurence Harvey, and Angela Lansbury. In this version, Denzel Washington plays the Sinatra role with equal intensity, Liev Schreiber is a reincarnation of Harvey, and Meryl Streep is as creepy as Lansbury was in the original. The story has been updated: instead of Korean War veterans brainwashed to assassinate a candidate for president, Gulf War veterans are the unwitting participants in a similar plot. It's a gripping thriller with a slightly different ending, so fans of the original film should be as intrigued as new viewers. But one thing I missed from the first version was the spooky business with the deck of cards.

Manhattan Melodrama (1934) won fame as the picture that notorious gangster John Dillinger saw moments before he was killed by FBI agents as he left the Biograph Theater in Chicago. Fittingly, the film pits a flashy underworld gambler against a highly principled prosecutor. Dillinger surely identified with the crook. But his real-life melodrama distracts from a superb story that won an Oscar for writer Arthur Caesar. Two boys who survive a disaster follow different paths to adulthood, eventually opposing each other. Watch for a young Mickey Rooney as the budding gambler, later played as an adult by Clark Gable. Gable infuses his character with a slick charm foreshadowing his future performance as Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind (1939). His boyhood friend grows up to become the district attorney, played by William Powell, whose character foreshadows his future performance as detective Nick Charles in The Thin Man (1934). To compound the similarity, the actress portraying their common love interest is Myrna Loy, soon to be Nick Charles' wife in the six-part Thin Man series. Manhattan Melodrama goes deep in showing a dedicated public servant juggling duty, conscience, marital love, and loyalty to a lifelong companion. One wonders if Dillinger, in his last moments, mocked this morality tale.

Maniac (1934) deserves its cult status among fans of bizarre cinema. Sneaking under the Hays Production Code censorship that muffled Hollywood shortly after its release, this strange film has young women cavorting in flimsy underwear, brief flashes of nudity, real fights between cats and dogs, and a scene in which a man squeezes out a cat's eyeball — then eats it! (This one was faked, but the others are genuine.) The disjointed plot involves a mad scientist and his lab assistant who try to revive corpses by injecting them with a mysterious concoction. The production values are crude and the editing haphazard. Watch for comedienne Phyllis Diller in a small role.

Mank (2020) will baffle and likely bore anyone who is unfamiliar with Citizen Kane (1941), its writers Orson Welles and Herman K. Mankiewicz, its controversial production, its relation to newspaper publisher William R. Hearst and his lover Marion Davies, the involvement of MGM studio boss Louis B. Mayer, and California gubernatorial politics in the 1930s. Despite my familiarity with this background, Mank still was hard to follow. The main character is Mankiewicz, an alcoholic compulsive gambler who pens the first draft of Citizen Kane. As word leaks that the script is an unflattering portrait of a powerful publisher based on Hearst, various parties try to dissuade him. This movie about a movie explains why "Mank" jeopardized his lucrative Hollywood career by writing a takedown of Hearst. Although historians debate its accuracy, Mank is a stylish film that was nominated for Best Picture and won Oscars for its b&w cinematography and production design.

The Manster (1959) is a surprisingly good "Japanese" monster movie. Although it was made in Japan and has the atmosphere of a Godzilla-era sci-fi flick, the filmmakers and most lead actors were Americans. The special effects are hokey by today's standards but don't detract from a good story about a Japanese mad scientist (Satoshi Nakamura) and his unwitting guinea pig, an American reporter (Peter Dyneley). In one twist, the evil "Igor" lab assistant is a seductive woman (Terri Zimmern). The fun starts early when the scientist spikes the reporter's drink with an experimental enzyme concocted to induce evolutionary mutations. Of course, the test goes awry. Soon the reporter starts spawning a retrograde alter ego who is violently antisocial. (Hint: for some releases, this movie was renamed The Split.) Good performances, real suspense, and fast-moving action that isn't quite campy distinguish this gem from most contemporary Japanese productions.

Mapplethorpe: The Director's Cut (2021) enhances the 2018 biopic of Robert Mapplethorpe (1946–1989), a controversial NYC photographer known for his dramatic b&w images of celebrities, flowers, and extreme gay sex. British actor Matt Smith portrays Mapplethorpe as a driven artist who reluctantly accepts his homosexuality before plunging into the BDSM underworld. Smith's characterization is plausible, but only those who knew the photographer personally can vouch for its accuracy. One dissenter was his close friend and former lover, rock musician Patti Smith. Although this dramatic film is interesting, a documentary would be more enlightening. For this re-release, director Ondi Timoner added scenes of Mapplethorpe's childhood and conflicts with his father and Catholicism. Be warned that it includes graphic sexuality.

March of the Penguins (2005) is a fascinating documentary about emperor penguins in Antarctica. Filmed in grueling conditions averaging 54 degrees below zero, it follows a typical year in the lives of these flightless aquatic birds, focusing on their reproductive cycle. After waddling 70 miles to their tribal breeding grounds, the penguins breed only once a year, each female producing only one egg. That precious egg becomes the sole focus of the breeding pair during the harsh winter months. The whole process is incredibly precarious and a supreme test of endurance. Although this film seems like a common PBS documentary, its skillful storytelling and dramatic footage have made it an unexpected hit.

Marked Woman (1937) stars Bette Davis as a "hostess" (e.g., party girl and prostitute) at a gangster-owned nightclub. Pre-superstar Humphrey Bogart gets second billing as a crusading deputy district attorney who's determined to convict the kingpin. Both performers show their talent when the prosecutor and prostitute butt heads. He wants her to testify against her crime boss, but she distrusts authority. An unexpected tragedy alters the balance. Although Hollywood censorship neutered this drama — it merely suggests the prostitution angle — it's still above average, and it unusually devotes most of the screen time to actresses who play working girls instead of romantic accessories to male leads. One scene is harrowing for its hidden violence, and the climax reveals the movie's title is a double entendre.

A Married Woman (French: Une Femme Mariée, 1964) is a bonne example of French New Wave cinema. Jean-Luc Godard directed this low-key drama of a young woman who can't choose between her husband and her secret lover. Godard forces intimacy by pushing the camera into tight close-ups, often showing only a face, hand, arm, or leg. Macha Méril is quietly sexy as the dissatisfied wife. She commands every scene; the men are accessories. This being a New Wave film, Godard inserts philosophical monologues on life and love that frame the story without advancing it much. Godard's camera also dwells on ads for women's underwear, perhaps a comment on the sexualization of modern commerce. The final line of dialogue seems to signal the wife's choice.

Mars Needs Women (1968) has somehow achieved minor cult status, even though it's no better than many other low-budget sci-fi flicks from the 1950s and 1960s. Sure, it looks campy, and the title is compelling, but the cast takes this production dead seriously. The title summarizes the story: an advanced Martian civilization suffers a gender imbalance (100 males per female), so a flying saucer is sent to kidnap Earth women for artificial-insemination experiments. For reasons left unexplained, the Martians look just like us and may be genetically compatible. The sole innovation of this story is that the Martians try to be nonviolent. Movies like this began to fall out of style when 2001: A Space Odyssey (released the same year) set a new standard.

Martha: A Picture Story (2019) documents the prolific career of Martha Cooper, a New York photographer renowned for her pictures of graffiti artists, hip-hop dancers, and urban street life. Although she is little known outside the subcultures she photographs, this excellent documentary shows why she's a hero to underground artists. Her first and most famous photo book, Subway Art (1984, with Henry Chalfant), brought urban graffiti to the attention of the art world and scorn to those who consider it legitimate art. Well into her 70s, Cooper was still sneaking into subways to photograph the painters at work. This film benefits from full access to her photos and methods. Once rejected as a serious photojournalist, Cooper doggedly created her own career.

The Martian (2015) is a survival tale that surpasses Robinson Crusoe: an astronaut is stranded alone on Mars with short supplies, and the next mission is four years away. How can he survive? Luckily, he's a botanist! This refreshing science-fiction movie emphasizes the science, not the usual conflicts with space aliens, although it does stretch the truth at times. (Mars's atmosphere is too thin to generate hurricane-force winds.) Nevertheless, The Martian is a well-made drama starring Matt Damon as the lonely castaway and Jessica Chastain as his steely mission commander. It's a cross between Apollo 13 (1995) and All Is Lost (2013). Worth seeing in 3D, too.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994), despite its title, departs from both Shelley's 1818 novel and the 1930s Universal Studios classics. Kenneth Branaugh stars as Doctor Frankenstein, who's actually a med-school student gone rogue. Robert DeNiro plays his creation but doesn't appear until about halfway through the film. Looking nothing like Boris Karloff's classic monster of the 1930s, he effectively re-creates the character as both more humane and more evil. Helena Bonham Carter plays Frankenstein's adopted sister, for whom he develops an unconventional attraction. Although the acting is superb and the story is interesting, this film is sabotaged by an overloud musical score that drowns much of the dialogue. Many an important scene is more like a music video than a movie. This flaw was so distracting that I almost bailed out.

MASH a/k/a M*A*S*H (1970) hasn't aged well. It was briefly famous as a rowdy, irreverent comedy that lampooned the U.S. Army during the controversial Vietnam War — even though the movie is placed in a field hospital during the Korean War. Soon it was eclipsed by the popularity and longevity (1972–1983) of a TV series of the same name, which struck a more conventional comedic tone and was unmistakably antiwar. Also, the movie became cringeworthy for its sexual harassment of Army nurses as a frequent source of humor. Today, it's interesting mainly as a historical artifact that boosted the careers of several young stars, including Donald Sutherland, Elliot Gould, Sally Kellerman, Tom Skerritt, Robert Duvall, Michael Murphy, and Gary Burghoff.

The Mask of Satan a/k/a Black Sunday (1960) introduced the world to Italian horror cinema and became an influential classic. In a stunning directorial debut, Mario Bava created a beautifully filmed thriller about witches and vampires. The horror is more explicit than in contemporary American thrillers, and it's more erotic, too. English actor Barbara Steele leads an Italian cast in three roles: a witch burned in the 1600s who curses her executioners, a reincarnation in the 1800s who wants to fulfill the old curse, and an innocent descendant of the long-dead witch hunters. Her good/evil characters dominate the screen. The shadowy lighting and haunting sets conjure a marvelously gloomy atmosphere. Although Bava and Steele made more horror films, this one remains a cult favorite. The U.S. version (Black Sunday) cuts a few crucial minutes, so look for the English-dubbed Italian version with the original title.

The Master (2012) is above all else an actor's movie — all three stars were nominated for Oscars. This powerful film has no need for quick cuts, shaky cameras, or other cinematic distractions to inject faux drama into poor performances. Joachin Phoenix delivers a highly mannered characterization of a deranged World War II veteran who alienates people but often evokes their sympathy, too. By chance, he meets a charismatic but volatile cult leader (Philip Seymour Hoffman) who is reminiscent of Scientology's L. Ron Hubbard. Each man is immediately fascinated by the other's madness. Amy Adams shines as the leader's wife and back-stage manipulator. Unfortunately, writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood, Boogie Nights) has trouble bringing his story to a satisfactory conclusion. While it lasts, though, it's an amazing ride.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003) falls short of matching such seafaring classics as Moby Dick (1956) and Mutiny On the Bounty (1935, 1962). But it's way above average, thanks to a tight script, serious acting, and attention to historical detail. Russell Crowe plays the stoic Captain Jack Aubrey, master of a British warship during the Napoleonic wars of the early 1800s. He's pursuing a larger, faster frigate manned by French privateers. His friendship with a doctor humanizes the story, though at times it detours the main plot. Battle scenes are realistic, but claustrophobic, and the overquick editing tries too hard to portray the chaos of combat at the expense of coherence. Still, anyone who likes historical epics should see this picture.

Match Point (2005) ranks with Manhattan and Annie Hall as one of Woody Allen's best films. It's also a major departure. Gone are the neurotic characters mouthing clever one-liners and pseudo-psychological self analysis. Neither Allen nor any character remotely like him appears. And the setting is London, not New York. Instead, Allen has written and directed a fast-moving drama with the tight plotting, suspense, and moral dilemmas of a Hitchcock film (with references to Frenzy, 1972). Jonathan Rhys-Meyers stars as a young social climber who falls in lust with a struggling actress played by the sensual Scarlett Johansson. This sets up a love triangle that soon has the young man agonizing between two moral roads, both low. The writing, acting, and pacing are superb. Theme: it's better to be lucky than great.

Matchstick Men (2003) is a great comedy/drama about con artists. Although it's not as classic as The Sting (1973), it's still quite good. Nicholas Cage plays an obsessive-compulsive small-time con man in L.A. who reluctantly agrees with his partner to try a "long con" — an elaborate scheme to steal tens of thousands of dollars in a currency-trading scam. Any further plot synopsis would risk spoiling the surprises. Cage does a fine if not superlative job of portraying a con man nearly overwhelmed by his mental and emotional handicaps, and the supporting cast is strong, too. Ridley Scott directed. If you liked Catch Me If You Can (2002) and The Grifters (1990), you'll like Matchstick Men.

The Matrix Reloaded (2003) is a little more interesting than watching someone else play a martial-arts videogame, but not much. In this sequel to The Matrix (1999), our hero Neo (played stiffly by Keanu Reeves) and his fellow rebels continue their battle against space aliens who have enslaved the oblivious human race in a virtual-reality fantasy world. The slo-mo special effects are fascinating at first, but they fail to hide the pointlessness of the frequent fights between Neo and various aliens or computer programs disguised as humans. Everything gets broken in these tiresome thrashings except the sunglasses everyone wears, and Reeves replaces Clint Eastwood as the valedictorian of the rigor-mortis school of acting. Worst of all, the movie never really ends but simply stops abruptly in the middle of a scene, promising a less-lazy conclusion in the third installment (The Matrix Revolutions).

May December (2023) simmers with tension and is a rare example of an actor's film powered by two female leads: Natalie Portman and Julianne Moore. They are subtle but superb. The plot resembles a real sex scandal involving a middle-aged woman and an underage boy (the Mary Kay Letourneau case in the 1990s). Here, Moore plays a woman who (like Letourneau) eventually married the boy and bore his children. Now she's 55 and he's 36, and their twins are graduating high school. Charles Melton skillfully plays her husband as a flat personality who quietly harbors doubts. Portman plays the catalyst that heats the simmer to a boil — her character is a famous actress who will portray Moore's character in an upcoming movie. Her immersive research for the role disrupts the shaky status quo, and she begins to relish playing Eve to an immature Adam. But this is a film in which the performances supersede the story.

Me and Orson Welles (2008) adapts a novel about a teenager who wins a small part in a modernized Broadway version of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Placed in 1937 shortly before World War II, the play depicts Caesar as a fascist dictator. Zac Efron stars as the talented teen, but the highlight is Christian McKay's uncanny portrayal of Orson Welles, the eccentric-genius writer, actor, and (later) filmmaker who directs the play. Although McKay resembles Welles, it's his Wellesian speech patterns and mannerisms that truly impress. In the play, Welles casts himself as Brutus, but the movie depicts him as the mean boss of his theater troupe. Thus we have a movie about a dictator who directs a play about a dictator. If you know little about Welles, skip it.

Mean Girls (2004) became a pop-culture hit that inspired sequels, imitators, Internet memes, and a 2024 remake. Former Saturday Night Live star Tiny Fey wrote the hilarious screenplay for this teen comedy, and she plays a math teacher at the fictional Chicago high school where three elite girls rule the social order. But the star is Lindsay Lohan as Cady, a new student who was previously home schooled by her zoologist parents in Africa. Her sudden immersion in American high-school clique society is upsetting until the elite girls adopt her as a member. Soon she's entangled in a "girl world" of gossip, jealousy, body shaming, backbiting, and fashion anxiety. Although this satire plays heavily on stereotypes, it isn't too remote from reality, which makes it even funnier.

Mean Streets (1973) was a breakthrough for director Martin Scorsese and young actors Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro. This low-budget crime thriller leans heavily on violence and obscenities to portray small-time Mafia-type criminals in NYC. Keitel stars as an up-and-coming crook who craves ownership of a restaurant whose owner can't make his extortion payments. Although he questions the immorality of a criminal life, it's his only clear path to success. Meanwhile, he tries to protect his crazy friend (De Niro) from a neighborhood loan shark. De Niro steals the show with a manic performance later perfected in Taxi Driver (1976). Keitel is more subtle and adds balance. Although this film is roughly made, it revealed Scorsese's talent in this genre and foreshadows two of his masterpieces: Taxi Driver and Goodfellas (1990).

The Medusa Touch (1978) stars Richard Burton in a passable psychological thriller about a mental patient who believes he can foresee or even cause fatal disasters. This story unwinds like a police procedural — the main character is a French detective operating in London who investigates a violent assault on the patient. Lino Ventura (actually Italian) suitably fills this role, although his dialogue is dubbed. Despite Burton's star power, his participation is minor. Only 51 at the time, chronic alcoholism makes him look older. He gets by on his sonorous voice and icy stares. Lee Remick brightens the screen as a skeptical psychiatrist who seems evasive. The suspense builds slowly toward a plot twist and dramatic climax.

Meet John Doe (1941) blends comedy and drama to warn that shadowy power brokers can exploit cultish patriotism. This film is so skillfully written, directed, and acted that it doesn't reek of wartime propaganda. It endures as a holiday classic and a clever "message movie" that remains relevant. Barbara Stanwyck is outstanding as an fabulist newspaper reporter who sheds ethics to invent dramatic stories. She latches onto a hungry hobo (Gary Cooper in another memorable role) who supposedly threatens to commit suicide on Christmas Eve over his despair of the human condition. Her sensational sob stories spawn a nationwide goodwill movement that becomes vulnerable to political manipulation. The great Frank Capra directed this celebration of the common man and human spirit. Critics say it's sugary, but it shows the dark side, too. As World War II loomed, fears of fascism inspired similar movies, such as Keeper of the Flame, released the next year. Meet John Doe excels by delivering its message with a lighter touch.

Meet the Parents (2000) is funny but could have been funnier. Ben Stiller stars as the hapless boyfriend who seeks approval from his girlfriend's impossibly demanding father, played by Robert DeNiro. There are some good laughs, but too many flat spots.

Megacities (1998) will make any job, no matter how bad, seem like a joy. This is a raw but revealing German documentary about the survival strategies of the poor in large cities all over the world.

Megalopolis (2024) is director Francis Ford Coppola's magnum opus, a $120 million self-financed epic nearly 50 years in the making. It's audacious, ambitious, and one of the strangest movies you're likely to see. It mixes sci-fi, fantasy, philosophy, political commentary, and alternative history against a surrealist backdrop reminiscent of Federico Fellini. It's dense in dialogue and visuals, spiced with references to history, Shakespeare, current events, and classic cinema. Adam Driver stars as Cesar Catilina, an eccentric architect in the mold of Ayn Rand's Howard Roark or New York's Robert Moses — except this New York is New Rome, capital of the still-extant Roman Empire. The mayor opposes Cesar's utopian urban-renewal plans and reacts badly when his daughter (Nathalie Emmanuel) joins Cesar. Other notables are Jon Voight as a Trump-like feeble billionaire, Dustin Hoffman as his devious fixer, Aubrey Plaza as a greedy Fox News-style personality, Laurence Fishburne as Cesar's wise chauffeur, and Shia LaBeouf as Cesar's hostile cousin. They debate whether Cesar's visions are madness or genius. Coppola sides with genius and the hope that breaking the status quo can save a once-proud nation from descent toward dystopia. This fascinating but controversial film is further from mainstream entertainment than any major production in recent years.

Melinda and Melinda (2005) is a typically philosophical Woody Allen movie based on a clever idea: tell two parallel tales about a troubled woman named Melinda who arrives uninvited at a private dinner party in Manhattan. One scenario is a tragedy, the other a comedy. Which offers more insight into the human condition? Unfortunately, the storytelling can't match the concept. One problem is that both scenarios have tragic and comic aspects, so they become difficult to distinguish from each other — especially because the same actress (Radha Mitchell) plays both Melindas, and their characters aren't very different. Another problem is that Woody writes and directs but doesn't star. Will Ferrell struggles unsuccessfully to fill a role that Woody obviously would play if he were younger. The result is a potentially interesting film that falls flat.

Memento (2001) is daring, disturbing, original. A blow to the head leaves a man unable to store new memories after an intruder rapes and murders his wife. Bent on revenge, but weirdly handicapped by a short-term memory only 10 minutes long, he resorts to numerous tactics to keep his train of thought on track: important facts tattooed on his body, handwritten notes everywhere, and a pocketful of Polaroid photos so he'll remember the new people he meets, the motel where he's staying, and even his car. To give the audience a sense of what it's like to experience life with no memory of what happened before, the whole story unwinds backward, starting with the conclusion as the opening scene. You won't forget Memento.

The Menu (2022) wickedly skewers haute cuisine and the pretentious foodies who glorify it. Ralph Fiennes is pitch-perfect as a spookily passive-aggressive celebrity chef who bosses a cult-like staff on a secluded island. When he invites a small group of fans to pay $1,250 each to dine in his exclusive open-kitchen restaurant, you can be certain he has ulterior motives. This tense horror-comedy thriller mocks food critics, has-been movie stars, rich pretenders of gourmet tastes, ambitious sous-chefs, and arrogant businessmen. Lessons: be wary of crashing a private party, and sometimes nothing beats a lowly cheeseburger.

The Mephisto Waltz (1971) stars the beautiful and talented Jacqueline Bisset in a horror thriller inspired by the success of Rosemary's Baby (1968). Both films have secret covens of Satan worshipers who trade their souls for earthly gains. In this one, the impressionistic cinematography and unsettling music contribute great atmosphere to an occult story of carnal lust and soul transference. Bisset skillfully plays the loving wife of a classically schooled pianist who resorts to music journalism to earn a living. Alan Alda seems out of place in this dramatic role but is passable. Gurd Jürgens is better as an aging concert pianist with a disturbing daughter (Barbara Parkins). Whereas Rosemary's Baby conjured drama from the societal ideal of maternal love, this one pits the ideal of marital fidelity against the forces of jealous greed, frustrated ambition, and sexual temptation. Don't expect the moral of the story to be moral.

Mermaids (1990) succeeds on lively performances by Cher, Wynona Ryder, Bob Hoskins, and a very young Christina Ricci (her debut). In this comedy-drama placed in 1963 middle-class America, Cher is Mrs. Flax, the flamboyant single mother of two daughters. One is a teenager (Ryder) who struggles to reconcile religious passion with sexual passion. The other is a cute tyke (Ricci) who yearns to be an Olympic swimmer. Mrs. Flax is barely mature herself, so the family dynamics can be volatile. Into this mix comes a nondescript shoe-store owner (Hoskins) to whom the sexy Mrs. Flax is oddly attracted. Hoskins overacts at times but doesn't sour the female formula that sweetens this story.

Messiah of Evil (1973) brings nightmarish atmosphere to a routine ghoul story. Co-writers/directors Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz ditch the desultory dialogue that haunts most low-budget horror flicks. Instead, they keep us and the characters off-balance with unsettling situations, surreal sets, and dreamy cinematography. Highlights include a scary albino man at a lonely gas station, his reappearance with a hitchhiker, a frisky young gal who attracts a creepy crowd at a theater, and a weird banquet at a supermarket. The most famous actor is horror-film stalwart Elisha Cook Jr., who makes a brief but bizarre cameo. Inexplicably, this movie hasn't won the cult status it deserves.

Metropolis (1927), Fritz Lang's silent masterpiece, was re-released in 2002 with digitally restored film, a freshly recorded version of the original score, newly translated title cards, and the addition of long-lost footage. The results are startling. The black-and-white images and orchestration are lush; the new title cards bring more coherence to the story; and the restored footage resurrects whole scenes that disappeared after the 12-reel film was slashed to only 7 reels shortly after its premiere. About one-quarter of the film is still missing, probably forever, but this is certainly the most definitive version seen since 1927. Metropolis is the seminal ancestor of all science-fiction movies. Its themes of out-of-control technology, oppressed working people, oblivious wealth, religious prophecy, and good vs. evil remain as relevant as ever.

Michael Clayton (2007) is an above-average potboiler starring George Clooney in the title role. Clayton is a "fixer" for a big-city law firm — a street-wise attorney who will do almost anything to fix problems. He's also a indebted gambler and wheeler-dealer nearing the end of his rope. His latest assignment is to salvage a large corporate client unnerved when one of the law firm's attorneys flips out and disrobes during a deposition. The mess spawns dark plots, with Clayton caught in the middle. This movie vibrates with Hitchcockian suspense, but it's confusing, and the main character is not a wholly sympathetic figure. The primary attractions are good performances by Clooney, Tom Wilkinson (as the unbalanced attorney), and Tilda Swinton (as the corporate counsel).

Midnight Cowboy (1969) remains the only X-rated movie to win the Academy Award for Best Picture. But it's not porn, so don't expect any explicit sex scenes. It's about a country hick (Jon Voight) who moves to New York City hoping to become a male prostitute to wealthy women. He seriously miscalculates his sexual attraction and the market for male consorts. Reduced to slum living, he meets another decrepit character (Dustin Hoffman) who becomes his only friend and soon a dependent. As the rebellious 1960s reached their violent climax, this offbeat film won acclaim for breaking societal norms and the Hollywood censorship that had stifled filmmaking since the mid-1930s. It also features great performances. Voight and Hoffman both garnered Academy Award nominations for Best Actor, which split the votes so that neither won. Sylvia Miles, nominated for Best Supporting Actress, also lost. But in addition to Best Picture, it won Best Director for Jon Schlesinger and Best Adapted Screenplay for Waldo Salt, adding up to a triple crown. It's an appropriately sleazy film about sleazy characters that deserves its classic status.

Midnight in Paris (2011) is an interesting and entertaining romance written and directed by Woody Allen but starring Owen Wilson in the comic Woodylike role. Wilson plays a Hollywood screenwriter vacationing in Paris with his chilly fiancée (Rachel McAdams). One night, wandering alone, he finds himself mysteriously transported to the Paris of the 1920s, hobnobbing with the likes of Ernest Hemmingway, Gertrude Stein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Salvador Dali, and other period luminaries. This clever film explores the attraction of nostalgia and is best appreciated by the nostalgic and those well versed in the art and literature of the Roaring Twenties.

Midway (1976) dramatizes the 1942 naval battle of Midway between the U.S. and Japan that marked the turning point in the Pacific theater of World War II. It's more accurate than most war movies. The only whole-cloth fiction is an unnecessary subplot about a strained father/son relationship and the son's engagement to a Japanese-American woman. Stock footage often depicts the wrong ships and planes, but that's a budget limitation; most people won't notice. One glaring omission: the rah-rah climax ignores the sinking of the USS Yorktown. The star-studded cast includes Charlton Heston, Henry Fonda, Glenn Ford, Hal Holbrook, Robert Mitchum, Cliff Robertson, and others.

Mighty Uke: The Amazing Comeback of a Musical Underdog (2010) documents the recent revival of the ukulele as an instrument for serious musicians as well as a fun pastime for beginners. It features interviews with ukulele players of all stripes, including some Hawaiian masters. Among the highlights are stunning performances of classical pieces that would seem unsuited to a small four-string instrument. This 76-minute documentary is a must-see for ukulele enthusiasts.

A Mighty Wind (2003) is a mockumentary that riffs on 1960s-style folk music in the same way that This is Spinal Tap mocked heavy metal in 1984. It features many of the players from director Christopher Guest's previous comedies, Best in Show (2000) and Waiting for Guffman (1996). Although not quite as hilarious as those films, A Mighty Wind is still a first-rate laugher for anyone who enjoys satire. In documentary style, it tells the story of three 1960s folk groups reuniting for a present-day memorial concert. The mock 1960s album covers are particularly clever, and the specially written folk songs are right on target.

Mildred Pierce (1945) is a durable classic that won Joan Crawford an Academy Award for Best Actress. In arguably her best performance, she plays the title character, a mother of two daughters who must struggle to survive after her husband departs. But wait, that's a flashback. The movie literally opens with a bang — a dramatic murder — and spends the next two hours unwinding the mystery. It deftly weaves film noir with a mother-daughter conflict, boorish suitors, family tragedy, occasional chuckles, and a single mom's desperate quest for financial security. A lesser film would fail to integrate these diverse storylines, but this one gets it right.

Milk (2008) is a top-notch biopic starring Sean Penn as Harvey Milk, the first openly gay person elected to major public office in the U.S. This film starts as he turns 40, moves to San Francisco, opens a camera shop on Castro Street, and becomes a neighborhood activist. In 1977, Milk was elected a city supervisor in San Francisco. Penn is outstanding — Milk's friends say Penn's portrayal is uncanny. Josh Brolin delivers another good performance as Dan White, the conservative city supervisor who assassinated Milk and Mayor George Moscone in 1978. Milk pays close attention to historical details and owes much to a documentary, The Times of Harvey Milk (1984), which was based on a book, The Mayor of Castro Street (1982). The documentary won an Academy Award, and Milk won Oscars for Penn (Best Actor) and Dustin Lance Black (Original Screenplay).

Million Dollar Baby (2004) is two good movies spliced together, but the sum is less than the whole of the parts. Clint Eastwood directed and stars as a boxing trainer and manager, with Hilary Swank co-starring as a poor waitress who craves to be a champion fighter. Morgan Freeman plays Eastwood's sidekick, a former boxer who's down to one eye and janitorial work. The first half of the film is witty and exuberant. The second half abruptly turns somber and depressing. By the end, the characters have learned the extremes to which misfortune can drive the human soul. Although the movie is skillfully wrought, its two parts don't seem to belong together on the same reel. Nevertheless, it won the Academy Award for Best Picture of 2004, with Clint Eastwood winning Best Director, Swank winning Best Actress, and Freeman winning Best Supporting Actor.

The Milpitas Monster (1976) sprouted from a high-school amateur filmmaking project and gradually became a four-year production involving the whole community of Milpitas, California, a town near San Jose. It's crude in many respects: amateur acting, lame humor, grainy film, a badly dubbed soundtrack, and an obvious man-in-suit monster. But this thriller about a garbage-eating creature has charm and community spirit. Somehow the filmmakers won cooperation from the town's council, police, firefighters, garbage collectors, merchants, and high school. Model props of buildings, gadgets, and a TV tower are good, too. It's all in fun.

Minamata (2020) features one of Johnny Depp's best performances but fell victim to the Covid-19 pandemic. The general release was postponed until 2021, then was cut short by empty theaters. Finally in 2022 it landed on a free Internet-streaming service (Kanopy). Too bad, because it tells a dramatic story based on real events, and Depp virtually vanishes into his lead character. He plays the famous photojournalist W. Eugene Smith, a master of photo essays during the peak popularity of weekly picture magazines such as Life and Look. Depp is a dead ringer for Smith in the photographer's later years as an uncompromising man suffering from health problems, chronic pain, and alcoholism. Reluctant at first, he's recruited in 1971 by desperate Japanese villagers poisoned by mercury pollution from a chemical plant. Smith convinces Life to assign him the story, which is emotionally draining and physically dangerous. His pictures still stand as monumental photojournalism. This excellent drama shows how he made them, and Depp's largely unseen performance was Oscar-worthy.

Minari (2020) is the second South Korean film to score a hit in the USA — an impressive achievement during a pandemic year that closed theaters. (The first Korean hit was Parasite, which won Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best International Film in 2019.) Minari is a fictional drama based on the childhood memories of its director, Lee Isaac Chung. Frustrated by his dead-end job in California, a Korean immigrant buys 50 acres in Arkansas and moves there with his wife, daughter, and son. He wants to grow Korean vegetables to serve fellow immigrants in the region, but his family is skeptical and abhors their remote mobile home. This excellent film shows the challenges of first-generation immigration, cultural assimilation, family farming, and the heavy responsibility of a husband and father to become a good provider. All the performances are superb. It has been nominated for six Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, Actor (Steven Yeun), Actress (Yuh-Jung Youn), Original Screenplay (Chung), and Original Score (Emile Mosseri). (Mostly Korean with English subtitles.)

Ministry of Fear (1944) loosely adapts a 1943 Graham Greene novel about Nazi spies in England during World War II. German director Fritz Lang later apologized to Greene for radically changing the story — the producers reportedly decreed it. The result is more like wartime propaganda than the novel's morality tale of euthanasia and suspected treason. Judged strictly as a film, not an adaptation, it's a mediocre drama that stars Ray Milland as a former mental patient who stumbles into a Nazi spy ring. The plot twists aren't very twisty, and the performances are routine. It's definitely not one of Lang's best. But as a German ex-pat, he probably felt compelled to contribute an anti-Nazi picture to the war effort.

Minority Report (2002) is an edgy science-fiction flick in the vein of the classic Blade Runner (1982). Both are based on stories by Philip K. Dick. Although Steven Spielberg directed Minority Report, it's not a kid's movie and he keeps his schmaltz at bay. Tom Cruise stars as a cop in 2054 who arrests people before they commit a crime, thanks to the visions of three genetic-freak psychics. This raises all sorts of ethical dilemmas, especially when Cruise's character finds himself caught in a web of intrigue and the psychics turn out to be fallible. Max von Sydow (The Exorcist) and Jessica Capshaw excel in supporting roles.

Misery (1990) ranks with The Shining (1980) as the best adaptations of a Stephen King horror novel. (King prefers Misery.) Kathy Bates won a well-deserved Academy Award and became the first Best Actress in a thriller. She plays a psychotic nurse who rescues a popular novelist from his car wreck and attends to his incapacitating injuries in her snowbound home. When she discovers that his newly finished manuscript kills her favorite character, she turns hostile and keeps him prisoner. James Caan competently plays the bedridden writer in a sympathetic but subservient role that nearly every other Hollywood star turned down. Although this picture lacks the arty style and creepy insanity of The Shining, it's a suspenseful drama that mixes horror with humor.

The Misfits (1961) stars Clark Gable and Marilyn Monroe in their last picture, and it's a masterpiece. The talented cast adds Montgomery Clift, Eli Wallach, and Thelma Ritter in a drama scripted by playwright Arthur Miller (Death of a Salesman) and directed by the great John Huston. Monroe plays a naïve divorcée uncertain of her future, befriended by Ritter's maternal character. They link up with an aging cowboy (Gable), his lustful pilot buddy (Wallach), and a young rodeo knockabout (Clift). The men are smitten by Monroe's blonde sex appeal and compete for her charms. But she's an emotional puzzle, veering from childlike innocence to Zen-like perception. A roundup of wild horses brings these conflicting forces to a boil. Although Monroe overdoes her breathless delivery, her performance is among her best. The others are superb — Gable ranked his performance alongside his Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind (1939). Sadly, misfortune stalked this production. Gable died at age 59 only 12 days after filming wrapped; Monroe divorced Miller before the premiere and died of a drug overdose at age 36 the next year; Clift died at age 45 in 1966 shortly after refusing to watch a coincidental broadcast of The Misfits on TV.

Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day (2008) is a wonderful romantic comedy that seems like a picture made in the 1940s — and not just because it's placed in 1939. It's a spiritual link to the light comedies of Frank Capra and George Cukor. Frances McDormand stars as Miss Pettigrew, an unsuccessful English governess who desperately needs a job. She stumbles into a position with an American party girl (played very brightly by Amy Adams) who's posing as a blue blood in high-hat London society. Soon the formerly prim governess is caught in a social whirl of romance and intrigue. To say more would spoil the fun of this short and sweet film.

Mission to Mars (2000) is a ponderous sci-fi disaster, and an unbelievably bad soundtrack is only one of its flaws. Too bad, because it wastes some great actors.

Mister 880 (1950) lightens what could have been a routine drama of Secret Service agents pursuing counterfeiters by adding dashes of romance and comedy. The result is a pleasant picture that somehow became obscure. Burt Lancaster stars as the diligent agent who first suspects a United Nations interpreter (Dorothy McGuire). The actual counterfeiter is a poor elderly junk merchant who prints ridiculously crude $1 bills only when he's desperate. His improbable crime spree fools the G-men for ten years, yet this story is true. Edmund Gwenn, who won an Academy Award for playing Santa Claus in Miracle on 34th Street (1947), was nominated again for Best Supporting Actor as the counterfeiter, and he steals this show, too.

Modern Times (1936) dropped the curtain on the silent-film era in a decade when talkies had already dominated cinema for years. Nevertheless, this mostly silent picture won rave reviews and remains an all-time classic. The great Charlie Chaplin wrote, scored, produced, directed, and starred in this social-commentary comedy, which marked the last appearance of his Little Tramp character — and the first time his voice was heard. That debut comes near the climax, when the Tramp sings in foreign-sounding gibberish. Although a few other scenes have occasional voices, brilliant sight gags and Chaplin's original music enliven the rest. Made during the Great Depression, this film shows the Little Tramp trying to cope with industrial automation, chronic unemployment, violent labor unrest, rampant poverty, and other ills of the times. Chaplin's secret lover (and later wife) Paulette Goddard co-stars as an impoverished teenager struggling to survive on the streets. Despite her secondary role, she brightens all her scenes and complements Chaplin's antics. This hybrid silent/talkie is still one of the best comedies ever made.

Mogambo (1953) stars Clark Gable as a Great White Hunter trapping wild animals in Africa. Two prettier prey divert his attention: Ava Gardner as a brash New Yorker hoping to rendezvous with an Indian maharajah, and Grace Kelly as the very proper wife of a British anthropologist. Gable's alpha-male character entraps them both. Veering from his usual Westerns, director John Ford filmed mostly on location. African stereotypes are routine. Particularly cringeworthy are scenes in which the anthropologist tries to photograph and tape-record mountain gorillas, but they are substitutes for the amorous action nixed by censors. Oscar nominations went to Gardner for Best Actress and Kelly for Supporting Actress. More screen time for them might have improved this middling drama.

Mongol (2007) is a stunning Mongolian film about the rise of the greatest Mongolian in history, Genghis Khan. Starting with his boyhood, the film traces the hardships that molded Temudjin (his real name) into a leader who united the Mongols and conquered much of Asia. Filmed on location, Mongol effectively portrays life on the Mongolian steppes of 800 years ago. Supposedly it's based on Mongolian records written shortly after his death, but no one is certain about his background in this detail. Nevertheless, Mongol is an impressive work intended to be the first installment in a trilogy. I won't miss the next two. (Mongolian with English subtitles.)

Monkey Business (1952) exemplifies the "screwball comedy" genre popular in the 1940s and '50s. Cary Grant plays a nerdy middle-aged chemist trying to create a formula that restores youthful vigor. Ginger Rogers plays his doting wife, and Marilyn Monroe is the sexy dumb-blonde secretary. When a laboratory chimpanzee accidentally combines the right chemicals and spikes the water cooler, chaos erupts. This style of humor depends on your taste for rampant silliness. All the performances are on par, but the female chimp should have won the Best Supporting Actress award for a truly impressive scene in which she imitates a human chemist.

The Monolith Monsters (1957) departs from other creature features by starring "monsters" that are mindless meteorites. Although these shiny black crystals lack intent, they grow enormously under certain conditions, and living organisms may die on contact. If the science seems dubious, recall that a runaway natural process can indeed transform a planet at the expense of organic life — during Earth's periodic ice ages, crystalline water was the culprit. This flick is an average 1950s thriller with surprisingly good special effects. However, astute viewers will notice that the climax ignores some loose ends.

Monster (2003) is based on a true story about a Florida prostitute who became a serial killer. This is no Hollywood Pretty Woman fantasy about high-class call girls and their handsome billionaire customers. Charlize Theron plays a lowlife highway whore who releases years of pent-up rage by murdering her redneck johns for wallet cash. At the same time, she falls in love with a naïve young woman played by the always-fascinating Christina Ricci. But the real stars of this shoestring production are Theron, who uncannily nails the mannerisms of a white-trash hooker, and Patty Jenkins, who wrote and directed the film. Their work is raw, realistic, and brilliant.

The Monster Maker (1944) isn't bad for a low-budget thriller. Versatile character actor J. Carrol Naish brings class to his starring role as a mad scientist trying to cure a rare disease using unethical techniques. Wanda McKay co-stars as a beautiful woman for whom he develops an obsession. The combination of unwelcome advances and weird science has monstrous consequences.

The Monster of Piedras Blancas (1959) is a low-budget horror film notable for its awful man-in-rubber-suit creature and two scenes showing a decapitated head, which was rather graphic for its time. The actors are adequate, with Don Sullivan leading in a teen heart-throb role. Thankfully, he doesn't sing this time, as he did in The Giant Gila Monster, his other 1959 horror picture. Piedras Blancas is an average example of the 1950s monster movies pitched mainly to teenagers.

The Monster That Challenged the World (1957) exploits 1950s radiation mania to spawn hungry underwater creatures that can also attack prey on land. The special effects are period average and don't skimp on views of the monsters. Conveniently, the giant mollusks emerge from the Salton Sea in Southern California near a U.S. Navy base, so the military springs into action at once. This creature feature untypically makes light fun of itself by including a few offbeat characters, such as a spooky museum curator and a gossipy switchboard operator. A teenage girl who defies her mother is duly punished, adding a moral lesson for the teens who usually flocked to these flicks.

Monster Zero (1970): see Invasion of the Astro-Monster (1965).

Monster's Ball (2002) has a superb performance by Halle Berry, who deserves her Best Actress nomination. She dominates the film, even with the excellent work by co-stars Billy Bob Thornton, Peter Boyle, and Puffy Combs. Berry plays the impoverished wife of a convicted killer (Combs) who struggles to rebuild her shattered life. She's on a collision course with Thornton's character, a Georgia state corrections officer whose own life is transformed by equally tumultuous events. Although the second half of the movie isn't very believable — could a middle-aged man change so dramatically overnight? — it's still worth seeing.

Monsters Inc. (2001) doesn't quite measure up to Pixar's first two hits — Toy Story and Toy Story 2, which are tough acts to follow. Not that there's anything wrong with the computer animation, although the rapid-fire editing rarely lets us admire the gorgeous artwork. Not that there's anything wrong with the script, although the rapid-fire delivery rarely lets us admire the clever wordplay. And not that there's anything wrong with the characters, although the rapid-fire pacing rarely lets us get to know them. The whole thing just moves too fast — for adults as well as for kids. Play the DVD or stream it while keeping your finger on the pause button.

Monstrosity (1963). See The Atomic Brain.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) ranks as one of the funniest comedies of all time. It's British absurdist humor, though, not everyone's cup of tea. This madcap satire of King Arthur, Camelot, and the Knights of the Round Table features the comedy troupe behind the BBC TV series Monty Python's Flying Circus (1969–1974). Members include Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin, often in multiple roles. Gilliam and Jones directed this low-budget film, which has inspired many jokes and memes. Sometimes the comedy is pure farce, such as Sir Galahad the Chaste's discovery of a castle populated entirely with beautiful young women hungry for male company. And sometimes it's wicked, such as a hilarious witch-hunt scene that mocks the illogic of medieval persecutions. The movie unfolds in brief sketch-like episodes, so if one scene doesn't make you laugh, you needn't wait long for the next one.

The Monuments Men (2014) is a worthy World War II drama about a U.S. Army unit recruited to save art, cultural artifacts, and important buildings from destruction or theft. Based on a true story, it stars George Clooney as the unit's inspirational leader. The skilled cast includes Bob Balaban, Cate Blanchett, Hugh Bonneville, Matt Damon, Jean Dujardin, John Goodman, and Bill Murray. With that lineup, only clumsy writing or direction could bomb this picture. But Clooney was the co-writer and director, and he tells the story well. Although cramming a year's worth of action into two hours of screen time is a challenge, the real people who tackled this mission were hurried, too, as they scrambled to rescue artifacts from the desperate Germans and reparations-minded Russians. Clooney persuasively argues that preserving art and culture is a vital wartime goal — one that the U.S. Army forgot 58 years later when entering Baghdad.

Moonage Daydream (2022) breaks the conventional mold of biographical documentaries to recount the unconventional life of androgynous rock star David Bowie (1947–2016). Writer/director Brett Morgen discards the usual dry summary of the subject's personal life to focus instead on Bowie's multiple stage personalities and multifaceted art. Even Bowie fans may be surprised by the sheer number of gender-bender personas that Bowie wore during a unique career that spanned rock music, Broadway plays, film roles, writing, experimental video, and impressionist painting. It's refreshing to see a documentary of an artist emphasize the art over private affairs. (It ignores his son and barely mentions his relationships.) This film is dazzling, eclectic, and brilliantly appropriate.

Moonlight was the surprise Best Picture winner for 2016, upsetting the heavily favored La La Land after an embarrassing snafu on the live Academy Awards broadcast. Whereas big-budget La La Land dazzles audiences with dance and music, low-budget Moonlight is a much quieter, darker film with an all-black cast and a gay theme. Detractors say its victory was merely Hollywood's reparation for overlooking African-American films and performances the previous year. But the acting in Moonlight is undeniably first-class, and Mahershala Ali won Best Supporting Actor despite his relatively short screen time. Writer/director Barry Jenkins skillfully tells the story of an inner-city boy's rough road to manhood in three parts spanning about 20 years. The casting is impeccable, as three different actors play the same central characters at different ages. Although Moonlight didn't do big box office, it's more proof that some of today's best filmmaking comes from unlikely sources.

Moonrise Kingdom (2012) is a wonderfully quirky comedy about a pair of preteen runaways and the frantic people who try to find them. The story takes place on a fictional New England island in 1965 and is highly stylized — the fashions and props bring the period to life with a meticulously art-directed flair. The star-studded cast includes Harvey Keitel, Frances McDormand, Bill Murray, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, and Bruce Willis, but the real stars are newcomers Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward as the runaway misfits. Snappy dialogue and eccentric characters keep things lively. At its heart, this film is a romance, and it skillfully plays the unlikely relationship for laughs without mocking the genuine love that develops.

Moonstruck (1987) endures as one of the best romantic comedies, thanks to an unconventional story and heartfelt performances, especially from the women. Cher won the Academy Award for Best Actress, and Olympia Dukakis won Best Supporting Actress. John Patrick Shanley's original screenplay also won an Oscar. Additional nominations were Best Picture, Director (Norman Jewison), and Supporting Actor (Vincent Gardenia). Cher plays an attractive widow who agrees to marry a fellow she likes but doesn't love. When he asks her to invite his estranged brother to the wedding, things get complicated. Dukakis, as her mother, is cynically wise. Gardenia, as her father, is cynically foolish. Even the smaller roles are memorable in this film that questions the fantasy of romantic love while spinning a new love story of its own.

The Mosquito Coast (1986) reduces the conundrum of civilization to family size, asserting that utopia is elusive at any scale. Harrison Ford delivers a manic performance as a rogue inventor and survivalist who's fed up with U.S. economics, politics, and immigration. On a whim, he moves his wife and four kids to a Central American jungle, where he tries to build a utopian community among a few natives. Soon he discovers that introducing civilization to a wilderness also imports the problems of civilization. Helen Mirren ably plays his indulgent wife, and River Phoenix shines as his skeptical son. Peter Weir directed this Paul Schrader screenplay adapted from Paul Theroux's 1986 novel. It's an engrossing story that celebrates Yankee ingenuity while mocking Yankee arrogance.

The Most Dangerous Game (1932) takes too long to reach its vigorous last act, but it's short enough (62 minutes) to make the wait worthwhile. When a shipwreck strands a big-game hunter on a remote island, he discovers the castle-like abode of an eccentric Russian count and his mute Cossack servants. Previous shipwreck survivors are there, too, which seems suspicious. After much talking, it becomes apparent that the count likes to hunt the most dangerous big game of all: people. Leslie Banks is perfect as the evil count. Joel McCrae is adequate as the shipwrecked hunter who becomes the hunted, and Fay Wray tags along in a flimsy nightgown for sex appeal. The thrilling chase was filmed on the same sets as King Kong (1933), which also featured Fay Wray.

The Most Dangerous Man in America: Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers (2009) is an Oscar-nominated documentary about one of the biggest scandals of the Vietnam War. In 1969, a top-secret history of U.S. involvement in Vietnam was leaked to newspapers by Daniel Ellsberg — a former U.S. Marine officer, Rand Corporation analyst, and Pentagon war planner. A more unlikely antiwar crusader could hardly be imagined. Ellsberg was turned by the futility of the war, civilian casualties of U.S. bombing, and the lies of five U.S. administrations. This documentary is a bit confusing as it jumps around in time, but it captures the turmoil of Ellsberg's conscience and the drama of his unprecedented action. The wonder is that Ellsberg would be so condemned for leaking an official history of a foreign-policy catastrophe that killed more than 58,000 Americans and two million Vietnamese.

A Most Violent Year (2014) isn't as violent as the title implies, even though the backdrop is New York City in 1981, when a local heating-oil business is under attack by mysterious criminals. This film is a work of art in every way, right down to the muted colors that mimic a faded color photograph from that era. Writer/director J.C. Chandor (All Is Lost, 2013) gets skillful performances from Oscar Isaac as the harassed business owner and Jessica Chastain as his mobster-daughter wife. Halfway through, I thought I had this crime story figured out, but I was surprised by the climax — and by Isaac's character, which turns a 360-degree twist. (I dare not say more.) The biggest crime is that this film garnered no Academy Award nominations. It ranks among the best efforts of 2014.

Mother and Child (2010) is easily dissed as a weepy chick flick, but it's more like a relationship-rich foreign film. Writer/director Rodrigo Garcia pursues multiple storylines about relationships between mothers and daughters, then weaves the threads together. Annette Bening and Naomi Watts are excellent as one long-separated mother-daughter pair. Kerry Washington brims with emotion as a hopeful adoptive mother. The well-rounded cast also includes Samuel L. Jackson, Jimmy Smits, and an impressive Shareeka Epps. Plot-hole spotters will object to an improbable adoption scenario, but this film's strengths outweigh its weaknesses.

The Movement and the 'Madman' (2023) documents a startling behind-the-scenes drama during the Vietnam War. Declassified plans from 1969 show that President Nixon intended to drastically escalate the conflict — possibly by using tactical nuclear weapons. His plans were unknowingly disrupted by two massive antiwar protests: the nationwide "moratoriums" in October and November of that year. Although Nixon had asserted that protests wouldn't influence his war strategy, he canceled the escalation after viewing the size and breadth of the peaceful demonstrations. But their timing was accidental. Not until decades later did the declassified plans reveal that the protests had derailed Nixon's scheme. This documentary recounts the antiwar movement's genesis and Nixon's ruse of posing as a "madman" to secretly threaten North Vietnam with destruction. Whether he actually would have used nukes is uncertain, but the option was definitely on the table.

Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948) should be a prerequisite for anyone contemplating the construction of a new house or major renovation. Cary Grant stars with Myrna Loy as the heads of an upper-middle-class family in a cramped high-rise Manhattan apartment. Lured into buying a decrepit old farm in rural Connecticut, they're soon enmeshed in a web of mortgages, architects, contractors, well-diggers, and bills, bills, bills. Even as they trim their ambitions, the costs add up fast. (Multiply by 11 to adjust 1948 dollars to current dollars.) Grant plays his frequent character type (smart but amusingly baffled) while Loy plays the devoted-wife character she perfected in the long-running Thin Man series. This movie is still funny because it's still relevant.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) is a classic Frank Capra film: masterfully directed, dripping with down-home humor, upbeat during a downbeat era, and solidly patriotic while critiquing the debris of capitalism. Gary Cooper is perfectly cast as Longfellow Deeds, a small-town eccentric who unexpectedly inherits vast wealth during the Great Depression. Relocating to New York, he's stalked and mocked by crooked lawyers, greedy moochers, stuffy swells, and sensation-seeking reporters. One is a too-clever woman who feigns distress. Jean Arthur glows in this role, thanks to her empathetic acting and squeaky voice. When Mr. Deeds tries to donate his fortune to hungry farmers, the greedheads sue to declare him insane. Capra won the Academy Award for Best Director, and this feel-good film was also nominated for Best Picture, Actor (Cooper), Screenplay, and Sound. It set the stage for an even greater classic that's almost a sequel, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939). Mr. Deeds screenwriter Robert Riskin coined the word "doodling" for absent-minded drawing, and "pixelated" appears in a very different way than we use it today.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith (1941) was the great Alfred Hitchcock's only attempt to direct a screwball comedy like the many others of this period. It's not terrible, but he's definitely out of his lane. Robert Montgomery and Carole Lombard star as well-to-do New Yorkers who suddenly learn their four-year happy marriage is legally invalid. Should they make it legal? The story can't end too soon, of course, so they must fight it out. Lombard delivers the better performance despite a script that tries too hard to be silly. Montgomery isn't bad, but Cary Grant, James Stewart, or Clark Gable would have been a superior foil. Also, much of the humor hinges on an archaic 1941 morality — which was amplified by the strict censorship ruling Hollywood in those days. This movie hasn't aged as well as other screwball comedies.

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) ranks among the best American classic films. The great James Stewart is at his prewar peak as Jefferson Smith, a naïve political newcomer who replaces a deceased U.S. senator. This is Stewart before his grueling real-life experience as a World War II bomber pilot added a sobering dimension to his future acting. The character he plays in this comedy/drama is equally uninitiated to the dark side. The freshman senator soon is embroiled in political machinations and portrayed as a bumbling fool. When he clashes with his fellow home-state senator (Claude Rains), Smith delays a floor vote by invoking the filibuster rule: he speaks nonstop all day and all night until exhausted. (These dramatic scenes may puzzle modern viewers. Senate filibusters were rare until the 1990s, when Republicans began invoking them to block nearly every bill proposed when a Democrat is president. Also, today's "silent" filibusters don't require nonstop debate.) Jean Arthur ably costars as Smith's aide who helps him sponsor a bill that his enemies oppose. The great Frank Capra directed this fervently patriotic picture that was nevertheless controversial for showing the seamy side of national politics. It was nominated for an astonishing 11 Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director, Actor (Stewart), Supporting Actors (two, including Rains), and Screenplay. Unfortunately, it coincided with two other all-time classics — Gone With the Wind and The Wizard of Oz — so only Lewis R. Foster's original story won an Oscar. Still, this picture is a landmark that has inspired many imitations.

Mr. Soft Touch (1949) grafts a gangster-chase film noir onto a feel-good Christmas movie. The results, surprise, are mixed. Glenn Ford stars as the former owner of a San Francisco nightclub now run by hoods. When he robs the joint — reasoning it's really his money — the chase ensues. It's a conventional film noir until he finds refuge in a settlement house, which in the 1940s combined a homeless shelter, orphanage, adult-education school, and community center. Evelyn Keyes plays a lovely young social worker who becomes enmeshed in his dilemma. This dual-personality picture shifts moods from crime thriller to Christmas cheer. Possibly it was inspired by the duality of It's a Wonderful Life (1946), but it struggles to be average.

Mrs. Henderson Presents (2005) is loosely based on a true story about a London theater that staged daily song-and-dance shows with nude women during World War II. But the performances weren't crude burlesques or strip shows. British authorities permitted the theater to operate only if the nudes remained stationary while visible on stage. The theater's director, intensively portrayed by Bob Hoskins, worked around this seemingly impassable obstacle in amazingly creative ways. Judi Dench stars as theater owner Laura Henderson, easily earning her Oscar nomination for Best Actress. This strongly English-flavored film resurrects the 1940s so effectively that it feels like a motion picture made in that era.

Mrs. Miniver (1942) gathered an astonishing 12 Academy Award nominations and won six: Best Picture, Director (William Wyler), Adapted Screenplay, Actress (Greer Garson), Supporting Actress (Teresa Wright), and B&W Cinematography. This blockbuster struck a chord as the first great war movie of World War II. But unconventionally, it centers on the home front — particularly one British family for whom the conflict comes in unexpected ways. Released shortly after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany forced the U.S. into the war, this skillfully wrought film sounded an alarm for any Americans who still needed one. In total war, there's really no home front. Four years after Teresa Wright won her Oscar for this film, she delivered another memorable performance in the picture that best captures the postwar experience: The Best Years of Our Lives.

Much Ado About Nothing (2013) transports William Shakespeare's romantic comedy to the present day, complete with automobiles and smart phones. The intricate dialogue is authentic, however, and the cinematography is black-and-white. Director Joss Whedon, a veteran of TV as well as feature films (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, The Avengers) secretly recruited several actor friends for a quick shoot at his Santa Monica home. Although their acting is quite good, they spew their lines a little too quickly for viewers who haven't seen or read this play since high school. Nevertheless, the timeless story survives — family intrigue tries to derail one wedding while arranging another, fueled by romantic tension and wry humor. Mainly for Shakespeare fans and those who aspire to be.

The Mule (2018) may be Clint Eastwood's last film, and it's a good one. He plays a cranky old man who becomes a drug smuggler for a Mexican cartel after the bank forecloses on his home. What was supposed to be a one-time money-making drug run soon turns into an improbable career as the cartel's best "mule." He's so incongruous that no one suspects him. To assuage his guilt, he spends some of his ill-gotten gains on worthy causes, but pretty soon reality (and the feds) start catching up. It's part drama, part comedy, and it's a perfect conclusion for Eastwood, who also directed. The screenplay was inspired by the true story of a 90-year-old drug smuggler.

Mulholland Drive (2001) reinforces writer/director David Lynch's reputation as a brilliantly bizarre filmmaker. It's another installment in his series of dreamlike character dramas (Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Lost Highway). This time, Lynch focuses on the impromptu relationship between two Hollywood starlets whose lives become intertwined in increasingly mysterious ways. One woman survives a murder attempt but loses her memory; the other becomes her friend, lover, and possible rival. By presenting the story out of sequence and even switching the roles of the characters, Lynch creates an almost incomprehensible plot that's nevertheless intriguing and open to multiple interpretations. Is the whole thing a dream? An illusion? Who cares, when it's this good.

The Mummy (1932) deserves its place in the pantheon of classic horror pictures. One year after his famous but heavily disguised role as the Monster in Frankenstein, Boris Karloff stars as Imhotep, a 3,700-year-old reanimated Egyptian mummy. Posing as an Egyptologist, he wants to resurrect the ancient princess he loved. Zita Johann co-stars as a modern woman who's unaware she is the princess reincarnated. Everyone else looks drab next to these two scene stealers. Don't expect flashy special effects or a stereotypical mummy stalker. This thriller succeeds with creepy closeups, creative sets, and marvelous mumbo-jumbo.

The Mummy (1999) loosely remakes the 1932 classic horror thriller that starred Boris Karloff and Zita Johann. Instead we get Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz, and an overcooked action movie. A stupid script sabotages the impressive special effects, and it's way too violent for young children. The conclusion is so condescending toward Egyptians that the writer and director deserve a mummy's curse. Watch the original 1932 version (or any of its Universal Pictures sequels) instead.

Munich (2005) is a gut-wrenching drama about the Palestinian murders of 11 Israeli athletes at the 1972 Summer Olympics in Munich, Germany. The murders are seen mostly in flashbacks, because the main story is about the Israeli response: a small team of undercover agents tries to hunt down and kill the Palestinians responsible for planning the terrorist attack. This movie is fairly long (164 minutes) and often difficult to watch, but for a purpose. Killing the targets is rarely easy and always dangerous. As the operation consumes a year and more, it begins to wear down the agents' physical and mental stamina. Some begin to doubt the rightness of their vengeance. Director Steven Spielberg and his screenwriters (Tony Kushner and Eric Roth) do a commendable job of balancing multiple points of view in this controversial conflict. Eric Bana (Hector in Troy, 2004) excels as the determined leader of the Israeli assassination team.

Murder By Contract (1958) showcases Vince Edwards, best known for starring in the 1960s TV series Ben Casey. It's a shame he didn't get more A-grade movie roles, because he's fantastic in this low-budget crime thriller. Edwards plays a stone-cold contract killer ultimately assigned to eliminate a prosecution witness. This quirky film develops slowly but suspensefully, devoting most screen time to wry interactions between the killer and two handlers. One memorable scene features a clueless call girl who provides a last-minute plot twist. The climax is odd but oddly appropriate, as is the noodling solo-guitar soundtrack. Only the flat cinematography prevents this movie from ranking as a classic film noir.

Murder Is My Beat (1955) is a crime drama that isn't bad — if you can believe that a crack homicide detective would go rogue and risk his career and pension on the slim chance that the convicted murderess he caught is innocent. Okay, maybe it's a little more believable if the convict is a shiny peroxide blonde who may or may not be a femme fatale. Although Paul Langton is no Humphrey Bogart, he makes his detective character seem marginally credible. Barbara Payton is equally adequate as the sexpot, appearing in her last role before her real life crashed and burned.

Murder, My Sweet (1944) is a classic film noir starring Dick Powell as private detective Philip Marlowe. Adapted from a Raymond Chandler novel, it has the requisite snappy dialogue, hard drinking, odd characters, femme fatale, dramatic cinematography, and convoluted plot. It's a prime example of this genre. Marlowe juggles deceitful clients and mysterious enemies when a jewelry theft soon turns into murder and mayhem. Mike Mazurki excels as a love-struck thug, and Claire Trevor inflames every scene as a leggy mantrap.

The Music Box (1932) won the first Academy Award for Best Live-Action Short Film. It's a 29-minute comedy starring the classic duo of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. They play delivery men hired to move a player piano into a house as a surprise birthday gift for the owner. The house sits above a long, steep outdoor stairway that looms like a mountain. Although this picture is a talkie, it relies heavily on the slapstick humor typical of silent shorts. Its theme of incompetent workmen was popular in this era; Laurel and Hardy ranked alongside Buster Keaton and the Three Stooges.

My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002) is enjoyable even if you aren't Greek. And if you are Greek, you'll enjoy it even more. This light comedy is about a 30-year-old Greek-American spinster (apparently, 30 is spinster territory for Greek women) who finds love with a dashing schoolteacher. Their romance isn't welcomed by the woman's thoroughly Greek father, who wants his daughter to marry "a nice Greek boy." Although there are few comedic surprises, the satire is so witty and fast-paced you won't care.

My Cousin Rachel (1952) thrives on brilliant performances by the great Richard Burton and Olivia de Havilland, and on a faithful adaptation of Daphne Du Maurier's mystery-romance novel. Burton plays Philip Ashley, an impetuous young man destined to inherit a wealthy estate from his older cousin in 19th-century England. De Havilland plays Rachel Ashley, his cousin's widow. Philip suspects Rachel murdered his beloved cousin and vows revenge. But he wavers upon discovering her unexpected youth, beauty, and sympathy. De Havilland skillfully plays Rachel with appropriate ambiguity. Is she genuinely kind, or cleverly conniving? This oscillating drama sustains the mystery and romance to the final scene.

My Favorite Wife (1940) fails to re-create the zest of a similar screwball comedy, The Awful Truth (1937). Both pictures star Cary Grant and Irene Dunne as bickering spouses, both were popular, and both reaped Oscar nominations. But today, this one mostly falls flat while struggling to find comedy in accidental bigamy. After Dunne's character is presumed lost at sea, Grant's character remarries. On his wedding day, however, the "lost" wife unexpectedly returns. Although his dilemma has obvious comedy potential, the script overdoes his hesitation to inform the new bride. That joke is almost the whole movie.

My Friend Dahmer (2017) dramatizes the true story of serial killer Jeff Dahmer, who dismembered and sometimes cannibalized his victims. It skillfully adapts a graphic novel created by one of his Ohio high-school friends, who uses the pseudonym Derf Backderf. But instead of dwelling on the murders, this film examines Dahmer's obsessions, home life, school pranks, and social awkwardness. Have you ever wondered why a killer's friends never seem to perceive the hidden evil? Odd behavior is typically excused in teenagers, even when alarms seem to blare. All the performances are excellent — especially Ross Lynch's spooky impersonation of the real Dahmer.

My Life to Live (1962): see Vivre Sa Vie.

My Octopus Teacher (2020) won the Oscar for Best Documentary despite sharply divided reviews. Some praise it as a marvel of nature photography and human-animal interaction. Others condemn the filmmaker for coldly watching the animal's death. The central figures are Craig Foster, a documentary filmmaker suffering a life crisis, and a female octopus in a South African bay. Each day for nearly a year, Foster snorkeled into her habitat and gradually forged a mutual friendship. Their bond is astonishing but unmistakable; the octopus is clearly an intelligent creature. An octopus's lifespan is brief, however. Her demise angers some viewers who think Foster's decision not to intervene in her death was hypocritical after intervening in her life. This unique film teaches us much about octopuses while inadvertently showing the ethical dilemma of interacting with wild animals.

My Week With Marilyn (2011) is based on the recollections of Colin Clark, a low-ranking director's assistant during the filming of The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), a British movie starring Marilyn Monroe and Laurence Olivier. Clark claims he developed a brief but close relationship with Monroe at a time when she yearned to become a serious actress. Michelle Williams gives a surprisingly plausible performance as Monroe, a challenging role. It helps that most scenes depict Monroe's offstage life, which few people saw and was never filmed, giving Williams a virtual blank slate. Kenneth Branagh is equally believable as Olivier, and Eddie Redmayne energetically plays the young Clark. But the true star is "Monroe" as she struggles with a stormy marriage, pills, self-doubt, parasitic servants, and the stern demands of Olivier, who also directed Monroe in the 1957 film. The whole drama would fall apart if we couldn't accept Williams as the quintessential Hollywood sex goddess, and Williams delivers.

My Wife's Relations (1922) is a 22-minute silent comedy starring the great Buster Keaton and his sidekick, Edward F. Cline. Keaton plays a meek man who accidentally marries into a family of large, boorish people. Much of the mirth derives from misunderstandings among recent immigrants who speak different languages. In addition to the usual slapstick, it features one dangerous stunt: Keaton descends from an upper-story window of a tall building by grabbing and tearing a series of cloth awnings on his way down to the street. Like many of his stunts, it's astonishing.

My World Dies Screaming (1958), later renamed Terror in the Haunted House, is a disappointment. It begins well, as a young newlywed (Cathy O'Donnell) suffers from recurring nightmares about a mysterious house and unknown danger in the attic. Then her husband (Gerald Mohr) rents an old house and behold, it's exactly like the one in her dreams. Has she been there before? Is the house haunted? Will she enter the attic to confront the mystery? Then the story derails. The truth is a letdown, the acting perfunctory, and the story so convoluted that the characters spend the last act explaining it to each other so the climax will make sense. Skip it.

Mysterious Island (1961) loosely adapts Jules Verne's 1875 novel about American Civil War POWs who escape in a hot-air balloon and crash on an unknown island teeming with giant creatures. The famous Ray Harryhausen created the special effects for this pre-CGI production. His signature stop-motion animation renders enormous crabs, birds, and bees that menace the astonished castaways. One scene in which the bees try to imprison a victim inside a huge honeycomb is particularly impressive. And the movie, like the book, intersects with characters from Verne's 1870 novel, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. This outstanding adventure thriller was an instant hit that's still a marvel, despite the advent of computerized SFX technology.

The Mystery of the Mary Celeste (1935): see Phantom Ship.

Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933) stands apart from other thrillers of the 1930s for employing an early Technicolor process and for deftly weaving snappy dialogue into the drama. It also inspired a remake, House of Wax (1953), which was filmed in 3-D and became a classic itself. The original picture is well worth watching. Lionel Atwill plays a wax sculptor whose museum burns down. Because his scorched hands are disabled, he finds other ways to re-create his lost figures. Fay Wray co-stars but plays a relatively minor part. The real star is Glenda Farrell as a wisecracking newspaper reporter who suspects something is wrong. She gets the best lines and drives the action. Once considered lost, this now-restored film was ahead of its time.

Mystic River (2003) fumbles powerful acting by Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, Marcia Gay Harden, and Laura Linney. Screenwriter Brian Helgeland (Blood Work, The Postman, L.A. Confidential) adapted this murder mystery from Dennis Lehane's novel, but something was lost in translation — mainly, coherence and continuity. The plot and dialogue are needlessly confusing. Director Clint Eastwood wastes time on convoluted scenes instead of devoting more attention to character development and motivation. Even so, Penn deserved his long-delayed Best Actor Academy Award, and Robbins won the Oscar for Supporting Actor.

The Naked Street (1955) never rises above film-noir average despite a strong cast: Anthony Quinn as a brutal racketeer, Anne Bancroft as his oblivious sister, Farley Granger as her misguided boyfriend, Peter Graves as a crusading newspaper reporter, and Lee van Cleef as a crooked jeweler (uncredited). Trouble starts when the sister gets pregnant out of wedlock (although censors nixxed the word "pregnant"). As usual, this movie portrays the reporter unrealistically — he never takes notes, he gets overly chummy with the racketeer, and he survives a severe beating with hardly a scratch. A few loaded throwaway lines at the midway point foretell the inevitable climax.

The Namesake (2006) is a wonderful Indian film that spans two generations of Bengalis living in America. It begins in the 1970s, when a young engineer emigrates to New York, accompanied by his bride after an arranged marriage. For reasons that become important later, they name their first-born son after the Russian novelist Nikolai Gogol. As their son grows into adulthood, he struggles with his Indian heritage and odd name, setting the stage for an emotional family drama. The acting is superb, with exceptional performances by Irfan Khan as the father, the beautiful Tabu as his wife, and Kal Penn as Gogol. Hollywood filmmakers could learn a lot from the straightforward storytelling and subtle characterizations in this picture.

Nanook of the North (1922) deserves credit as the first modern documentary, despite staging some scenes and fudging some facts. In the 1920s, no ethical standards governed documentary filmmakers. On the whole, this silent film accurately depicts Eskimo (Inuit) life before the influence of Western civilization. Arctic explorer Robert J. Flaherty spent years filming native people in the harsh environment of northern Canada. When a fire destroyed his footage, he returned in 1920 to film more — this time focusing on one hunter ("Nanook") and his family. By then, most natives hunted with rifles, but Flaherty shows Nanook using traditional traps and harpoons. In another scene, Nanook builds a traditional igloo. Although Flaherty staged these anachronisms, they are authentic re-enactments of native culture. Other setups worked around the technical limitations of 1920s motion-picture cameras. Overall, these compromises don't detract from the marvel of native ingenuity in the world's worst climate. This historic film remains fascinating today.

Napoleon (2023) should be titled Napolean and Joséphine, because it dwells on Napoleon Bonaparte's troubled marriage while skimming over his historic conquests and reforms in early 19th-century Europe. The token battle scenes are undermined by the usual Hollywood inaccuracies, such as a frozen lake enabling the French victory at Austerlitz and Napoleon leading a cavalry charge at Waterloo. These distortions of well-documented events cast even more doubt on scenes between Napoleon and Joséphine that no one witnessed. Joaquin Phoenix portrays Napoleon as a glum, boorish man who makes love like a jackrabbit. Vanessa Kirby is much too young for her wifely role. Whereas Joséphine was 6 years older than Napoleon, Phoenix is 14 years older than Kirby. Director Ridley Scott and writer David Scarpa took the tired route of needlessly embellishing an already dramatic story.

Napoleon Dynamite (2004) is a quirky movie about high school nerds. Not computer nerds — just nerds. Athletically impoverished, socially crippled, they struggle daily against the mighty forces of bullies and the beautiful. But a few odd twists set this indie film apart from numerous other examples of the genre. Two of the nerds have an older uncle who's a high-school has-been quarterback, and his attempts to reverse the misfortunes of his life are simply unbelievable. Even more unrealistic are the pretty girls and women attracted to the hapless characters, in defiance of all logic. By the end — and you must keep watching after all the credits have rolled to see the ending — the story degenerates into a nerd's fantasy. This is a movie with many funny scenes that doesn't add up to the sum of its parts.

The Narrow Margin (1952) is a fast-moving film noir placed almost entirely on a passenger train. Charles McGraw stars as a hard-nosed police detective assigned to guard a mobster's widow on her cross-country journey to testify before a grand jury. Bad guys are hunting her down, and the trip gets off to a bad start — then gets worse. The suspense never lets up, and the claustrophobic sets add more tension. Marie Windsor's portrayal of a trash-mouth mobster moll is particularly good. Another highlight is a brutal brawl in a train bathroom. A last-act twist wraps up a nice package. RKO Pictures owner Howard Hughes wanted to replace McGraw with Robert Mitchum and Windsor with Jane Russell, but the original stars are hard to beat.

National Treasure (2004) is good fun, if you aren't too annoyed by the usual absurdities in such an elaborate conspiracy theory. Nicolas Cage stars as a sixth-generation treasure hunter searching for a fabulous cache of ancient gold and artifacts supposedly hidden in the U.S. by Freemasons during the American Revolution. To find the treasure, he must steal the original copy of the Declaration of Independence and decode a map written in invisible ink on the back. The tale gets more and more far-fetched as it progresses, but if you bring a strong suspension of disbelief, you'll enjoy the ride.

National Treasure: Book of Secrets (2007) is the sequel to National Treasure (2004). Both are entertaining adventure films that channel Indiana Jones. Once again, Nicolas Cage plays Ben Gates, a maverick historian on a treasure hunt. This time, he's also trying to clear his family name, after a rival offers evidence that one of Gates' ancestors plotted to assassinate Abraham Lincoln. The lost treasure in this adventure is a fabled Native American city of gold. The shaky historical premise is that the city's discovery by the Confederacy would have won the Civil War for the South. This isn't the only historical nonsense in the story, but this movie is supposed to be an amusement-park ride, not a documentary. On the other hand, only a little extra effort would have made it more educational for the millions of children who will see it.

Navalny (2022) deservedly won the Oscar for Documentary Feature and became even more relevant on February 16, 2024 when its subject, Russian dissident Alexei Navalny, suspiciously died in a Russian prison camp at age 47. He had been imprisoned since returning to Russia in 2021 after recovering from an assassination attempt by poison the year before. Acting against advice, his brave return doomed him to cruel treatment and an early death. Director Daniel Roher filmed this remarkable documentary before Navalny's final incarceration, when he and his team in Germany cleverly exposed the Russian assassins who poisoned him in 2020. This film also shows his family life and records for posterity the courage of a patriot who resisted the authoritarian rule of Vladimir Putin.

The Navy vs. the Night Monsters (1966) should be The Stupids vs. the Walking Tree Stumps. When scientists find a strange dormant plant buried in Antarctic ice and bring it to a U.S. Navy base, it comes alive and wreaks havoc. We can forgive the sailors for their initial puzzlement but not for their stupidity, such as wandering alone in a dark forest and repeatedly failing to restrain a dangerous patient. This movie lamely imitates The Thing From Another World (1951) and The Day of the Triffids (1963). To add spice, blonde bombshell Mamie Van Doren plays a nurse who attracts men like flies. The lazy climax resorts to stock footage.

Nebo Zovyot (1959): see Battle Beyond the Sun (1962).

Nebraska (2013) is an outstanding example of back-to-the-roots filmmaking. It stars Bruce Dern as an elderly alcoholic with early dementia who becomes convinced he's won a million dollars in a junk-mail sweepstakes. To claim his prize, he keeps trying to walk from his Montana home to the sweepstakes office in far-away Nebraska. Unable to dissuade him, his adult son (perfectly played by Saturday Night Live alum Will Forte) finally relents and agrees to drive him there. The journey becomes a tragicomedy of mishaps and strange encounters with old friends and relatives. June Squibb and Stacy Keach have standout supporting roles as Dern's long-suffering wife and his slippery former business partner. The writing, acting, directing, and black-and-white cinematography are universally excellent.

Neighbors (1920) is an 18-minute silent-film short starring Buster Keaton, Edward F. Cline, and Virginia Fox. As usual, Keaton's stunts are fabulous. This time he and Fox play next-door lovers whose parents are feuding. It's a simple story that sets up the slapstick comedy and stunt tricks. In one scene, a muddy-face Keaton accidentally clobbers a cop, who then arrests an innocent black man after mistaking him for the real culprit. It's a surprising Black Lives Matter moment in a 1920 motion picture.

Nerosubianco (1969): see Attraction.

Network (1976) was more prescient than any movie ever made. Peter Finch won Best Actor for playing a news anchor who goes nuts on live TV and threatens to commit suicide. To the network's amazement, his general outrage at the world is a huge hit with viewers. Over the objections of the legit news staff, soon he's hosting a live show that mixes rage, craziness, and sensationalism. In 1976, this film was fiction stretched thin. Since then, TV has far surpassed Network to become even more outrageous and cynical than Paddy Chayefsky's screenplay. Young folks new to this movie probably miss the satire. Nominated for ten Oscars, including Best Picture, it won four: Actor (Finch, posthumously), Actress (Faye Dunaway), Actress (Beatrice Straight), and Original Screenplay (Chayefsky). It should have won Best Picture but was beaten by Rocky.

Never Let Go (1960) flopped because Peter Sellers plays a cruel gangster instead of a comedic character. If you can overlook the shock of seeing him in an atypical dramatic role, he's actually quite good, and this movie is an above-average crime thriller. Richard Todd stars as a struggling cosmetics salesman in London whose new car is stolen by an organized gang. He desperately needs the auto to call on his customers but is getting lukewarm response from the police, so he investigates the theft himself. Soon he's clashing with brutal underworld figures, including Sellers' character. This nearly forgotten picture has gained a small following since its release.

The New World (2005) is a strangely dreamlike film about the first permanent English colony in North America — Jamestown, Virginia, founded in 1607. The historical drama is merely the backdrop for a love story about Captain John Smith and the young Native American girl credited with saving his life, Pocahantas. In this retelling, Smith and Pocahantas share an emotional bond that's uncommonly spiritual and equal, despite cultural differences bordering on interplanetary. Their love grows so exclusive that the colony's struggle for survival and the rising conflict between the English and natives become irrelevant distractions. But reality is invasive, in more ways than one, and soon the promise of new life in a new world develops tragic overtones. This stream of consciousness film is unhurried and artistic without being pretentious. It relies on emotive acting, strong imagery, and thought-dreams expressed in voice-over narration to build a haunting vision of what was and what might have been.

Niagara (1953) radically casts Marilyn Monroe as the femme fatale in a Technicolor film noir at the 1950s' most popular honeymoon destination, Niagara Falls. Despite those incongruities, it works. Monroe stars as the super-sexy wife of a mentally disturbed Army veteran (Joseph Cotten). Their getaway to a honeymoon cabin overlooking the falls isn't going well. The arrival of another young couple (Max Showalter and Jean Peters) only seems to highlight their unhappiness. Things get even worse when a murder plot unfolds. In this thriller, the actresses outdo the actors. Monroe shines as a flaming floozy, and Peters avoids being eclipsed, which is quite an accomplishment. We expect Niagara Falls to play a major role, too, and the dramatic climax doesn't disappoint.

Nicholas Nickleby (2002) condenses Charles Dickens' sprawling 1839 novel into a 132-minute screenplay yet preserves the essence. Typical of Dickens, it documents the inequality of a highly stratified British society nearing its Victorian peak. This screen version (one of several since 1912) deftly blends his social drama and wry humor. Charlie Hunnam stars as Nickleby, a young man left penniless after his father's premature death. Escorting his mother and sister to London, he submits the broken family to the mercy of a rich uncle whose morality is questionable. Brother and sister endure numerous insults and obstacles in their quest for independence. The acting is superb. Standouts are Christopher Plummer as the devious uncle, Jamie Bell as a crippled orphan, Jim Broadbent as a cruel schoolmaster, and Romola Garai as the chaste sister. This highly engaging film succeeds by capturing Dickens' style and the spirit of 19th-century England.

A Night on Bald Mountain (1933) is an eight-minute experimental film created with pin-screen animation set to classical music by Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky (1839–1881). The b&w imagery is abstract and surreal, dominated by metamorphic forms. Animals transform into humans; humans transform into animals; ghostly scarecrows and other apparitions soar and tumble through an otherworldly space. It's spooky, hallucinogenic, and open to interpretation. Director Claire Parker and her husband Alexander Alexeieff invented the pin-screen technique and created a similar sequence for Orson Welles' The Trial (1962).

Night and the City (1950) stars film-noir homme fatale Richard Widmark as a crass street hustler who tries to break a London gangster's stranglehold on wrestling matches. Widmark's performances are always fun to watch; he's unforgettable. Another highlight is an unusually long and violent fight between Stanislaus Zbyszko as "Gregorius the Great" and Mike Mazurki as "The Strangler." These actors were real wrestlers. Cinematographer Max Greene's tight framing amplifies their brutal throws, holds, and punches. Francis L. Sullivan and Googie Withers add intrigue as the devious owners of a sleazy nightclub. Gene Tierney and Hugh Marlowe co-star but are wasted. This bleak drama has great atmosphere and bit-part characters.

Night of the Demon (1957): see Curse of the Demon.

The Night Holds Terror (1955) sustains suspense from start to finish. Loosely based on true events, it's about three criminals who take a family hostage for ransom. As usual in crime thrillers, the crooks are the most interesting characters. John Cassavetes plays the trigger-happy but cooler boss. David Cross plays a small-time newbie who's reluctant to kill. Vince Edwards stands out as a volatile thug who lusts after the family's terrified wife (Hildy Parks). Jack Kelly is so-so as the frightened husband. The cops are cardboard. This middling drama lacks the star-power performances of a similar film released the same year (The Desperate Hours) with Humphrey Bogart and Fredric March.

The Night of the Hunter (1955) stars Robert Mitchum in his best and favorite role. Cast against type, he plays a sociopathic killer in rural America during the Great Depression. Posing as a preacher, he preys more than he prays — mainly on moneyed widows. But in this especially dark film noir, his targets are two young children hiding $10,000 in stolen cash. Billy Chapin excels as the brother who struggles to protect the secret and his younger sister. Shelley Winters plays their clueless mother, and silent-film star Lilian Gish appears as a kindly but tough old lady. The sexual overtones are stark for 1955, including a switchblade that symbolizes an unholy erection. Novelist/journalist James Agee wrote the screenplay and Charles Laughton directed (his only such effort). Evidently they feared this thriller was becoming too dark, because they added a sugary coda that reverses the mood.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) was the prototype for all subsequent zombie flicks. Although movie zombies weren't new, this classic low-budget production boldly redefined the genre. Filmed in crude black-and-white, employing unknown actors, it's much more gory and frightening than earlier horror films. Director George A. Romero had more latitude as the Hollywood censorship Hays Code faded away in the 1960s, removing the strict rules that restrained previous filmmakers. Critics hated it, blasting the explicit violence and cannibalism. But audiences ate it up, making it a huge hit and influencing every thriller that followed. In a year when American cities were torn by race riots after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, it also stood apart by making a young black man the only character who keeps his head while ordering the panicky white people around. The climax, too, is a subtle racial commentary and another middle finger to the Hays Code. Love it or hate it, this movie is a milepost in American cinema.

Night Monster (1942) wastes horror-thriller stars Bela Lugosi and Lionel Atwill in minor roles and is a too-obvious whodunit, but it's moderately interesting. Lugosi plays a stiff butler whose dialogue rarely exceeds routine; Atwill is a cranky doctor who likewise adds little. Lesser-known actors carry the load. The crowded plot involves three doctors, an invalid whom they failed to cure, his daughter who seems crazy, her sympathetic psychiatrist, a Hindu mystic, a local mystery writer, and house servants behaving suspiciously. When some are murdered, the local constable dryly delivers the best lines. Curiously, one innocent person dies needlessly at the end, but no one seems to care.

Night at the Museum (2006) is an above-average comedy starring Ben Stiller and Robin Williams, with smaller roles for Dick Van Dyke, Bill Cobbs, and Mickey Rooney (still fiesty at age 86). Stiller plays a night watchman at a natural history museum where the exhibits magically come to life after dark. His job is to keep them under control and, later, to foil a plot to steal the magic. Amusing special effects compensate for the frequent moments when Stiller lapses into his signature lockjaw acting method. Williams gets ample screen time as Rough Rider Teddy Roosevelt, but the script suppresses his manic style. Overall, this is a good, clean comedy with a minimum of the gross-out humor that's common in today's popular entertainment.

Night Must Fall (1937) adapted a popular British stage play and is worth watching for its exceptional performances. Robert Montgomery, an American actor in this U.S. production, is phenomenal as Danny, an enigmatic Irish servant to a cantankerous widow. He cleverly ingratiates himself and hides something behind his slickly humble exterior. May Whitty, a famous British actress, made her Hollywood debut at age 72 as the wealthy widow who keeps secrets of her own. Rosalind Russell adeptly plays her penniless niece who probes for the real person behind Danny's facade. A murder mystery tightens the tension. Montgomery was nominated for Best Actor, and Whitty for Best Supporting Actress. Neither won the Oscar, and Russell was overlooked, but their performances raise this chamber piece above the ordinary.

Night is the Phantom (1965): see The Whip and the Body (1963).

The Night Stalker (1972) was a surprisingly popular TV movie that inspired a sequel (The Night Strangler, 1973), a weekly TV series (Kolchak: The Night Stalker, 1974–75), and a revival series (The Night Stalker, 2005). Given this history, you'd think the original movie must be great. It isn't. Although above average for a TV production of its era, it looks silly today. Darren McGavin plays a downbeat newspaper reporter in Las Vegas who investigates a rash of gruesome murders. He's convinced the killer is a vampire and tries to persuade the skeptical authorities. The vampire angle is more believable than the screenplay's cartoonish portrayal of a journalist. Like other 1970s TV movies, however, it does boast a cast of once-famous actors, including Carol Lynley, Ralph Meeker, Charles McGraw, and Elisha Cook Jr.

The Night Strangler (1973) sequels The Night Stalker (1972), a surprisingly popular TV movie. Darren McGavin reprises his role as an obnoxious newspaper reporter, and Simon Oakland returns as his harried editor. Other notables are Wally Cox as the newspaper's librarian, John Carradine as the publisher, Richard Anderson as the strangler, Margaret Hamilton (Oz's Wicked Witch of the West) as a paranormal college professor, and Al Lewis (Grandpa Munster) as an alcoholic tramp. Thanks to a lively script by the prolific Richard Matheson, this thriller is better than the original. It even inspired a weekly TV series (Kolchak: The Night Stalker, 1974–75). As before, the story concerns a serial killer who seems superhuman, but no one believes the frantic reporter. It's a good 1970s TV movie that blends suspense, comedy, and fantasy.

Night Tide (1961/1963) earns its cult status as a quiet thriller by slowly unwinding a dreamlike mystery, by employing low-budget atmospherics, and by peppering the dialogue with unexpected philosophy. In his first starring role, Dennis Hopper plays a young sailor who becomes entranced with Mora, a strange woman who plays a mermaid in a decaying amusement park. Could she really be a mermaid? Or is she a seductress who lures young men to their doom? Darkly beautiful Linda Lawson is perfect as Mora. Compared with his later more-famous roles, Hopper's performance is surprisingly subtle and unmannered. This film approaches the creepiness of Carnival of Souls (1962) but ends more conventionally.

Night Train to Paris (1964) tries too hard to be a breezy espionage thriller. Leslie Nielsen stars as a former U.S. intelligence officer who's entangled in a mission to smuggle a valuable package from London to Paris. Exotic beauty Aliza Gur plays an exotic beauty who reluctantly becomes his helper. Most of the action happens on a New Year's Eve train carrying vacationers and fashion models, which creates excuses for mediocre comedy.

The Night Walker (1964) was Barbara Stanwyck's last movie before her successful TV career. It's a low-budget horror thriller in which her character is haunted by weird nightmares until she has trouble distinguishing her dreams from reality. The night frights begin after her mean husband dies in a mysterious explosion. Is he a ghost? Stanwyck's co-star is Robert Taylor, who plays her husband's attorney. (In real life, Stanwyck and Taylor were divorced.) Robert Bloch of Psycho fame wrote the plodding screenplay, which feels like an overlong version of a TV show. It would be better if trimmed for The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, a 1962–1965 TV series for which Bloch wrote seven episodes.

Nightcrawler (2014) stars Jake Gyllenhaal as the creepiest urban night-shift worker since Robert De Niro's Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver (1976). In his best performance yet — which is saying something — Gyllenhaal plays Louis Bloom, a small-time thief and glib sociopath who becomes a freelance video paparazzo in Los Angeles. "If it bleeds, it leads," says the ratings-hungry TV news director (a wonderfully sleazy Rene Russo) who eagerly buys his gory footage of auto accidents, crimes, and fires. This movie isn't merely a commentary on yellow journalism updated for the sound-bite era, though. Bloom's trendy business-babble and psychological con games also mock the corporate amorality that monetizes everything in our world, not least human misery. But don't expect a preachy sermon. Nightcrawler is always a skin-crawling thriller.

Nightfall (1956) is an above-average film noir starring Aldo Ray, Anne Bancroft, and Brian Keith. Ray plays a commercial artist wrongly suspected of bank robbery and murder who joins forces with a sympathetic model (Bancroft in an early role). He's running from the police, an insurance investigator, and the real crooks. The action shifts from Los Angeles to the wilds of Wyoming, where a violent conclusion involves more than mere gunplay. The insurance-investigator subplot is distracting, though, especially after its early disclosure spoils potential suspense. And co-star Rudy Bond isn't quite menacing enough to portray a sociopathic criminal.

Nightmare Alley (1947) features Tyrone Power's best screen performance. He plays a lowly carnival barker who becomes a mentalist and works his way up to popular performances for high-society people at a glitzy Chicago hotel. Then he gets involved with a high-class psychologist (appropriately icy Helen Walker) and things start to go wrong. Joan Blondell and Coleen Gray are convincing as carny women he woos along the way, mainly to further his naked ambitions. This movie was controversial in 1947 for its sordid story, religious undertones, and a graphic scene (soon deleted, now lost) of a carnival geek biting off the heads of live chickens. Although the studio boss insisted on an upbeat ending, in context it's merely less bleak. This noirish film is unusual for a postwar Hollywood production and is better for it.

Nightmare Alley (2021) remakes the 1947 version of this noirish thriller without the 1947 censorship. Bradley Cooper is perfect as the lowly carnival barker who becomes a high-society mentalist after learning trade secrets from a former master (David Strathairn) laid low by the bottle. Then he gets involved with a high-class psychologist (Cate Blanchett) who wears her femme fatale persona like slinky lingerie. She introduces him to a reclusive millionaire who wears his homme fatale persona like an explosive vest. This version is even creepier than the creepy original, and it restores the censored scene of a carnival geek biting off the head of a live chicken. Oddly, though, it downplays the religious undertones that were unusual in 1947. Four Oscar nominations included Best Picture and Cinematography.

Ninotchka (1939) is a classic comedy starring screen legend Greta Garbo as the title character, a stern trade envoy from the Soviet Union. To raise money for food, she's sent to Paris to sell jewels confiscated after the Bolshevik revolution. There she encounters a dandy bachelor (Melvyn Douglas) who tries to penetrate her humorless exterior. Their clash of rigid communism and seductive capitalism is played for laughs, and many of the scenes and jokes are indeed funny. Garbo clearly delivers the best performance. But this picture is also a political commentary. On that level, both sides now look silly — the Russians as dupes of revolutionary communism, and the Parisians as lazy, rich parasites who admit to contributing nothing to humanity. Only seven months after this film was released, France fell to Nazi Germany; five years later, the Russians defeated the Nazis. In retrospect, Ninotchka says more about its time than its makers perhaps intended.

The Ninth Gate (1999), directed by Roman Polanski, is a tense thriller with typically good acting by Johnny Depp. But is it just a coincidence that it seems to lampoon Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut?

No Country For Old Men (2007) is another Coen brothers (Joel and Ethan) crime thriller. But it lacks the wry humor of their 1996 classic, Fargo, and the bad guys are really really bad, not just stupid. Trouble begins when a trailer-dwelling knockabout (Josh Brolin) encounters a gruesome crime scene and recovers something valuable. The bad guys want it back. The baddest guy is a sociopath (Javier Bardem) with uncanny powers of pursuit. Tommy Lee Jones plays a rural sheriff who tries to intervene. Every role oozes character, and all the performances are first rate. Yet the sum is disappointing. Despite winning four Oscars — Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, and Supporting Actor (Bardem) — this movie is excessively violent and feels unfinished.

No Way Out (1950) debuts the great Sidney Poitier in his first feature film, and it's dynamite. Five years before the civil-rights movement fully bloomed, this daring Hollywood drama portrayed blatant racism without hiding behind veiled allegory or historical parallels. It's 1950 America, and the hate is center stage. In fact, it's so uncensored that today's screenings usually delete the frequent N-words and other pejoratives — to the point that some dialogue sounds like hiccups. Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz, who co-wrote the Oscar-nominated screenplay, employs film-noir style. Poitier smoothly plays a newly minted black doctor at a public hospital who treats two white armed robbers shot by police. Richard Widmark wickedly plays one of the crooks, a virulent racist. Linda Darnell, in one of her best roles, is his bitter sister-in-law. This potboiler boils fast.

No Way Out (1987) stars Kevin Costner as a U.S. Navy officer who becomes embroiled in personal and political intrigue when he accepts a job assisting the U.S. defense secretary (Gene Hackman, always a treat). Costner shows his talent at playing a good guy wronged by circumstance who fights to prove his innocence. Will Patton is equally believable as his college buddy who lands him the important job but who also seems a little too ingratiating. Although this thriller is based on a 1948 film noir (The Big Clock), it is modernistic in style and springs a great surprise at the end.

Nobody Lives Forever (1946) features John Garfield and Geraldine Fitzgerald in a rom-con. That's not a misspelling of rom-com — this brisk film noir combines a romance with a confidence scheme. Garfield ably plays a World War II veteran eager to run the New York nightclub in which he invested before the war and to marry the glamorous gal he entrusted to manage it. Both plans go awry. To recover, he decamps to Los Angeles, where he meets a former con-man colleague (Walter Brennan as a typically cranky old man). Soon they're plotting to fleece a rich widow (Fitzgerald). Although the romance is easy to foresee, the con gets dangerous and ends with a bang.

Nomadland was the Best Picture of 2020. Frances McDormand plays a recent widow who lost her job, house, and savings after the Crash of 2008. Reduced to living in a small camper van, she roams the West, taking any jobs she can find. At Christmas, she packs boxes at a huge Amazon warehouse. At other times she flips burgers, harvests beets, or cleans restrooms. Soon she joins a loose group of fellow RV campers — mostly other people who are down and out, but also folks who prefer the mobile lifestyle. Chinese director Chloé Zhao adapted this quiet screenplay from Jessica Bruder's nonfiction book of the same name. Although veteran actor David Strathairn plays another roamer, most characters are real people playing some version of themselves. Together with McDormand's minimalist acting style and Joshua Richards' straightforward camera work, this powerful story resembles a documentary. It won three Oscars: Best Picture, Director, and Actress (McDormand).

Nope (2022) perpetuates a horror-thriller tradition by showing only tantalizing glimpses of the horror agent until the last act. This tactic was necessary in pre-CGI days because the horror was often a disappointing rubber-suit creature or similarly faux fabrication. Too much exposure ruined the effect. These days, when computer wizards can create virtually anything on screen, it's only a method to gradually build suspense. In Nope, writer/director Jordan Peele (Get Out and Us) reveals an impressive spectacle and thrilling climax, but you'll have to navigate a meandering plot and distracting subplot on the way. It breaks tradition only by starring black actors in the lead roles: Daniel Kaluuya as a man-of-few-words horse trainer and Keke Palmer as his chatterbox sister. When strange things happen at their ranch and a nearby amusement park, they devise an elaborate plan to bait the horror and film it. The climax isn't as twisty as those in Peele's previous works; this one is more conventional.

The Norliss Tapes (1973) is an above-average made-for-TV movie that unfortunately ends inconclusively — because it was a pilot for an aborted TV series. Roy Thinnes and Angie Dickinson star as skeptics of supernatural phenomena who encounter a real zombie. The creepy atmosphere and fast-moving plot are ultimately undone by a disappointing climax that teases a sequel which never materialized.

Norma Rae (1979) established Sally Field as a top-tier actress and won her the first of two Academy Awards. She excels as a downtrodden but undefeated textile worker in North Carolina who helps to unionize the mill. Shedding movie-star vanity, Field realistically portrays Norma Rae as a sweaty, slutty, single mom who gradually finds inner courage. Her guide is a Jewish union organizer from New York who's out of place in the small Southern Baptist town, so he needs a local partner. The late Ron Liebman delivers a career performance in this role. Based on true events, this Best Picture nominee feels authentic as the working-class characters labor on the noisy factory floor between early mornings and humid evenings in their shabby homes. More recently, however, almost all Southern textile mills have moved to foreign countries where exploitation is easier.

North By Northwest (1959) shows director Alfred Hitchcock at his peak. Cary Grant stars as a New York executive whom foreign kidnappers mistake for an American secret agent. Grant is perfect as the wry but wronged innocent victim who tries to extricate himself from an increasingly complex predicament. Along the way he encounters James Mason and Martin Landau as bad guys who won't listen to reason and Eva Marie Saint as a gorgeous distraction. This fast-paced movie has witty dialogue, surprising plot twists, and several memorable scenes, including one involving a crop-duster biplane and a cliff-hanger at Mount Rushmore. It's one of the greatest all-time thrillers, far better than modern imitations.

The North Star a/k/a Armored Attack (1943/1957) is an odd war movie that starts as a happy folkish musical. Suddenly, in mid-song, it's a bald propaganda piece. Although it was common for World War II productions to promote the war effort, this one is overcooked and was canceled by postwar Republicans as pro-communist. It portrays Nazi Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union and Ukraine in 1941. Central to the story is a Ukrainian village overrun by Nazis whose atrocities provoke a counterattack. The USSR was an ally in World War II but became an enemy during the ensuing Cold War. Republicans forced the studio to cut anything hinting of communism and re-release the film as Armored Attack in 1957. The original remains available. It has a great cast (Anne Baxter, Dana Andrews, Walter Brennan, John Huston, Farley Granger, Erich von Stroheim), and it was nominated for six Oscars (Original Screenplay, Cinematography, Special Effects, Music, Sound Recording, Art Direction). It won nothing and looks hackneyed today.

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror a/k/a Nosferatu (1922) has inspired numerous vampire thrillers. Few match its creepiness or Max Schreck's unique portrayal of the undead creature. Unlike most other adaptations of Bram Stoker's 1897 novel Dracula, it stays closer to the original story. Schreck's vampire is a ratlike horror with decayed features and clawed hands, not Bela Lugosi's suave gentleman who mingles in high society. He spreads a plague, and he has powers beyond the ability to hypnotically paralyze his victims. As usual, though, what he craves most is the blood of a beautiful young woman. To its credit, this shadowy creep show ends differently than most others. It's a must for cinema buffs and a classic example of German Expressionism in silent film.

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) remakes the 1922 silent film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror with color and sound. German filmmaker Werner Herzog artfully directed this faithful homage to the early classic. His favorite actor, Klaus Kinski, plays Count Dracula in the same vein as Max Schreck in 1922: a ratlike creature bearing no resemblance to the suave Bela Lugosi in Hollywood's 1931 Dracula. Despite this difference, the sexual overtones are unmistakable, especially when Kinski's Dracula attacks the prone Lucy Harker (Isabelle Adjani). Bruno Ganz plays her hapless husband, Jonathan. In perhaps another homage, the dialogue is minimal, and it was recorded in both German and English. Although the creepy climax departs from the silent version, it bites harder.

Not of This Earth (1957) is a low-budget sci-fi thriller directed by Roger Corman, the king of this genre. A humanoid space alien surveys Earth for possible conquest because his planet desperately needs fresh blood unpoisoned by nuclear war. He paralyzes victims with a gaze from his pure-white eyes before draining their vital fluid. Then a nosy nurse and nosy servant threaten to foil his plans. Later, a strange monster that resembles a flying jellyfish makes a brief appearance. This low-rated flick is no match for Corman's 1960 masterpiece, The Little Shop of Horrors.

Notes on a Scandal (2006) is superbly written, directed, and acted, but also depressing. Cate Blanchett plays an attractive new teacher who commits indiscretions with a 15-year-old male pupil. Judi Dench plays the school's strictest and most senior teacher, who becomes a confidante to her younger, self-destructive colleague. Neither character is likeable. But the film seems to cast Dench as a devious predator of vulnerable younger women, when actually the "old battle-ax" she portrays is a desperately lonely spinster, nearly at her breaking point. This tale is a tragedy, times two.

Nothing Sacred (1937) tries to match the wit of It Happened One Night, which swept the 1934 Oscars and popularized the "screwball comedy" genre. But Fredric March and Carole Lombard can't match the comedic chemistry of Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. They get little help from the screenplay, despite contributions by the great Ben Hecht. March plays a newspaper reporter who sensationalizes a young woman (Lombard) dying of radium poisoning. Soon all of New York City is raving about her courage. It's a misdiagnosis, however; she's healthy. Although the premise shows promise, it doesn't fully deliver. A boxing scene between the stars that's supposed to be the highlight looks unfunny today.

The Notorious Bettie Page (2005) is a biopic about a 1950s pin-up girl who became famous — or infamous — for her S&M photos and soft-core stag films. While most of her contemporaries were photographed in modest swimsuits, their sex appeal merely suggested, Bettie was arrayed in spiked heels and black-leather corsets, often brandishing a whip over bound-and-gagged women. But her life wasn't as sordid as her photos. Bettie was a religious girl from the South who initially found her work amusing and harmless. Gradually, she was forced to reconcile her vocation with her faith — and eventually did so in an original way. Gretchen Mol's career-topping performance as Bettie complements a fine screenplay by Mary Harron (who also directed) and Guinevere Turner.

Now, Voyager (1942) portrays mental disorder with intelligent compassion, a rarity in its time. Hollywood queen Bette Davis, famous for her brash roles, skillfully plays against type as a troubled young woman who meekly avoids human interaction. Some insensitive family members rudely make light of her oddness. Then comes Claude Rains as a sympathetic psychologist who gently urges her to enter treatment that will help build her self confidence. Later, Paul Henreid appears as a suave man intrigued by her budding personality. Although Davis's role was unusual for her, it proves the breadth of her talent, and this movie became her biggest box-office triumph. It's carefully crafted and poetic — in fact, the title derives from a Walt Whitman poem ("The Untold Want").

Nowhere Boy (2010) is a meticulously researched drama about the boyhood of John Lennon and is best appreciated by serious fans of The Beatles. Made in the U.K., and partly filmed in his hometown of Liverpool, it focuses on his tumultuous teenage years. Lennon was raised by his Aunt Mimi because his parents weren't ready for parenthood. Most of the drama revolves around a reunion with his absent mother that inspired his music career but aroused his already volatile emotions. This film adheres closely to historical accounts, so well-educated Beatles fans won't learn much new. Still, it's a fascinating reproduction of pivotal events in rock 'n' roll history.

Nude Photography — e.g., Gundula Schulze (German: Aktfotographe — z.B Gundula Schulze, 1983) is an 11-minute German documentary on Gundula Schulze, then a 29-year-old art student in former East Germany (DDR). She specialized in nude portraits, mostly of women, which stirred controversy under the communist regime. Schulze's assertion that her nudes differ from others is unfounded, but perhaps she was unfamiliar with similar work outside the communist sphere. Oddly, her interviews are mixed with irrelevant clips of women clerks who appear to be in a training film.

Une Nuit Sur le Mont Chauve (1933): see A Night on Bald Mountain.

The Number 23 (2007) is an entertaining thriller about an average man (Jim Carrey) who becomes obsessed with the number 23 after reading a strange novel. He gradually goes off the deep end, frightening his wife and teenage son as he tries to find the novelist and resolve odd coincidences involving the number 23. The numerology is bogus and the plot has holes, but this film is so intense and fast-paced that few people will notice. The visual effects are particularly good, evoking the stark look of a graphic novel during flashbacks and fantasies. Carrey manages to suppress his trademark smirk while playing this dramatic role, but casting a less-comedic actor might still have been a better choice.

Nurse Betty (2000) is a hilarious and original film about a soap-opera fan whose fantasies become real as she's pursued by two contract killers played by Morgan Freeman and Chris Rock. It's marred only by a tasteless, gratuitously bloody murder scene.

Nyad (2023) dramatizes the true story of Diana Nyad, a marathon swimmer in her youth who tried to swim from Cuba to Florida in her 60s. It had never been done before without the protection of a shark cage or other assistance. Nyad herself failed and almost died when she was only 28. To try again in her 60s was daring at best, reckless at worst. Annette Bening delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as Nyad, with Jodie Foster as her partner and coach. As usual, Hollywood needlessly embellishes an already dramatic story with fake events (shark attack!), but it's generally realistic. It's also refreshing to see an actress in her 60s playing a woman in her 60s as an athlete in command of her life. This movie is really about the late-stage struggle against irrelevance, infirmity, and death.

Nymphomaniac a/k/a Nymph()maniac Volume I & Volume II (2013) is a bleak, sexually explicit film about a promiscuous young woman who is rescued by a passerby after she's beaten in a dark alley. As she recovers in his apartment, she tells her life story of sexual exploits. Divided in two parts with subchapters, the whole film is more than four hours long with many scenes of sex and sexual violence. To dodge dismissal as common pornography, it wraps the sex scenes in high-minded conversations on a variety of topics, such as fly fishing, tree leaves, Fibonacci numbers, sperm potency, table-setting etiquette, baroque polyphony, Christian sectarianism, Edgar Allan Poe, sexual repression, sex-addiction therapy, pedophilia, and gender disparity. An even longer director's cut (5.5 hours!) adds an abortion debate. Famous faces include Christian Slater, Uma Thurman, Willem Dafoe, and Shia LaBeouf, but even the lesser-known actors deliver vivid performances — often disturbingly vivid. To the end, it's a harsh, depressing story that makes common pornography seem innocent. The violent climax is easy to anticipate.

O. Henry's Full House (1952) adapts five popular short stories by O. Henry (William Sydney Porter, 1862–1910). Each segment features different actors and a different director, and each is introduced by novelist John Steinbeck. The stories are "The Cop and the Anthem," "The Clarion Call," "The Last Leaf," "The Ransom of Red Chief," and "The Gift of the Magi." Oddly, the weakest segment adapts one of Henry's most-read stories, "The Ransom of Red Chief." It's odd because this one was directed by the great Howard Hawks and the screenplay was co-written by the great Ben Hecht. The other segments are better, although Henry fans will already know the surprise endings that are his trademark. Notable performers include Charles Laughton, Marilyn Monroe, Richard Widmark, Anne Baxter, Jean Peters, Jeanne Crain, and Farley Granger.

Obit (2016) is a good documentary about the obituary writers at The New York Times. It's more interesting and less depressing than you might think. The Times is famous for its well-written obits of celebrities as well as obscure people who influenced history or culture. Obvious subjects are big names like Michael Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor, and Ronald Reagan. Less-obvious subjects have been Richard T. James, who invented the Slinky toy, and Thomas Ferebee, the B-29 bombardier who dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima in World War II. Obit writers emphasize that only two or three sentences mention the subject's death; the rest is a condensed story of their life. This behind-the-scenes look at a narrow genre of journalism is both educational and entertaining.

Oblivion (2013) is an above-average science-fiction drama placed in 2077, several decades after a pyrrhic victory over alien invaders leaves Earth devastated and nearly lifeless. The few survivors have retreated to Jupiter's moon Titan, leaving behind a small mop-up crew to kill the remaining aliens. Tom Cruise stars as a heavily armed mechanic who repairs the unmanned drones defending several large machines that are trying to cleanse the environment. But when the aliens bring a prewar NASA ship back to Earth in a fiery crash, things start getting weird. Cruise is credible in this role, though it's far from his best performance. Morgan Freeman turns up later as one of the wise-man characters he often plays. If the first half of this movie seems to drag, just hang on, because the twists and turns in the second half will reward your patience.

The Oblong Box (1969) brings Vincent Price and Christopher Lee together for only one brief scene in this horror thriller, so don't let their star billings in the opening credits raise your hopes. Nor should you expect a faithful adaptation of the Edgar Allan Poe story on which this movie is very loosely based. Nevertheless, it's a passable picture with good production values and cinematography. It shows a few gory murders, so be prepared.

Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge (1961) won the Academy Award for Best Live Action Short Film and became famous when Rod Serling acquired the TV rights, shortened it slightly, and aired it as an episode of the Twilight Zone series in 1964. Apparently the rights expired, because it never appears today in reruns. Too bad, because it's a great film. It's based on an 1890 Ambrose Bierce story about a fictional incident in the Civil War — a Southern Unionist is condemned to death for sabotage. But when the hangman's rope breaks, he miraculously escapes. This French film needs no English subtitles or dubbing because it brilliantly adapts the story without dialogue.

Ocean's 11 (2001) is another caper movie following closely on the heels of The Heist and The Score, also released in 2001. Ocean's 11 has the distinction of being a remake of the Frank Sinatra/Rat Pack movie from 1960, with George Clooney usurping the Sinatra role of Danny Ocean. Fresh out of prison, con-man Ocean recruits a team of ten accomplices for an elaborate robbery of three Las Vegas casinos. Brad Pitt, Carl Reiner, Julia Roberts, Andy Garcia, and other stars add up to a strong cast. The filmmaking is slick and breezy, with a jazz soundtrack that echoes the 1960 original. It's a fun romp, but it falls short of my all-time favorite caper film, The Sting (1973).

The October Man (1947) resembles an Alfred Hitchcock potboiler — a bewildered man struggles to prove himself innocent of a murder. But this British film noir was directed by Roy Ward Baker, best known for A Night to Remember (1958), a dramatization of the Titanic disaster. Baker isn't quite as clever and stylish as Hitchcock, so The October Man is lukewarm. The noirish cinematography is well done, and famous British actor John Mills is credible as a traumatized accident victim whose history of mental problems marks him as a suspect. But it needs more intrigue and suspense to make a great thriller.

October Roses (2023) is an indie short film loosely based on a 1978 Stephen King short story ("Nona"). Although the performances and production values are good, it relies heavily on needless violence for drama. Also, the climactic plot twist — a departure from the source material — is so obscure that the filmmakers had to explain it during a panel discussion following the premiere. This film shows evidence of talent that needs more time to blossom.

Of Mice and Men (1939) adapts John Steinbeck's famous novella about two migrant farm workers who find trouble in Depression-era California. This being the 1930s, they are white native-born Americans, not foreign immigrants, but their plight is much the same. They need work permits to beg for low-wage jobs that demand heavy labor and a crude existence. As a contemporary exposé of Depression desperation, this film ranks with The Grapes of Wrath (1940), another adaptation of Steinbeck's work. But this one came first and is very different. Burgess Meredith plays the road-wise companion of his mentally impaired cousin, who means well but sometimes forgets his great physical strength. Lon Chaney Jr. considered this role the best of his career, though his later roles in horror thrillers are better known. Despite some foreshadowing, this great film ends with a shock. It was Oscar-nominated for Best Picture in a year of great Hollywood pictures.

Oklahoma Crude (1973), though virtually forgotten, is an excellent drama about conflicts between wildcat oil drillers and the big oil companies trying to squash them. Faye Dunaway stars as a stoic young woman who owns a solitary drilling rig on a bleak Oklahoma hilltop in 1913. Her well has yet to find oil, but still the local oil company wants to buy her out or force her out. Her nemesis is a sadistic company enforcer (Jack Palance). She gets help from her estranged father (John Mills) and a tough roustabout (George C. Scott). These four top-notch actors, under the direction of the great Stanley Kramer, make every scene worthwhile. Comedic touches lighten the drama. Don't write off this obscure movie as a dry hole.

The Old Dark House (1932) reunites director James Whale and actor Boris Karloff, who made cinema history the year before with Frankenstein. This time, Karloff again plays a menacing, speechless character — though now he's an ugly butler, not an ugly monster. Other stars in this horror thriller are Raymond Massey and Gloria Stuart as a married couple, Melvyn Douglas as their friend, Charles Laughton as a boisterous English widower, and Lilian Bond as his pretty companion. When a fierce storm forces these travelers to seek shelter in a creepy mansion inhabited by a spooky family, you know that trouble is nigh. Although this picture fails to match the classic stature of Frankenstein, it's entertaining and features some extravagant character acting.

The Omega Man (1971) remakes The Last Man On Earth, a famous 1964 thriller. Charlton Heston replaces Vincent Price as the apparent sole survivor of a global plague — except for hundreds of hostile mutant victims who can't tolerate bright light. He hunts them by day; they hunt him by night. His solitary existence seems doomed until another uninfected person appears. This remake is more energetic than the depressive original and portrays the mutants as prominent characters, not merely as undead zombies. They have a leader and a mission: to destroy all vestiges of the technological society that created the plague. This version veers further from the 1954 base novel, Richard Matheson's I Am Legend. Another remake in 2007 adopted that name and replaced Heston with Will Smith. It amped up the special-effects action, to the detriment of the story.

The Omen (1976) thrilled movie audiences with gory special effects and Satanic themes like those in The Exorcist three years before. That blockbuster influenced many filmmakers who pushed graphic horror far beyond the classic thrillers of Hollywood's Golden Age. In The Omen, an American diplomat and his wife (Gregory Peck and Lee Remick) unwittingly adopt Satan's newborn son. Those top-rank actors made this supernatural thriller seem more important than others of the genre. It was nominated for two Oscars, won Best Original Score, and spawned three sequels and a 2006 remake. Improbably dramatic death scenes, including decapitation and impalement, influenced future horror films.

The Omen (2006) remakes a famous 1976 horror thriller by the same name. Having seen the original during its first theatrical release, I couldn't resist seeing the remake and comparing them. Both screenplays are by the same writer (David Seltzer), so they are similar. The visual effects were upgraded, as expected, but the cast was downgraded. Instead of Gregory Peck and Lee Remick as the American diplomat and his wife who unwittingly adopt Satan's child as their newborn son, we get Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles. Schreiber is stiff, and Stiles seems out of place. The only highlights are Mia Farrow as the evil nanny and Pete Postlethwaite as the cursed priest. Despite a few good frights and the same graphic deaths, the remake lacks suspense. Also, its theme seems less credible today, when the violence of religious fanaticism is all too real.

On Any Sunday (1971) deserves its reputation as the best motorcycle-racing documentary ever made. Financed by actor Steve McQueen when motorcycling was roaring in popularity, it covers all types of competition: road track, city course, motocross, desert, enduro, time trial, drag strip, hill climbing, sidecar, and even ice racing. The cinematography is outstanding, particularly for an era when mobile movie cameras were bulky and limited to mere minutes of film. It focuses on a few champions, such as Mert Lawwill and Malcolm Smith. McQueen, himself a top-class rider, also appears. This Oscar-nominated documentary is fun, thrilling, and a fascinating time capsule.

On the Basis of Sex (2018) dramatizes the early career of the late U.S. Supreme Court justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Written by her nephew (Daniel Stiepleman) and released during her lifetime, it's largely accurate but for one glaring mistake: Ginsburg tells a court that the word "freedom" doesn't appear in the U.S. Constitution. (It does appear, and she never said it didn't.) Otherwise, this film is a surprisingly revelatory and technical biopic. It starts with her entry into Harvard Law School and her difficulty finding a job despite graduating at the top of her class. Then it jumps to the 1970s, when she challenges a tax law that discriminates against men. It launches her crusade to eliminate gender discrimination for all. The screenplay delves deep into legal issues and reveals that her husband was an able and supportive law partner. Although this film is definitely for RBG fans, it also shows a pivotal moment in American legal history.

On the Bowery (1956) was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Documentary but is barely a documentary by today's standards. Yes, independent director Lionel Rogosin really filmed this grungy work in New York City's infamous neighborhood of drunks and derelicts. Yes, the people are real drunks and derelicts playing themselves under their real names. And yes, many events really happened. But Rogosin re-enacted those scenes by coaching the dialogue and shooting multiple takes. His technique wasn't wholly dishonest by 1950s standards. On the Bowery is now considered a landmark in documentary filmmaking because it focused on down-and-out people who were despised and ignored.

On Dangerous Ground (1951) veers abruptly from film noir to film blanc when the scenes shift from dark city streets to snowy farm country. Robert Ryan propels this crime thriller as a lonely, disillusioned big-city cop who can't control his trigger temper. After a few violent episodes threaten his career, he's reassigned to help a rural sheriff hunt a killer. Even there, he manages to find darkness in a dimly lit house inhabited by a suspicious woman (Ida Lupino). Then his temperament unexpectedly flips when he must restrain the victim's shotgun-toting father. This film is merely average but is enlivened somewhat by Nicholas Ray's innovative direction and Bernard Herrmann's hypertensive music, which later reappeared in several Alfred Hitchcock pictures, especially North By Northwest (1959).

On My Mind (2021) is an 18-minute Danish short film about a depressed man who enters a bar and insists on gulping whiskey and singing karaoke. The bartender is sympathetic but her boss is not. The story turns when the stranger reveals a secret. Although this picture was nominated for an Oscar in the Live Action Short Film category, its only propellant is needless suspense. Bring Kleenex.

On the Road (2013) is the long-awaited adaptation of Jack Kerouac's 1957 autobiographic "beat" novel. Many readers enthralled with Kerouac's stream-of-thought writing style and beatnik philosophizing have doubted that the book is filmable. They will be vindicated by this valiant but mixed attempt. Screenwriter Jose Rivera and director Walter Salles — who previously collaborated on The Motorcycle Diaries (2004) — dutifully portray the novel's wild parties and chaotic road trips, but they have more trouble conveying Kerouac's neo-Buddhist philosophy. They fill some gaps with voice-over narration, including excerpts recorded by Kerouac before his death in 1969. The acting is superb, with Sam Riley as Sal Paradise (Kerouac), Garrett Hedlund as sidekick Dean Moriarty (Neal Cassady), Kristen Stewart as Dean's girlfriend, and Kirsten Dunst as Dean's wife (Carolyn Cassady). Viggo Mortensen and Amy Adams have small but meaty parts as the beat writer Bull Lee (William S. Burroughs) and his doomed wife. Despite its shortcomings, this movie is mandatory for Kerouac fans, who can recall the deeper insights it fails to visualize. Strangers to the novel may enjoy the spectacle but will probably wonder what all the fuss is about.

Once Upon a Time ... in Hollywood (2019) is writer/director Quentin Tarantino's ode to movietown in the late 1960s. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as a fading TV cowboy clinging to his career while carousing with his loyal stunt double (Brad Pitt). Their acting is first-rate, and the story cruises smoothly through an astonishing re-creation of 1969 Los Angeles, thanks to retro set decoration and special effects. But an ominous subplot emerges and soon eclipses their story. Charles Manson and his "family" of misfit hippies appear, as does young doomed actress Sharon Tate. Given Tarantino's simplistic obsession with violence in past films, viewers can't help but fear an obscenely bloody conclusion to this one. And indeed the climax is violent, though not in the way we expect. Like his World War II fantasy, Inglourious Basterds (2009), he conjures an equally bizarre yet plausible final act. But in the twilight of his career, Tarantino still can't portray drama without slaughter.

Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band (2019) documents Robertson's musical career and his relationships with fellow members of The Band — the 1967–77 group that skillfully blended blues, folk, country, and rock. Robertson, who died four years after Daniel Roher made this documentary, recounts his boyhood interest in music and his rockabilly influences. At age 15, he started writing songs and performing with Ronnie Hawkins and drummer Levon Helms, later a co-founder of The Band. Robertson is particularly insightful when recalling the group's unpopular 1966 tour with Bob Dylan and their 1968 breakthrough album Music From Big Pink. This superb documentary concludes with scenes from The Last Waltz, Martin Scorsese's famous 1978 concert film of The Band's 1976 farewell concert.

One Day (2011) boy meets girl. Boy is a flake, but girl instantly falls in love with him anyway. After a few uneventful hours together, they go their separate ways but rendezvous or phone each other on the same date each year. Boy continues to be a flake. Girl continues to love boy. Neither does much about it. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat... Screenwriter has trouble breaking out of this loop with a good climax, so he resorts to a lazy plot device. Still no good. So, to explain girl's fixation on flaky boy, director adds flashback to the very first day. In other words, this movie may make more sense if you arrive 100 minutes late and leave 15 minutes early, because even the writer and director couldn't stick to their chronological theme. The result isn't a bad movie, but it's overrated.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975) liberally adapts Ken Kesey's bestselling novel about a small-time troublemaker who feigns insanity to serve his sentence in a mental hospital instead of a prison. Whereupon he causes more trouble and stirs up the inmates to wreak even more. Jack Nicholson was born to play this role, and everyone else (including some real patients as extras) rises to the occasion. This movie was an instant hit and remains a hilarious classic, although its disturbing depictions of mental-health treatments still resonate today. Nominated for nine Oscars, it won five: Best Picture, Director (Milos Forman), Actor (Nicholson), Actress (Louise Fletcher as the ruthless nurse), and Adapted Screenplay (Lawrence Hauben and Bo Goldman). It's crazy good.

One Hour Photo (2002) will sell you on digital cameras. Robin Williams plays a creepy photo-lab technician at a discount store who becomes obsessed with a family whose snapshots he develops. He keeps trying to inject himself into their life to fill the vacuum of his own lonely existence. But the happy snapshots that feed his fantasy don't tell the whole story. This is Williams' second and best attempt this year (after Insomnia) to play a villain, and the film's photographic attention to detail and stark imagery make it a winner.

One Week (1920) is a 25-minute silent-film short starring the great Buster Keaton and Sybil Seely as newlyweds. Gifted a house as a wedding present, they discover it's a do-it-yourself kit. When the bride's rejected suitor sabotages the project by renumbering the boxes, the finished house looks like something Salvador Dali would design if he was an architect. Most of the fun revolves around this absurd structure, which itself begins revolving in a gale. Keaton shows his amazing talent for physical comedy, including an impressive (and dangerous) stunt in which a facade collapses but leaves him unharmed because he's standing on the spot where an open window lands. Genius!

Open Water (2004) is a low-budget thriller based on a true story: a young couple on a Caribbean vacation are accidentally left behind when scuba diving from a tour boat. Stranded at sea, they struggle to survive against fear, thirst, hunger, and sharks. The water is deep, but the story is shallow, and the climax isn't worth the near seasickness induced by the fast-cut editing and rocking camera work.

Oppenheimer (2023) dramatizes America's development of the atomic bomb during World War II by focusing on the project's "father," physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer. Despite his eccentricities and moral qualms, he supervised a staff of physicists, engineers, and other personnel at the secret town of Los Alamos, New Mexico. Although this story has been told before from various perspectives, this version gets the three-hour blockbuster treatment from director Christopher Nolan. It's adapted from the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography American Prometheus (2005), so it's more accurate than most Hollywood productions. It depicts Oppenheimer's life before, during, and after the war. In particular, it shows his postwar attempts to limit nuclear weapons, which cost him his security clearance. Unfortunately (and as usual), Nolan confuses the story with his jumbled editing and skimpy context. (You'll miss a lot without already knowing something about the history and the physics.) Nevertheless, this powerful drama is definitely Oscar-bound. Cillian Murphy's uncanny performance as Oppenheimer is a good bet for the Best Actor award.

Ordinary Miracles: The Photo League's New York (2012) is a revelatory documentary on the Photo League, an almost-forgotten photography school that thrived in New York City from 1936 to 1951. Organized by talented amateurs, it was unusual for promoting socially aware documentary photography instead of professional commercial work. Its teachers were social activists who believed cameras could improve the world by exposing poverty, hunger, labor exploitation, and other social ills. Students ventured into slums, factories, and poor rural communities. During World War II, many served as military photographers. Later, however, the school disbanded when anti-communists blacklisted some teachers and graduates. This documentary film covers the school's history and shows many of the powerful photographs it inspired.

Ordinary People (1980) is perfection. Not necessarily the best film ever, but the best crafted. Rookie director Robert Redford assembled a talented cast, gave them room to deliver peak performances, and edited the footage so efficiently that each scene relentlessly builds the tension without wasting a moment. Timothy Hutton became the youngest person to win an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in his role as a teenager devastated by his older brother's recent death. Donald Sutherland plays his sympathetic but baffled father. Mary Tyler Moore was nominated for playing against type in an astonishing performance as the chilly, emotionally evasive mother. Judd Hirsch was also nominated for his role as a casual but skillful psychologist. Even the smaller parts are impressive — such as teenage Elizabeth McGovern in her major film debut as Hutton's potential girlfriend. This movie deservedly won the Oscar for Best Picture, and Redford won Best Director. It has stood the test of time as the superlative family drama.

Orphans of the Storm (1921) stars the great Lillian Gish and her sister Dorothy as innocent young women swept up in the French Revolution. No silent-film actress filled these waif-like roles better than Lillian, with Dorothy close behind. Lillian plays Henrietta, the orphaned daughter of poor commoners. Dorothy plays Louise, the disowned daughter of an aristocrat. United as infants, they identify as sisters and travel to Paris hoping to cure Louise's blindness. The revolution interferes. D.W. Griffith directed this 2.5-hour epic that blends melodrama with swashbuckling action, risqué allusions, and cleverly stretched suspense. The rousing climax features a desperate attempt to save innocent prisoners from the guillotine. Despite its commercial failure, this lavish production holds up well. As usual, though, Griffith is preachy. This time he oddly attributes the French Revolution to Bolshevism, which wouldn't emerge until more than 100 years later.

The Other (1972) takes place in 1935, but the main characters are two boys dressed and styled in 1970s fashion, which is when this subtle thriller was made. Everything else is 1935. The boys are twins: one nice, one naughty. When bad things start happening, no one suspects them, because they're just boys. We know better, which saps some suspense, but a surprise is coming — though maybe not a big reveal for fans of psychological thrillers. If you've seen The Bad Seed (1956), you can probably skip this one.

The Other Side of the Mirror: Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival (2007) shows some of his fabled performances at the Newport Folk Festival in 1963, 1964, and 1965. Young Dylan was a new folk-music hero who mesmerized audiences with original songs ranging from social commentary to surrealist poetry. Of the former, his strongest performance here is "Only a Pawn in Their Game," an acidic attack on white supremacy. Of the latter, "Mr. Tambourine Man" is a dreamlike song with a melodic harmonica interlude. It's classic Dylan. However, we also see his 1965 renditions of "Maggie's Farm" and "Like a Rolling Stone" with electric guitars, organ, and percussion, which provoked boos from the crowd. This controversial set became infamous as "Dylan goes electric" because folkies denounced his rock arrangements as commercial sellouts. Unfortunately, this bare-bones documentary lacks historical context — it's just concert footage.

The Other Side of the Wind (2018) distills nearly 100 hours of film left when Orson Welles died in 1985 to reconstruct his unfinished final work. The maverick writer, actor, and director started this project in 1970 with a diverse cast of Hollywood notables, including John Huston, Peter Bogdanovich, Edmond O'Brien, and Dennis Hopper. After years of effort, his admirers finished the production, hoping to resurrect his vision. Unfortunately, it's an incoherent mess. Structured as a film about the making of a film by a famous director on the cusp of death, it relies on quick cuts using jerky cameras to create a cinéma vérité effect that could pass as trendy in 1970 but that resembles a clumsy student film today. Even if Welles was trying to keep up with the times, this exhumation does him no favors. His classic works (such as Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil) better stand the test of time.

The Others (2001) has the makings of a classic haunted-house thriller, but nothing is more disappointing than skillful filmmaking that leads to a letdown. The story is about a woman and her two children in a secluded English mansion at the end of World War II. Mysteriously abandoned by their servants, they accept the services of three new servants who arrive unbidden at their door. It's immediately apparent there's something strange about every character in this powerfully told tale. The psychological plot and spooky atmosphere are reminiscent of The Innocents. Nicole Kidman, the central character, could almost pass as Grace Kelly. Everything is fine until the end, which is so unoriginal that anyone who loves horror films is sure to see it coming from a mile away.

Out of Exile: The Photography of Frank Stein (2021) documents the Jewish photographer who fled Nazi Germany to France and later to the U.S. during World War II. A self-taught portraitist and street photographer, Stein recorded the tumultuous 1930s and '40s with his Leica and Rolleiflex, creating a body of excellent work. After his death, his widow and adult son spent years bringing his surviving pictures to the attention of galleries, collectors, and historians. Unlike some documentaries about photographers, this one doesn't skimp on views of the pictures — it devotes generous screen time to representative samples.

Out of the Fog (1941) mixes film noir with comic quips, a combination that could fall flat. But this obscure crime thriller makes it work, thanks largely to a good cast. John Garfield excels as a passive-aggressive (and sometimes active-aggressive) extortionist who preys on poor fishermen. Thomas Mitchell and John Qualen play two of his victims who fish at night to supplement their dreary day jobs. Ida Lapino is a lovely daughter who rejects her upright boyfriend (Eddie Albert, later of Green Acres fame) to date the big-spender crook. George Tobias and Leo Gorcey make the most of their bit parts. The comic quips come so thick and fast that sometimes they're distracting, particularly in a steam-room scene, but the drama shines through. Filmed during the early days of World War II, this picture also debates whether might makes right.

Out of the Past (1947) is a classic film noir starring Robert Mitchum, Kirk Douglas, and Jane Greer. Mitchum plays a small-town gas-station owner whose past as a barely legal private detective catches up with him. He's hired by a crook (Douglas, perfectly passive-aggressive) to find the girlfriend who shot him (Greer, perfectly femme and fatale). Bullets fly and bodies fall as the chase follows the usual twists and turns typical of this genre, but it's not cut and dried. Sharp acting and clever dialogue keep things lively, with another surprise always lurking around the corner. The climax is atypical, and the final scene requires few words. Excellent in every way. (Remade less successfully in 1984 as Against All Odds.)

Out of Rosenheim (1987): see Bagdad Cafe.

Outlaw Blues (1977) starts by recycling Jailhouse Rock (1957) but detours into political satire and madcap car chases. Peter Fonda plays the Elvis Presley role of a guitar-slinging prison inmate whose break into show business must overcome the theft of his hit song. Susan Saint James plays a sexy country singer who becomes his muse and manager. Fonda slides easily into his characteristic role of an antihero evading the law while pursuing his dream, but his performance is so cool it's chilly. James is warmer but must play the stereotypical woman curiously attracted to outlaws. It's best approached as a fair to middlin' comedy that lampoons the music biz.

The Outsiders (1983) is director Francis Ford Coppola's adaptation of S.E. Hinton's bestselling novel. Published in 1967 when she was still a high school student, the story of gang violence in Tulsa, Oklahoma remains popular with teenagers. Although the film is faithful, it disappointed the book's fans by omitting some memorable scenes — an edict by the studio, which deemed the first cut too long. Coppola released an extended 114-minute cut in 2005, but the original 91-minute version is more common. Rare is the movie that can catch the lightning of a beloved novel, and this one is no exception. Today, it's better remembered for its young actors who later became stars: Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, Emilio Estevez, Diane Lane, Rob Lowe, and Patrick Swayze.

Over-Exposed (1956) stars blonde bombshell Cleo Moore, a Marilyn Monroe lookalike who also died young (age 48, in 1973). It's a shame her brief career never rose above B-grade films, because her performance in this noirish drama is excellent. She plays a busted nightclub girl who reinvents herself as a professional photographer under the tutelage of an older alcoholic portraitist (veteran character actor Raymond Greenleaf). She's too ambitious to let anything stop her, even when mobsters and a suitor (Richard Crenna in an early role) enter the picture. It's rare in this era for an actress to play an aggressive lead, and Moore seizes the opportunity. Another rarity is that the movie's portrayal of 1950s photography is right on the button.

The Owl and the Pussycat (1970) looks promising with Barbra Streisand as an obnoxious floozy and George Segal as a meek intellectual. But I've tried watching this alleged comedy twice, and it's so atrocious that I couldn't finish it either time. Proceed at your own risk.

The Ox-Bow Incident (1942) flopped in theaters by dramatizing an unjust lynching. The usual victims when this movie was made were black men in the South, but 1940s Hollywood feared making a bold anti-racist statement, so the story is styled as a Western and the accused men are white. To salvage a scrap of social relevance, one of the few townspeople who resist the lynch mob is black. Sentient viewers won't miss the allegory. But especially in the hyper-patriotic war year of 1942, when this movie was released, a Western that condemns frontier justice wasn't welcome. Too bad, because the performances are excellent. The highlight is Henry Fonda, who named this picture and The Grapes of Wrath (1940) as his favorites.

Oz, The Great and Powerful (2013) is a Hollywood-fabricated prequel to the beloved classic The Wizard of Oz (1939). It explains how a Kansas carnival magician from 1904 became the ruling Wizard of a magical land despite lacking any magical powers. Although this isn't a bad movie, it fails to match the wonder of its predecessor. For one thing, it's not a musical. Indeed, when the Munchkins break out a lively song-and-dance routine, the Wizard shuts them down. Another problem is that the lead character is not an innocent child like Judy Garland's Dorothy — he's an adult con man with weak morals. Then there's the usual Hollywood overindulgence in computerized special effects, including some violent creatures that may frighten young children. Although fans of the 1939 picture will find this backstory interesting, it makes the old classic look even better.

The Paleface (1922) is a 20-minute silent-film comedy starring Buster Keaton and Virginia Fox. By Keaton's standards, it's substandard, and it's probably offensive to Native Americans. Keaton plays an innocent white man pursued by natives angry over greedy oil barons stealing their land. Eventually he helps them foil the barons. Although the chase scenes aren't bad, there are fewer of the amazing stunts for which Keaton is famous.

Palo Alto (2013) dramatizes the aimless lives of over-privileged teens at an upscale California high school. Every weekend, they crowd into someone's house absent of parents to indulge in wild drinking, pot smoking, and casual sex. Between parties, they cruise in cars, commit vandalism, loaf around, or perform community service for their previous juvenile infractions. If this movie sounds bleak, it is. The only characters who seem to progress toward maturity are a girl who gradually realizes that an affair with her soccer coach isn't smart and a classmate who gradually realizes that his friendship with a reckless idiot isn't smart. Those characters are well played by Emma Roberts (daughter of actor Eric Roberts and niece of actress Julia Roberts) and Jack Kilmer (son of actor Val Kilmer, who plays his stepfather). Gia Coppola (daughter of director Francis Ford Coppola) wrote and directed this unpleasant film, inspired by stories penned by James Franco, who plays the creepy soccer coach. There isn't much to recommend it unless you're into teen depravity.

Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno, 2006) is a gloomy, gory fairy tale — or rather, the tale of a young girl's journey into a vivid fantasy life to escape a harsh reality. The setting is Spain in 1944, when Generalissimo Franco's fascist regime is hunting down the remnants of resistance fighters after the Spanish Civil War. Ivana Baquero is outstanding as Ofelia, a preadolescent girl whose stepfather is a brutal captain in the Spanish Army. She and her pregnant mother are summoned to his isolated mountain outpost. Although her imagination conjures up all manner of fantastic creatures and adventures, even her escapist life is dark and dangerous. Ultimately she finds the violence in both worlds unavoidable. This Mexican picture (subtitled in English), nominated for Best Foreign Language Film of 2006, is brilliantly made but relentlessly downbeat.

Panic (2000) is a limited-distribution sleeper that stars William H. Macy, Donald Sutherland, Neve Campbell, John Ritter, Tracey Ullman, and Barbara Bain in a sometimes-funny, ultimately dramatic story about a middle-aged hit man who grows a conscience.

The Paper (1994) briefly resurrected the genre of newspaper comedy/dramas, echoing classics like The Front Page (1931) and His Girl Friday (1940). Youngsters who know daily newspapers only as declining "dinosaur media" can watch this movie to glimpse the fun they've missed. Michael Keaton plays Henry Hackett, the harried metro editor of a New York tabloid hunting for a scoop on two black teenagers suspected of murder (which also echoes the real 1989 Central Park Five case). Hackett is distracted by a job prospect at a better paper and the anxiety of his pregnant wife (Marisa Tomei). Other members of this superb cast are Robert Duvall as Hackett's weary editor-in-chief, Glenn Close as his hostile managing editor, Randy Quaid as an eccentric columnist, and Jason Alexander as a drunk nursing a grudge. Although exaggerated, this entertaining movie captures the deadline pressures, personality clashes, and ethical dilemmas of daily newspaper journalism.

The Paper Chase (1973) makes law school look miserable but inspired many fans to become lawyers. The allure of surviving a grueling academic regimen to enter a highly paid profession appealed to those with aspirations to join an elite social stratum. However, this movie shows students struggling through an especially difficult contract-law course taught by an especially demanding professor at the especially elite Harvard Law School. Most law students graduated from lower-rank schools and found themselves competing with a glut of other newly minted lawyers for lower paid and less elite law practices. Apart from its social impact, this is a good film. John Houseman won Best Supporting Actor as the imperious professor; director James Bridge's adapted screenplay was also nominated. Timothy Bottoms credibly plays the ambitious student who tries to win the prof's favor. Anyone who considers law school, or even college, should see this picture.

The Parallax View (1974) stars Warren Beatty as a newspaper reporter who witnesses a political assassination and later stumbles onto a wider conspiracy. This thriller emerged from the trauma and paranoia of assassinations in the 1960s, including those of President John F. Kennedy, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King Jr. Conspiracy theories abounded, and official investigations were doubted. In this well-crafted film, the conspiracy is real but more elaborate than most, and the motives are mysterious. Although Beatty isn't convincing as a small-paper reporter, his job is basically an excuse to dig into the mystery. Alan J. Pakula's direction and Gordon Willis's cinematography greatly heighten the menacing atmosphere.

Parasite (2019) is a remarkable South Korean film (with English subtitles) that spins a morality tale of wealth disparity, but the moral depends on the viewer. A desperately poor family gradually infiltrates a rich family by posing as unrelated people who provide various domestic services. Soon the father, mother, son, and daughter are all employed and earning good wages for the first time in their lives. The rich family is oblivious but pleased with the work, so the ruse seems harmless, even humorous. But of course, something goes wrong. Then the story takes strange and disturbing turns. Depending on your view, either family may seem exploitative, and the competition for wealth and status can be a vicious equalizer. Parasite won four Academy Awards: Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, and International Feature Film.

The Parent Trap (1961) stars Hayley Mills in dual roles as twin girls separated at birth who discover each other at a summer camp. Hostile at first, they soon become friends and scheme to reunite their divorced parents. This classic Disney comedy rides on 14-year-old Hayley's glowing screen presence and her talent for playing impish tomboys. In the 1960s, she was the most popular child actor since Shirley Temple in the 1930s. Along for the ride are Brian Keith and Maureen O'Hara as the divorced parents and Joanna Barnes as a younger gold digger who becomes the twins' nemesis. This hit movie has inspired several sequels, remakes, and imitators but remains the benchmark.

The Paris Express (1953): see The Man Who Watched Trains Go By (1952).

Party Girl (1958) is too colorful and glamorous to qualify as film noir, but it tries. Robert Taylor plays an early-1930s gangster lawyer who has second thoughts about his clientele after meeting an attractive showgirl (Cyd Charisse). But ditching his top client, a mob boss (Lee J. Cobb in an unusually creepy role) won't be easy. Charisse is the movie's main attraction. Her elaborate dance routines are more 1950s than 1930s, but that's fine with me.

The Passion of the Christ (2004) isn't your usual Jesus movie. It's gory, not a tale of glory. Except for brief flashbacks and scenes involving Judas, the entire film is a graphic depiction of the arrest, beating, whipping, humiliation, crucifixion, and death of Jesus. The blood flows in streams and spurts as sadistic Roman soldiers and Jewish paramilitaries vent their brutality on him. The Roman consul Pontius Pilate is portrayed as a conflicted occupation governor who can't understand the hate directed at the seemingly harmless prisoner. Pilate's wife, a character unseen in the Bible, is sympathetic but unable to sway her husband. The Jewish clergy and mobs are corrupt or fickle. We all know what happens in this story and how it ends, so the only innovation of the film is its sickening portrayal of ancient justice. The movie isn't overtly anti-Semitic, but when an earthquake at the moment of Jesus' death wrecks the Jewish temple, some viewers may conclude that God aimed his wrath at the Jewish religion, not its sinful followers. Director Mel Gibson derived that scene and others from writings about a 19th-century mystic nun, whose visions are unsanctioned by the Roman Catholic church. The pre-release anti-Semitism controversy fooled many Christians into supporting a film that they otherwise would have boycotted for its departures from scripture and degrading violence.

A Patch of Blue (1965) would have been impossible without the civil-rights movement of the previous ten years. Sidney Poitier plays a compassionate black man who befriends a blind white woman (Elizabeth Hartman) and tries to free her from an abusive household. The inversion of a black person trying to liberate a white person from virtual slavery changes the social narrative, encouraging audiences to view civil rights from a fresh perspective. That the white person is blind to color alters the racial equation, too. But these clever plot devices would fail without Poitier's carefully measured performance against Hartman's highly emotional persona. At age 22, Hartman became the youngest woman ever nominated for Best Actress. Although she didn't win the Oscar, Shelley Winters won Best Supporting Actress for an equally dramatic performance as her cruel mother. This picture was so radical in 1965 that some Southern theaters deleted a mild kissing scene to avoid offending racists.

Paths of Glory (1957) ranks among the best war movies that lean anti-war. It would make a great double feature with All Quiet on the Western Front (1930, 1979), a similar World War I picture. The great Stanley Kubrick directed and co-wrote this drama (based on Humphrey Cobb's 1935 novel) about dispirited French infantry mired in trench warfare and wasted in suicidal assaults across No Man's Land. When one hopeless charge ends in typical defeat, the generals blame the soldiers and threaten to execute a few for cowardice. Kirk Douglas stars as a brave but increasingly disillusioned officer who stoutly defends his men. Adolphe Menjou and George Macready are perfectly cast as remote commanders indifferent to their troops' suffering. Kubrick's future wife Christiane Harlan appears in a touching final scene that caps this masterpiece. It's a must-see classic.

The Patriot (2000) stars Mel Gibson as a reluctant guerilla fighter during the American Revolution. It's realistically gory, occasionally hokey, somewhat interesting, and always predictable. The British come off looking as bad as Nazis. Loosely based on a real American backwoods fighter (Francis Marion, the "Swamp Fox"), it implies that small-unit guerilla warfare played a major role in winning the Revolution. Although Gibson's character disparages traditional battle tactics, both sides fought the most decisive battles according to the conventions of the time. Don't misinterpret this fictional drama as a history lesson.

Patterns a/k/a Patterns of Power (1956) remakes an early teleplay that won an Emmy for writer Rod Serling, later of Twilight Zone fame. This big-screen adaptation centers on a factory manager from Ohio who's promoted to a junior executive position at the lavish NYC headquarters. It's a big leap into the world of big business. From his first day, however, he senses something wrong. Soon he's embroiled in contentious office politics. Although this portrayal of American capitalism is harsh, it airs two sides: the cold pursuit of profit for its own sake versus humanistic management that acknowledges the need for profit but not as the sole imperative. This is an actor's picture with fine performances by Van Heflin as the junior exec, Ed Begley as his superior, and Everett Sloane as their no-nonsense boss. Sloane is outstanding.

Patterns of Power (1956): see Patterns.

Patton (1970) dramatizes the World War II exploits of General George S. Patton, one of the conflict's best tacticians. Patton was controversial in his own time and remains so today, despite his achievements. Sometimes aggressive to a fault, he nevertheless played a key role as commander of the U.S. Third Army in Europe after D-Day. This epic highlights some of his character flaws while ignoring others, such as his anti-semitism. It also omits some costly defeats. George C. Scott won Best Actor as Patton, one of seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, and Original Screenplay. (It was nominated for ten!) As usual, Hollywood needlessly riddles this production with historical inaccuracies. Although it's a World War II movie, it premiered during the nadir of the Vietnam War, when many frustrated Americans hungered for a no-nonsense general who could win a decisive victory. That context colors this portrayal but is lost now.

Paul (2011) is a passable comedy about two British nerds who find a space alien in the desert after visiting a comic-book convention in San Diego. Friendly but frequently obnoxious, the scrawny alien is running from government agents and only wants to get home (somewhere in the Andromeda galaxy). There are lots of misadventures as the travelers encounter hostile locals and other obstacles. Although some of the humor misfires, there are enough hits to keep things going. This movie takes nothing seriously but may offend some believers in UFOs and supreme beings.

The Pearl of Death a/k/a Sherlock Holmes and the Pearl of Death (1944) is the 9th in 14 films starring Basil Rathbone as the famed private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Dennis Hoey also returns as Lieutenant Lestrade from Scotland Yard. Like all these movies since the third installment, it's placed in contemporary time (the 1940s) instead of the late 1800s of the original Holmes stories. It's based on a genuine Holmes story, though, and it's a good example of the series. A clever thief steals a precious pearl, sending Holmes and the police on a frantic pursuit. An unusual twist is that Holmes inadvertently enables the theft, so his reputation is at stake as well. Also, one of the bad guys is "The Creeper" played by Rondo Hatton, a real-life disfigured World War I veteran who enjoyed a brief Hollywood career as a frightening monster-man.

Pearl Harbor (2001) is riddled with historical flaws and isn't satisfied to tell a straight story that already has enough drama. Instead, it offers the usual Hollywood mishmash of truth and lies. On top of that, the movie is overlong, because it follows the Pearl Harbor attack with a fictionalized account of the Doolittle raid on Japan — which happened four months later. Apparently, the filmmakers couldn't bear to end their movie with an American defeat, so the Doolittle coda reminds everyone that the U.S. won World War II. The only high points in this film are the special effects in the battle scenes.

Pecker (1998) lampoons the artsy art world in an acerbic comedy by notorious filmmaker John Waters. It's considered his first mainstream movie after his deliberately trashy films like Pink Flamingos (1972). The title character is an ordinary teenager who uses a cheap secondhand camera to take rough black-and-white photos of friends, family, and neighbors. When a New York art dealer discovers Pecker's work, suddenly he's admired by wealthy collectors. Their attention disrupts his relationships and threatens to warp his personality and photography. Despite stumbling at the box office, this film is a cogent critique of art collecting and at times is outrageously funny.

The People (1972) is an above-average example of a 1970s made-for-TV movie. Kim Darby stars as a young teacher hired by an isolated rural community of strange folks who dress like Amish farmers and enforce strict rules on their children. William Shatner has a smaller role as a country doctor and the rare outsider who tolerates their idiosyncrasies. The new teacher struggles to connect with her pupils until their secrets are gradually revealed. This Francis Ford Coppola production adapts a series of stories by Zenna Henderson but disappoints some fans by mashing different elements of her works together. Still, it's interesting.

The Perfect Score (2004) is a heist story with a twist: the thieves are high schoolers trying to steal answers to the Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT) so they can enroll in their first-choice colleges. This parody of heist thrillers also critiques standardized testing and the high expectations imposed on teens. The most recognizable stars are Scarlett Johansson and Chris Evans. Although this comedy is mildly amusing, the annoying rock-music soundtrack often drowns the dialogue.

The Perfect Storm (2000) is an action thriller based on a true story about a New England fishing trawler caught in a tremendous confluence of gales. It's suspenseful, even if you already know how it ends. The startling special effects don't look like special effects, and while the acting isn't superlative, it's adequate.

Persepolis (2007) is an animated French drama about a young girl living in Iran during the Islamic revolution of 1979. After the hated Shah is overthrown, hope for the future quickly turns bitter as Iran becomes an Islamic theocracy. Everyday life for women becomes particularly oppressive. Told as a series of flashbacks, Persepolis is a good example of a film that personalizes historic events through a child's innocent eyes. The animation may appear crude by modern standards, but it's actually creative and expressive, and most scenes are appropriately drawn in black-and-white. Overall, though, it's a depressing story — especially because little has changed in Iran since 1979.

Personal Column (1947): see Lured.

The Petrified Forest (1936) marked Humphrey Bogart's transition from Broadway stage to Hollywood screen. He petrified audiences with his grim portrayal of a murderous bank robber who holds hostage the occupants of a gas station and diner in the Arizona desert. Top-billed are Leslie Howard as a cultured English hitchhiker and Bette Davis as a young waitress yearning to escape the desert to study art in France. This movie was adapted from a stage play and shows it. Bogart and Howard reprise their stage roles, but Howard's dialogue is too flowery for a cinematic crime thriller, and the climax is too melodramatic. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is tense as we wonder which hostage may die.

Phantasm (1979) inspired four sequels and is considered a cult-classic horror thriller. Two orphaned brothers and their buddy who drives an ice-cream truck investigate mysterious behavior at a local funeral home and cemetery. Writer/director Don Coscarelli cleverly stretched his small budget to deliver lots of jump-frights and respectable special effects. His signature innovation is a flying chrome ball that attacks intruders using sharp blades and a blood-pumping drill. The eerie soundtrack echoes The Exorcist, which energized this genre in 1973. Phantasm isn't that good but holds its own.

The Phantom of the Opera (1925) adapted Gaston Leroux's 1910 novel and is a treasured silent-film classic. Lon Chaney Sr. unforgettably plays the mysterious musician who masks his horribly disfigured face and haunts the dank catacombs beneath the Paris Opera House. Chaney applied his own facial makeup and kept his creation secret until the premiere. Even his co-star — Mary Philbin, who plays kidnapped opera singer Christine Daaé — reportedly didn't see his visage until she unmasked him, which amplified her scripted reaction. This hugely influential thriller even has a few scenes in full color, rare at the time. Unfortunately, modern prints vary in condition from scene to scene, despite restorations. Nevertheless, it's a requisite for horror-show fans.

Phantom From Space (1953) is a low-budget science-fiction thriller that's pathetic even by 1950s standards. Skip it.

Phantom Ship a/k/a The Mystery of the Mary Celeste (1935) is speculative fiction. It's loosely based on the real-life mystery of the Mary Celeste, a merchant ship found adrift in the Atlantic Ocean in 1872 without a crew. This picture suggests a scenario in which the crewmen killed each other over various grudges. Bela Lugosi stars as a weathered sailor who nurses one such grudge — he was shanghaied (kidnapped) to serve on the same ship years before. His part is relatively small, though. This film is plausible and passable, but extant copies sorely need restoration.

The Phantom Thread (2017) stars Daniel-Day Lewis in what he claims will be his last role. It's also his perfect role, because he's a fussy auteur who plays a fussy auteur. His character is a high-class English dress designer who caters to the wealthy and royalty. They are demanding clients, but he is equally demanding of himself and his staff. He's so fussy that the sound of someone buttering toast a little too briskly can ruin his whole day. Into this passive-aggressive environment he brings a hotel waitress who soon becomes his favorite model and assistant. Then things take a bitter turn. The acting, art direction, costuming, and cinematography in this period piece are superb, but the story is stupid. By the abrupt climax, the characters seem out of character. Maybe it's an allegory, like the fable of the emperor's new clothes. Or maybe this auteur film is wearing those clothes.

Phase IV (1974) is largely forgotten but is a great science-fiction film. To study the mysterious appearance of giant ant mounds — the mounds are giant, not the ants — two scientists build a lab nearby. But their efforts are fruitless, and their funding will soon expire, so they try disturbing the ants by destroying a mound. Bad move! Now the ants are angry. And they are smart. And they want revenge. Unlike other ant-attack movies, this one isn't schlocky. The macro cinematography is so astonishing that I still don't understand how it was done. In one scene, the ants roll a tiny ball of poison through tunnels to their colony. As the poison kills one ant, another takes his place; then another, and still another. Finally the poison reaches the queen, who spawns new ants with immunity. In another scene, the ants carefully arrange their casualties in the neat rows of an underground ant cemetery. Yet this film was made without computer special-effects magic. Congratulations to director Saul Bass and cinematographer Dick Bush.

The Philadelphia Story (1940) saved Katharine Hepburn's career and was nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Picture. Although time has eroded some of its humor and social relevance, it's still a classic comedy shining with star power. Hepburn plays the divorced daughter of an old-money family who's about to remarry. Her fiancé is a lower-class social climber, but he's overshadowed by Cary Grant as the suave ex-husband and James Stewart as a poor writer reluctantly assigned to cover the high-society wedding. Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart carry this talky romp. Hepburn was nominated for Best Actress and Stewart won Best Actor. The screenplay also won, but some contemporary humor is obscure today, as is some Depression-era class commentary.

Phone Booth (2003) is an above-average thriller that literally takes place in a public phone booth — the last of its breed on a New York City street. Colin Farrell stars as a slick-as-oil celebrity publicist who answers a ringing phone and suddenly finds himself held hostage by an unseen sniper. Equally unseen is Farrell's outstanding costar, Keifer Sutherland, who makes this movie work by breathing life into the creepy voice of a sociopathic killer. Phone Booth was intended for release in 2002 but postponed until 2003 because of the real-life sniper killings in the Washington, D.C. area.

The Phone Call (2013) won the Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film, and it's a 20-minute gem. Sally Hawkins plays Heather, a crisis-line counselor who fields a call from a distraught man who won't reveal why he's scared. As the minutes tick by, more information spills out, and Heather gradually becomes equally frightened and emotionally involved. But this poignant film is as much about Heather's life as the caller's troubles. Hawkins plays Heather brilliantly in what is nearly a one-person show.

Phone Call From a Stranger (1952) sounds ominous but is Hollywood's version of click bait. Gary Merrill plays the stranger who makes the cold calls, but he's not a creep. He's hoping to tie up loose ends for victims of an accident. Shelley Winters won top billing as Binky Gay, a failed actress and nightclub singer who keeps her sense of humor. Winters is perfect for her extroverted character, originally envisioned for Lauren Bacall. Michael Rennie co-stars as a doctor who wants to make amends for a past sin. Keenan Wynn does his duty as a clownish traveling salesman. Finally there's Bette Davis as the salesman's wife. Davis is the biggest star, but she requested this smaller role because she thought it was better for her, and it is. The talented Nunnally Johnson wrote this unusual character-driven drama that seems improbable yet somehow works.

Photographic Justice: The Corky Lee Story (2022) recounts the life and career of Young Corky Lee (1947–2021), a Chinese-American photographer who spent more than 50 years recording Asian-American culture, mostly in New York City. This celebratory documentary interviews his friends, associates, and second wife. Unlike some documentaries on photographers, it shows many examples of the pictures for which he is known.

The Pianist (2002) is a stunning masterpiece. Unlike other dramas about the Holocaust, it eschews the grand sweep of historical events and multiple points of view. Instead, it shows the horror as experienced by one person: a Jewish pianist in Warsaw, Poland. The descent begins imperceptibly with the outbreak of World War II on September 1, 1939, and becomes excruciating by 1945. By showing how gradually the situation for Jews deteriorated and how isolated they were from larger events, this movie answers the question of how the Nazis were able to so easily enslave and kill millions of innocent people. Director Roman Polanski and writer Ronald Harwood have created a hard-to-watch but powerful adaptation of the memoirs of Wladyslaw Szpilman.

Pickup on South Street (1953) stars Richard Widmark, Jean Peters, and Thelma Ritter in an excellent crime thriller with a Cold War vibe. Widmark is typically creepy as a pickpocket who lifts a woman's wallet. All he wants is money, but he finds a strip of microfilm. The woman (Peters) is unknowingly a mule for communist spies. Now an ordinary crime is an espionage case. Widmark and Peters are hot, and Ritter was nominated Best Supporting Actress for playing a streetwise police informant. As usual, these underworld characters are more interesting than the cardboard cops. Although the ending is implausible, this picture moves fast and drips with slangy dialogue.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945) superbly adapts Oscar Wilde's classic 1890 novel. Although it's unfaithful in several ways, it preserves more of the author's language than most Hollywood movies do. Some dialogue is difficult to understand, however, because George Sanders (playing Lord Henry Wotton) spurts it too quickly to digest. Hurd Hatfield plays the title role unemotionally, a departure from the novel. Nevertheless, it's effective, and it adds creepiness to the story about a portrait that supernaturally changes to reflect the subject's decadent character, while the character himself remains ageless. Despite lacking typical horror-movie tropes (ghosts, demons, monsters), this film really is a horror story that reveals the heaven and hell in a person.

The Picture Taker (2023) tackles a controversial subject: Ernest Withers, a black pro photographer in Memphis who covered the civil-rights movement in the 1950s and '60s. Working alone, Withers was seemingly everywhere during those turbulent years. Trusted implicitly by movement leaders and activists, he took thousands of photographs of public events and private meetings. After he died in 2007 at age 85, however, the Memphis Commercial Appeal revealed that Withers was also a secret FBI informant. For years, his photos and reports flowed from the local bureau to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, who believed communists steered the movement. This well-made documentary considers multiple possibilities. Did Withers support or oppose the activists? Did the FBI persuade him to look for suspected communists who might undermine the movement? Or did he persuade the FBI to pay him for information it would have obtained anyway? Could he have been playing both sides just to keep his small photography business solvent? The filmmakers resist judging a talented African-American who was caught between the forces of freedom and oppression.

Pieces of April (2003) is an unusually good and honest holiday movie. Katie Holmes plays April, a wayward young woman living with her boyfriend in a Manhattan slum. To make amends for her past misbehavior — at which the film only hints — she invites her estranged family to her tiny apartment for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. The story swings from funny to sad and back again as we see April desperately trying to cook a turkey, her boyfriend gamely striving to be supportive, and her family making an agonizing car trip to New York from a distant suburb. Eccentric neighbors and other characters add even more life to a drama that already seems like real life. Writer/director Peter Hedges also wrote About a Boy (2002) and What's Eating Gilbert Grape (1993).

Pig (2021) stars Nicholas Cage in an offbeat role as a rustic recluse whose beloved pet pig helps him harvest the rare truffles prized by gourmet chefs. When mysterious thieves steal the animal, he enlists his middleman truffle buyer in an obsessive quest to recover it. Their mission darkens when it leads them to a criminal underworld. Cage's character has a hidden backstory that gradually emerges, adding a new dimension to the story. His dialogue is sparse, so this odd but interesting movie rides almost entirely on Cage's subtle performance. Crucial plot points are also subtle, so pay attention. Not often do we see a food thriller with a pignapping.

Pink Flamingos (1972) may be the sleaziest film ever made — a judgment qualified only because I haven't seen every film ever made. My take would please John Waters, the notorious auteur who almost singlehandedly created this exercise in gross excess. The low-budget ($12,000) production stars the infamous drag queen Divine (Harris Glenn Milstead) as herself, trying to prove she's the Filthiest Person Alive in competition with a married couple vying for the same accolade. This premise launches a litany of shocking scenes guaranteed to insult every sensibility. Shun it if you're easily offended, or even not-so-easily offended. As some later films proved, however, Waters is a talented writer/director when channeling his efforts in other directions. In 2023, the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce honored him with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Pink Floyd: The Wall (1982) adapts rock-group Pink Floyd's classic album that rails against oppression, war, rigid education, and social conformity. Like other film adaptations of rock albums, it weaves a loose story around song lyrics that weren't originally written for a movie musical. And like other Pink Floyd albums, it's semiautobiographical; bassist Roger Waters wrote the screenplay. Bob Geldof stars as Pink, a successful rock star descending into drugged stupors and depravity. Geldof, a rock musician himself (with the Boomtown Rats and Band Aid), fully inhabits this role. Animated interludes add surrealism and sexual symbolism to the visual mix. This film is mainly for Pink Floyd fans who love the album, but it provokes a question: Why is there no film adaptation of the group's most famous and impressive work, Dark Side of the Moon?

The Pink Panther (1963) was such a hit that it made Peter Sellers an international star as Inspector Clouseau and spawned eight sequels — plus a cartoon series inspired by the animated opening credits! Given its popularity, you'd think this first installment must be one of filmdom's funniest comedies. Although indeed it's a classic, it's less hilarious than some of the sequels. It's mainly a madcap heist film in which Sellers plays a supporting role to David Niven. Some characters and repeating gags for which the later movies are famous don't appear. It's not bad, though, and isn't a prerequisite for watching the sequels.

Pirates of the Caribbean: the Curse of the Black Pearl (2003) is a swashbuckler — or should I say "swishbuckler"? Johnny Depp delivers an over-the-top performance reminiscent of Marlon Brando's mannered interpretation of Fletcher Christian in Mutiny on the Bounty (1962), except less effeminate and more demented. Without Depp's deft touch, Pirates would be just another special-effects extravaganza channeling Errol Flynn. As it is, the movie is good, but not great, and perhaps too violent for small children, despite its Disney parentage.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006) is the first sequel to the original 2003 Pirates of the Caribbean, with a third installment soon to follow. Johnny Depp reprises his eccentric role as Captain Jack Sparrow, a swishy pirate trying to escape a curse. Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley also return as young lovers about to wed. This isn't a bad movie, but it's overlong for young children and isn't quite as charming as the first film. Much of the dialogue is so heavily accented that it's hard to understand. Luckily, it doesn't matter, because the inventive action scenes are the driving force.

The Pit and the Pendulum (1961) loosely adapts Edgar Allan Poe's famous 1842 short story about a gruesome torture instrument during the Spanish Inquisition. Veteran screenwriter Richard Matheson adds elements from three other Poe works ("The Cask of Amontillado," "The Premature Burial," and "The Tell-Tale Heart"). Vincent Price plays the haunted son of a deceased Inquisitor. Mentally unstable after the death of his young wife (spooky Barbara Steele), he evades questions from her suspicious brother. When his doctor and sister confide secrets that deepen the mystery, the answers seem to lie within an abandoned torture chamber. Horror master Roger Corman directed this color picture, which has great atmosphere and better production than his low-budget b&w films. The nightmare sequences and flashbacks are especially creepy, and the final scenes are real thrillers.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2013) loses much of its momentum halfway but persists to become a morality tale about bad karma. Ryan Gosling steals the show as a circus-trick motorcyclist who takes a wrong turn in life when he unexpectedly has a baby son to support. His upward mobility soon veers out of control, and a new character enters the drama — a rookie cop. Although Jason Bateman ably tackles this role, he can't match Gosling's menacing energy. The moral: What goes around comes around.

A Place in the Sun (1951) adapts Theodore Dreiser's 1925 novel An American Tragedy and remakes a 1931 picture. This adaptation far surpasses the 1931 version, thanks mainly to one of Montgomery Clift's best performances. He's George Eastman, an ambitious young man from a poor branch of a rich merchant family. He talks his way into a low-level job at their factory, then wins a promotion and appears bound for the executive suite. Troubles arise when he falls in love with two women: a lowly laborer (Shelley Winters) and a society girl (Elizabeth Taylor). Soon his bright future darkens. Although Clift's neurotic style may seem inappropriate for a hungry go-getter, it reflects the inferiority complex of his character's impoverished upbringing. Winters and Taylor play clingy opposites who could either drag him down or lift him up. Winters is especially good in a tense scene that reflects 1950s morals (which, alas, are returning). This classic film was nominated for nine Oscars, including Best Picture. It won six, including George Stevens for directing.

Places in the Heart (1984) is memorable for the wrong reason: Sally Field's impromptu acceptance speech at the Academy Awards ceremony. After winning the Oscar for Best Actress — her second, after Norma Rae (1979) — she was overwhelmed and blurted "You like me! You really like me!" Although her emotion was mocked, it was as genuine as her performance in this outstanding Great Depression drama. Field plays a frazzled mother who must raise and harvest a cotton crop to save her family farm. Superb co-stars include Danny Glover, John Malkovich, Lindsay Crouse, Ed Harris, and Amy Madigan. The story unfolds in 1935 Texas, where the hardship was crushing, social safety nets were absent, and racism was routine. The moving final scene invites interpretation. In addition to Field's award, writer/director Robert Benton won an Oscar for his original screenplay, and the film was nominated for five more, including Best Picture and Best Director.

Plan 9 From Outer Space (1957) is so bad that it has become the benchmark for bad movies. Ironically, its sheer incompetence in all aspects of filmmaking is so renowned that it's now hailed as a masterwork in the genre of bad movies. Directed by Hollywood's most famous bad director, Edward D. Wood Jr., it's about space aliens and zombies plotting to conquer Earth. The only star is Bela Lugosi, but he died soon after production started, so he appears in only a few brief shots. A stand-in concealed by a cape unconvincingly appears in his other scenes. Now a cult classic, Plan 9 has rarely been surpassed, except by jokers making bad movies on purpose.

Planet of the Apes (2001) could have been made for millions of dollars less by using a no-name cast instead of burying stars like Tim Roth, Helena Bonham Carter, Michael Clarke Duncan, and even Charlton Heston beneath layers of rubber masks and makeup. Very little of their personalities shines through. The plot will be familiar to anyone who has seen the 1968 original: Mark Wahlberg plays a lost astronaut who discovers a planet ruled by intelligent apes and served by human slaves. It's a "fresh" remake, not a continuation of the original story; still, the plot twists aren't too hard to figure out. Overall it's an elaborate effort that lacks soul.

The Play House a/k/a The Playhouse (1921) is a 22-minute silent film starring the incomparable Buster Keaton. Indeed, Keaton simultaneously plays more than a dozen characters — including women — in a dream sequence created with remarkable in-camera trick photography. When Keaton's character awakens from his stage-star fantasy, he's back to his mundane life as the theater's lowly backstage crewman. When twin starlets arrive, he falls in love with one but has trouble distinguishing between them. Then a misunderstanding provokes a wild foot-chase with a larger man (Edward F. Cline, Keaton's frequent co-star and co-director). Although Keaton's famous stunts are tamer in this film because he was recovering from a broken ankle, it's still a great comedy.

Play It Again, Sam (1972) launched Woody Allen and his neurotic screen persona to pop-culture stardom. He plays Allan Felix, a recently divorced film critic whose inept attempts to start another relationship made this movie a comedy classic. Adapted from Woody's Broadway play, it co-stars Diane Keaton and Tony Roberts reprising their stage roles as his best friends. (Woody, Keaton, and Roberts portray similar characters in his subsequent films.) The laughs come nonstop, mostly as Felix talks to himself and to an imaginary adviser in the guise of Humphrey Bogart, his screen hero. Some viewers will miss the intellectual-cultural references, and youngsters born in the cellphone age may puzzle over a running gag tied to analog landlines. Otherwise, it's not too dated, although Woody's later personal life colors how some people view his work.

Play Misty for Me (1971) became a sleeper hit at now-extinct drive-in movie theaters, where I first saw it. Clint Eastwood's famous directorial debut blends the free sex and disc-jockey glamour of the 1960s with a cautionary tale that questions casual promiscuity. Eastwood plays a cool jazz DJ in California who beds an eager young fan (Jessica Walter). Their tryst turns testy when she becomes dangerously possessive. Eastwood's performance is typically Eastwood: glares and grimaces. Walter energizes this thriller with abrupt transitions from bubbly adulation to irrational menace. A romantic musical interlude slows the pace and seems superfluous, but it lulls audiences into a dreamlike state before jolting us awake with an unforgettable climax.

Pleasantville (1998) is an entertaining tale that mocks the contrast between 1950s TV shows and real life. Two modern-day teen siblings (played by Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon) accidentally enter the world of "Pleasantville," a fictional 1958 TV sitcom reminiscent of Ozzie and Harriet. Confused at first, they try to conform, but soon they begin changing the saccharine world instead. Marvelous special effects show the transition by gradually turning the black-and-white scenery into color. Allegories abound as the movie lampoons racism, provincialism, and Puritanism. It can also be viewed as another explusion from the Garden of Eden, as a perfect but bland world gives way to sin and libertarianism.

Please Hold (2021) is a hilarious 19-minute short film about a near future when police drones can arrest people and greedy corporations run fully automated jails. Erick Lopez stars as a young man inexplicably arrested for an unspecified crime. Without ever seeing a real person, he's locked in a bleak cell and bombarded with ads on its closed-circuit screen. Unable to afford a lawyer, he's assigned a public-defender bot who recommends an awful plea bargain after running a simulated trial. This intense satire updates Franz Kafka's 1925 novel The Trial for the digital age and should have won its Oscar nomination for Best Live Action Short Film.

Please Murder Me! (1956) feels like a gloomy film-noir episode of the Perry Mason television show. Both star Raymond Burr as an upstanding defense attorney who's involved in a murder case. But this movie precedes the 1957–1966 TV series and ends very differently. Dripping with intrigue and shadowy atmosphere, it's a worthy example of film noir that deserves more credit. Angela Lansbury expertly co-stars as a woman who may or may not be a femme fatale — wait and see!

Pleasure (2021) depicts misery when a young Swede travels to L.A. to become a porn star. She thinks she knows what to expect, but she doesn't. This fictional story rings truer than most dramatizations of the porn industry, partly by including some real porn stars, agents, and film crews. However, the main character ("Bella Cherry") is Swedish actress Sofia Kappel, not a real porn star. In her feature-film debut, Kappel is uncomfortably convincing, especially in a harrowing scene of rough sex. Be warned that this movie is sexually graphic. Although the sex is mostly simulated, it's harshly realistic. Swedish director Ninja Thyberg won surprising cooperation from porn-industry practitioners — perhaps because they want to discourage newbies like Bella Cherry who think they know what to expect.

Pollock (2000) has a superlative and emotional performance by Ed Harris (nominated for Best Actor) as the abstract painter Jackson Pollock. But as with most biopics that try to cram a whole life story into two hours, Pollock feels choppy as it skips from one big life event to another. Imagine how your life would look as a highlight reel. Still, it's a good film, and Marcia Gay Harden richly deserved her surprise Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress.

Poor Things (2023) abounds in gorgeous steampunk sets and flamboyant fashions that won three Academy Awards. It also won Emma Stone her second Oscar for Best Actress and was nominated for Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, Cinematography, Music, Film Editing, and Supporting Actor (Mark Ruffalo). Despite all the acclaims, this eccentric film is controversial. Stone plays a suicide corpse revived by a rogue scientist (Willem Dafoe). But she resumes life with a baby's mind in a woman's body. Relearning the world is a difficult passage through experiences that veer from amusing to appalling. A common thread is her sexual flowering, which men either exploit or repress. Some critics question her prostitution — the impersonal sex scenes are surprisingly graphic and portrayed as enlightening. This picture finds odd ways to lean feminist while pitting a quest for self-improvement against the inertia of a cruel world.

Portrait of Jennie (1948) was an expensive flop when released — and again when re-released in 1950 as Tidal Wave — but isn't bad at all. Joseph Cotten plays a starving artist during the Great Depression who meets an exuberant but mysterious young girl in NYC Central Park. She instantly falls in love and vows to grow up faster so they can marry someday. Jennifer Jones shines in this role and adds mystery by indeed appearing to grow older each time they meet. Good supporting actors include Ethel Barrymore as a sympathetic spinster, Cecil Kellaway as her art-gallery partner, David Wayne as the artist's best buddy, and silent-film star Lillian Gish as a nun. This romantic fantasy has charm and won an Oscar for special effects.

The Poseidon Adventure (1972) still ranks as one of the best disaster-movie blockbusters. Great motion pictures have memorable scenes, and this one has plenty when a cruise ship capsizes, trapping passengers in temporary air pockets below decks. The stellar cast includes Gene Hackman as a defrocked minister who preaches self-help, Ernest Borgnine as a gruff cop, Stella Stevens as his former-prostitute wife, Shelley Winters as a heavy Jewish matron, Jack Albertson as her devoted husband, Carol Lynley as a traumatized cabaret singer, Red Buttons as her rescuer, Roddy McDowall as an injured crewmate, Pamela Sue Martin as a sexy young woman, and Eric Shea as her smart little brother. The drama starts slowly but ramps to action as these survivors struggle through obstacles to escape certain death. It also aspires to higher meaning: What does God demand of Man? Does he only help those who help themselves? Nominated for eight Oscars, including Supporting Actress for Winters, it won only Best Song ("The Morning After," later a hit for Maureen McGovern) and a Special Achievement Award for Visual Effects. Nevertheless, it inspired a wave of similar disaster flicks — and a 1979 sequel that quickly sank.

Possessed (1947) stars Joan Crawford in one of her best performances, on par with her Oscar-winning turn in Mildred Pierce (1945). And indeed she was nominated for another Best Actress award, though she didn't win. Crawford displays great emotional range as a mentally disturbed woman hospitalized in a near-catatonic state. Barely revived, she tells doctors her woeful story of lost love and delusions. Van Heflin is perfect as her reluctant lover, and Raymond Massey is characteristically stoic as another important man in her life. The climax is a surprise. Hollywood made this movie when softening the stigma of psychiatry was a popular theme. All these years later, mental illness remains an untreated shame for some.

The Post (2017) dramatizes the 1971 publication of the Pentagon Papers in The Washington Post. Although The New York Times first broke the story, the Post soon followed. Their exposé of a classified history of the Vietnam War compiled for the Defense Department sparked a showdown before the U.S. Supreme Court. Meryl Streep plays an uncomfortable Katherine Graham, a D.C. socialite who became publisher of the Post after her husband's suicide. Tom Hanks plays hard-nosed editor Ben Bradlee, bringing a softer edge to the character than is perhaps justified. Matthew Rhys portrays Daniel Ellsberg, the former intelligence analyst who leaked the papers, but his role is relatively minor in this film. Instead, it focuses on the journalists' efforts to report the story, President Nixon's attempts to quash it, and the publisher's fear that the government will drive her newspaper out of business. For its historical drama and relevance to current events, The Post is one of the best movies of 2017.

Postcards From the Edge (1990) exults in wonderfully snarky dialogue, thanks to a clever screenplay adapted by the late Carrie Fisher from her autobiographical novel. Fisher doesn't appear, however. Instead, Meryl Streep owns the screen as a drug-addicted actress who butts heads with her bigger-star mother (Shirley MacLaine at her best). The conflict worsens when Streep's character must submit to drug tests and maternal supervision to act in her next film. The top-notch supporting cast includes Gene Hackman, Annette Bening, Dennis Quaid, Richard Dreyfuss, and Rob Reiner. Although some of their roles are small, they don't waste their screen time. Despite a fairly conventional story, the lively banter and lavish acting make this movie a joy to watch.

The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) stars Lana Turner as filmdom's most notorious femme fatale. She's perfect as a stunning blonde sexpot who's inexplicably married to the frumpy older proprietor of a bleak gas station/diner in the middle of nowhere. This precarious mixture can't last long, and the catalyst arrives in the form of a postwar drifter (John Garfield). Immediately smitten but wary of her siren charms, he slowly falls under her spell. Not since Adam and Eve has a woman so deviously tempted a man into tasting evil. The acting is superb, the sexual tension palpable, and a sense of impending doom haunts this film-noir classic like the ghost of divine retribution.

The Power of the Dog (2021) resonates with anyone who has lived or worked with a domineering person who seems capable of a violent outburst at any moment. Such people create an aura of uncomfortable tension, often deliberately. Benedict Cumberbatch plays this alpha-male role superbly as a Montana cowboy in 1925. He dominates his family and his ranch crew of tough cattlemen. But he also hides a secret that would destroy him if revealed. His secret is jeopardized when his passive brother (Jessie Plemons) marries a desperate widow (Kirsten Dunst) and brings an odd teenage boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee) into the family. Although this movie moves slowly, it has great acting, atmosphere, and cinematography. Terse dialogue leaves much unstated, especially at the end, so pay attention. It was nominated for a stunning 11 Academy Awards but flopped on Oscar Night, winning only for Best Director (Jane Campion).

The Power of the Whistler (1945) is a preposterous story about an amnesiac man and the trusting strangers who help him. Of the eight pictures in "The Whistler" series (1944–1948), this third one must be among the worst. But the performers are earnest and manage to keep a straight face.

Precious (2009; subtitled Based on the Novel "Push" by Sapphire) is a harsh drama about a 16-year-old black girl from Harlem. She is poor, pregnant, obese, sexually abused, almost illiterate, and practically hopeless. This bleak film pulls no punches. Although Precious — brilliantly played by newcomer Gabourey "Gabby" Sidibe—finds some solace at an alternative school, don't expect a fairy tale in which everything magically turns out okay. The weight of reality is too great. Nevertheless, this movie has redeeming qualities, including some of the best performances of the year. Her welfare-queen mother is brilliantly played by Mo'Nique. Paula Patton, Mariah Carey, and Lenny Kravitz lead a supporting cast of virtual unknowns who rise to the occasion. Precious was nominated for six Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Actress (Sidibe). It won for Supporting Actress (Mo'Nique) and Adapted Screenplay (Geoffrey S. Fletcher).

Pretty Poison (1968) pairs Tony Perkins with Tuesday Weld in a folie à deux ("madness of two") relationship — a psychiatric term for two mentally unstable people who amplify each other's pathology. Perkins, already typecast after his historic performance in Psycho (1960), adeptly plays an awkward parolee who delights in spinning fantasies. Weld is also good as a sexy teenager who eagerly believes his claims to be a CIA agent trying to expose river pollution at a chemical plant. The pollution is real, adding a touch of social relevance to this thriller, which premiered one year before the first Earth Day. When the "CIA mission" goes awry, it's apparent the girl isn't as innocent as she appears, which explains the double-entendre title. This movie rises above average but is unjustly forgotten.

The Pride of the Yankees (1942) brims with baseball-movie clichés — because it invented most of them. This biopic of New York Yankees slugger Lou Gehrig is a feel-good story until it becomes a tearjerker. That summary shouldn't be a spoiler for anyone familiar with American baseball. Gehrig was the famous "Iron Horse" who played a record 2,130 consecutive games before amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) felled him in 1941 at age 37. Today, we still know the malady as "Lou Gehrig's disease." This dramatization has the usual Hollywood embellishments but stays vaguely true to the main events, including his emotional farewell to fans at Yankee Stadium. Watch for Babe Ruth playing himself, only six years before he died of cancer at age 53.

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969) stars British actress Maggie Smith in an Oscar-winning performance that verges on flagrant overacting but suits her highly mannered screen character. She plays a maverick teacher who stirs controversy in a prim Scottish girls' school in 1932. Unlike most movies of this type, she doesn't lead an uplifting rebellion against a staid establishment. Although the school is indeed staid, she praises Italian and Spanish fascism, rules her classroom like a Mussolini or Franco, and dallies with the male faculty. Her sharp wit and sharper tongue keep her employed. One highlight is a dramatic scene in which she rebuffs the schoolmaster's demand for her resignation. The skilled cast includes Pamela Franklin (a precocious student), Gordon Jackson (a potential beau), and Robert Stephens (a philandering art teacher). Brilliant.

Private Property (1960) ranks among the tensest crime thrillers ever made, especially during the Hays Production Code era when graphic violence and unpunished crime were verboten. This low-budget quickie ($59,000 in 10 days) was so disturbing that it disappeared and was considered lost until it was found and restored in 2016. Corey Allen and Warren Oates play penniless drifters who seem to emerge as menacing creatures from the sea in the opener. Soon they're stalking a pretty young woman who drives a Corvette and lives in a fashionable Hollywood Hills home. Kate Manx totally nails this role. Her sexually frustrated housewife struggles to rejuvenate her marriage to a distracted businessman. The drifters first spy on her, then try to arrange a rape. This volatile film is boldly suggestive for 1960 and exploits the discomfort of American class hierarchy.

Prometheus (2012) is a prequel to the Alien series of science-fiction/horror films initiated in 1979 by director Ridley Scott, who also directed this one. Later films, helmed by other directors, were thrilling but never fully reproduced the creepy atmosphere of the original. Prometheus tries to return to form, with mixed results. Heavily loaded with symbolism, it combines several human creation stories (including Greek, Judeo-Christian, and intelligent design) to associate the deadly aliens' origin with our own. Stellar performances by Swedish actress Noomi Rapace (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) and Michael Fassbender (as a hidden-agenda android) will command your attention. Unfortunately, the script can't resist the worst science-fiction clichés, such as an improbably designed spaceship (a billiards room? really?) and a crew of incompetent, squabbling misfits. But the suspense is relentless, and decoding the religious symbolism is an interesting diversion.

Promised Land (2013) stars Matt Damon and Frances McDormand as energy-company lease-buyers who visit a small Midwestern town to obtain natural-gas rights from the landowners, most of whom are struggling farmers. Promises of easy money soon meet opposition from a respected high-school science teacher (Hal Holbrook) and an out-of-town environmentalist (John Krasinski, who collaborated with Damon on the screenplay). Concerns about the side effects of fracking divide the town and set the stage for a popular vote to decide the issue. This movie's real centerpiece, however, is Damon's character. He is torn between his genuine desire to save the town from impending poverty versus growing doubts about his job. Damon's performance is excellent but nearly overshadowed by Krasinski's. This moral drama unfolds rather slowly and, as in real life, leaves some questions unresolved.

Psycho (1960) is one of director Alfred Hitchcock's greatest masterpieces, and it still reigns as the seminal slasher movie. Enormously influential, it was actually a quickie project employing the crew of his 1950s TV series. Anthony Perkins delivers an over-the-top performance as a creepy hotel manager with a mysterious dominating mother. Janet Leigh is unforgettable in a famous shower scene so artfully filmed that viewers think they're seeing things that don't actually appear on screen. Among others, Vera Miles and Martin Balsam are excellent in supporting roles. The last act features a screeching musical theme that became a staple in later thrillers. Endlessly imitated but rarely surpassed, Psycho is a must-see classic that retains all of its frights and suspense.

Public Enemies (2009) stars Johnny Depp as John Dillinger, one of the most notorious bank robbers of the 1930s. Christian Bale plays Melvin Purvis, a famous FBI agent who eradicates gangsters. French actress Marion Cotillard (who won an Oscar for La Vie en Rose, 2007) plays Dillinger's girlfriend. With such a heavy-caliber cast — plus others — this movie should be a killer. Instead, it's merely average. It tries but fails to portray Dillinger as a troubled folk hero in the mold of Bonnie and Clyde (1967) or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969). The romance between Dillinger and his girlfriend never quite catches fire on screen. And Dillinger's violence, even when tempered, makes us want to root for the G-men, but they aren't heroic, either. Rent The Untouchables (1987) instead.

The Public Enemy (1931) launched James Cagney to stardom when he played a juvenile delinquent who grows up to be a Prohibition-era bootlegger. This classic drama was controversial for its gang violence, which includes cold-blooded murders, a cop killing, and an extortion bombing. The sexual content also raised eyebrows, especially two scenes in which blonde "gun molls" are the seducers. Then there's the famous scene in which Cagney shoves a grapefruit into his girlfriend's face. Even so, the murders rarely show anyone at the moment of death, and the screen violence certainly doesn't match the period's real street violence. When the Hays Code censorship took effect in 1934, Hollywood pictures became much tamer, so this excellent film has become a cultural touchstone.

Pull My Daisy (1959) is a 30-minute short film that's basically a home movie of several Beat Generation personalities. It's the first film directed by Robert Frank (with Alfred Leslie), who shortly before had published The Americans, the most influential photo book of the 20th century. Turning from still photography to independent filmmaking, Frank enlisted some friends in this experimental production. No local sound was recorded, so Beat writer Jack Kerouac (On the Road, 1957) improvised an amusing narration after the final cut. The amateur actors include poets Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky, writer Gregory Corso, musician David Amram (who composed the score), and Robert Frank's young son Pablo. Nothing much happens, but Kerouac's wry narration is wonderful and said to be typical of the way he talked. This film is interesting mainly as a time capsule of a casual Beat Generation get-together.

Pulp Fiction (1994) established Quentin Tarantino as a major director and screenwriter, although later films echo his unusually narrow range. The great cast includes John Travolta, Samuel L. Jackson, Uma Thurman, Bruce Willis, Rosanna Arquette, Christopher Walken, and Harvey Keitel. Travolta and Jackson play cold-blooded hit men for a ruthless boss; Thurman is the boss's sexy wife; Willis is a boxer ordered to fix a fight. The others have smaller but meaty roles. Told in vignettes, sometimes out of time order, the story veers from profanely dark humor to graphic violence. Subsequent Tarantino films follow a similar template. It seemed fresh in 1994, though, so its Oscar nominations included Best Picture, Director, Original Screenplay, Actor (Travolta), Actress (Thurman), Supporting Actor (Jackson), and Film Editing. Only the screenplay won.

Pumping Iron (1977) is the iconic documentary on competitive bodybuilding that lifted Arnold Schwarzenegger and Lou Ferrigno to fame. Although Schwarzenegger had already won five consecutive Mr. Universe titles, bodybuilding was still a small subculture before this film made it broadly popular. Thanks to brains as well as brawn, Schwarzenegger later became a movie star and governor of California. Ferrigno became The Incredible Hulk on TV and played various movie heroes. This documentary is classic but unpolished and a bit tainted by ethical standards. The filmmakers staged some scenes to create false rivalries and relate false stories, such as Schwarzenegger's claim that he skipped his father's funeral to train for a competition. It ignores the role of steroids and hormones, and it offers little insight into the subjective judging. Even so, it's a fascinating look at an unusual sport.

Pursuit to Algiers (1945) is the 12th of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as English private detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Typical of the series, it features a mysterious but comprehensible plot, eccentric characters, and witty dialogue. Atypically, most scenes are not in London but on an ocean liner. In this adventure, a foreign government engages Holmes and Watson to protect a young king from assassins. As always, the outcome is never in doubt, but the twists make it worth watching.

The Pursuit of Happyness (2006) is powered by a compassionate screenplay and a career performance by Will Smith, who portrays the struggling father of a young boy in San Francisco. Money problems are destroying this man's marriage and eroding his confidence, eventually driving him into homelessness. But he never surrenders to helplessness. He gambles everything on winning a competitive internship at a stock brokerage, despite his lack of higher education and relevant experience. Smith brilliantly plays this character as an imperfect hero — an everyday man pressed into extreme circumstances, who wavers between self-doubt of his ability and bravado for the sake of his son. At the conclusion, watch for a brief cameo appearance by the real person whose rags-to-riches journey inspired this story.

Pushover (1954) is a tense film noir that introduces Kim Novak, and it's hard to believe she's barely past her teen years. Although her performance as the femme fatale is rather stilted, it's not entirely out of character for an ice-cold blonde who is already too experienced in the ways of the world. By contrast, Fred MacMurray delivers a highly nuanced performance as a police detective led astray by her physical attributes. Philip Carey and Dorothy Malone adeptly play important supporting roles. The plot gets complex at times but never loses its way. This flick is an almost-forgotten gem.

Putney Swope (1969) reeks of contemporary satire that may baffle today's viewers, but it retains cult status and exemplifies 1960s indie filmmaking. This low-budget production was written and directed by the maverick Robert Downey Sr., the father of actor Robert Downey Jr. It stars Arnold Johnson as the token black man at a New York advertising agency who's accidentally elected board chairman. Soon he remakes the firm as a rebellious black-liberation enterprise. Its mission statement — "Truth and Soul" — inspires outrageous ad campaigns for corporate clients eager to exploit the 1960s zeitgeist. (One TV commercial for Lucky Airlines shows topless stewardesses cavorting with a male passenger who drew a lucky ticket number.) This uneven comedy relies on snappy dialogue, a large cast of mostly unknown actors, and coarse humor. (Beware of the n-word, racist caricatures, anti-Semitic jokes, and nudity.) Approach this film as a time capsule of 1969 counterculture.

Pygmalion (1938) adapts George Bernard Shaw's 1913 stage comedy for the screen. Indeed, Shaw adapted it himself, enhancing the screenplay with a new ballroom scene, an additional character, and other changes that helped him win the writing Oscar. This British production was also nominated for Best Picture, and both leads (Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller) were nominated for Best Actor and Actress, respectively. The humor is of the dry British flavor, however, which can seem flat to modern audiences accustomed to dumbed-down amusement. Howard plays a linguistic expert who bets he can reform a foul-mouthed flower girl to pass as a refined lady at a formal embassy ball. This comedy inspired My Fair Lady, a 1956 stage musical and 1964 film musical.

The Quatermass Xperiment a/k/a The Creeping Unknown (1955) adapted a popular BBC-TV series and is now a sci-fi horror classic. When an experimental rocket crashes in the British countryside, the astronauts are mysteriously changed. To serve the American market, the studio hired U.S. actors Brian Donlevy and Margia Dean to play Professor Quatermass and an astronaut's wife. The rest of the cast and locations are British. (A child actor in a particularly tense scene is Jane Asher, who years later became Paul McCartney's fiancée.) Despite a low budget, this dark drama still thrills.

The Queen (2006) is best appreciated by Brits or those who enjoy following the personal lives of the British royals. It's a carefully wrought exposé of the royal family during their gloomy days in 1997 when Princess Diana died in a car accident in Paris. Helen Mirren plays Queen Elizabeth II with great skill and subterranean emotion. The veracity of her performance is difficult to judge, because the queen is so remote and unknowable outside her inner circle. Mirren's portrayal seems real, even if it isn't — an accomplishment in itself. Her supporting cast is excellent, too. Overall, this film reveals the queen's aloofness without being wholly unsympathetic.

Queen Bee (1955) is a dreary drama about a dysfunctional Southern family dominated by a manipulative matron. Joan Crawford was aptly cast in the lead role — hardly a coincidence, because she had acquired the screen rights and exerted total control over production. As a result, this film is interesting only for the duality of her performance. Was she really acting or was she revealing her notorious real-life personality? Both, probably. Although this story is placed in Georgia, no one has a Southern accent. The only sensible characters are the black servants, who must wonder why their rich white masters are such gluttons for self-inflicted misery.

The Quick and the Dead (1995) could exist only after zillions of other Westerns created the myths, clichés, and character tropes on which it builds. It's satirical, yet serious. It's simultaneously crude and sophisticated, traditional and revisionist. Odd camera angles and closeups freshen familiar scenes. And all the performances are marvelous. In an opening lifted from High Plains Drifter (1973), a mysterious tight-lipped gunslinger rides into town seeking revenge for a long-ago wrong. But it's not Clint Eastwood; it's Sharon Stone. Her target is the town's ruthless ruler (Gene Hackman), who sponsors a fast-draw contest that's literally a single-elimination tournament. One cocky contestant is his son (Leonardo DiCaprio). Others are various Western-movie types: a stoic Native American, a hired gunfighter, a flashy fabulist, a gritty brute, and so on. Russell Crowe plays a crook turned minister. This masterpiece is my favorite Western.

Quicksand (1950) is an excellent drama starring Mickey Rooney as an auto mechanic whose relatively harmless petty theft quickly sinks him deeper and deeper into trouble. As each foolish decision leads to another, he's caught between criminal law and the law of unintended consequences. Another problem is his new girlfriend, played with barely disguised venom by Jeanne Cagney (yep, James's sister). Peter Lorre has a minor but characteristic role as an amusement-park sharpy. Underrated as an adult actor, Rooney shines in this fast-paced film.

The Quiet American (2002) stars Michael Caine as an aging British journalist with a young Vietnamese girlfriend in Saigon, during the French colonial days of 1952. Brendon Fraser plays a mysterious American who presages U.S. involvement. The result is a love-and-war clash that's dripping with intrigue. Caine was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award. Fraser is a little out of place, but is competent. Hanging over it all is a spooky feeling of deja vu — this film depicts another era when a mighty America believed it could fix the world's problems.

A Quiet Place (2018) exploits a clever premise to make an above-average sci-fi thriller. Spidery space aliens arrive on Earth and use their acute hearing to find and kill human prey. The only defense is to hide and stay quiet. This premise is clever because many scenes are nearly silent, in stark contrast to the ear-busting sound effects in most monster movies. It's especially creepy when violent action suddenly breaks the tension. John Krasinski co-wrote and directed this film and plays the father of a family at its center. Emily Blunt, his real-life wife, plays his screen wife. For more drama, their teen daughter (excellent Millicent Simmonds) is deaf, so she can't hear when danger is near or when she accidentally makes noise. The premise is good enough to carry the whole story.

A Quiet Place II (2021) is the first sequel to A Quiet Place (2018) but starts with a flashback to the day when the vicious alien creatures arrived on Earth. Details in those scenes become important later. They're also the only scenes featuring writer/director/actor John Krasinski, who plays the father of the family at the center of this sci-fi horror show. Emily Blunt, Krasinski's real-life wife, reprises her role as his screen wife. She escorts her young son, infant, and deaf daughter in search of more survivors. The story is the same: the spidery aliens use their acute hearing to find and kill human prey. As usual, people do stupid things, and some things don't make sense. (Why is the electricity still on?) Still, it's a good sequel.

Quills (2000) argues that the pen is mightier than the censor. It's a bawdy film about the Marquis de Sade's obsessive need to write pornography. Imprisoned in a French insane asylum, the Marquis (played with zest by Geoffrey Rush) stops at nothing to shock and titillate his eager readers, although his prose is toned down for this movie. The moral of the story — or in this case, the immoral of the story — seems to be that sexual repression is more costly to the body and soul than sexual abandon. The acting and writing are strong, although Joaquin Phoenix's character (a sexually repressed priest attracted to a chambermaid played by Kate Winslet) is a tired cliché. Michael Caine rounds out this talented cast as the brutal asylum administrator.

Radical Wolfe (2023) turns Michael Lewis's 2015 Vanity Fair article about writer Tom Wolfe into a laudatory documentary. The title is somewhat misleading. Although Wolfe (1930–2018) brought a radically different style to long-form journalism in the 1960s — earning the controversial label "New Journalism" — his views were largely mainstream. As this film acknowledges, often he made enemies. One example was "Radical Chic," his sharp takedown of conductor Leonard Bernstein's party for the Black Panthers. Wolfe first gained fame by writing vivid magazine articles on pop culture, such as "The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby" (about California custom-car fans). Later he wrote topical novels, such as The Right Stuff (about astronauts) and Bonfire of the Vanities (greed and corruption in New York City). In fiction or nonfiction, Wolfe always built his stylish writing on deep reporting. This documentary is a good overview of one of the most influential writers of our time.

Raging Bull (1980) deserves its fame as one of the very best motion pictures. Martin Scorsese directed this bleak biopic of Jake "The Bronx Bull" LaMotta, a middleweight boxer in the 1940s and '50s. Boxing movies have always been popular and almost always show the sport's dark side. This dramatization of LaMotta's autobiography is no exception. Robert DeNiro won the Academy Award for Best Actor in the title role, partly for gaining 60 pounds to portray the fighter during his sad retirement years. But the story centers on LaMotta in his prime as he fought his way toward the top. This film pulls no punches — inside or outside the ring. The fight scenes are brutal, whether LaMotta is pummeling his foes, his wife, or his brother/manager. Cathy Moriarty and Joe Pesci were nominated for their performances in the latter supporting roles. Although this film was nominated for eight Oscars, it won only two: for DeNiro and film editing. Its only flaw is the sound editing. So great is the dynamic range of the dialogue and sound effects that you'll probably need subtitles to comprehend the quieter moments.

Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) instantly became a blockbuster hit that has spawned four prequels or sequels, a TV series, and numerous imitators. It's now considered one of the best films of all time, particularly in the action genre. Harrison Ford, fresh from Star Wars stardom, plays Indiana Jones, an adventurous archaeologist in the 1930s. His quest for the biblical Ark of the Covenant crosses paths with German Nazis who believe that possessing the Ark will make their armies invincible. Jones is more thief than scientist, and the Nazis are cartoonish characters, but this thriller draws inspiration from adventure novels, action comics, and movie serials. Its lively blend of drama and comedy is rarely matched.

The Railrodder (1965) tries to re-create the slapstick humor of Buster Keaton's silent short films from the 1910s and '20s. Despite featuring Keaton himself — only one year before his death — it can't resurrect the laughs. This 24-minute color film (silent except for sound effects) stars Keaton as an Englishman who walks across the Atlantic Ocean, then rides across Canada to the Pacific Ocean on a small railroad-maintenance car. Too old to perform the amazing stunts for which he was famous, he resorts to tame sight gags. It would have been mildly entertaining in the 1910s.

Rain (1932) could not have been made this way two years later, when the Hays Production Code dropped a curtain of censorship on Hollywood. Joan Crawford delivers a broad performance as a woman of ill repute who arrives with other steamboat passengers on a South Seas island. To the dismay of a Bible-thumping missionary and his wife, she immediately starts dancing and boozing with local U.S. Marines. The moral conflict between the strict missionary and the loose woman leads to unexpected outcomes for both — and a climax that censors likely would have nixed. This pre-Code film is considered the best adaptation of a 1922 Broadway play that was based on a 1921 short story by W. Somerset Maugham. Other adaptations in 1928 and 1953 starred Gloria Swanson and Rita Hayworth, respectively, but this one drips with stifling atmosphere, thanks to innovative mobile camera work by Oliver T. Marsh.

Rain Man (1988) rides on the fine performances of Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman as brothers separated in youth who unexpectedly reunite when their father dies. The twist is that Cruise's character (Charlie Babbitt) is a sleazy businessman and Hoffman's (Raymond Babbitt) is an autistic patient in a private hospital. When Raymond inherits the $3 million estate, greed drives Charlie to desperate measures. This megahit was nominated for eight Academy Awards and won Best Picture, Director (Barry Levinson), Original Screenplay (Ron Bass and Barry Morrow), and Actor (Hoffman). Although its depiction of savant autism is stretched, Hoffman's performance ranks among the best of his exceptional career. Cruise deserved at least a nomination. Interestingly, the two actors privately rehearsed each other's roles. A more daring script would have interchanged them in alternating scenes to emphasize the random chance of DNA dice.

Raising Arizona (1987) won't appeal to everyone but is a hilarious treat for crime-comedy fans. Two incompetent criminals kidnap one baby from a quintuplet. The snatchers are misguided, not evil, and their poorly planned plot quickly goes awry. More loony characters compound the trouble. The screenwriters were Joel and Ethan Coen, who often portray criminals as impulsive idiots, not as the devious masterminds typically seen in Hollywood films. This movie is more like their other screwball crime comedies (e.g., Fargo and The Big Lebowski) than their darker, violent dramas (e.g., Blood Simple and No Country for Old Men). Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter are perfect as the hapless kidnappers. This quirky picture deserves its cult following.

Rango (2011) is a computer-animated "Western" in which all the characters are rats, lizards, snakes, turtles, prairie dogs, and various other small creatures. The title character (voiced by Johnny Depp) is a chameleon. Cast adrift in the desert, he finds a small town under the heel of a conniving mayor and soon becomes the sheriff. The scarce resource is water, setting up a confrontation reminiscent of High Noon — one of many classic Western references in this clever parody. Much of the humor is over the heads of young children, and much of the action is too frenetic to follow, but it's fun.

Rashomon (1950) launched Japanese director Akira Kurosawa to international fame and inspired the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences to begin awarding Oscars to foreign-language films. Rashomon remains an all-time classic and retains its mystery. After a notorious bandit attacks a samurai and his wife, a court hears testimony about the crime. In a series of flashbacks, however, four different versions are told. Which is true? Philosophically it may not matter, because each reveals shameful moral failures. One listener debates this point with a priest who desperately clings to his faith that humanity, on balance, is good. Although the story takes place in medieval times, Kurosawa filmed it shortly after World War II when Japan was trying to reconcile its guilt over the war and defeat, so the morality theme was especially relevant. All aspects of this picture are superb.

Rat Race (2001) is a throwback to the large-cast, great-chase comedies of the 1960s. It's funny but falls just short of hilarity. It's about a bunch of ordinary people racing from Las Vegas, Nevada to Silver City, New Mexico to claim $2 million hidden in a bus-station locker. As professional gamblers in Las Vegas track their movements and bet on who will win, the hapless racers encounter one misadventure after another, including a busload of Lucille Ball lookalikes, a gang of lesbian bikers, a herd of neo-Nazis, and an eccentric squirrel merchant. In deference to modern audiences, the movie indulges in some toilet humor, but generally it's lighthearted fun.

Ratatouille (2007) is the latest feature film from Pixar Animation Studios and writer/director Brad Bird (The Incredibles, The Iron Giant). In this story, a young farm rat yearns to be a gourmet chef. When circumstances bring him to Paris, he sneaks into a restaurant kitchen and befriends a boy who works there. The results aren't quite as magic as Finding Nemo (2003) or Toy Story (1995) — and children will find much of the dialogue over their heads — but it's still a good ride. My favorite character is the food critic, Anton Ego, voiced by Peter O'Toole.

The Raven (1935) pairs Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi in a classic horror thriller. Four years earlier, Karloff had soared to fame as the monster in Frankenstein and Lugosi had won acclaim as the vampire in Dracula. Their success in The Black Cat (1934) convinced Universal Pictures to pair them again in a thriller inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's best-known poem ("The Raven"). Although regarded as a classic, this movie isn't as notable as its predecessors. Other than reciting a few verses and showing a stuffed raven, it has little to do with the 1845 poem. It draws more inspiration from a Poe short story, "The Pit and the Pendulum." Lugosi plays a crazed surgeon obsessed with torture instruments and death. Karloff plays a murderer who unwillingly becomes his servant. Irene Ware plays the usual female trouble magnet. The frightening climax prompted Great Britain to ban American horror films for years afterward.

Raw Deal (1948) oozes film noir. Even the good guy isn't all good, and his dame isn't a model citizen either. Dennis O'Keefe stars as a bitter convict who escapes prison to seek revenge on the San Francisco gangster for whom he took the rap and who owes him $50,000. Raymond Burr, later of Perry Mason fame, lavishly plays the gangster as a sociopath so mean that he throws a flambé on a woman who accidentally spills a drink on him. Another star is Claire Trevor, who plays the convict's loyal gal and who narrates the story. Her rival (Ann Martin) is a young do-gooder who's gradually lured to the noir side. Unlike most crime thrillers, this one relegates the cops to bit parts. It all ends with a show-down and shoot-out that isn't a let-down.

Ray (2004) is a top-notch biopic of Ray Charles, the most beloved American musician since Louis Armstrong. The film alternates between flashbacks of Charles's childhood and a chronological account of his rise to fame and fortune. It doesn't gloss over his character flaws: heroin addiction, philandering, and his susceptibility to the temptations of wealth. Instead, it's a balanced look at a man who refused to be limited by blindness, poverty, and racism. Charles fashioned a life-long musical career that spanned almost every genre of popular music, from R&B and soul to gospel and country-western. It's no wonder Jamie Foxx won the Academy Award for Best Actor — his performance is uncanny.

The Razor's Edge (1946) radiates an incongruous hippie vibe as if made 20 years later. Adapted from W. Somerset Maugham's novel, this Best Picture nominee stars Tyrone Power as a disillusioned World War I veteran who returns to Chicago and yearns to find himself. (Yes, he really says that.) Unsatisfied with his upper-class opportunities, he rejects a cushy office job and postpones marriage to a lovely socialite (Gene Tierney). Among other adventures, he crews on tramp steamers, labors in a French coal mine, and (yes!) studies with a guru in India. Although this postwar film reflects on a previous postwar era, it anticipates the restless 1950s beatniks and 1960s hippies. Then it veers toward conformity by keeping the religion generic and by drawing a typical Hollywood love triangle. Power and Tierney are fabulous in that geometry. Oscar nominations fell on two supporting players, however: Clifton Webb, as a sharp-tongued high-class snob, and Ann Baxter, as a family friend. Baxter won. This drama is a bit long (145 minutes) but engrossing.

RBG (2018) is a glowing biography of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who was only the second female U.S. Supreme Court justice. This well-researched documentary tells her life story but ends before her 2020 death. In 2018, at age 84, Ginsburg retained her wit and fervor despite looking impossibly frail. As a beautiful young woman, she was among the relatively few female students admitted to Ivy League law schools in the 1950s. In the 1970s, she won a series of landmark Supreme Court cases on gender equality (for both women and men), then became a federal judge and later a Supreme Court justice. This film is an unabashed celebration of her career. Its only critique is her inappropriate remarks about Donald Trump during the 2016 presidential campaign. Whether you like or dislike Ginsburg's judicial opinions, her story is inspiring and her spirit was infectious.

The Reader (2008) is about two people whose emotional lives are stunted by past traumas and different forms of self punishment. The setting is postwar West Germany, itself a divided nation stunted by the trauma of World War II and the Holocaust. A 15-year-old boy (portrayed with a tad too much maturity by David Kross) becomes the lover of an older woman (Kate Winslet, in her best role yet). She hides two secrets — one horrific, the other merely embarrassing. But it's the latter secret that seems to be her greatest shame. Although her casual affair with the boy is only an avoidance mechanism for her, it creates a shameful past for him. Both characters spend years punishing themselves before escaping in their own ways. This is an excellent drama on many levels, with strong undertones of the film Sophie's Choice (1982) and Dostoevsky's 1866 novel, Crime and Punishment.

Rear Window (1954) is one of director Alfred Hitchcock's best films — my personal favorite — and the restored version is gorgeous. James Stewart at his peak plays a photojournalist confined to his small apartment by a broken leg. To relieve his boredom, he watches his neighbors who are visible in their apartments around a common courtyard. One night he sees something suspicious ... could it be murder? Grace Kelly is incredibly sexy as the woman who covets his heart. Thelma Ritter and Wendell Corey deliver the best performances of their careers as his visiting nurse and his skeptical detective friend, respectively. Watch for Raymond Burr in a pre-Perry Mason role that demonstrates his acting range. The brilliant set design creates an entire apartment block on a sound stage, every unit fully furnished. Hitchcock masterfully builds the suspense gradually, leavened with some comic touches, and ultimately boils the story to a tense climax. Rear Window contends with Vertigo (1958) as the director's greatest masterpiece.

Rebecca (1940) was director Alfred Hitchcock's first Hollywood picture, although the cast and crew were mostly British. It gathered an astonishing 11 Oscar nominations, winning two: Best Picture and B&W Cinematography. Hitchcock was nominated for directing, but that coveted Oscar went to John Ford for The Grapes of Wrath. (Hitchcock never won for directing, a major injustice.) This thriller casts Sir Lawrence Olivier as a wealthy widower who tries to salve his grief over his lost Rebecca by remarrying. Joan Fontaine plays the bride, who soon learns he's still haunted by Rebecca's memory. The house and servants seem equally cold to her arrival. She senses danger, and mutual suspicion grows. Fontaine was nominated Best Actress for her jittery performance as a fragile female, a type she refined to win the 1941 Oscar in Suspicion. The success of Rebecca launched Hitchcock's U.S. career and gave him a freer hand in future productions.

Rebel Without a Cause (1955) is one of only three films starring James Dean, and it contends with East of Eden (1955) as his best. It's also a time capsule of the juvenile delinquency wave that terrified America in the 1950s. Unruly spoiled youths were a dark side of postwar prosperity, and this movie emphasizes the dichotomy by setting the action in Los Angeles at the peak of its fortune. Dean plays a typical misunderstood teen whose misbehavior is a clumsy attempt to win acceptance from the cool kids (the delinquents). He's a misfit, though, so his antics gradually become more dangerous. Dean was born to play this role, which likely would have required more effort from another actor, but his native suitability doesn't subtract from the screen-stealing spectacle of his performance. He gets strong support from Natalie Wood as a love interest and Sal Mineo as a fellow misfit friend. Famous scenes include a switchblade fight at Griffith Observatory and a game of "chicken" in which two cars race toward a cliff. This picture is an all-time classic that has lost none of its energy and drama.

Recorder: The Marion Stokes Project (2019) is a fascinating documentary about a black woman activist who married a wealthy white man and spent 35 years obsessively videotaping TV news from 1977 until her death in 2012. Over that period, Marion Stokes recorded 840,000 hours of broadcast news from all TV networks on 70,000 Betamax and VHS tapes. Contrary to widespread belief, the networks didn't save all their own programming, so her massive collection is unique. Filmmaker Matt Wolf replays some of this footage and interviews her son and the servants who helped to keep the recorders running. Stokes also hoarded vast piles of newspapers, magazines, books, Apple computers, and other things in her upscale Philadelphia apartment. Whether or not you agree with her lefty politics, her desire to preserve history is a remarkable story.

The Recruit (2003) is a fast-paced potboiler about a young college graduate (played by Colin Farrell) who joins the CIA. His instructor (Al Pacino) repeatedly warns him that "nothing is what it seems," which also sets up the audience for various plot twists. Unfortunately, after sitting through a plot as twisted as a pretzel, your reward is a climax that makes absolutely no sense: the bad guy deliberately sabotages his own plan. Somebody really goofed on this film.

The Red Lantern (1919) curiously blends racism with antiracism. This American silent film sympathizes with a young woman in China born to a Chinese mother and British father. Chinese people shun her as the impure progeny of "foreign devils." American missionaries convert her to Christianity and accept her as a teacher in their school but limit her social prospects in their white society. Although this film sympathizes with her mixed-race plight, it also regards Chinese people as inferior pagans who should submit to white colonialism. These conflicting themes collide when the Eurasian woman must decide whether to join the Boxer Rebellion, an 1899–1901 Chinese uprising against foreigners. This early motion picture may seem bipolar, but on balance it's a realistic portrayal of the cultural dilemmas and attitudes of its time.

Red Planet Mars (1952) is an odd Cold War artifact. Ostensibly a science-fiction story, it's really a propaganda film. Peter Graves stars as an American scientist who tries to make radio contact with a suspected civilization on Mars. When his transmissions appear to elicit replies, the revelations of Martian technology disrupt the Western economies. (For example, the coal industry panics when Mars claims to have unlimited free energy.) The Soviet Union hopes to exploit the chaos for world domination. But when the Mars messages take a Christian spiritual turn, even more confusion ensues on both sides. This stiffly acted movie is mainly interesting as a time capsule of Cold War fears and the religious fervor that added "under God" to the Pledge of Allegiance.

Redacted (2007) bombed at the box office and provoked controversy because it's loosely based on a U.S. war crime during the Iraq War. In 2006, four American soldiers gang-raped and killed a 14-year-old Iraqi girl, killed her parents and 6-year-old sister, and started a fire to conceal the crime. Brian De Palma wrote and directed this fictional drama, and he won the Silver Lion award at the 2007 Venice Film Fesival. Because this movie is uncomfortably close to the truth and showed a negative view of American soldiers, however, it was unpopular with the public. Critics knocked De Palma for his cinematic style and for omitting the soldiers' convictions. Instead, he focuses on other aspects of the tragedy.

Reefer Madness a/k/a Tell Your Children (1936) was an anti-marijuana propaganda film that won a cult following in the 1970s on college campuses. Unintentionally funny, it warns parents about the dangers of cannabis by telling a "fact-based" but fictional story of teenagers lured into smoking the hallucinogen. The results include hard addiction, reckless driving, wanton promiscuity, gun homicide, impulsive suicide, bludgeon murder, attempted rape, and incurable insanity. Pot smokers found these exaggerations hilarious, vaulting this crude production to counterculture popularity. Today it stands as a misguided attempt at drug education that backfires: lying about marijuana implies that authorities may be lying about harder drugs, too.

La Règle du Jeu (1939): see The Rules of the Game.

Remastered: Devil at the Crossroads (2019): see Devil at the Crossroads.

Repeat Performance (1947) is an exceptional film noir that for decades was feared lost until preservationists rescued a damaged 35mm print. This drama is unusual for its supernatural plot and female lead — the latter a consequence of swapping the male and female characters from the 1942 base novel. Joan Leslie stars as a Broadway actress who murders her cheating husband on New Year's Eve 1946. When she wishes she could relive that year to prevent the tragic outcome, her wish mysteriously comes true. Soon she discovers that altering her destiny isn't easy. Leslie's excellent performance is matched by Louis Hayward as her alcoholic husband and Richard Basehart (in his movie debut) as a sympathetic friend. The supernatural aspect is less important than the clever plot twists that pit free will against fate. In effect, she's an actress playing herself in a scripted life that she can rewrite, but only to a degree.

Requiem For a Dream (2000) was the most visually assaultive film of the year, an American tragedy that made thematically similar American Beauty (1999) seem tame. Ellen Burstyn deserved her Best Actress nomination for portraying an aging widow who desperately wants to make a glamorous appearance on her favorite TV game show. (She lost the Oscar to Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich.) Meanwhile, the widow's son and his girlfriend pursue their own dream of wealth through drug dealing. Nobody escapes unscathed, and some scenes are almost too painful to bear. Some may wonder: What's the point?

Rescue Dawn (2007) is an outstanding war drama written and directed by the great Werner Herzog. It's based on the true story of a German-American U.S. Navy pilot who escaped a prison camp during the Vietnam War. Shot down in Laos in 1966, Lt. Dieter Dengler was captured, tortured, and held for months in a jungle stockade. (In 1997, Herzog made a documentary about Dengler's ordeal, Little Dieter Needs to Fly.) This dramatic retelling has all the essential elements of a Herzog film: bold characters, the human struggle against nature, grueling location work, and superb acting across the board.

Return of the Creature a/k/a Return of the Creature from the Black Lagoon (1955): see Revenge of the Creature.

The Return of Dracula (1958) is a low-budget thriller in which Count Dracula sneaks into 1950s Southern California. Francis Lederer relies mainly on smirky stares and his Austrian accent to play the vampire, but he lacks the classic charisma of Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee. The only thing mildly interesting about this movie is its departure from the usual gothic setting.

Return of the Fly (1959) quickly followed The Fly (1958), a popular sci-fi horror thriller. This inferior sequel starts at the funeral of the woman whose husband was accidentally transformed into a human-fly hybrid in a tragic scientific experiment. Now her son is grown and wants to continue his late father's research, over the objections of his uncle (Vincent Price). Predictably, another experiment goes wrong. Although the special effects look hokey now, they're amusing in a campy way. This mediocre movie also reflects the early Atomic Age fear that science was spinning out of control and intruding on forbidden territory — a fear that persists today.

The Return of the Vampire (1943) masquerades as a sequel to Dracula (1931) and The Wolf Man (1941), but Universal Pictures prevented this Columbia production from mentioning either character. So Bela Lugosi plays Armand Tesla, a vampire in full Dracula regalia. The story opens in World War I when Tesla is staked, then jumps to World War II when he's revived. Because his thirst for pretty young women hasn't waned, Nina Foch plays the usual victim in a flimsy nightgown. Tesla's spellbound servant is a clone of Lon Chaney in Wolf Man makeup. One departure is that the vampire hunter is a woman. The theme of goodness defeating evil was relevant during the war years when this movie was made, and it's a competent copycat of two Universal classics.

The Revenant (2015) is a harrowing drama about an 1823 American frontiersman who struggles for survival after being left for dead by his buddies. Based loosely on a true story, it stars Leonardo DiCaprio in possibly his best performance to date — and certainly his most strenuous. Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu (Birdman, 2014) inflicted extreme conditions on his cast and crew in Alberta and Argentina to make this outstanding film. Better than almost any other, it captures the savagery of frontier life without sacrificing the humanity. At times, though, it tests our credulity. (Where is the frostbite and hypothermia?) But by the end, The Revenant earns its place in the modern re-examination of American frontier history that was shamelessly whitewashed by most Hollywood productions.

Revenge of the Colossal Man (1958): see War of the Colossal Beast.

Revenge of the Creature a/k/a Return of the Creature a/k/a Return of the Creature from the Black Lagoon (1955) is the first sequel to Creature from the Black Lagoon, a classic 1954 monster movie. This time the amphibious lizard man is captured from the Amazon and displayed at a Florida park. Of course, he escapes and wreaks havoc. Of course, like many movie monsters, he's strangely attracted to a pretty young woman (Lori Nelson). Of course, she attracts a handsome male scientist (John Agar). And of course, their interspecies love triangle is doomed. Like its predecessor, this b&w picture was filmed in 3-D but often released flat as the fad waned. It's campy fun, as good as the original.

Revolutionary Road (2008) is about a crumbling marriage in suburban America in 1955. Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet star as the troubled couple. Though based on a 1961 novel by Richard Yates, this overrated film seems inspired by Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966). The marital pyrotechnics are nearly as vicious, and both dramas have a pivotal plot turn that involves an unseen child. In Revolutionary Road, DiCaprio and Winslet deliver great performances as the husband and wife who feel vaguely unfulfilled and adrift in affluent suburbia. They expect their lives to be special, despite little justification and even less vision. This movie is harsh and unsatisfying by intention. But for me, those qualities make it a letdown.

Rich and Strange a/k/a East of Shanghai (1931) departs from director Alfred Hitchcock's usual style — it's a rom-com. It's also one of his first talkies, and shows it — the clever opening is silent, as are some following scenes. Told in vignettes sometimes separated by title cards, it's the story of a British couple who suddenly receive an inheritance that enables them to travel the world in style. It's a dream come true that turns sour when their marriage is jeopardized. This picture hasn't aged particularly well but has some highlights. It also has some cringeworthy dialogue, such as referring to a Chinese baby as a "mite" and remarking that Chinese people "breed like rabbits." It's mainly interesting for Hitchcock scholars and completists.

Sahara (1943) was made during World War II but is somewhat less propagandist than most war movies of its time. Action is the emphasis. Humphrey Bogart stars as a U.S. Army sergeant whose lone tank must defend a natural spring in the Libyan desert against an entire German regiment of the Afrika Korps. Both sides desperately need the water. The battle scenes are great and reasonably realistic. Excellent supporting actors include Bruce Bennett, Lloyd Bridges, Rex Ingram, Dan Duryea, and Kurt Kreuger. Another star is the American M3 Lee medium tank, which had a sponson gun instead of a rotating turret and was soon replaced by the better-known Sherman M4.

San Andreas (2015) is an exciting summer blockbuster about earthquakes wrecking California, but don't take it too seriously. Not content to destroy just one city, the filmmakers invent a network of hidden faults that wreaks destruction on Hoover Dam, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and just about everything in between. Meanwhile, our hero is an L.A. helicopter-rescue pilot (Dwayne Johnson, aka "The Rock") who shirks his job responsibilities when he's most needed. Ignoring the beleaguered citizens of his own crumbling city, he first saves his estranged wife, then steals a car, an airplane, and a boat to search for his daughter hundreds of miles away. We're not supposed to notice his reckless behavior or other anomalies, such as the speedboat's ability to zoom through debris-strewn waters without fouling the propellers. Never mind ... it's all in fun.

Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964) must be the worst Christmas movie of all time. It's the Plan 9 From Outer Space of Christmas movies. Indeed, it seems to draw inspiration from that classic 1957 bomb — the story is about Martians kidnapping Santa to bring joy to their own joyless children. It might be better if more of the actors played to the obvious campiness instead of taking their roles so seriously. The Martian costumes are ridiculous, even for a low-budget film. Although very young viewers may be amused, the main attraction is morbid curiosity.

The Satan Bug (1965) should have been better. It assembled a good cast familiar to 1960s audiences: George Maharis (Route 66) as a former U.S. intelligence officer, Anne Francis (Honey West) as his sidekick, Richard Basehart (Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea) as a scientist, Dana Andrews (movie star) as a retired U.S. Army general, Frank Sutton (Gomer Pyle) as a bad guy, Ed Asner (The Mary Tyler Moore Show) as another bad guy, James Doohan (Star Trek) as a government agent, plus two ubiquitous character actors (Simon Oakland and John Anderson). The story was Cold War relevant: the theft of bioweapons from a secret lab. And the director was the famous John Sturges (The Great Escape, The Magnificent Seven, Bad Day at Black Rock, etc). Yet this drama falls flat. It's talky, predictable, illogical. (Would a copter pilot abandon his controls to wrestle with a disagreeable passenger?) The first 15 minutes are nearly incomprehensible.

Saturday Night Fever (1977) perfectly captures the late-1970s disco culture of sparkling nightclubs, throbbing music, showy dancing, slick attire, carefully coifed hairdos (on men as well as women), and casual sex. This culture departed radically from the hippie-era 1960s and the contemporary rise of rebellious punk rock. John Travolta soared to superstardom as Tony Manero, a dead-end store clerk by day who wins acclaim on the dance floor at night. The high-energy music and choreography both reflected the disco craze and popularized it further. They almost overshadow the plot — a dramatic coming-of-age story as Tony seeks a better future. This movie and its soundtrack album (featuring the Bee Gees) were megahits, and Travolta was nominated for an Oscar. Although bashed by some critics, in retrospect this picture is disco's best time capsule.

Saved! (2004) is a comedy-drama about a girl at a private Christian high school who accidentally gets pregnant while trying to convert her gay boyfriend to heterosexuality. Now she questions her religion, which she believes guided her to sacrifice her virginity. The conflict between human nature and religious dogma is the dominant theme of this uneven film, which has many humorous moments but lacks balance. Fundamentalist Christians are an easy target for ridicule, and the movie would deliver a stronger message if it showed some genuine Christians who aren't hypocrites. Ironically, it's the filmmaker who often seems holier-than-thou.

Saving Private Ryan (1998) achieves the nearly impossible by ranking among the best of an already-impressive body of World War II movies. In the most stunning portrayal of the D-Day landings ever filmed, it captures the fear, courage, and death with unprecedented realism, surpassing the same scenes in The Longest Day (1962). Unlike that epic, however, it focuses on a more personal story. Tom Hanks plays a young U.S. Army officer assigned to find a private who must be withdrawn from combat because his brother has recently died in action. This odd mission departs from the usual D-Day objectives and sets the stage for a war story that's about saving, not killing. But it's still a war, so violence is inevitable. Now a classic, this movie was nominated for 11 Academy Awards and won five, including Best Director for Steven Spielberg. Unfortunately, it lost Best Picture, Original Screenplay, and Actor (Hanks) — regrettable oversights.

Scandal Sheet (1952) bleeds newspaper ink and homicide blood. John Derek, Broderick Crawford, and Donna Reed star in this tight film-noir thriller that blends yellow journalism with red-blooded murder. Derek plays a young reporter who breaks sensational scoops before the cops and rival scribes know what hit them. Crawford is suitably gruff as his hard-boiled editor. Reed adds the feminine touch as the sob-sister columnist. The slang talk and clichés fly thick and fast but dress the stage for this gritty drama. It's not quite a whodunit, because the killer is revealed early. The suspense lies in the chase as the crusading reporters tighten the noose. This nearly forgotten picture deserves more fame in the film-noir pantheon.

Scarecrow (1973) is a little-known film starring two great actors: Gene Hackman and Al Pacino. They play modern-day hobos hitchhiking eastward from California on different missions. Hackman's ex-convict (Max) is heading to Pittsburgh to open a car wash, and Pacino's ex-seaman (Francis) is heading to Detroit to reunite with his abandoned wife and child. They join forces and embark on a series of misadventures. The story takes a backseat to their lifelike performances and a strong supporting cast. The climax is typical of early-1970s films freed of the Hays Code — rather abrupt, and to some, unsatisfying. But the unfilmed conclusion is that their lives would be more of the same.

The Scarecrow (1920) stars Buster Keaton and Edward F. Cline in a 19-minute silent-film short that's famous for an elaborate breakfast scene. The two bachelors have rigged their house to automatically set and clear the kitchen table using an elaborate system of strings and fold-away features. Later, they compete for the hand of the same young maiden. As usual, Keaton performs impressive stunts that became even more amazing in his later films. His imitation of a scarecrow is another highlight, and his real-life father has a bit part as a farmer.

Scared to Death (1947) is a boring "thriller" about a woman who was ... well, the title says it all. Narrated by a dead woman on a morgue slab, it unfolds a confusing plot in flashbacks comprised mostly of people standing around and talking. Odd comic elements include a bumbling bodyguard, the hostile housekeeper he woos, and a deaf-and-dumb dwarf who inexplicably disappears after one scene. The whole thing drags terribly, despite starring two denizens of thriller flicks: Bela Lugosi and George Zucco. They deserved a better script.

The Scarlet Claw (1944) is the eighth of 14 movies starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Although placed during World War II instead of the Victorian Age, it ignores the war to put Holmes and Watson in Quebec after gruesome murders are blamed on a mysterious swamp monster. Convinced that the killer is human, they probe a small town populated with the usual eccentrics common to this film series. Inspector LaStrade, the clumsy Scotland Yard detective, is absent. Instead, two standout co-stars are Gerald Hamer as a goofy postman and Miles Mander as a retired judge. This adventure moves faster and features more action that most others in the series and ranks among the best.

Scarlet Street (1945) reunites Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett, and Dan Duryea in another impressive film noir directed by Fritz Lang — one year after they made The Woman in the Window. Robinson plays against type as a meek middle-aged bank cashier stuck in a futureless job and a henpecked marriage. Then he meets a beautiful young woman (Bennett, in possibly her career-best performance). He pretends to be an accomplished artist while she pretends to be romantically interested. Their double deception builds to even more subterfuge and eventual calamity. Robinson is the poster star but is overshadowed by Bennett's lavish portrayal of a wantonly sleazy femme fatale. Duryea skillfully completes the triangle as her cunning and abusive boyfriend. Fritz Lang directs this clever plot through several twists and turns, always springing another surprise around the corner. The dramatic climax is slightly corny but appropriate for a great movie that in a single scene can be dark, suspenseful, and amusing.

Scene of the Crime (1949) is the only film noir starring Van Johnson, and you'll see why. He doesn't quite fit his role as a tough homicide detective investigating a series of murders. The slangy cop talk is so thick that much of the dialogue is incoherent, and it doesn't help that the bad guys have strange names that are hard to understand. Add the usual stereotyped characters (a sleazy reporter, a slippery informant, a worried wife) and it adds up to 94 minutes of mediocrity.

Schönheit & Vergänglichkeit (2019): see Beauty & Decay.

The Science of Sleep (2006) is an uneven French film about a young man who confuses his surrealistic dream life with his mundane waking life. Gael Garcia Bernal is outstanding in the lead role of a young graphic artist who returns to France after his Mexican father dies. (His mother is French.) Almost immediately, he meets two young women in the apartment next door and gradually becomes involved with one of them (played with appropriate reserve by Charlotte Gainsbourg). The acting is good and the dream sequences are inventive. Unfortunately, the film has trouble sustaining its simple narrative. Worse, the dialogue often detours into odd obscenities, as if the writer (Michel Gondry, who also directed) had Tourette's syndrome. Overall, the movie never rises above the level of an interesting curiosity.

School of Rock (2003) would flop without an over-the-top performance by Jack Black. He plays a failing rock guitarist who desperately earns rent money by pretending to be a substitute teacher at an elite private school. Unable to teach the usual subjects to his 10-year-old pupils, he resorts to schooling them in classic rock music and by forming them into a band. His ulterior motive is to win a big cash prize in an upcoming "Battle of the Bands" contest. This hit comedy succeeds on Black's wild-man mania, a witty script by Mike White (who also co-stars), and deadpan performances by a diverse cast of child actors — who actually play their own instruments. It stands apart as good clean humor done right.

Scoop (2006) is a so-so Woody Allen comedy about a recently deceased journalist whose restless ghost tips a young journalism student about the identity of a serial killer. The student, played by Scarlett Johansson, tries to gather evidence that the killer is the attractive and wealthy son of a British lord. Woody's character, a clumsy magician, pretends to be her father. Although this movie has some good laughs, it's only moderately successful. Woody's stuttering delivery is wearing thin, and Johansson strains to break out of her typically dreamlike acting style.

The Score (2001) is a noirish caper movie in which Robert DeNiro, Marlon Brando, and Edward Norton play sophisticated thieves trying to steal a valuable trinket from a government customs house. The story is average; the final plot twist is inevitable; the cast is superb — Norton is not out of his depth in this company. But even the strong cast isn't enough to make The Score memorable.

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010) is a bizarre romantic comedy based on Bryan Lee O'Malley's graphic novels. Michael Cera is perfectly cast as a young Canadian nerd who falls in love with an American grrrl far above his cool level. To win her, he must defeat her seven previous suitors in spectacular fights stylized as videogame duels, complete with computer graphics and impossible feats. This movie has lots of quirky characters and clever punch lines, but the frequent fights and their deliberately excessive special effects grow tiring. These interludes do little to advance the story and detract from what could have been a cute romantic tale. It's good for laughs, though.

Scream Blacula Scream (1973) is the sequel to Blacula (1972), the first horror thriller to feature a black Dracula. Shakespearean actor William Marshall returns as Blacula, an African prince who unwillingly becomes a vampire in 1780 and is accidentally revived in 1970s Los Angeles. This sequel surpasses the original, thanks largely to co-stars Pam Grier as a beautiful voodoo priestess, Don Mitchell as her ex-cop boyfriend, and an enthusiastic supporting cast of victims. They wear "fly" clothes and speak in 1970s-style urban-black lingo that was satirical at the time and even funnier now. Although critics labeled movies in this genre as "blaxploitation" for perpetuating stereotypes, the mostly African-American casts broke Hollywood convention and enabled more black actors to play leading roles.

Scream and Scream Again (1970) largely wastes its stars and mashes multiple genres but still delivers some thrills. This British production stars Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, and Vincent Price, but only Price gets significant screen time. The story combines Cold War intrigue with a police procedural, a sci-fi plot to create superhumans, and a bite-size subplot of vampirism. It's often choppy and confusing, and the opening scenes make little sense. The highlight is a lengthy chase with a surprising climax.

The Screaming Woman (1972) is a disappointing made-for-TV movie. Disappointing because it's adapted from a Ray Bradbury radio play and has an unusually stellar cast, including Olivia de Havilland, Joseph Cotten, Walter Pidgeon, and Ed Nelson. With this provenance, how could it lose? Don't blame the actors. The story about a woman bordering on senility who thinks she hears the cries of a crime victim buried alive is too predictable, and even at 73 minutes it's too long.

The Sea Wolf (1941) adapts Jack London's famous 1904 novel, albeit with changes that improve the story for the screen. Edward G. Robinson stars as the cruel captain of the Ghost, a schooner departing San Francisco on a deceptive voyage. Robinson's performance is arguably the best in his stellar career. The fine cast includes Alexander Knox and Ida Lapino as shipwreck survivors and John Garfield as a fugitive. This salty tale thrives on the interplay of these diverse characters, but they get lots of help — especially from Gene Lockhart as the ship's drunken doctor and Barry Fitzgerald as the nasty cook. Robert Rossen's loosely adapted screenplay preserves the drama and intelligence of London's novel. This picture is as good today as it was in 1941.

Seabiscuit (2003) is based on the true story of a champion race horse who captured the public's imagination in the 1930s. This feel-good movie recounts the ups and downs of an undersized horse, oversized jockey, written-off trainer, and dumb-luck owner. Allusions to the horse's role as an inspiration to down-and-out Americans during the Great Depression are heavy-handed, including PBS-style documentary interludes that interrupt the flow and are redundant for anyone casually familiar with American history. Overall, Seabiscuit is enjoyable, but it would be better if director Gary Ross had figured out how to end the film.

The Searchers (1956) ranks among the great classic Hollywood westerns, which means it freely indulges in clichés, racial miscasting, and harsh portrayals of Native Americans. John Wayne (who else?) stars as a bulletproof Confederate veteran in postwar Texas who searches for the white survivors of an Indian raid. Jeffrey Hunter plays his greenhorn sidekick, mostly for chuckles and sex appeal. Henry Brandon, a blue-eyed German, plays a renegade Comanche chief, although the actual extras and trappings are mostly Navaho. Monument Valley in Arizona plays Texas. John Ford directed this scenic smorgasbord, which is based on a single-celled germ of historical truth. Today it looks almost campy.

The Secret Fury (1950) begins like a rom-com but soon becomes an intriguing mystery thriller. Claudette Colbert and Robert Ryan star as bride and groom on their wedding day. When a stranger disrupts the event, the mystery begins. As the lovers investigate, they meet characters who only multiply the puzzle. (Watch for Vivian Vance, later of I Love Lucy fame, as a hotel maid.) Midway through this twisty drama you'll wonder how it can possibly resolve. Pay attention to small visual clues and try to ignore one glaring plot hole. The conclusion gets wild and ends with a spectacular bang. This little-known picture is a pleasant surprise.

The Secret Window (2004) wastes Johnny Depp's quirky acting talents in a disappointing thriller based on a Stephen King story. It looks promising at first but soon degrades into a cliché-ridden persecution plot before disintegrating entirely at the end. The conclusion is so downbeat that the audience with whom I saw the film left the theater as if retreating from a sad funeral.

Selma (2014) is a dramatization of the American civil-rights movement in 1965. The focus is Dr. Martin Luther King's march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama to protest that state's barriers to black voter registration. Although generally accurate, historians criticize it for showing President Lyndon B. Johnson as overly reluctant to propose the Voting Rights Act to Congress. Nevertheless, the film effectively re-creates a period in which frivolous local laws and prejudiced county registrars prevented millions of U.S. citizens from voting. Oddly, the filmmakers couldn't find Americans to play the lead roles, but David Oyelowo and Carmen Ejogo (both born in England to Nigerian parents) give excellent performances as Dr. King and his wife, Coretta Scott King. Tom Wilkinson, Dylan Baker, and Tim Roth are less convincing as President Johnson, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, and Alabama Governor George Wallace, though only for people old enough to remember that era. This film's strength is its depiction of the backroom maneuvering that underlies every social movement.

A Serious Man (2009) is another dark-humor drama written and directed by Ethan and Joel Coen, the brothers behind No Country for Old Men (2007), O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), Fargo (1996), and other offbeat films. This installment in their running tragicomedy of human existence revolves around a Jewish college professor in 1967 whose life begins to unravel, through no fault of his own. He is a victim of Murphy's law: If anything can go wrong, it will. His dilemmas aren't global calamities. It's just that halfway through a fairly normal life, misfortune begins stalking him at every turn. Although this story is filled with inside jokes best appreciated by Jews, the bleak humor should be perceptible to almost anyone. At root, it's a dark but incisive morality tale about the uncertainty of life and the comfortable illusion of normalcy.

The Set-Up (1949) is a masterpiece and a rare example of a film adapted from a poem. Although screenwriter Art Cohn changed some details from Joseph March's verse — chiefly, the lead character is white, not black — the story of an aging boxer facing a youthful opponent stays true. Robert Ryan is absolutely brilliant as the weary 35-year-old fighter still hoping to reach top billing so he can win enough cash to retire. A former college boxer in real life, Ryan is utterly convincing in this role and radiates emotion with every glare and grimace. Audrey Totter skillfully plays his equally weary wife. Indeed, all the supporting actors are excellent: George Tobias as the sleazy manager who secretly bets against his man, Percy Helton as the squirrelly trainer, Alan Baxter as a vicious bookie, and a host of others who inhabit their low-life characters. Director Robert Wise's lengthy fight scene is among the most violent and realistic bouts ever filmed. This masterwork pulls no punches.

Seven Chances (1925) stars the brilliant Buster Keaton in a silent-film comedy that he disliked but that still brings lots of laughs. It's famous for a lengthy scene in which he runs downhill to escape an avalanche of stones and boulders — an elaborate stunt for which more than 100 papier-mâché rocks were constructed. Keaton, who also directed, plays a businessman on the brink of dishonor after a venture goes bust. His only hope is to collect a $7 million inheritance that requires him to marry someone by 7 p.m. His search for a bride turns desperate and hilarious. Keaton's standards must have been unfathomably high, because this picture is funnier than many comedies made today.

Seven Samurai (1954) still impresses and retains all of its drama and power. The great Akira Kurosawa directed this 3.5-hour Japanese-language epic about a medieval village in Japan harassed by mounted bandits. Each year at harvest, the ruthless marauders steal the defenseless farmers' food and young women. Desperate, the poor villagers convince seven samurai warriors to protect them. This masterpiece deserves its reputation as an all-time classic. It excels in every way and steadily builds suspense toward the climactic battle, which is convincingly filmed. Many other movies have imitated this theme, most notably The Magnificent Seven (1960), an American production placed in the Old West. But Seven Samurai stands as the superlative original.

Seven Thieves (1960) features a great cast in a little-known but well-made heist thriller. Edward G. Robinson plays the brains of the outfit, backed by Rod Steiger as the no-nonsense leader, Berry Kroeger as the muscle, Eli Wallach as a sax player who impersonates a disabled oil baron, and Joan Collins as an exotic nightclub dancer who pretends to be a high-society snob. A safecracker and casino employee round out the gang. It's pretty good but was overshadowed a few months later by the original version of Ocean's Eleven (1960), a similar heist movie with a humorous twist and a more glamorous cast (Frank Sinatra and the "Rat Pack").

The Seven Year Itch (1955) ages poorly as topical comedy but preserves in amber the middle-class American values of the 1950s. It's also a classic showcase for Hollywood bombshell Marilyn Monroe, who plays a daffy blonde sex kitten much like her public persona. Indeed, one scene calls her "Marilyn Monroe" even though the script never names her screen character. In this broad romp, she's the dazzling upstairs neighbor of a staidly married New York book editor whose wife and son are summering in Maine. Tom Ewell won this central role thanks to his Tony Award-winning performances as the same character in the stage play that inspired this picture. A famous screen star would seem more appropriate, but director Billy Wilder wanted a lesser-known actor to portray the conflicted everyman who must choose between marital fidelity and summer bachelorhood. Although Hollywood censorship blunted this dramatic aspect, some clever one-liners and 1950s pop-culture parodies still amuse.

The Seventh Seal (1957) remains the most famous Swedish motion picture known outside Sweden. The great Ingmar Bergman wrote and directed this classic tale of life, death, and faith. A Swedish knight (Max von Sydow, the only cast member most Americans will recognize) is returning home from the Crusades. Now weary, disillusioned, and doubting his religion, he finds his homeland suffering a plague. Desperate people trudge from village to village, begging for mercy by chanting hymns, burning incense, and whipping themselves. Others prepare to execute a young woman whom they blame for the affliction. The knight is appalled but too tired to intervene. His squire, a vulgar servant, is too cynical to care. They meet a troupe of young actors who struggle to entertain. Meanwhile, Death appears as a pale apparition dressed in black who agrees to spare the knight if he can win a game of chess. This movie sounds dreary but is beautifully scripted, filmed, and acted. It explores the mysteries of life, death, and the hereafter. (In Swedish with subtitles.)

The Seventh Victim (1943) departs from the film-noir canon by featuring a young woman as an amateur investigator in a missing-person mystery that leads to a coven of devil worshipers. This weird atmospheric drama centers on a college student hunting for her missing older sister. A gruesome death deepens the mystery. She gets help from a lawyer, a psychiatrist, and a poet, all hiding secrets. She also gets a warning in a creepy pre-Psycho shower scene. Although the devil worshipers further twist the plot, they're surprisingly different than the Satanists in a typical thriller. Some film critics perceive sapphic suggestions in this movie, but they're too subtle to matter. What matters more is the subtle climax that ends this off-beat cult classic on a shocking downbeat. After a nihilistic discussion of life and death with a terminal patient, one person dies, but you must listen closely to know it. No other film noir dared to end like this.

The Severed Arm (1973) is a cheesy horror thriller about several men who resorted to cannibalism when trapped for weeks in a cave. Years later, a stalker seeks revenge in eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth fashion. It's predictable until a final-act twist, which still isn't sufficient to redeem the whole effort. Worth watching only if you have nothing better to do.

Sexology (2016) features two movie stars in a lighthearted documentary about female orgasm. It it real? How does it feel? How does it happen? Gabrielle Anwar directed and stars with Catherine Oxenberg in this verbally explicit exploration. Together, they casually interview doctors, sex therapists, a midwife, women young and old, and an Indian swami who claims he can conjure a woman to ecstasy without touching her. It's a feminine empowerment film that swings from serious to funny, often in the same scene. There's some nudity, but it's definitely not porn.

The Shadow of the Cat (1961) cleverly casts a domestic house cat as a vengeful killer without conjuring the supernatural. "Tabitha" is an ordinary tabby who witnesses the brutal murder of her beloved owner, a rich matriarch. For the rest of this British thriller, the sneaky cat terrorizes her murderer, his co-conspirators, and her greedy sons. Only her favorite niece seems immune to the animal's wrath. The local constable and a reporter are incredulous as the freak accidents accumulate. All the acting is energetic, and the witty plot will have you rooting for the feline fatale.

Shadow of the Thin Man (1941) is the fourth installment in the popular Thin Man series starring William Powell, Myrna Loy, and their dog Asta. Powell reprises his role of retired detective Nick Charles, who is pulled into yet another murder case along with his beautiful wife, Nora (Loy). This time, the mysterious death of a jockey who was testifying against racketeers leads to more deaths and the usual intricate intrigue. It's played mostly for laughs, with the usual running gags of frequent drinking, baffled cops, odd characters, witty banter, and the dog's misadventures. This installment isn't as good as the previous one (Another Thin Man, 1939) but is still enjoyable.

Shadow of the Vampire (2000) is best appreciated by film buffs familiar with the 1922 German silent-film classic Nosferatu. This fictional backstory stars John Malkovich as the creepy director F.W. Murnau and Willem Dafoe as "a vampire playing an actor playing a vampire." Highlight: Dafoe snatches a bat and imitates Ozzy Osbourne.

Shadow On the Wall (1950) is an above-average crime thriller with a twist: the main characters are females. Yes, the guys are relegated to supporting roles, although it doesn't start that way. Ann Sothern expertly plays the femme fatale, who first appears as a sympathetic character before her gradual descent into passive-aggressive evil. Gigi Perreau plays a young girl who possibly witnessed a murder. And Nancy Davis is surprisingly believable as a psychiatrist who struggles to pull some truth out of the little girl. (Davis later married Ronald Reagan and became America's First Lady.) These departures from male-dominated film noir make this movie a sleeper treat.

Shallow Hal (2001) is vastly oversold as a slapstick comedy. Instead, it's a controversial Farrelly brothers' film about love, obesity, and inner beauty. Jack Black stars as Hal, a randy young man in a never-ending search for the perfect woman. When a self-help guru alters Hal's sense of perception so that he sees only a woman's inner beauty, he falls for a grossly overweight soulmate played by Gwyneth Paltrow. It's controversial because the film's visual interpretation of inner beauty is outer beauty — Hal sees his girlfriend as the slim, gorgeous version of Gwyneth Paltrow. But a worse sin of this one-joke comedy is that it's rarely funny, and the advance previews gave away the best laughs.

Shattered Glass (2003) is based on the true story of Stephen Glass, a young writer for The New Republic who in 1998 was caught fictionalizing his magazine articles by inventing sources, quotes, places, and events. The film portrays Glass as a pathological liar who scammed his editors, but it doesn't point out that only incompetent fact-checking and sloppy editing can explain why he got away with his blatant lies for so long. The New Republic, which styles itself as "the in-flight magazine of Air Force One," evidently had lower journalistic standards than some computer magazines I've worked for. After the movie's final credits roll, a fine-print disclaimer informs us that some characters and events were invented for dramatic purposes — the same transgression for which the film condemns Glass. Another notice says that Glass, fired from his magazine job, has since written a novel about a fictional journalist who invents stories — thus burying the elusive truth of this scandal beneath yet another layer of lies.

Shaun of the Dead (2004) must surely sound the death knell for serious zombie movies. After a stinging parody like this, who can ever take a "living dead" picture seriously again? Shaun is a skillful British farce in which a group of twenty-something friends battle the kinds of zombies made famous by Night of the Living Dead (1968) and imitated countless times since. Recently dead people are staggering back to "life" as slow-moving cannibals, and the only way to stop them is to cut off their heads or destroy their brains. It's not a total farce — there's gore and horror, too, especially near the end of the film. But it's clearly a romp, and the only hint of gravity is the frequent allusions to the vacant, zombielike lives of the main characters.

The Sheik (1921) made Rudolph Valentino an international star and Hollywood's first male heartthrob. Valentino plays the Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan, a rich prince of Araby. One evening he becomes infatuated with Lady Diana Mayo (Agnes Ayres), an Englishwoman who resists his lustful advances. Her feelings slowly change after he kidnaps her ("Stockholm syndrome"), but a union between an Arab and a noble white woman is unthinkable. Then comes a surprise. Their fiery on-screen romance thrilled female moviegoers and made this melodramatic silent film an instant classic. It inspired a 1926 sequel (The Son of the Sheik) in which Valentino and Ayres reprised their roles.

Sherlock Holmes (2009) is a silly adaptation of literature's most famous detective stories. Robert Downey Jr. could have done much better as Holmes, but he is undercut by a director and screenwriters who would rather be making Jackie Chan movies or superhero summer blockbusters. Their versions of Holmes and Dr. Watson (Jude Law) are martial-arts wizards who perform incredible feats while battling equally improbable villains. The plot twists are so convoluted that only rapid-fire explanations can attempt to straighten out the confusion during the cartoony climax. Too bad, because the Victorian London scenery is spectacular and good actors are wasted.

Sherlock Holmes in the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939): see The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes in Dressed to Kill (1946): see Dressed to Kill.

Sherlock Holmes Faces Death (1943) is the sixth of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. It's based on an original Arthur Conan Doyle story ("The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual") but takes place during World War II instead of the Victorian Age. Holmes and Watson investigate mysterious murders at a spooky English estate temporarily serving as a convalescent home for war veterans. It's one of the best films in this series thanks to colorful characters, a swift screenplay, clever mystery, and a few twists.

Sherlock Holmes in the Hound of the Baskervilles (1939): see The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Sherlock Holmes in the House of Fear (1945): see The House of Fear.

Sherlock Holmes and the Pearl of Death (1944): see The Pearl of Death.

Sherlock Holmes in Pursuit to Algiers (1945): see Pursuit to Algiers.

Sherlock Holmes and the Scarlet Claw (1944): see The Scarlet Claw.

Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1942) is the fourth of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. It's placed in World War II as they battle Nazis and an arch-criminal trying to steal a new aerial bombsight. Lionel Atwill plays the main foe, Professor Moriarty, another character in Arthur Conan Doyle's famous detective stories. The screenplay is loosely based on one story, "The Adventure of the Dancing Men." It moves quickly and is a credible departure from Holmes' Victorian roots. Photographers may notice that the "bombsight" strongly resembles a darkroom enlarger.

Sherlock Holmes and the Spider Woman (1943): see The Spider Woman.

Sherlock Holmes in Terror By Night (1946): see Terror By Night.

Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (1942) is the third of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as English private detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. This was also the first film in the long-running series to move from the traditional 1800s to the then-current 1940s. Although it's loosely based on an Arthur Conan Doyle story ("His Last Bow"), Holmes and Watson are fighting Nazi saboteurs now. In this wartime production, tradition gave way to propaganda. One scene even shows lowlife characters in a roughneck London pub inspired to join the investigation. Don't dismiss it, though. It's still good, and it dangles some red herrings to keep us guessing.

Sherlock Holmes and the Woman in Green (1945): see The Woman in Green.

Sherlock Jr. (1924) continues to astonish viewers with its surrealistic illusions, inventive special effects, and daring stunts. Silent films like this one couldn't entertain audiences with clever dialogue, except on brief title cards, so they typically relied on overacting and sight gags. But silent star Buster Keaton raised these techniques to a new level, and rarely more impressively than in this motion picture. It starts slowly and conventionally, as Keaton plays a homely movie projectionist wooing a pretty young woman. When a rival appears to foil his efforts, he enters a dream state, and that's when the real fun begins. One scene after another is a brilliant stunner. He jumps into the theater screen of a movie in progress, interacts with the fictional characters, finds himself magically transported to radically different locations, plays astounding trick shots in a game of pool, performs mind-boggling disappearing acts, and evades pursuers in an exciting chase sequence that features some of the most complex stunts ever filmed. Only 45 minutes long, this movie is a cinematic masterpiece that's even more remarkable given its age. It also makes a strong case that Keaton was Hollywood's all-time best stuntman.

Sherman's March a/k/a Sherman's March: A Meditation on the Possibility of Romantic Love In the South During an Era of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation (1985) starts as a conventional documentary about Union General William Tecumseh Sherman's infamous campaign of destruction through the Confederacy during the Civil War. Then it detours into a personal account of the filmmaker's unsuccessful love life. Ross McElwee is the lovelorn documentarian who turns autobiographical. As McElwee traces the path of Sherman's victorious march, one Southern woman after another defeats his attempts to find the right match. Although this amusing film is a bit overlong (155 minutes), its wry humor helped it win numerous awards and an avid following.

Sherwood Forest: Top Secret (2023) documents a little-known mission that sent Oklahoma "roughnecks" to drill for oil in England during World War II. Nazi U-boats were wreaking havoc on Allied convoys in the North Atlantic, choking the flow of oil and other crucial supplies to the U.K. This excellent one-hour documentary recounts how two civilians conceived an ambitious plan to recruit Oklahoma oil workers, ferry them to England with their drilling equipment, and erect secret oil wells in Sherwood Forest. Among the obstacles were brutal schedules, lousy food, conflicts with locals, and rigid military officers. In a brilliant bit of casting, the narrator is actor Barry Corbin, whose coarse voice is perfect for this film.

Shine (1996) tells the almost-true story of David Helfgott, an Australian piano prodigy who suffered from mental illness that for years derailed his life and career. Although this film plays loose with the facts, it's an outstanding work nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Actor, Supporting Actor, Film Editing, and Original Score. Against tough competition, it won only Best Actor: Geoffrey Rush in his first major screen role. Rush deserved the Oscar for his superlative performance, even learning to play enough piano to serve as his own hand double in keyboard closeups. Other standouts are Armin Mueller-Stahl as his overbearing father, John Gielgud as an inspiring piano teacher, and Noah Taylor as the teenage Helfgott. The fictionalized screenplay stirred controversy that pitted Helfgott's family members against each other, so don't take it literally. Better yet, pretend it's total fiction, because the story stands on its own and is a plausible portrayal of a child genius warped by misguided parenting.

The Shining (1980) adapts Stephen King's horror novel and is a masterpiece despite initially negative reviews and King's objections that it alters the story. Although the film ends differently and omits one particularly frightening chapter, it preserves the novel's creepy insanity and haunted atmosphere. If anything, director Stanley Kubrick's highly stylish production amplifies the sense of impending doom. Jack Nicholson is deliberately over-the-top as Jack Torrance, the unstable caretaker of a remote Colorado hotel that's shuttered for the winter. Torrance's only companions are his wife (Shelley Duvall in a career performance) and their young son (Danny Lloyd, ditto), who is psychically sensitive. Slowly — too slowly if you prefer cheap thrills — Torrance suspects that the stately old hotel is haunted by apparitions of long-dead guests and staff. Or is the snowbound isolation driving him crazy? In 1997, a TV miniseries adapted the novel more faithfully but also inspired a positive reappraisal of Kubrick's more ambiguous vision.

The Shining a/k/a Stephen King's The Shining (1997) adapts his 1977 horror novel for the second time and is truer to its supernatural theme. King wrote and produced this remake because he disliked director Stanley Kubrick's 1980 adaptation. In three episodes totaling 273 minutes (versus Kubrick's 107 minutes), the remake sticks closer to the original story about an unstable caretaker in a remote Colorado hotel that's shuttered for the winter. He's alone with his worried wife and psychically sensitive young son. Or is he alone? Although this is a good thriller that won positive reviews, Kubrick's version has gained more respect over time, and Jack Nicholson's extravagant performance as the caretaker in the 1980 film is now recognized as one of the best in his great career.

The Shipping News was among the best films of 2001, despite two improbable plot twists. (How long could a person really survive in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic?) Kevin Spacey is an aimless working stiff with a slutty wife and a neglected daughter until two tragic events interrupt his lifelong slumber. To reconnect with his roots and reconstruct his family, he moves to a small fishing village in Newfoundland. A new job, new friends, a long-lost aunt, and an old house become the center of his second life. This warm, powerful film tip-toes on the fine line of pathos but always stays on course.

Shirkers (2018) is a brilliant documentary that takes an unexpected turn. In 1992, three rebellious teenagers in Singapore began making a low-budget avant-garde film about a fictional girl who kills people for no particular reason. Their quirky film-school teacher operated the camera and supervised the ambitious project. After filming wrapped, however, he disappeared — with all the unedited footage. The girls were crushed but moved on with their lives. Some 25 years later, the mystery began to clear, though incompletely. This skillfully assembled documentary by Sandi Tan is funny, sad, and fascinating.

Shock (1946) is an aptly named drama about a young woman who falls into a catatonic state after witnessing a crime. When a psychiatrist takes over her case, the plot thickens, and suddenly her life as well as her mind is in jeopardy. Vincent Price is the highlight of this middling movie, which is suspenseful but could be even tighter than its short 70-minute running time.

Shockproof (1949) starts strong before taking a head-scratching turn and finishing even more incredulously. Cornel Wilde plays Griff Marat, a straight-laced parole officer whose newest ward is Jenny, a sexy young murderess. Shining in this major role is Patricia Knight (Wilde's real-life wife), who made only six pictures in her seven-year career. Jenny is a hard case who breaks parole by reuniting with the suave gambler for whom she committed her crime. Griff tries to set her straight. It's a promising drama until Griff starts behaving unrealistically and against character. First he employs Jenny as a caregiver for his mother — all of them living together. Then he falls in love and goes completely nuts. The final scene is equally unbelievable. Maybe it's a ploy to keep us wondering which strange turn the story will take next.

The Shop Around the Corner (1940) is a classic film starring James Stewart as a store clerk who becomes a pen pal with an anonymous woman (played perfectly by Margaret Sullavan). Neither realize they actually know each other and work in the same shop. It's a setup for romance and comedy so compelling that several remakes have tried to capture the same magic, most recently in You've Got Mail (1998). The original version is definitely worth seeing, especially if you can experience it on a big screen in a real theater. (I've seen it at the beautifully restored 1925 Stanford Theater in Palo Alto, California.)

Shutter (2008) is a lightweight thriller about a newlywed couple stalked by a ghost, who keeps showing up in their photographs. The ghost is a thoroughly modern manifestation, equally comfortable with film or digital. It haunts the husband's professional-caliber Hasselblad as well as his wife's little digicam, and it even bedevils a darkroom. Although the running time of this film is relatively short (85 minutes), this is one of those movies that seems to end once or twice, then springs another surprise. Overall, it's fun, with lots of real and fake thrills. The screaming teenage girls behind me in the theater seemed to enjoy it.

Shutter Island (2010) is a well-crafted but overlong thriller about a mysterious island prison for the criminally insane. Placed in 1954, the story stars Leonardo DiCaprio and Mark Ruffalo as federal marshals investigating the impossible escape of a female prisoner. Ben Kingsley plays the head psychiatrist who rules the island like a private kingdom. Max von Sydow has a good supporting role as a German doctor with an uncertain past. Cinematically, this movie has lots of steam, as expected of a film directed by Martin Scorsese. But some plot twists are hard to follow, and it churns slowly toward its climax. Cutting 15 minutes would have built more tension near the end.

Sicko (2007) is firebrand liberal Michael Moore's attack on the U.S. health-care industry. As with previous Moore documentaries (Fahrenheit 9/11, Bowling for Columbine, Roger and Me, etc.), it takes a strong editorial stance instead of presenting an objectively balanced account. But as Moore says, the health-care industry spends billions of dollars a year telling its side of the story, so another viewpoint is overdue. The result is a scathing exposé of greedy insurance companies, uncaring health-care providers, and lobbyist-enriched politicians. It's also an entertaining film, though at times sad and shocking. Perhaps its most vital point is that millions of Americans who consider themselves safely insured can see their life savings quickly wiped out when an insurance company unexpectedly denies a claim. Worse, people can lose their lives. Moore's most famous stunt is transporting sick 9/11 rescue workers to Guantanamo Bay to plead for the same health care that the U.S. government provides to enemy combatants.

Side Street (1950) is one of those movies in which a basically good person does something stupid, then the trouble multiplies. Farley Granger is perfect as a part-time mail carrier who impulsively steals what he thinks is a small amount of money. His wife is pregnant, and they can't afford the bills. (Some things in America never change.) But the loot is lots more than he expected, and now a really bad guy wants it back. Cathy O'Donnell plays Granger's wife in a much smaller part limited to a few routine scenes. Jean Hagan gets a meatier role as a floozy nightclub singer. What's missing is a memorable bad guy. The pace is swift, though, and the climax features a lengthy car chase through Manhattan that ends with a bang.

Sideways (2004) is one of the funniest and moving films of the year. Two middle-aged buddies — one a former soap-opera actor who's about to get married, the other an English teacher and unpublished novelist — take a weeklong tour of California wineries as a sort of extended bachelor's party. But the groom-to-be can't resist seducing the women they meet, while the teacher wallows in depression and self-pity over his divorce and rejected manuscripts. One misadventure leads to another as their conflicting personalities mix like oil and water. Yet, their friendship is never really in question. The cast is largely unknown, but their acting and the screenplay are brilliant.

Signs (2002) is a tribute to paranoia and stupidity — definitely a sign of the times. Mel Gibson stars as a farmer whose cornfields are mysteriously marked with crop circles as navigational aids for invading space aliens. But these aliens are dumber than moon rocks. Despite 25 years of scout missions, they fail to notice Earth's most prominent natural feature. Writer/director M. Night Shyamalan (The Sixth Sense, Stuart Little) wrecks his masterful imitation of Alfred Hitchcock with a preposterous story that's a crippled combination of The Birds and The War of the Worlds.

Silence (2016) questions the fetish and futility of martyrdom by dramatizing Japan's persecution of Christians in the 1600s. Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver play Catholic missionary priests who sneak into Japan to find a colleague (Liam Neeson) who supposedly has renounced his faith. They enter a dangerous world of peasant converts who practice their banned religion in secrecy to avoid torture and execution. Soon the young priests face a dilemma: If they and their followers refuse to perform a simple act of renunciation, horrible deaths will follow. Although Christian doctrine asserts that a loving God knows everyone's heart, many Christians believe he won't tolerate a purely performative act, so they must needlessly die — even to the detriment of the religion. Christianity is particularly enamored with martyrdom because it sprouts from the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Some followers believe their faith isn't genuine unless equally tested, so they seek persecution. Master filmmaker Martin Scorsese co-wrote and directed this outstanding portrayal of missionary zeal and the hubris of evangelism in a hostile foreign culture.

Silent Running (1972) echoes the sci-fi doomsday scenarios that gained popularity alongside the rising environmental movement of the 1970s. Bruce Dern stars as the eccentric caretaker of an outer-space greenhouse preserving the last of Earth's native plant life. He's aided by three robots that resemble R2D2 in Star Wars five years later. But this movie isn't a rowdy space romp. It's more cerebral, like 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), though less opaque. Some humor lightens the mood, and Dern skillfully strikes a balance between his character's amusing behavior and the desperation of his mission. The special effects are outstanding; rookie director Douglas Trumbull helped create similar effects in 2001.

Silver Linings Playbook (2012) accumulated eight Academy Award nominations, largely for its polished writing, directing, and acting. Stars include Bradley Cooper (The Hangover series), Jennifer Lawrence (The Hunger Games), and the incomparable Robert De Niro. Cooper plays a lovesick misfit with bipolar disorder whose wife left him after he thrashed her illicit lover. He wants her back but is distracted by Lawrence's character, a young widow who seems equally wobbly. De Niro plays Cooper's football-crazy father. Together, their dynamics provoke laughs as the family teeters on dysfunction, but this movie has a serious side, too. Although the ending is a bit hackneyed, the performances are so good that you won't mind. (Jennifer Lawrence won Best Actress.)

Simone (2002) is a more introspective look at the wavering boundary between reality and virtual reality — a theme that Hollywood has been exploring for years in films such as Total Recall, The Matrix, and Vanilla Sky. This time, Al Pacino plays a struggling film director who passes off a digital actress as the real thing. Not only does nobody notice, but the ersatz ingenue becomes a pop-culture phenomenon. Although it stretches credibility at times, Simone flays our fascination with celebrity — and Pacino's heavyweight performance seems to mock the story's assumption that digital acting will soon be indistinguishable from the real thing.

The Simpsons Movie (2007) is an undisputed hit, but I think it's coasting on the goodwill of millions of Simpsons fans. The much-loved 30-minute TV show doesn't make a good transition from small screen to big screen. The movie feels like a few 30-minute episodes spliced together, despite a unifying storyline — Lake Springfield is dying of pollution, provoking drastic measures. Too much humor seems stretched and even rather gloomy. Has "The Simpsons" finally run its course? Remember that "The X-Files" and "Twin Peaks" also appeared as feature films shortly before their demise on TV.

Sin City (2005) is supposed to be a graphic novel translated to film, but it's essentially a noninteractive videogame that substitutes violence for meaningful storytelling. It follows weakly in the footsteps of Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004): in both movies, actors perform on a green-screen stage against elaborate computer-graphics backgrounds added later. But whereas Sky Captain was an invigorating vision of 1930s adventure comics, Sin City is a depressing indulgence in sexual depravity, torture, and murder. A stoic performance by Bruce Willis averts total boredom, but Mickey Rourke's considerable acting talents are squandered beneath lumps of ugly makeup. Spectacular visual effects probably account for the film's initial glowing reviews. Artistically, this work is as vacant as Grand Theft Auto.

Sink the Bismarck! (1960) commits the common sin of fabricating characters and events to add unnecessary drama to actual characters and events already teeming with drama. This British film recounts the Royal Navy's frantic pursuit of the German battleship Bismarck during World War II. It's based on historical events that include the famous big-gun duel between the Bismarck and British battle cruiser HMS Hood. Although the performances and special effects are seaworthy, the screenplay invents a fake British operations officer who sends his tail-gunner son into the battle, and it falsely portrays Admiral Günther Lutjens as a fanatical Nazi. Other factual errors abound. The movie is generally true but would be better if truer.

Sixteen Candles (1984) launched a classic trilogy of popular teenage comedies directed by John Hughes. They also made stars of the "Brat Pack" — Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, John Cusak, Ally Sheedy, and a few others. In this rom-com, Ringwald plays a girl upset because her family forgets her milestone 16th birthday. Hall and Cusak play inept nerds at their upscale high school. This movie dramatizes teen social angst before social media made it even worse. It was created to be timely, not timeless, so much of the humor now seems flat, overplayed, or cringeworthy. Nevertheless, people who were young in the 1980s remember this movie fondly.

The Sixth Sense (1999) is an unusually intelligent and carefully paced thriller with a twister ending — not anything like the cheap slasher flicks that pass for horror films these days.

The Skin Game (1931) shows no hints that director Alfred Hitchcock was destined to become a great filmmaker. This early work bridges the silent and talkie eras with elements of both, mostly to its detriment. It's a drama about an upper-class English household that feuds with a neighboring nouveau-riche family headed by an ambitious industrialist. When the neighbor threatens to replace an adjoining rural estate with coal-burning factories, the feud turns nasty. Although the story isn't bad and the filmmaking average for its time, it's amateurish in comparison with Hitchcock's later work. It proves that his skill was learned, not born.

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004) re-creates the adventure comics of the 1930s by playing live actors against a backdrop of computer graphics and matte paintings. The distinctive look of this film is wonderfully retro, resembling a hand-colored black-and-white photograph. The time period seems to be 1939, but with futuristic technology as imagined in the 1930s. In the opening scene, the German airship Hindenburg III docks at the Empire State Building. Soon, giant robots are attacking New York City. Hero pilot Sky Captain (Jude Law) swings into action, battling the strange robots in his souped-up P-40 fighter plane. His sometime girlfriend, reporter Polly Perkins (Gwyneth Paltrow), helps him track down the crazed inventor of the machines, stopping frequently to snap pictures with her trusty Argus C-3. Angelina Jolie has a too-small role as the British commander of a flying aircraft carrier. The film's plot isn't deeper than the comic books it imitates, but the art direction is glorious.

Sleepy Hollow (1999) is the bloody victim of a horrific script and dead acting, despite beautiful photography and art direction.

Slumdog Millionaire (2008) is a brilliant Indian film (mostly in English) about a boy from the slums of Mumbai who's a contestant on the Indian version of the TV show Do You Want to Be a Millionaire? Though uneducated, he keeps answering the questions correctly and winning larger cash prizes — arousing suspicions that he's cheating. A torture session at a police station reveals his secret, told in a series of flashbacks. He is simply drawing on his life experience, which is brutal. This film is an unsparing look at poverty, crime, and prejudice in India, but it's also an uplifting morality tale woven around a love story. Definitely one of the best movies of the year.

Small Time Crooks (2000) brings back Woody Allen's witty dialogue and sarcastic humor, with strong support from Tracey Ullman, Hugh Grant, and the rest of the cast. I didn't miss Mia Farrow.

The Snake Pit (1948) was Hollywood's first serious dramatization of psychotherapy and mental hospitals, and it spurred many reforms. Olivia de Havilland is superlative as a young woman hiding a troubled past. Shortly after marrying, she becomes disoriented and incoherent, requiring confinement in a county hospital. Conditions there range from tolerable to wretched, depending on the ward, nurses, and fellow patients. A kindly doctor tries to unravel her mystery. De Havilland and other cast members spent time in real hospitals to inform their performances, and it shows. This outstanding production was nominated for six Oscars — including Best Picture, Director (Anatole Litvak), Actress (de Havilland), Screenplay, and Score — but won only for Sound Recording. Despite its lack of official accolades, it stands as a great motion picture.

The Sniper (1952) succeeds almost entirely on an intense performance by Arthur Franz as a mentally ill deliveryman compelled to shoot women. He's not insane, because he knows it's wrong, and he wants to be caught — but not badly enough to surrender. A brilliantly wordless opening scene sets the stage for the senseless murders to follow. That he chooses his targets so randomly heightens the suspense, as some potential victims escape his wrath while others are mercilessly killed. Like some other films from this era, it detours into criminal psychology and political hand-wringing over inadequate mental-health care and obtuse law enforcement. These sideshows would be archaic if they weren't still valid today. The supporting cast is adequate except for Gerald Mohr, who inexplicably plays his police detective as a smirking joker, even in serious scenes. The surprising climax avoids the usual cliché.

Snowbeast (1977) rehashes creature-feature clichés without adding any redeeming qualities. In the snowy mountains of Colorado, someone or something big and strong is killing people. The sheriff doubts that anything truly strange is afoot, and the townsfolk prematurely celebrate when a hunting party kills an ordinary bear. A few people blame a mysterious monster. The low budget of this production precluded expensive special effects, so it represents the creature mostly through the first-person viewpoint of a shaky camera. Brief glimpses reveal something furry, but even the climax is blindly anticlimactic.

Snowden (2016) dramatizes the true story of Edward Snowden, the National Security Agency contractor who fled the U.S. in 2013 and revealed the government's classified mass-surveillance programs. While he was changing planes in Moscow en route to Latin America, the U.S. revoked his passport, forcing him to seek asylum in Russia, where he still lives. Oliver Stone directed this fictionalized but essentially truthful account of Snowden's intelligence career and the conflicting loyalties that led him to expose the secret programs. Depending on your viewpoint, Snowden is either a patriotic whistleblower or a dangerous traitor, but this movie is an unalloyed defense of his actions. Like all of Stone's films, it is fast-paced and powerfully made. Stay after the credits roll to see the coda.

The Social Network (2010) is a harsh look at Facebook's young founder, Mark Zuckerberg. Did he steal the idea from Harvard classmates, or was he merely expanding a concept that had existed for years? Is he a talented nerd or an antisocial outcast who preys on other people's privacy? This film is a Hollywood drama, not a documentary, so its veracity is questionable. But screenwriter Aaron Sorkin (working from a book by Ben Mezrich) derived large chunks of dialogue and several scenes from sworn depositions by Zuckerberg's classmates — who later unfriended him by filing lawsuits. The result is a very talky movie that nevertheless accomplishes the difficult task of making an interesting story out of that which seems uninteresting: computer programming and business deals. Not since Oliver Stone's W. (2008) has a Hollywood movie targeted a real person so audaciously. But what fun.

Solaris (2002) is more of a ghost story than science fiction, even though it mostly takes place on a distant space station in the far future. George Clooney stars as a psychologist sent alone to diagnose a mysterious problem encountered by the station's crew. His improbable mission (which follows the disappearance of a security force) leads to the discovery of a strange phenomenon that questions nature and religion. But the drama feels drained of all energy, and the abrupt cuts between scenes give the movie an edited-for-television look.

The Soloist (2009) is based on the true story of a Los Angeles Times columnist who befriends a homeless, mentally disturbed musician. Jamie Foxx delivers an outstanding performance as Nathaniel Ayers, a budding cellist whose schizophrenia drove him out of Julliard and onto the streets. Robert Downey Jr. is nearly as good as Steve Lopez, the columnist who almost goes crazy himself while trying to deal rationally with an often irrational mind. Although this movie typifies the "magic Negro" Hollywood stereotype, it's so well done I didn't care. Of note are special audio/video sequences that try to portray Ayers' inner demons (multiple voices competing for attention inside his head) and the blissful refuge he finds in classical music.

Some Like It Hot (1959) is a wild comedy starring Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon as musicians in drag. Disguising themselves as women to escape Chicago gangsters after witnessing the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, they flee to Florida, only to find even more trouble. When not in drag, Curtis sometimes masquerades as a millionaire and delivers a riotous imitation of Cary Grant. Marilyn Monroe adds sex appeal as a jazz singer, and George Raft is perfectly type-cast as a fastidious gang boss. This risqué romp shocked some folks in 1959 but is actually quite tame, and it remains one of the funniest films ever made. (Take it from me: It's a great first-date movie!)

Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956) stars Paul Newman in his breakthrough film role — and his most glaring display of overacting. Newman won the lead in this biopic of boxing champion Rocky Graziano after director Robert Wise's first choice (James Dean) died in a car crash. We'll never know if Dean would have been better, but Newman's jittery mannerisms border on hyperactive parody. His attempts to mimic Graziano's low-class New York accent are also uneven. Nevertheless, Newman won praise, quickly learned to calibrate his future performances, and became one of Hollywood's greatest stars. His Graziano characterization doesn't sabotage this drama, which is really quite good. The supporting cast is especially rich, and the boxing scenes are realistic.

Something's Gotta Give (2003) is a rare romantic comedy about May-September and September-May relationships. Who could resist a love quadrangle with Jack Nicholson, Diane Keeton, Keanu Reeves, and Amanda Peet? Nicholson plays a 63-year-old record executive who's dating a 30-year-old woman (Peet) — the upper age range of his female interests. A heart attack makes him rethink his priorities, and he becomes intrigued by his girlfriend's mother (Keaton). But so is his young doctor (Reeves). Writer/director Nancy Meyers (The Parent Trap, Private Benjamin) achieves a delicate balance between the genuinely funny and the honestly emotional. It's the best romantic comedy since When Harry Met Sally... (1989).

Somewhere in the Night (1946) deserves more credit as an above-average film noir. John Hodiak stars as a wounded World War II veteran suffering from amnesia. Returning to civilian life, he tries to discover his past but can't find anyone who knows him. Instead, he finds trouble — and a pretty nightclub singer (Nancy Guild in her film debut). Richard Conte plays the smooth nightclub owner, and Lloyd Nolan lightens a few scenes as an unusually ebullient police detective. The plot is typically film-noir convoluted but comprehensible and filled with surprises. Although this genre was still fairly new in 1946, the sharp screenplay pokes fun at its clichés.

Son of Frankenstein (1939) followed Universal Pictures' original Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and it doesn't disappoint. It stars the trifecta of Boris Karloff as the man-made Monster, Basil Rathbone as the unscrupulous Dr. Frankenstein, and Bela Lugosi as Ygor, his crazed assistant. Lionel Atwill adds a bit of camp as a one-armed police chief. German Expressionist set designs decorate this quintessential American classic in an ominous atmosphere, and the gloomy laboratory is alive with the essential sparky gadgets. Nitpickers object to inconsistencies: the Monster appears intact despite his destruction in the previous sequel, and he's lost his speech. Critics also disparage Rathbone's frantic overacting in later scenes. But this installment completes a classic trilogy that continues to inspire remakes and imitators.

The Son of Kong (1933) is the less-loved sequel to the classic King Kong, also made in 1933. That RKO could release both pictures the same year hints that the sequel was a rush job — and it was. Moreover, the cash-strapped studio slashed the budget. Nevertheless, The Son of Kong is well worth watching. It starts soon after the first story ends, as Kong impresario Carl Denham (reprised by Robert Armstrong) is besieged with lawsuits for the damage his escaped giant ape wreaked on New York. It's a slow start, but eventually Denham returns to Skull Island and finds King Kong's young offspring. Then the real fun begins. Despite the time and budget constraints, the special effects are remarkable. The actors have deeper characters to play, too. Although detractors penalize it for some silliness and pathos, this sequel has more heart than the original.

The Son of the Sheik (1926) reunited Hollywood heartthrob Rudolph Valentino and co-star Agnes Ayres in a sequel to The Sheik (1921). Their first picture was a huge hit, especially with women, who swooned over Valentino as the Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan, a rich prince of Araby. This story takes place about 20 years later, when their son becomes infatuated with a pretty dancing girl (Vilma Banky). Valentino skillfully plays two roles: the middle-aged father and the youthful son. Ahmed Jr.'s budding romance with the dancer leads to trouble with a jealous Moor who also wants to marry her. Like its 1921 predecessor, this silent film is a classic, but it was overshadowed by Valentino's sudden death at age 31 before the premiere. Female fans mobbed his dramatic funerals in New York and Los Angeles.

Song of the Thin Man (1947) was the sixth and last installment in the popular series that started with The Thin Man in 1934. Most critics consider this one the worst, and it bombed at the box office. But it's actually a refreshing break from the previous pictures. As a nod that times were changing after World War II, retired detective Nick Charles (William Powell) and his wife Nora (Myrna Loy) find themselves out of their social element while investigating a murder. The postwar years spawned bebop jazz, and this movie shows the musicians as talented but eccentric characters who speak a lingo so obscure that translation is often necessary. In another departure from the previous formula, this one omits the usual climax in which Nick assembles all the suspects to reveal the killer after a long monologue. Instead, the suspects gather in a nightclub for a quicker showdown. Watch for a young Dean Stockwell as Nick Junior and Keenan Wynn as a jive-talking clarinetist.

Sophie's Choice (1982) earned the great Meryl Streep her second Academy Award, this time for Best Actress, but it remains one of the best pictures ever snubbed for Best Picture. Streep delivers a supernatural performance as Sophie Zawistowskia, a Polish survivor of the Auschwitz concentration camp who arrives in postwar America as a broken person. Even after she's nursed back to health by a stranger who becomes her lover, she's haunted by the Holocaust that destroyed her family. Kevin Kline, in a memorable film debut, plays her eccentric rescuer. His unpredictable mood swings turn their relationship into a love/hate folie à deux. Their anchor to normalcy is a young aspiring novelist who is also the story's narrator; Peter MacNicol nails this role. As Sophie gradually reveals the secrets of her past, their precarious triangle leans toward collapse. This outstanding film still feels fresh and is one of the best dramas about the Holocaust.

The Sound of Music (1965) ranks among the best Hollywood musicals ever made. It won five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director (Robert Wise), and Score (Irwin Kostal). Surprisingly, star Julie Andrews lost Best Actress to Julie Christie — who won not for her best performance that year in Doctor Zhivago but instead for the obscure Darling. Andrews plays an innocent young nanny for the children of an elite Austrian naval officer (Christopher Plummer) during the ominous years before World War II. A widower, he needs help raising his rambunctious children while resisting the rise of Nazi Germany. To tame the kids, the nanny organizes them into a vocal group, which creates opportunities for the musical interludes. This movie is highly entertaining and thematically resembles Doctor Zhivago as a romantic drama that shows people struggling against a tide of tragic historical events. Doctor Zhivago ages better and should have won the Oscars for Best Picture, Director, and all the acting categories.

A Sound of Thunder (2005) is a middling sci-fi flick about time travel gone wrong. In the year 2055, scientists have invented a time machine, and a slick entrepreneur uses the technology to sell dinosaur-hunting excursions to millionaires. Inevitably, one such trip changes the past in a way that disrupts the future. Evolution veers off on a radically different course, with dire consequences for mankind. There's nothing seriously wrong with the movie, but there's nothing profound, either, and it's fairly predictable. Special effects range from impressive to slightly cheesy. That's OK. Most of all, I enjoyed the vivid street scenes of Chicago in 2055.

Soup to Nuts (1930) marks the film debut of the Three Stooges before they were the Three Stooges. Although Moe Howard, Shemp Howard, and Larry Fine appear in this rowdy comedy, they aren't the stars, because their famous act had not yet coalesced. Nevertheless, their antics in this early talkie foreshadow the long series of film shorts and features that were to follow until the 1970s. Another novelty of this sometimes-hilarious, sometimes-flat comedy is that it was written by Rube Goldberg, the newspaper cartoonist famous for his overcomplicated contraptions that perform simple tasks. A few of his gadgets appear, and he makes a cameo. Most of the humor is silly slapstick, but there are some clever quips, too. It's worth a look.

Source Code (2011) is a science-fiction drama that turns a new twist on time travel. Instead of actually going back in time, a U.S. Army captain in a secret government project enters the "memory afterglow" of a schoolteacher recently killed in a terrorist attack. Somehow, the captain — played with suitable intensity by Jake Gyllenhaal — is able to relive the victim's last moments while searching a doomed train for the terrorist bomber. The science is vague and confusing, loosely linked to multiverse theory. The uncertain premise makes the story hard to follow as it flirts between traditional sci-fi and pure fantasy. The obscure climax doesn't help. Still, it's a well-played drama that ponders the results of choosing different paths through life.

Soylent Green (1973) looks prophetic now. It's a dystopian sci-fi film placed in 2022, when Earth is sweltering in global-warming heat waves. It even blames the Greenhouse Effect — 15 years before NASA scientist James Hansen warned the U.S. Congress that heat-trapping pollutants are altering the world's climate. But this bleak drama isn't a pedantic science lesson. Charlton Heston stars as a NYC cop investigating the execution murder of a prominent businessman (Joseph Cotten). Heston's assistant is the great Edward G. Robinson, who died shortly after filming wrapped. Other superb supporting actors are Chuck Conners (menacing bodyguard), Leigh Taylor-Young (rented consort), Brock Peters (detective chief), and Lincoln Kilpatrick (distraught priest). The big reveal is so famous that it won't surprise many new viewers; it involves a new processed food called Soylent Green. Robinson's final scene is doubly poignant.

Spartacus (1960) resurrected screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, who was blacklisted in the 1950s by conservatives who accused him of communist ties. Famed director Stanley Kubrick brought him back for this big-budget epic. It stars Kirk Douglas as Spartacus, a Roman gladiator who leads a slave revolt. Although Spartacus was a real person, little is known about him or his uprising, so this movie is mostly fiction. Trumbo's progressive streak is evident in a socially relevant screenplay that debuted at the height of the U.S. civil-rights movement. More than three hours long, it's a compelling story of men struggling for freedom against dominant forces. In the most famous scene, hundreds of prisoners conceal his identity by stepping forward to say "I am Spartacus." This lavish production also stars Lawrence Olivier, Tony Curtis, Charles Laughton, Peter Ustinov, and Charles McGraw. Nominated for six Oscars, it won four.

Spellbound (1945) pairs Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck in an excellent psychological thriller built on the Hollywood cliché of amnesia. Bergman plays a pretty psychoanalyst at a mental institution. Peck plays the staff's handsome new director who stirs suspicion when he behaves strangely. Both performers are effective, Bergman especially so. They fall in love, of course, which complicates things when Peck's character suffers a breakdown that requires treatment. The great Ben Hecht wrote the clever screenplay, which the great Alfred Hitchcock directed. This classic film was nominated for six Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Director, but only the original score won an Oscar. Hitchcock and Salvador Dali designed a surrealistic dream sequence that was nominated for Best Visual Effects and is a crucial part of the shocking finale.

The Spider (1958): see Earth vs. the Spider.

Spider Baby a/k/a The Liver Eaters a/k/a The Maddest Story Ever Told (1967) has never quite achieved the cult status it deserves, despite enthralling every horror fan who sees it. (One devotee is director Quentin Tarentino, who helped rescue this nearly lost film from obscurity.) Melding horror and comedy in a cross between The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) and the 1960s TV series The Addams Family, this low-budget production features three orphaned teenagers with a congenital disorder that causes mental and physical regression. Despite their incurable condition, they're obliviously happy, but wickedly unhinged. Murder is just one of their vices. Their only adult supervision is the family chauffeur who shields them from the outside world. In one of his last performances, the great Lon Chaney Jr. plays this character to perfection and even sings a song under the opening credits. Jill Banner and Beverly Washburn are outstanding as the two demented daughters, and Sid Haig matches their eccentricity as their mute brother — a character seemingly modeled after Robert Duvall's "Boo" Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird (1962). Into this bizarre tableau comes a lawyer, his secretary, and two distant relatives seeking control over the estate. The result is a wild romp that's wonderfully campy.

Spider-Man (2002) is a passable action flick with good special effects, tolerable acting, and a few laughs. It tinkers slightly with the legend — for example, it portrays Spider-Man's web-spinning ability as a natural talent, not a mechanical trick — but only purists will object. The over-the-top storyline is appropriate for a comic-book adaptation. There's nothing deep here, but it's good summer fun.

Spider-Man 2 (2004) is a different kind of superhero movie — it focuses on the private life of the superhero, not on his superheroics. And the private life of this superhero is seriously messed up. He's just a poor college student, after all, who finds it difficult to cope with his unusual powers and responsibilities. He can't confide in anyone, and he's having trouble achieving the ideal work/home balance. He loses his pizza-delivery job for being too slow. He can't get a relationship started with his sweetheart. He's in danger of flunking school. And then a new archenemy threatens his existence. Tobey McGuire is great at portraying the uncertainty of Peter Parker, the teenage boy inside the Spider-Man outfit. At the same time, Spider-Man 2 has all the special-effects fireworks and grand battles that one expects of a summer blockbuster. It's better than the first Spider-Man.

The Spider Woman a/k/a Sherlock Holmes and the Spider Woman (1943) is the seventh of 14 pictures starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Like some other installments in this series, it takes place during World War II, not in the Victorian Age. But the war is incidental as Holmes and Watson investigate mysterious suicides that smell like murder. Their adversary is a devious woman played by the versatile Gale Sondergaard. (In 1940's The Letter, she co-starred with Bette Davis as a vengeful Asian widow!) Holmes spends most of his time determining her methods and motives, which are bizarre even for a crime thriller. One interesting scene features a mute child, and another puts Holmes in mortal danger at the unwitting hands of Watson. It's all fun and a good example of the series.

The Spiral Staircase (1946) stars Dorothy McGuire as a mute house servant whose impediment makes her the target of serial killer obsessed with feminine perfection. Although this thriller is essentially a whodunit, it isn't difficult to solve, given the small number of likely suspects. Also, an early scene rather clumsily foreshadows the climax. It's redeemed by a noirish atmosphere, skilled character performances, and touches of humor. McGuire is nearly outstaged by Elsa Lanchester as a brandy-nipping cook, Sara Allgood as a sharp-tongued nurse, and Ethel Barrymore as a bedridden matriarch. (Barrymore was nominated Best Supporting Actress.)

The Split (1959): see The Manster.

Split Second (1953) is a tense crime thriller about escaped convicts who take hostages and hide in an abandoned mining town within the blast area of a pending atomic-bomb test. Thus it builds suspense in two ways: will the crooks kill any hostages, and will anyone get away before the explosion? It plays on dual fears in the 1950s of brutal crime and nuclear immolation. The B-grade actors deliver solid performances. Despite lacking some earmarks of film noir — such as dramatic lighting and a true femme fatale — this movie is representative of that era and was a strong directorial debut for actor Dick Powell, who stays behind the camera.

Spotlight (2015) is an excellent fact-based drama about the Boston Globe's investigation of pedophile priests — and the cover-up by the Boston diocese. Published in 2002 after months of dogged research, the stories exposed scores of Boston priests as child molesters. More important, the Globe revealed how the local bishop and other clergymen squelched the scandals and routinely reassigned the guilty priests to other parishes, where they repeated their crimes. This movie avoids sensationalism while realistically showing a team of newspaper reporters working hard to break a difficult story. It even faults the Globe for ignoring leads that could have broken the story sooner. Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, Liev Schreiber, and Stanley Tucci headline a strong cast that brings this sordid scandal to life.

Spy Game (2001) pairs Robert Redford and Brad Pitt as marauding CIA agents doing America's dirty work abroad. It's an elaborate production marred by jittery cinematography, an improbable plot, an unbelievable conclusion, and an uncomfortable flashback in which the CIA uses Middle Eastern suicide bombers to kill a terrorist, causing horrific collateral damage. Weren't these kinds of movies supposed to be obsolete after Sept. 11? Maybe it's realpolitik, but if so, it needs more self-examination.

Spy Kids 2 (2002) is a manic comedy best appreciated by children and gadget freaks. The imaginative gadgets and special effects dominate the movie, overpowering the simple storyline. If you've seen the first Spy Kids, you already know the basics: pre-adolescent spies save the world. Be sure to stick around for the final credits, which scroll over some additional scenes and outtakes.

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre (1967) dramatizes the real-life gangland execution of seven men in Chicago on February 14, 1929. To lend authenticity, voiceover narration sets up the important scenes and introduces principal characters with brief biographies. Although broadly true, this drama tells some events out of order and sometimes resorts to sheer fiction. It was low-budget director Roger Corman's first major studio production, and he spends the additional money to vividly depict Prohibition-era Chicago and its violent gangster wars. Jason Robards delivers a strenuous performance as Al Capone despite bearing no physical resemblance to the infamous criminal. This movie premiered the same year as Bonnie and Clyde but lacks the spirit, humor, and romance that made the latter picture a classic.

Stage Fright (1950) opens with a view of a safety curtain, a rigid barrier lowered onto a theater stage to protect the audience from accidents during set changes between acts. In a clever twist, the curtain reappears during the shocking climax. Alfred Hitchcock directed this lesser-known crime thriller that hinges on the art of acting. Jane Wyman plays a young aspiring actress who undertakes a private murder investigation by posing as a handmaid to a famous stage actress — who herself is pretending to be a grieving widow after her husband's murder. Get it? Wyman and Dietrich are two film actresses who play stage actresses who play false characters off stage. ("Wheels within wheels," says one.) Marlene Dietrich nails her prima donna / femme fatale role as only Marlene Dietrich could. Wyman is less convincing in her dual roles — perhaps on purpose, because her main character is a student actress. Hitchcock is subtly playful here.

Stagecoach (1939) launched second-billed John Wayne to stardom and established a character type he would play throughout his long career: the tall, handsome, no-nonsense cowboy who woos women with his rustic charm. In this classic Western directed by the famous John Ford, Wayne plays the Ringo Kid, a minor outlaw hoping to avenge his brother's murder. Top-billed Claire Trevor plays a disgraced dance-hall girl (implied: prostitute) who becomes the object of his affection. Both share a crowded stagecoach with a rowdy driver, sensible sheriff, alcoholic doctor, meek liquor salesman, pretty Army officer's wife, dishonest banker, and Southern-gentleman gambler. Their journey through hostile Apache territory blends comedy with drama. Nominated for seven Academy Awards — including Best Picture, Director, Cinematography, Film Editing, and Art Direction — it won only two: Supporting Actor (Thomas Mitchell as the drunken doc) and Original Score. It's a landmark film, but the 1966 remake is even better.

Stagecoach (1966) remakes the 1939 John Wayne classic Western in wide-screen Cinemascope color with a varietal all-star cast. Van Heflin is the tough marshal, Ann-Margret the dishonored dance-hall girl (implied again: prostitute), Bing Crosby the comical alcoholic doctor, Red Buttons the nerdy liquor salesman, Mike Connors the Southern-gentleman gambler, Robert Cummings the nervous banker, Slim Pickens the cantankerous stagecoach driver, Stefanie Powers the shy army wife, Alex Cord the bad guy who's really a good guy, and Keenan Wynn the bad guy who's really a bad guy. This odd mix blends drama with comedy as they embark on a risky journey. The highlights are a running battle between Indians who rarely shoot straight and cowboys who rarely miss, and a saloon showdown to settle old scores. It surpasses the original version but remains a Western in the classic Hollywood tradition, unlike the revisionist ones that would soon follow.

A Star Is Born (1937) is the first and best version of this classic drama, which was remade in 1954, 1976, and 2018. Janet Gaynor stars as the ambitious naif from the boondocks who's determined to become a Hollywood actress. Fredric March plays the falling-star actor who jump-starts her career. Great supporting performances come from Adolphe Menjou as a benevolent studio producer, Lionel Stander as his hyperactive publicist, and May Robson as a feisty grandmother. This version succeeds in blending drama with comedy, thanks mainly to Gaynor's multiple talents and March's skills with facial expressions and deadpan deliveries. The dialogue in this Oscar-winning story is quick and clever, and the color cinematography was innovative enough to win another Academy Award. Just when you think the movie will end, an epilogue adds icing to the cake. Later remakes have their strong points but add up to less.

A Star Is Born (1954) is the first of three remakes of the 1937 classic. It falls short despite a great performance by Judy Garland, who stars as the ambitious young woman determined to become a Hollywood actress. James Mason replaces Fredric March as the falling-star actor who assists her career. This version is overlong and slower paced, partly because of Garland's song-and-dance routines. Although they entertain, they impede the story, which is why the studio cut two of them and other scenes to reduce the running time from 196 minutes to 154 minutes. Now restored to 176 minutes, the musical interludes are enjoyable mainly as remembrances of Garland's talents, apart from the movie itself. Garland's best straight scene is a dressing-room breakdown that proves her acting skill and feels almost too real, given her offstage troubles. Although this remake is definitely worth seeing, the 1937 original tells the story better.

A Star Is Born (1976) is the third and worst version of the 1937 classic drama about a young woman determined to become a big star. In this remake, she aspires to be a singer, not an actress. The combo of Barbra Streisand as the ambitious naif and Kris Kristofferson as the fading rock star who assists her career should have been a sure-fire winner. Even more so because author Joan Didion co-wrote the screenplay. Instead, it misfires. These talented actors look flat, straining to fill their roles, despite the similarities to their real lives. And strangely, this version feels more dated today than the 1937 original, perhaps because it's steeped in 1970s-style popular music, which seems even more distant than 1930s Hollywood. Nevertheless, it's worth watching to compare with the other three versions.

A Star Is Born (2018) features Lady Gaga as a small-time nightclub performer who breaks into the big time after meeting a famous but declining rock star (Bradley Cooper, who also co-wrote and directed the screenplay). Soon she surpasses her mentor, who sinks into depression and substance abuse. It's a breakthrough role for Lady Gaga, who commands every scene. Cooper excels, too, although sometimes he overplays his character's decline by talking drunk even when he's sober. Three earlier versions of this timeless story in 1937, 1954, and 1976 are classics despite their variable quality. This one strays little from the basic plot but still seems fresh, even to fans of the older films. It's all good.

Star Trek (2009) tries to reinvent the 43-year-old Star Trek franchise with a fast-moving prequel that shows Kirk, Spock, Uhura, McCoy, Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov at the beginning of their Star Fleet careers. When powerful aliens threaten the Federation, these inexperienced space cadets and barely experienced rookies are inexplicably assigned to the fleet's newest starship — USS Enterprise, NCC-1701. Faithful Trekkies are upset because this movie is alternative history, not a true prequel to previous TV shows and films. Despite some gratuitous farce — how many times can Kirk get beat up without getting hurt? — it's a good drama. Alternative history enables suspense, because you never know if a major character will be altered or eliminated.

Star Trek Beyond (2016) goes beyond anything imagined by Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry in the 1960s, and that's not entirely a good thing. The characters' names are the same, and their starship is still the Enterprise, but the spirit of the classic TV series and feature films is gone. In its place is relentless violence, incomprehensible action, overcooked computer graphics, and silly videogame physics. Star Trek Beyond strives for relevance by offering a bioweapon plot to destroy the United Federation of Planets and its hug-me philosophy, but it's just drapery for the frequent fights. This "reboot" story arc needs a reboot.

Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) continues the revisionist history that director J.J. Abrams started with his first movie in this series in 2009. The characters are familiar — Kirk, Spock, Uhura, McCoy, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov — but they are fresh Star Fleet Academy graduates whose adventures do not mesh with the classic Star Trek canon. Also, these movies are less cerebral than the various Star Trek TV series, adopting instead the summer-blockbuster model of frenetic action and special-effects fireworks. The results are thrilling but less filling. This installment's highlight is a ruthless villain ripped off from a previous Star Trek TV show and movie — apparently, villains are in short supply in the future. Even the climax rehashes two previous Star Trek movies, albeit with two key characters changing places in the plot. At some point, homage starts smelling like unoriginality. Maybe all the good Star Trek stories have already been told.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) was the first movie based on the original Star Trek TV series (1966–1969), and it's a miracle that it didn't kill the franchise. Despite being the most expensive Hollywood film ever made at the time, somehow the producers couldn't afford an original story. Instead, writer Alan Dean Foster lazily rehashed a TV episode. Foster's involvement was surprising in view of his previous lackluster novels based on the canceled series. Screenwriter Harold Livingston and director Robert Wise plastered the recycled story with costly special effects, but the result is a sluggish and disappointing picture. Nevertheless, Trekkies were so eager for new content — and the sci-fi genre was rocketing after the huge success of Star Wars (1977) — that the franchise not only survived but thrived, spawning many more movies and TV series.

Star Trek: Nemesis (2002) reunites the cast of Star Trek: The Next Generation for what may be their last feature film. It's darker and more action-packed than the TV series, with a dramatic space battle, several brawls, and — as strange as it sounds — a car chase. Captain Jean-Luc Picard is the center of attention as he encounters an evil clone of himself. Earth is threatened by a dreadful new weapon unleashed after a Romulan coup d'etat, and only the USS Enterprise can save the day. It's a good movie, despite occasional stumbles. (To repel a boarding party of nocturnal aliens, why not just turn on the lights?)

Star Wars: Episode I — The Phantom Menace (1999) has great special effects, but so what? It's missing the magic, and some of the characters (such as Jar Jar Binks) are downright annoying.

Star Wars: Episode II — Attack of the Clones (2002) replaces one annoying character with another. It demotes Jar Jar Binks to a bit player, but it passes the starring role to teen heart-throb Hayden Christensen, who lacks the inherent appeal of Mark Hamill or Harrison Ford. Although Christensen tries hard, he doesn't convincingly portray a young Anakin Skywalker teetering on the edge of becoming either a Jedi Master or Darth Vader. His portentous moral dilemma seems more like run-of-the-mill adolescent rebellion. Still, the movie remains entertaining, thanks largely to meticulously detailed action scenes that artfully preserve the look and feel of earlier Star Wars installments. It also has the usual Star Wars idiosyncracies — why does Yoda hobble around on a cane when he can turn triple back-flips in a sword fight?

Star Wars: Episode III — Revenge of the Sith (2005) is much better than Episodes I (1999) and II (2002), but that's faint praise. All the prequels fail to match the excitement and innovation of the first three films, which is perhaps inevitable. Part of the problem is lack of suspense. Everyone familiar with the Star Wars saga knows how Episode III must end — Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader, and his wife Padme gives birth to Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia. But there's still plenty of drama in the spectacle of Anakin's descent to the Dark Side and the transformation of the Republic into the Empire. As always, the special effects are fabulous, although the action and film editing are so frenetic that it's difficult to appreciate the elaborate detail.

Star Wars: Episode VII — The Force Awakens (2015) is the seventh installment in the nine-episode Star Wars saga. Although it's the sequel to Episode VI (Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, 1983), it basically recycles the plot of the original 1977 movie (Star Wars, Episode IV). A young person scratching out a hard living on a backwater planet becomes embroiled in galactic warfare against a brutal dictatorship that has created a planet-destroying superweapon. Rebel forces must eliminate the weapon, and they get both assistance and opposition from a mysterious "Force" that confers supernatural powers on the few people who can control it. Despite the obvious similarities with Episode VI, the sequel succeeds in rejuvenating the series. All of the original actors from the first three movies reprise their roles. That they're nearly 40 years older isn't a handicap. Indeed, it adds gravity while stirring nostalgia in longtime fans. And the new actors hold their own. A surprise ending sets the stage for Episode VIII.

Star Wars: Episode VIII — The Last Jedi (2017) is one of the bleaker installments in the nine-episode Star Wars saga. Like Episode V, The Empire Strikes Back (1980), the rebel forces are running from the Empire, hoping to survive and fight another day. An aging Luke Skywalker, hiding on a remote island, is reluctant to rejoin the fray. Instead, the torch is passing to a new generation of rebels and potential Jedi knights. Mark Hamill reprises his role as Skywalker in his best performance to date. Carrie Fisher appears as Princess Leia (now General Leia), filmed before her premature death in 2016. The new stars — all excellent — are Adam Driver as Skywalker's evil nephew, Daisy Ridley as the rising hero, and Oscar Isaac as a roguish rebel soldier, essentially replacing the role once filled by Han Solo. This sequel is fast moving, dramatic, and avoids overdoing the special effects, but casual fans should revisit the previous installment before watching this one. A few flashbacks would have made the transition less confusing.

Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker (2019) ends the nine-part Star Wars series by essentially rehashing the plot of Episode IV (which was actually the first Star Wars movie released, in 1977). The rebels must fight a climactic space battle against the evil Empire, led by a student Jedi knight who's inspired by a dead Jedi's ghost. Only the characters and actors have changed. That many fans were disappointed was unavoidable. Predestination limits the story arc, and the first film's groundbreaking special effects have become standard fare. Within these bounds is little room for innovation in the writing, acting, or general filmmaking. Nevertheless, everyone does their best, and they deliver a tidy finale. It's disappointing only because nothing can match the wonderment of the first films, and because it's the end of cinema's most popular science-fiction saga.

Stargate (1994) was a surprise hit that inspired a TV series (Stargate: SG1). Like the popular Indiana Jones movies, it melds archaeology and science fiction. It begins in Egypt in 1928 when German diggers find a huge stone ring inscribed with unknown symbols. The story jumps to present days when a rogue archaeologist deciphers the symbols and learns that the ring is actually a wormhole gate to another galaxy. Then a military mission to a distant planet finds curious links to ancient Egypt — and existential danger. James Spader plays the eccentric archaeologist who keeps pissing off the no-nonsense leader of the military expedition. Kurt Russell is perfect in this role, as is Jaye Davidson as a brutally evil alien. These three performances augment the action and special effects to make this movie a winner.

Starman (1984) premiered in the shadow of more-popular science-fiction movies in the 1980s but is a durable gem. In one of his best performances, Jeff Bridges plays a space alien who crashes in Wisconsin and assumes human form. He appears identical to the deceased husband of a grieving widow (Karen Allen), which freaks her out at first. Her attitude changes as more is revealed. John Carpenter directed this film as a departure from his darker fare. It avoids most sci-fi clichés except one (the government is hostile), and it succeeds on multiple levels. Bridges was nominated Best Actor for his fish-out-of-water characterization. Allen is good, too.

State of Play (2009) is a twisty-turny drama in which Russell Crowe plays a newspaper reporter on the trail of a murder plot in Washington, D.C. As usual in Hollywood movies, his character is a hard-drinking slovenly loner. (OK, so reporters aren't fashionistas, but they aren't hobos, either.) Ben Affleck plays a scandalized Congressman, and Rachel McAdams is a young blogger nipping at Crowe's heels. Their newspaper is under corporate pressure to make money, not to spend time on long investigative pieces. The murder plot involves a private security firm obviously modeled after Blackwater/Xe. The story gets convoluted near the end, but it's passable. As a former newspaper reporter, I appreciated the theme: the world still needs newspapers.

The Station Agent (2003) is a quirky film about a dwarf railfan who inherits a dilapidated train depot in a remote section of New Jersey. He seeks solitude so he can pursue his hobby of watching trains, but a series of small-town characters (isn't everyone who lives in a small town a character?) can't stop extending the branch of friendship. Soon he is drawn into their soap-opera lives. The strength of this film is the sparse dialogue, which some viewers may find tedious. Actually, it shows how someone who admits he is boring and inarticulate carefully avoids the social interaction that nearly always results in ridicule for his dwarfism. Peter Dinklage expertly underplays the dwarf, with strong support from Patricia Clarkson and Bobby Cannavale.

Steamboat Bill Jr. (1928) stars the incomparable Buster Keaton in one of his most impressive silent-film comedies. He plays a foppish college student from Boston who hasn't seen his father since boyhood. Their reunion doesn't go well, because the father, "Steamboat Bill" (Ernest Torrance), is the roughneck captain of a dilapidated Mississippi River steamboat. Bill Junior just can't learn the ropes to be a sailor. But he does woo a young woman (Marion Byron) who's the daughter of the town's big shot. This comedy is entertaining but surges to flank speed when a fierce windstorm hits the town. Buildings collapse in amazing scenes of destruction that show off the carpentry skills employed for this feature-length production. Then Keaton performs his most famous stunt: he stands motionless as a building facade collapses on him, surviving only because he's positioned precisely where an open window falls. Although he performed this stunt in two early shorts — Back Stage (1919) and One Week (1920) — this facade was much larger and would almost certainly have killed him if he miscalculated. His physical exploits continue to the final frame, crowning this picture as an indelible classic.

Steve Jobs (2015) is an unconventional biopic of Apple's late cofounder. Instead of compressing his entire life into two hours, it focuses on just three days: the Macintosh product launch in 1984, the Next Cube product launch in 1988, and the iMac product launch in 1998. And it doesn't actually depict those events, either. Except for a few brief flashbacks, all the scenes happen backstage, before the events, as Jobs (Michael Fassbender) verbally battles with his administrative aide (Kate Winslet), former Apple CEO John Sculley (Jeff Daniels), cofounder Steve Wozniak (Seth Rogen), an aggrieved ex-girlfriend (Katherine Waterston), a harried engineer (Michael Stuhlbarg), and his rejected daughter, Lisa Brennan (played by three actresses of different ages). Jobs appears as a combative, arrogant, impatient, intense, and demanding person who poisons his business and personal relationships. It's not a wholly false characterization, but it doesn't explain his charisma or his phenomenal success. Although the acting is excellent, Fassbender doesn't much resemble Jobs, which is distracting. Like a famous Apple Macintosh advertising campaign, this film dares to "think different." Some personalities are too large for a two-hour biopic.

Steve! (Martin): A Documentary in 2 Pieces (2024) skillfully reviews the life and career of America's most famous comedian. This two-part AppleTV+ film is overlong (more than three hours) but is revelatory. The first part is more interesting because it shows Martin's long road to fame and the difficult evolution of his quirky comedy. He started at age 11 selling newspapers at Disneyland and gradually created a stand-up act that became a pop-culture phenomenon in the 1970s. In 1980 he abruptly quit those gigs to become a Hollywood actor and writer whose movies ranged from hilarious to dreadful. Now in his 70s, he's returning to his roots and has fathered his first child. Martin expresses awe at his success and seems to genuinely feel impostor's syndrome — a high-achiever's nagging suspicion that his good fortune is undeserved.

The Sting (1973) was nominated for an impressive ten Academy Awards and won seven, including Best Picture, and it's easy to see why. This movie is as close to perfect as movies ever get. It reunited Robert Redford and Paul Newman four years after their smash hit Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid with the same director, George Roy Hill. Both films skillfully blend drama and comedy. The Sting is a clever story of two 1930s con artists (Redford and Newman) who hire experienced accomplices to part a mobster (Robert Shaw) from his money. The plot is brilliant and the acting superb. In addition to Best Picture, this classic won Oscars for Directing, Original Screenplay, Art Direction, Costume Design, Film Editing, and Score — which incorporated Scott Joplin ragtime piano instrumentals that became popular, too. Curiously, no acting Oscars were bestowed, and only Redford was nominated. Nevertheless, this movie is a masterpiece.

A Stolen Life (1946) remains one of the great romance dramas. Bette Davis stars as good/bad twin sisters who covet the same man: a lighthouse keeper's assistant played by Glenn Ford. Davis steals every scene while delivering one of her best performances — times two, because she adeptly plays both women. She gets considerable help from the Oscar-nominated special effects, which still astonish. In one scene, her twin characters mingle with seamless fusion, even showing off when one sister lights a match and hands it to the other. (Visual-effects wizard William C. McGann should have won the Oscar.) Only one of these rival siblings can win her man, or so it seems until Mother Nature intervenes. If you wonder why Hollywood hails Bette Davis as one of the brightest stars, start with this picture. It's a jewel.

Stop-Loss (2008) is an Iraq war drama about three U.S. Army Rangers from Texas. One of them, after a harrowing second tour of duty, decides not to re-enlist. But his celebrated homecoming is interrupted by a "stop-loss" order — a peremptory order that forces him to stay in the Army and return to Iraq for another tour. He doesn't want to go, and his trouble deepens. This movie is powerfully written and acted, one of the best of the year. It shows the many problems faced by Iraq war veterans and their inner conflicts. Vets are saying it's the most realistic drama they've seen. Unfortunately, another realism is the naïvete of the young soldiers. Perhaps they could have avoided their betrayal by reading a newspaper before enlisting.

Stop Making Sense (1984) ranks among the best rock-concert films, but only if you like the Talking Heads "new wave" art-band music and their nerdy lead singer, David Byrne. Director Jonathan Demme's cameras dwell on Byrne as he performs amazing gyrations while singing in his signature squawk style. Bandmates Jerry Harrison (guitar, keyboard), Chris Frantz (drums), and Tina Weymouth (bass, keyboard) merit fleeting glimpses. To reproduce their complex studio arrangements on stage, their road band adds two female vocalists, another guitar/keyboardist, and an African-style percussionist. It's an awesome lineup, tightly rehearsed, and extremely energetic. Their music is more rhythmic than melodic — but hey, you can dance to it.

Storm Lake (2021) documents the struggle of the Storm Lake Times to survive as a small-town biweekly newspaper in Iowa. Owned and operated by the local Cullen family, its 10 employees include two brothers, their wives, and a son. Devoted to community journalism, they publish a paper filled with local news, political commentary, birth announcements, and kitchen recipes. In 2017, editor Art Cullen won a Pulitzer Prize, the highest honor in newspaper journalism, for his editorials challenging the dominance of corporate agriculture over family farms. The award provoked the wrath of local conservatives, who boycotted the paper for months afterward, threatening its future. Oddly, this otherwise excellent documentary mentions the controversy only briefly in passing. The filmmakers should have found at least one local conservative who could explain why good journalism and family farms are bad things.

The Straight Story (1999) has the eccentric characters we expect of a David Lynch film, but otherwise it's not up to his usual standard of weirdness. However, it's definitely up to his highest standard of quality.

Strange Cargo (1940) weaves religious mysticism into an unusual morality tale of good, evil, and redemption. Clark Gable stars as an irrepressible Devil's Island prisoner who keeps trying to escape. This was Gable's first picture after Gone With the Wind (1939), and again he's typecast as a good-hearted knave. Joan Crawford co-stars as a fallen woman trying to survive as a low-class nightclub singer; Peter Lorre plays a conniving lowlife who lusts for her. All three are central to the story and are excellent. But it's British actor Ian Hunter who delivers a subtler performance as the most intriguing character: a mysterious prisoner who talks philosophically and seems to possess secret knowledge. When they escape the prison and struggle to reach civilization, his role gains importance and the Christian symbolism grows stronger. Is he a prophet? An angel? The Second Coming? Or merely a wise man? This movie was controversial in 1940 and invites interpretation.

Strange Fascination (1952) is an above-average B-grade picture with surprisingly good acting. Under-rated Hugo Haas wrote, produced, directed, and stars in this tale of romance, tragedy, and redemption. He plays a middle-aged European concert pianist sponsored by a wealthy American widow (Mona Barrie) to launch a new career in the U.S. Just when it appears they might couple, he's intercepted by a much younger nightclub dancer (bleach-blonde bombshell Cleo Moore) looking to move up in the world. But don't expect the usual love-triangle plot. Characters that other movies would paint as black or white, good or bad, are rendered here in shades of gray. Haas fits his role perfectly, and Moore proves again that Hollywood wasted her talent. All three actors say as much with their faces as they do with their lines.

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946) was Kirk Douglas' debut and big break. Although the top-billed stars are Van Heflin as a professional gambler, Barbara Stanwyck as a childhood friend, and Lizabeth Scott as a sultry ex-con, Douglas delivered such a strong performance as a weak district attorney dominated by his wealthy wife (Stanwyck) that he soon soared to stardom. The story is a lurid drama in which the gambler returns to his hometown after a long absence and stirs fears in the district attorney that a blackmail plot is afoot. Pretty soon, the passive-aggressive relationships among these characters turn aggressive-aggressive. The acting is universally superb, and the climax is a shocker not often seen in Hollywood films of this era.

The Strange World of Planet X (1958) is a mediocre British science-fiction thriller also known as Cosmic Monsters in U.S. release. Unlike most sci-fi movies of its era, this one is relatively intelligent. Still, it repeats the mad-scientist trope — in this case, with reckless experiments to generate powerful magnetic fields that can change the properties of metals. Of course, something goes wrong, and it changes insects instead. The only cast member whom American viewers will likely recognize is Forrest Tucker, a familiar sight on classic TV shows such as F Troop.

The Stranger (1946) is another Orson Welles masterpiece, despite the usual studio interference that seemingly plagued all his works. Welles directs and stars in this postwar thriller about a U.S. government agent (Edward G. Robinson) hunting an escaped Nazi war criminal (Welles). Famous for playing gangsters, Robinson is low-key excellent as the good guy for a change, and Welles is even better as the bad guy. Hiding his identity, the Nazi becomes a college professor in a small New England town, where he befriends a judge and woos the judge's daughter (Loretta Young, in another convincing performance). Tension builds as the agent gathers evidence that the professor is really the war criminal — and the Nazi senses his peril. Over Welles' objections, the studio slashed more than 30 minutes from this film before release, so we'll never know if the lost footage would have made it better or worse. As it stands, it's still a great picture.

Stranger On the Third Floor (1940) may be the first film noir, at least in American cinema. Ostentatiously stylish, it features such classic elements as a murder mystery, dark cinematography, dramatic lighting, tight suspense, and intense acting. Although it lacks others, such as a femme fatale and a convoluted plot, it influenced many subsequent crime thrillers. John McGuire stars as a newspaper reporter who begins doubting the guilt of a convicted murderer (Elisha Cook Jr., soon to become a film noir mainstay). The reporter is already involved as a witness and gets more deeply entangled as the story unfolds. A dream sequence that dominates the second act is oddly surrealistic but enables director Boris Ingster to flash his bold style. Peter Lorre is perfectly eccentric as the stranger on the third floor, and Margaret Tallichet excels as the reporter's fiancée — who emerges from an accessory role to become a major player in the surprising climax.

Stranger Than Fiction (2006) is a clever comedy/drama about an IRS auditor (played with satirical stiffness by Will Ferrell) who begins hearing voices — specifically, a woman's voice who narrates his life in real time. Unwilling to seriously question his sanity, he bounces from a counselor to a psychiatrist to a college professor (the always interesting Dustin Hoffman). The mysterious voice seems to belong to a writer (expertly played by Emma Thompson), who is struggling to finish a novel about a character just like Ferrell's. This film is an imaginative allegory about free will vs. predestination, but without religious trappings. It makes you think, and it's fun, too.

Stranger Than Paradise (1984) is strangely wonderful. It's only the second feature by director Jim Jarmusch, later known for Dead Man (1995), Coffee and Cigarettes (2003), Broken Flowers (2005), and videos for the Talking Heads, Tom Waits, and Neil Young. At first, Stranger Than Paradise looks amateurish, comprising only 67 static black-and-white shots separated by black screens. But it tells the amusing story of a young Hungarian immigrant who arrives unexpectedly at her lowlife cousin's rundown apartment in New Jersey. He's a reluctant host, she's a misfit, and it's hardly the America she expected. Together with an equally downbeat friend, they aimlessly search for paradise in Cleveland and Florida, finding little except more of the same. Although this peculiar movie isn't for everyone, it's a treat for art-film lovers and for viewers who can identify with the characters, who are probably more truly American than we care to admit.

Strangers on a Train (1951) loses none of its thrills and suspense over time. This classic drama directed by the great Alfred Hitchcock stars Farley Granger as a tennis player who meets a stranger (Robert Walker) and soon becomes entangled in a murder plot. Both actors brilliantly substitute facial expressions for unnecessary dialogue — although the script is plenty sharp, thanks partly to novelist Raymond Chandler, who co-wrote it. Able co-stars include Ruth Roman as Granger's fiancée and Hitchcock's daughter Patricia as her younger sister. As usual in Hitchcock films, even some bit players bring memorable performances. It was nominated for Best Cinematography, mainly for depicting a murder reflected in eyeglasses and a startling climax on an amusement-park carousel. This movie is uniformly excellent and deserves its classic status.

The Street With No Name (1948) packages FBI propaganda in a passable film-noir crime drama, thanks mainly to co-star Richard Widmark as a wily gangster. As he did to Victor Mature in Kiss of Death (1947), Widmark steals every scene he shares with the top-billed star — this time, Mark Stevens. This picture is a vague sequel to The House On 92nd Street (1945), another story drawn from FBI files and backed by longtime FBI director J. Edgar Hoover. The only repeating character is Lloyd Nolan as an FBI Inspector. Stevens plays an undercover agent who infiltrates a murderous gang. The story is good enough but lacks one element of a classic film noir: a femme fatale. Although Barbara Lawrence plays a gun moll, she's there mainly to establish the cruelty of Widmark's character.

The Strong Man (1926) stars Harry Langdon in a silent comedy directed by Frank Capra, who later won fame for his classic talkies, such as Meet John Doe (1941). Although The Strong Man ranks among the best silent comedies, Langdon ranks fourth in this genre behind Charles Chaplin, Buster Keaton, and Harold Lloyd. His best sight gags are good but don't come as fast. Langdon plays a meek Belgian soldier in World War I who falls in love with an American woman who writes him while he fights on the Western Front. He's never met her and doesn't know where she lives, but after the war he tries to find her. His search entangles him with crooks and Prohibition-era bootleggers. Capra saves the best scenes for the last act.

Stuart Little (1999) isn't a bad movie, but it bears almost no resemblance to E.B. White's book, and Michael J. Fox is oddly miscast as the adult voice of the talking mouse.

The Stunt Man (1980) blends drama, comedy, romance, and social commentary so skillfully that it defies classification. It's also a story within a story that unwinds logically without confusing plot gimmicks. Steve Railsback stars as a disillusioned Vietnam veteran and fugitive from justice. He plays his dramatic role consistently straight, despite the comedic situations in which he finds himself. When he accidentally interrupts the filming of a war movie, the director drafts him to replace a dead stunt man. Now he must weigh the dangers of his new job against the prison time if the police catch him. Peter O'Toole is fabulous as the eccentric director who stops at nothing to make his movie. Barbara Hershey plays a young actress who's intrigued with the mysterious fugitive. This picture was nominated for three Oscars: Best Director (Richard Rush), Actor (O'Toole), and Adapted Screenplay (Rush and Lawrence B. Marcus). It's beyond clever.

Suddenly (1954) reinforces my unpopular opinion that Frank Sinatra was a better actor than a singer. He stars in this tense drama as a borderline-psychotic gangster hired to assassinate the president. Almost everything happens in the living room of a house overlooking a train station where the president is scheduled to stop. The suspense steadily builds as the family members he holds hostage try to foil the plot. The screenplay is clever except for one unnecessary detail: by incredible coincidence, one family member is a retired Secret Service agent. C'mon, really? Otherwise it's good, and Sinatra is a credible villain.

Sully (2016) recounts the "Miracle on the Hudson," when USAir pilot Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger successfully ditched a disabled jet airliner in Manhattan's Hudson River in January 2009. Everyone survived, and the few injuries were minor. Tom Hanks (who else?) plays the heroic pilot — almost a reprise of his role in Captain Phillips (2013). Despite an ending not in doubt, screenwriter Todd Komarnicki and director Clint Eastwood manage to wring suspense from multiple portrayals of the harrowing flight in flashbacks and various viewpoints. But in a quest for more suspense, they overemphasize the National Transportation Safety Board's routine investigation. NTSB officials are drawn as ruthless persecutors eager to blame the mishap on pilot error. In this unbalanced film, Sully's triumph was beating the rap, not landing the plane. Once again, Hollywood can't resist embellishing a true story that needs no embellishment.

Summer of Sam (1999) is aptly named, because it's not really about the Son of Sam killings in New York in the 1970s. Instead, director Spike Lee dwells on the typically bleak lives of typically bleak New Yorkers. Only this time, most of them are white.

Summer With Monika (Swedish: Sommaren med Monika, 1953) should be required viewing for teen lovers. The great Ingmar Bergman directed this Swedish drama about a teenage boy and girl who quit their boring jobs, steal his father's motorboat, and spend a carefree summer camping on remote beaches. Their Adam-and-Eve existence seems idyllic until their needs for food, money, and stability disrupt their Garden of Eden. Modest nudity and premarital sex (off screen) made this film scandalous in the prudish 1950s, but it delivers a harsh reality check that isn't outdated. The fine acting by Lars Ekborg and Harriet Andersson also holds up well. This is one of Bergman's best works.

Sunset Blvd. (1950) remains a classic and is one of the best ever made. The first scene boldly reveals the climax by introducing the narrator as a dead man floating in a pool. Nevertheless, this drama builds suspense by describing how he got there. Skillfully played by William Holden, he's an aspiring Hollywood screenwriter who nearly quits until chance lands him at the crumbling mansion of an aging silent-film star. Gloria Swanson — herself an aging silent-film star — abandons her vanity to make this role one of the greatest ever portrayed on screen. Her delusional character is determined to make a comeback, but she needs a screenwriter desperate enough to help her try. Famous silent-film director Erich von Stroheim expertly plays her loyal servant. Nancy Olsen is wonderful as an innocent young script reader who also aspires to screenwriting, setting up a bizarre relationship triangle. Several Hollywood personalities play themselves, including director Cecil B. DeMille, silent star Buster Keaton, and gossip columnist Hedda Hopper. The final scene is one of the most storied in history. (Take it from me: This is a great first-date movie!)

Sunshine State (2002) is an almost documentary look at a fictional small beach town in Florida. The characters and relationships matter more than the thin plot, which is about local residents struggling to preserve their laid-back lifestyle against the relentless pressure of real-estate developers. But this movie is really a collection of occasionally intersecting subplots involving a large cast of well-acted characters. Although it's a satisfying film that feels authentic, it lacks the heavy drama of similar works by writer/director John Sayles, such as Lone Star (1996) and Matewan (1987). That's OK — quiet stories are worth telling, too.

Super 8 (2011) is an entertaining sci-fi thriller placed in a small Ohio town in 1979. Some nerdy teenagers are filming their own zombie movie with an amateur Super 8 camera when a train wreck leads to a series of strange and frightening incidents around town. Pretty soon the kids are ensnared in an adventure involving a mysterious creature, government secrets, and heavy-handed military action. Artful special effects — especially the spectacular train wreck — add to the suspense. The only letdown is the wimpy climax, which goes overboard with uplifting music and lingering close-ups of awe-struck kids. Most theater goers leave after this scene, missing another climax that accompanies the closing credits.

Super Size Me (2004) is a lively, funny, and scathing attack on the fast-food industry. Morgan Sperlock, a young documentary filmmaker, records his experiences while eating nothing but McDonald's food for a whole month. Before-and-after physical checkups confirm the alarming results: measurable damage to his blood and liver, plus a weight gain of 25 pounds (14% of his original body mass). Woven through his video diary is solid reportage about the burgeoning obesity of Americans, school lunch programs, fad diets, and corporate progaganda aimed at children. Super Size Me is the logical followup to Eric Schlosser's bestselling book, Fast Food Nation.

Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! (2017) is Morgan Sperlock's sequel to his popular 2004 documentary Super Size Me. This time, instead of experimenting with a diet of McDonald's fast food, Sperlock started a chicken farm and opened his own fast-food chicken restaurant. Despite the end-credit claims, it was another brief experiment, not a serious business venture. Even so, he exposes the food industry's deceptions about chicken and the U.S. government's lax regulations for ratings such as "All Natural," "Free Range," "Hormone-Free," and "USDA Approved." Like his earlier documentary, this one is lively and humorous, not pedantic. Much credit should go to a brave Alabama chicken farmer whom the industry blackballed for cooperating with Sperlock. The final scenes of the new restaurant are hilarious.

Surrogates (2009) is a satisfying science-fiction film in which people live vicariously through lifelike androids. The machines aren't autonomous. They are merely puppets, remotely controlled by their human owners, who lounge at home in easy chairs and beds — safe from the outside world's accidents and communicable diseases. The sensory response of a surrogate varies from rudimentary to full spectrum, depending on the model. A surrogate's destruction is supposed to leave its operator unharmed, but then something goes wrong. Bruce Willis plays a police detective trying to unravel the mystery. Using an intriguing mix of computer graphics and live action, this movie artfully reflects the graphic novel on which it's based. Though not quite as lyrical as Blade Runner (1982), it mines the same vein.

Suspicion (1941) is another classic Alfred Hitchcock thriller. The great director cast Cary Grant against type as the scheming husband of a newlywed who gradually realizes he's a pathological liar — and he may be plotting to kill her. Joan Fontaine won Best Actress as the bride, following her similar Oscar-nominated performance in Rebecca (1940). Grant should have been nominated for playing his dishonest character so persuasively. In one famous scene, he carries a glass of milk upstairs to her. Is it poisoned? (Hitchcock hid a lightbulb in the milk to radiate an ominous glow.) This Best Picture nominee sustains its tension to the very last scene.

Suspiria (1977) shocked audiences with a graphic murder in the first act — director Dario Argento's ploy to unsettle viewers and make them dread more violence to come. It works but is gratuitous. Later scenes in this horror thriller prove he can shock and awe without the gore. Marvelously eccentric sets and moody cinematography augment the spookiness of this English-dubbed Italian film. Unfortunately, it's the gore that inspired copycats; this movie contributed to the slasher porn that's rampant today. American actress Jessica Harper is effective as a naïve student who suspects her ballet school hides dark secrets, but Joan Bennett (in her last career performance) is wasted as the deputy headmistress.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007) is a depressing adaptation of a Broadway musical by Stephen Sondheim. Johnny Depp stars as Benjamin Barker a/k/a Sweeney Todd, a London barber intent on avenging his brutal exile on false criminal charges. Years later, he sets up shop on Fleet Street and becomes a serial killer with shiny razors — a sociopathic Edward Scissorhands. Conveniently located below his death room is a meat-pie diner owned by a goth widow (Helena Bonham Carter in pale makeup and fright hair). Blood gushes and sprays as Todd slashes his way toward revenge against the corrupt judge who hijacked his wife and child. We want to feel sorry for him, but his indiscriminate violence is unforgivable. Sympathetic characters are rare in this beautifully art-directed but gory film. Overheard comment: "There are only so many throat cuttings a person can take."

Sweet and Lowdown (2000) is a satisfying film with fine acting and wry humor, but it seems too short and doesn't rank with Woody Allen's best work. It stars Sean Penn as a jazz guitarist who's jealous of a competitor and who suffers from the usual personal problems that always seem to afflict jazz musicians.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957) reeks of film-noir atmosphere but twists the gritty genre by departing from the usual crime-thriller plots. Instead, the villain is J.J. Hunsecker, a powerful New York newspaper columnist whose gossip items can make or break careers and lives. Burt Lancaster is brilliant as J.J., the stone-cold Broadway-beat writer based on actual columnist Walter Winchell. J.J. is a monster and loves it. Tony Curtis equals Lancaster as a frantic press agent scrambling to make it big. He needs J.J.'s column space badly enough to do dirty deeds. Good supporting actors include Martin Milner as a jazz musician wooing J.J.'s kid sister (Susan Harrison), Barbara Nichols as a downtrodden cigarette girl, and Emile Meyer as a rough cop. This zeitgeist classic is swift, clever, and thick with sleaze.

Swept Away a/k/a Swept Away ... By an Unusual Destiny in the Blue Sea of August (Italian: Travolti da un Kinsolito Destino Nell'Azzurro Mare D'Agosto, 1974) is now considered a classic. It seems to meld Robinson Crusoe with Lord of the Flies when a sailor and a woman passenger aboard a yacht become marooned on a deserted island. But director Lina Wertmüller's controversial theme is class warfare. The lowly sailor is a resentful communist; the woman is the elitist wife of a wealthy industrialist. On the yacht, she's a bossy master, but on the island, he gains the upper hand. She learns the shame of labor exploitation; he becomes an authoritarian brute. Their conflict mocks both capitalism and communism while adding sexual attraction to the mix. The moral is that class status is deterministic. An American remake starring Madonna was a major flop in 2002.

Syncopation (1942) revolts against 1940s musicals in startling fashion. Ostensibly a light drama about a pretty young socialite and her scrappy musician friends, it's really a celebration of improvisational jazz that mocks the formality of big-band swing. This remarkable film opens by acknowledging that jazz evolved from the native music of cruelly enslaved Africans. Then it jumps to an upper-class white family moving from New Orleans to Chicago in the early 1900s. Their restless daughter befriends a poor boy who aspires to jazz fame. Later he's schooled in wilder forms by a black horn player. It ends with a rousing performance that foreshadows postwar bebop. The racially integrated cast and rebellious characters are extraordinary for this Hollywood era. Jazz fans must see this forgotten film.

Syriana (2005) is a mess of a movie. What a shame, because much of the acting, cinematography, and dialogue is superb. George Clooney plays a veteran CIA agent enmeshed in complicated intrigue in the Middle East. Key players include big oil companies and their executives, corporate lawyers, corrupt politicians, ambitious prosecutors, retired spies, rich Arab princes, Muslim terrorists, disaffected Arab youths, disillusioned wives, and more. There are far too many characters and subplots to make a coherent story. Choppy film editing doesn't help, especially when director Stephen Gaghan omits key parts of scenes on the theory that what isn't filmed is better imagined. The best scenes suggest how young, unemployed Arabs are drawn into suicide plots.

Take and Run (2021): see Ala Kachuu — Take and Run.

Tales from the Crypt (1972) is a surprisingly good British horror thriller featuring five separate but related stories adapted from the classic Tales from the Crypt comics. The performances, set designs, and production values surpass those of most contemporaries. Recognizable stars include Peter Cushing, Joan Collins, Patrick Magee, and Ralph Richardson. Although their screen times are relatively short because this 92-minute movie is a five-part anthology, they make the most of their brief roles. The stories get progressively better, and the shock value is high for a 1972 picture.

Tales of the Crypt II (1973): see The Vault of Horror.

Tales of Ugetsu (1953/54): see Ugetsu.

The Tao of Steve (2000) is much more than a cheap comedy about a fat guy who scores with beautiful babes. It's a clever, funny, and intelligent love story, and a great date movie.

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) is a letdown — a clever mystery with a disappointingly unclever ending. Let's take up a collection and buy the screenwriter one more sheet of paper for his typewriter.

Taps (1981) was supposed to be a star vehicle for Timothy Hutton, who the year before was the youngest actor to win an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor (in Ordinary People). Although his performance as a military-school cadet in Taps is excellent, this picture actually launched the careers of Tom Cruise and Sean Penn, who turned relatively minor parts into memorable characters. All three portray strictly disciplined cadets devoted to their war-veteran commandant, a lofty figure played by George C. Scott. But when real-estate developers plan to replace their school with condos, they revolt and seize control. As outside authorities lay siege, they struggle to hold fast. Cruise stands out as the gung-ho leader of a special cadet cadre resisting any compromise. Hutton, Cruise, and Penn carry this tense drama with help from a fine young cast.

Tár a/k/a Tar (2022) wastes Cate Blanchett's Oscar-nominated performance on a disjointed story about a top-rank orchestra conductor whose career is jeopardized. To establish her expertise, much of the dialogue contains esoteric references to classical music in three languages (English, German, and French) that only viewers deeply immersed in this culture will understand. Much less of this showy talk would have sufficed. A few brief scenes hint of future trouble, but not until halfway does this film begin to reveal itself — and even then, it takes irrelevant detours. The emergent theme is a gender-reversed "Me Too" scandal involving allegations of sexual impropriety that is negatively compared with overzealous denazification after World War II. But the theme is nearly lost in abrupt scenes and choppy editing. Too bad, because Blanchett's performance is spectacular. Oddly, this jumbled production was nominated for six Oscars: Best Picture, Director, Actress (Blanchett), Original Screenplay, Cinematography, and (?!) Film Editing. It won nothing.

Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo (1977) isn't bad for a 1970s TV movie — until the end, which makes no sense at all. Maybe the writer ran out of typewriter ribbon before finishing the screenplay. Or maybe the director lost the last few pages of the script. Or maybe everyone just got lazy. Whatever, this story of poisonous spiders invading a small town is ultimately a disappointment.

Tartuffe (1926) is a German silent-film adaptation of Molière's 1664 play that criticizes religious hypocrisy — still a relevant topic four centuries later. The play centers on a Christian evangelist who mesmerizes a rich man and exploits his generosity. The man's now-neglected wife and her servant plot to expose the fraud. Although authorities censored Molière's play, it endures, because its theme is enduring. This excellent production by German director F.W. Murnau (famous for Nosferatu, 1922) wraps the traditional tale in a new story about a servant who tries to steal her master's wealth. The movie-within-a-movie construction was innovative in 1926. The original German film is lost, but a recent restoration preserves another original version that was released with English intertitles.

Taxi Driver (1976) cemented Robert De Niro as one of filmdom's greatest actors — even though he lost the Oscar to Peter Finch, who won posthumously for his role as a deranged TV news anchor in Network. De Niro's over-the-top performance as cabbie Travis Bickle must be seen to be believed. Veering between marginal sanity and reckless madness, Bickle becomes obsessed with a pretty presidential campaign worker (Cybill Shepherd), an underage prostitute (Jody Foster), and the immorality of urban gutter life. He vows to right the wrongs he sees, but in the wrong way. Or is it the right way? Morality is topsy-turvy in this tale. Screenwriter Paul Schrader and director Martin Scorsese created a classic that echoes an American archetype (the hero who ignores pesky laws to fight lawlessness) while simultaneously foreshadowing the many real-life Travis Bickles who since then have vented their own violent rage on society.

Tea With Mussolini (1999) is a very enjoyable story about life in Italy under El Duce. Cher proves once again that she's a talented and under-utilized actress.

Teenage Frankenstein (1957): see I Was a Teenage Frankenstein.

Temple of Film: 100 Years of the Egyptian Theater (2023) claims to be a documentary about the recently restored Grauman's Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, a lavish 1922 movie palace. Unfortunately, this 11-minute short consists mostly of very brief clips of old movies and interviews with people rhapsodizing about the magic of cinema. If you know little about the Egyptian Theater, you'll learn little more here.

The Ten Commandments (1923) begins with spectacular sets, props, costumes, and thousands of extras portraying the Biblical exodus of Hebrew slaves from ancient Egypt. This was early silent filmmaking on an epic scale, unsurpassed until director Cecil B. DeMille remade his masterpiece even more extravagantly in 1956. Especially impressive are the special effects, such as the parting of the Red Sea and the giving of the Commandments. Midway, however, this drama abruptly departs the ancient era to present a modern (1920s) melodrama. It centers on a Bible-thumping mother, a devout son, an atheist son, and a homeless young woman who immediately forms a love triangle. This small-scale story is a preachy defense of the Commandments' relevance in our time. It could stand alone as a different picture but is incongruous and disappointing after the impressive Biblical prologue. Budget constraints may have dictated the detour; only an additional $500,000 investment ($5.5 million in 2024 dollars) enabled DeMille to finish his production. He wisely dropped the modern story from his 1956 remake.

The Ten Commandments (1956) dramatizes the Biblical exodus of Hebrew slaves from ancient Egypt to the Promised Land. Actually, there's no archaeological evidence for these events, and the Biblical accounts don't match historical timelines. But this spectacular classic sticks to the Bible story and is better for it. Charlton Heston is unforgettable as Moses, a Hebrew baby raised secretly as an Egyptian prince. His rival is Rameses (Yyl Brynner, equally memorable), the throne's true bloodline heir. Their dramatic clash pits divine power against royal rule. Superb supporting actors include Anne Baxter as the alluring Queen Nefretiri, Edward G. Robinson as a Hebrew traitor, John Derek as the rebellious Joshua, and Vincent Price as a cruel Egyptian slavemaster. The dialogue is deliberately stiff to echo King James Biblical. Credit the lavish production to the debut of television, which bled audiences from theaters in the 1950s, prompting Hollywood to respond with big-screen epics. It has rarely been exceeded and would be unthinkable today when computer graphics can simulate elaborate sets and thousands of costumed extras.

The Tenant (1976) starts slowly and cryptically before blooming into an artful psychological horror film. Director and co-writer Roman Polanski stars as Trelkovsky, a Polish-French immigrant who rents a small Paris apartment. The previous tenant was a young woman who tried to commit suicide by plunging out the window. Trelkovsky soon has difficulties with his noise-averse neighbors, and he fakes acquaintance with his suicidal predecessor to court one of her attractive female friends. Both situations lead to unexpected trouble. This picture rewards patience as it grows increasingly bizarre before ending with a scream. Polanski skillfully creates a creepy atmosphere of claustrophobia, schizophrenia, and paranoia. Although less famous than his thriller Rosemary's Baby (1968), it's more subtle and strangely suspenseful.

Tender Mercies (1983) deserved its Oscars for Horton Foote's original screenplay and Robert Duvall's measured performance as Mac Sledge, a down-and-out country-western singer. It was also nominated for Best Picture, Director (Bruce Beresford), and Original Song ("Over You"). Remarkably, Duvall does all of his own singing and wrote two of the film's original songs. And he's good. Tess Harper ably plays the widowed owner of a remote Texas gas station who tries to reform the alcoholic musician. A young Ellen Barkin is beautiful as his estranged daughter. This gentle drama feels real, capturing the spirit of country-western culture in rural America.

Tension (1949), aptly named, is a film-noir crime thriller with a great femme fatale. Richard Basehart stars as her meek pharmacist husband desperately trying to save their rocky marriage. His performance is satisfactory but is overshadowed by Audrey Totter's wickedly wonderful turn as the wayward wife. Unlike many films in this genre, we needn't guess if the female lead is fatale — she establishes her danger in the very first scene. The suspense involves the husband's elaborate plot to kill her husky lover. Cyd Charisse has a minor role as a wholesome alternative. Barry Sullivan overplays his part as a police detective whose investigative techniques are ridiculously out of bounds. Overall it's an average film noir.

The Terminator (1984) stars Arnold Schwarzenegger in his most memorable role as a killer android from an apocalyptic future. This now-classic science-fiction movie looks big-budget but was made with barely adequate funding and almost wasn't produced at all. Now-famous director James Cameron was living a marginal existence during its genesis. The story is epic and has spawned many sequels: after a nuclear holocaust destroys human civilization, intelligent machines wage war on the few survivors. To assure victory, the machines send the Terminator back in time to before the nuclear war to kill a young woman (Linda Hamilton) whose son will become a future leader. A future soldier (Michael Biehn) follows the Terminator and tries to stop him. The special effects are impressive, especially for 1984, and the acting and action are great. In every way, this must-see movie holds up against anything made since.

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) was the first and perhaps best sequel to The Terminator (1984). It defies the Hollywood pattern of disappointing sequels and in some ways surpasses its predecessor. Arnold Schwarzenegger reprises his famous role as the Terminator, a killer android sent to our time from the future. Except now his programming is altered, and he tangles with another Terminator built with better technology. This one is a liquid-metal shape-shifter who can disguise himself as anyone he touches. Usually portrayed by Robert Patrick — who rivals Schwarzenegger for stoic acting — he's even harder to defeat. The metamorphic special effects were startling in 1991 and remain impressive today. But as with the first film, the human touch is crucial to its success. Linda Hamilton returns as the mother of a future leader, herself transformed into a fierce fighter. Newcomer Edward Furlong deftly plays her resourceful young son, the Terminator's target. This movie has rightly become another modern classic.

Terminator: Dark Fate (2019) is either the sixth or third movie in the Terminator series, depending on the tally. It's the sixth overall but only the third sanctioned by James Cameron, who directed the first two: The Terminator (1984) and Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991). It brings back Linda Hamilton as a resistance fighter and Arnold Schwarzenegger as an android from the future. They're joined by Natalia Reyes (Hamilton's heir apparent), Gabriel Luna (an assassin robot from the future), and Mackenzie Davis (a guardian soldier from the future). The story is unchanged: the assassin tries to change history by killing someone in the past. The action and special effects are top-notch, as should be expected from a $185 million production. But the climax is nonsensical. Why wasn't the guardian equipped with the only weapon that could stop the assassin?

The Terror (1963) stars Jack Nicholson in an early role as a Napoleonic cavalryman who seeks refuge in a gloomy manor occupied by a reclusive baron (Boris Karloff). This unusual pairing promises more than it delivers, although the result isn't too bad. Directed by low-budget horror-movie veteran Roger Corman (The Little Shop of Horrors, 1960), it relies mainly on a slow buildup toward a shocking final-scene reveal. It has good atmosphere, though, and the rest of the cast actually outshines Nicholson.

Terror By Night (1946) is the 13th of 14 movies starring Basil Rathbone as English private detective Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. Another regular is Dennis Hoey as Inspector Lastrade, although this appearance is his last in the series. This time, a wealthy lady hires Holmes to guard her precious diamond, the Star of Rhodesia, on a journey from London to Scotland. The story takes place almost entirely on a train — a common gimmick of this era that tightens the suspense and reduces the budget. Despite few suspects, several misdirections (some amusing) sustain the mystery. This installment is worthy of the series and ends with a twist.

Terror in the Haunted House (1958): see My World Dies Screaming.

Thank You For Smoking (2005) is a clever comedy about a tobacco-industry lobbyist who has the gift of gab. Whether he's on a TV talk show or speaking to his son's elementary-school class on career day, he glibly dismisses arguments against smoking and portrays the tobacco industry as the last bastion of American freedom. This lighthearted satire skewers lobbyists, politicians, tobacco executives, journalists, and Hollywood movie producers with equal glee. Aaron Eckhart stars as the slick tobacco lobbyist, and the scenes in which he teaches life lessons to his young son are precious.

Thelma & Louise (1991) has been called a "feminist film" because it features two gone-wild women who aren't subservient to their men. Actually, it's a buddy movie like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) relocated to present-day America. Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon star as the title characters: two mid-30s women who want to escape their repressed lives for a weekend road trip to a country cabin. On the way, however, male abuse forces a sudden detour. Soon they're pursued by police in three states and are running out of options. Although they wreak havoc on male antagonists, the movie doesn't paint all males as bad guys. (Harvey Keitel plays a sympathetic cop.) Despite some critics denouncing this film as aggressive feminism, the climax can be interpreted as anti-feminist because it implies that uninhibited women ultimately suffer for their freedom. Apart from these critical debates, Thelma & Louise is hilarious, dramatic, well executed, and thought provoking. It won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, and Davis and Sarandon were both nominated for Best Actress.

Them! (1954) is a classic monster movie that exploited public fears in the early Atomic Age. Radiation from atomic-bomb tests in the New Mexico desert create genetic mutations that evolve into giant ants. Now starving, they turn carnivorous, with a particular taste for humans and cattle. Although the special effects look crude today, the puppet creatures are well crafted and bring a campy charm to this entertaining flick. James Whitmore stars as a highway patrolman who's joined by James Arness as an FBI agent. Edmund Gwenn plays the usual absent-minded scientist accompanied by his daughter (Joan Weldon) as the token female. Watch for Fess Parker (later TV's Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone) and Leonard Nimoy (later Spock in Star Trek) in small roles. Fears of radioactivity inspired many more such movies, but Them! is among the best of its era.

The Theory of Everything (2014) is an outstanding biopic of physicist Stephen Hawking that focuses on his personal travails, not his physics. Afflicted with Lou Gehrig's disease while in college at Cambridge, the young genius nevertheless marries his sweetheart, Jane (played by Felicity Jones). She later wrote the book on which the movie is based (Travelling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen). Consequently, her role is large and her treatment sympathetic, even as their relationship deteriorates. As romantic tear-jerkers go, this movie is a good one. But the real attraction is Eddie Redmayne's uncanny portrayal of Hawking's tragic physical decline and mental perseverance. Measured against his performance, everyone else seems like an extra, and he won the Oscar for Best Actor. The film was also nominated for Best Picture, Actress (Jones), Adapted Screenplay, and Original Score.

There Will Be Blood (2007) stars the remarkable Daniel Day-Lewis as a ruthless oilman seeking fortune in the hardscrabble American West of the early 1900s. This outstanding but ultimately disappointing film begins with a strong sense of epic drama and almost documentary-like realism. At first, it appears that writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson (Magnolia, Boogie Nights) is drawing an allegory to modern-day petropolitics and Islamic fundamentalism. Paul Dano (the teenage brother in Little Miss Sunshine) costars as a young evangelical preacher who mesmerizes his small congregation of local landowners. The conflict between capitalistic greed and religious fervor builds great suspense. But then this picture runs off the rails. In trying to expose the hypocrisy of two moral poles, it merely degenerates into a vacant amorality. The farcical conclusion is like something from Quentin Tarantino.

They Drive By Night (1940) depicts long-haul truck drivers in an era before Interstate highways and comfortable semis. These truckers drive antiquated hulks on dangerous two-lane roads. Although this gritty film noir is unusual for centering on truckers instead of cops and robbers, it definitely has a femme fatale: Ida Lapino as the bored wife of a boisterous trucking-company owner. She's young, rich, and pretty but dissatisfied, and she's hot for a poor independent driver. George Raft, who usually plays gangsters, tries hard to seem like a good guy in this role and occasionally succeeds. Humphrey Bogart, not yet a big star, is his loyal brother. Raoul Walsh directed this excellent drama that would be even better if it ended a few minutes sooner.

They Live By Night (1948) thrives on great screen chemistry between Farley Granger and Cathy O'Donnell. He plays a prison-farm fugitive who joins two other escapees to rob banks. She plays a robber's niece. As usual in Hollywood movies, they don't hit it off at first but soon fall madly in love. Escaping their desperate lives isn't so easy, though. Howard Da Silva makes the most of his supporting role as the girl's volatile uncle. Freshman director Nicholas Ray weaves romance into this film-noir crime thriller more artfully than most of his experienced contemporaries, and he sustains the suspense until the very last scene.

They Shall Not Grow Old (2018) is one of the most extraordinary documentaries ever made. Director Peter Jackson (The Hobbit trilogy, The Lord of the Rings trilogy) started with 100 hours of scratchy, jerky, faded, and silent film of World War I from the Imperial War Museum. Working with British, American, and New Zealand technicians, he edited the rough footage into a 1.5-hour documentary, then digitally restored and colorized it. He also hired lip-readers to analyze the silent speech, employed actors to dub the soundtrack, and even enlisted British diplomats to sing contemporary songs. Instead of trying to summarize the whole conflict, he focuses on the soldiers' lives in the Western Front trenches. The results are simply stunning. This film brings the 1914–1918 war to life as never before. The long-gone warriors suddenly seem real, as if the war happened in recent memory. Jackson sets a new standard for historical documentary filmmakers. (Keep watching after the final credits to see Jackson narrate a 30-minute explanation of the restoration.)

They Won't Believe Me (1947) casts clean-cut Robert Young as a philandering stockbroker on trial for his lover's murder. The odd casting works, because it's believable that a respectable businessman could lead an unrespectable secret life. Less believable is his character's testimony that the near-simultaneous deaths of his wife and lover are accidents. And even less believable is the screenplay, which hinges on failures to positively identify the bodies. Susan Hayward and Jane Greer co-star as the extramarital flings, with Hayward scoring the best role. Strangely, Rita Johnson as the betrayed wife has a minor part in this love quadrangle. The surprising climax satisfied Hollywood censors who could neither allow an innocent man to be convicted nor a guilty man to be freed.

The Thief of Bagdad (1924) paints the screen with marvelous sets, costumes, action, and special effects — among the very best in silent filmdom. This lavish production creates a Middle Eastern city, royal palace, and fantastic underworlds of caverns and oceans. Special effects include a magic rope, monstrous dragon, giant spider, huge clam, winged horse, invisibility cloak, and flying carpet. The great Douglas Fairbanks Sr. wrote the story and stars as the swashbuckling thief who becomes a hero. Director Raoul Walsh and art director William Cameron Menzies masterminded the production design. This classic also launched the stardom of Chinese-American actress Anna May Wong, whose performance as a devious slave girl outshines Julanne Johnston's princess. Although Fairbanks' performance is extravagant even by silent-film standards, it energizes and lightens the drama, and it reveals his remarkable physical condition and athleticism at age 41. Sadly, a heart attack felled him at age 56 while he was planning a talkie remake.

The Thief of Bagdad (1940) proves that remaking a silent film in color and sound isn't always an improvement. This Technicolor talkie departs drastically from the 1924 original and lacks the same charm. It's also somewhat disjointed and makes false starts toward becoming a musical, partly because World War II forced production to move from Great Britain to Hollywood. But one actor's spirited performance holds it together. Sabu Dastagir, a teenager from India, plays the lively thief who becomes a hero — a major departure from Douglas Fairbanks Sr. in the 1924 film. Sabu outshines Fairbanks lookalike John Justin, who plays a dethroned king who befriends the thief. The producers employed William Cameron Menzies to advance the spectacular special effects he created for the 1924 epic. Menzies introduced the chroma-key technique that's now ubiquitous.

Thieves' Highway (1949) departs from film-noir convention by centering on long-distance truckers in the days before Interstate freeways and sleeper-cab semis. Driving beat-up Macks and army surplus trucks, they endured grueling hours on two-lane rural roads. Another departure is an Italian femme fatale (Valentina Cortese), a chipped-glass dame who blows hot and cold. She perplexes Richard Conte, who plays a no-nonsense war veteran hoping for a big score and perhaps to settle a score. Lee J. Cobb shines as a conniving produce wholesaler. Watch for scenes of the San Francisco Embarcadero before tourists replaced longshoremen and roughneck merchants. This thriller feels real when showing the seamy underside of backdoor business.

The Thin Man (1934) was the first and arguably the best installment in what became a six-picture series that lasted until 1947. Adapted from a Dashiell Hammett novel, it stars the suave William Powell as private detective Nick Charles and the beautiful Myrna Loy as his wealthy wife. This light-hearted murder mystery is famous for its heavy drinking (alcoholism, as we know it today), good-natured marital bickering, a wild Christmas party, amusing characters, and a convoluted climax in which all the suspects gather to reveal the true killer. Even the bit players are memorable in this masterpiece, which was nominated for four Oscars, including Best Picture.

The Thin Man Goes Home (1944) is the fifth installment in the six-picture Thin Man series starring William Powell as retired detective Nick Charles and Myrna Loy as his wife, Nora. This time they visit Nick's parents in his hometown, where they are soon embroiled in a murder mystery (as usual). This film follows the formula established in the first picture in 1934: snappy dialogue, colorful characters, and a confusing plot that Nick resolves after gathering all the suspects for a dramatic showdown. None of the sequels match the quality of the first picture, but they're still amusing. However, this one has a cringe-worthy scene in which Nick laughingly spanks Nora with a rolled-up newspaper in front of his parents — domestic abuse by today's standards, but a revealing insight into behavior that was considered comedy in the 1940s.

The Thing From Another World (1951) is a classic sci-fi thriller about a hostile space alien who crashes in the Arctic. After thawing, he wreaks havoc on a remote U.S. Air Force station unprepared for the assault. James Arness, who later starred in the popular TV series Gunsmoke, plays the creature but is unrecognizable in his alien guise. Kenneth Tobey is believable as the gruff captain defending his station, and the supporting cast is equally good. The suspense is unrelenting as the isolated defenders struggle to understand and overcome their strange enemy. For a touch of realism, the dialogue often overlaps. A later remake by John Carpenter (The Thing, 1982) is even creepier and has much better special effects, but the original version still holds up.

The Thing With Two Heads (1972) absurdly pairs golden-age Hollywood star Ray Milland with former football player Rosey Grier in an oddball horror flick that morphs into a madcap comedy. Milland was once Hollywood royalty: he won an Oscar for portraying an alcoholic in The Lost Weekend in 1945 and co-starred with Grace Kelly in Dial M for Murder in 1954. By 1972, he was slumming in low-budget productions. In this one, he's a surgeon dying from cancer who schemes to transplant his head onto a young, healthy body. After an early scene reveals he's a racist, a twist of fate makes the unwilling body donor an African-American (Grier, once a feared NFL lineman). Missing an opportunity to wring more irony from this multiracial monstrosity, the writers pad the film with a lengthy chase that wrecks 14 police cars. It's mildly amusing.

The Third Man (1949) wins praise as one of the best motion pictures ever made but falls short of winning mine. It's a classic film noir, yes, and it's good. To deserve its vaulted status, however, it needs more suspense and more memorable scenes. The story is promising: Joseph Cotten stars as an American traveling to postwar Vienna to accept a new job from an old friend. Upon arrival, he discovers the friend was killed in a car accident. Or was it an accident? Without evidence, he immediately doubts the official account. Clueless in a postwar environment of desperate people scheming to survive, his clumsy investigation leads to trouble. In its favor, this film deftly captures the bleak atmosphere of a damaged European city after World War II. And the acting is faultless. But knowing that Orson Welles co-stars, yet doesn't appear until late, saps suspense from the quest. The only two exceptional scenes — the ones documentaries always show — are a conversation between Cotten and Welles and a foot chase through city sewers. Although the climax wins points for flouting tradition, this picture might have been better if Welles had written and directed it.

Thirteen (2003) is a disturbing film about teenage girls that was co-written by a teenage girl. Nikki Reed penned this drama with rookie director Catherine Hardwicke, and she co-stars with fellow teen Evan Rachel Wood. Reed plays the most popular girl at school, an amoral person who lures Wood's character into petty crime, drug abuse, and casual sex. Wood's overwhelmed mother — brilliantly portrayed by Holly Hunter — is increasingly alarmed, but she is unable to overcome her confusion and the distractions of everyday life to help her daughter. Both teenage actresses play their roles with uncommon realism, which is amplified by the low-budget cinematography. Thirteen is an outstanding piece of work that every parent and teenager should see and discuss.

The Thirteenth Floor (1999) was the third movie with the same basic idea (virtual reality becomes reality) released in 1999. Does everybody get their ideas by reading Variety?

This Is Spinal Tap (1984) is one of the funniest movies ever made. It's a parody of rock-band documentaries, and it spawned the "mockumentary" genre, although at least one earlier example exists (The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, a 1978 TV movie that lampoons the Beatles). One measure of a great film is the number of memorable scenes, and Spinal Tap is full of them. Using fake archival footage and interviews, it tells the rise-and-fall story of a fictional heavy-metal band of the same name. Christopher Guest hilariously plays the drug-addled lead guitarist, ably accompanied by bandmates Michael McKean, Harry Shearer, and a series of actors who play their doomed drummers. (A running joke is that the drummers keep dying.) Director Rob Reiner doubles as the straight-faced documentary filmmaker. All four of them collaborated on the screenplay. Their performances are so convincing that many people left theaters thinking Spinal Tap was a real band. In the most legendary scene, Guest explains that his amplifier is louder than any other because the volume knob goes to 11 instead of 10. He and others went on to make similar mockumentaries, such as Waiting for Guffman (1996), Best of Show (2000), and A Mighty Wind (2003).

This Island Earth (1955) surpasses most other 1950s sci-fi thrillers with its intriguing story, special effects, and Technicolor production. It also unfolds as a mystery that's unresolved until late in the film. To avoid spoilers, it's enough to say that space aliens are secretly operating a scientific project on Earth and their motives are mixed. Rex Reason stars as a scientist whom they recruit. He gets a chilly reception from a fellow scientist (Faith Domergue) who's an old friend. Their acting isn't exceptional but is adequate. The last act features brilliant effects and a moral dilemma that lift this picture above contemporary productions which relegated science fiction to low-budget crap.

The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) wouldn't work as well with anyone but Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway playing the leads, as the 1999 remake proved. Their sexy screen chemistry lifts this caper flick above the median. McQueen plays a rich financier who resorts to bank robbery to relieve his boredom. (In a nod to 1960s zeitgeist, he also vaguely claims to be gaming "the system.") Dunaway plays an insurance investigator trying to recover the loot. Their intersection is inevitable. One highlight is a late-night chess game that morphs into virtual foreplay. Suspense builds to the very last scene, when Dunaway's character must decide who's side she is on.

The Thomas Crown Affair (1999) is slick and sexy and has great energy until the end, when it falls flat and is too predictable. Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo don't quite match the screen chemistry of Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway in the 1968 version of this caper flick. If you haven't seen the original, however, their performances are credible. As McQueen did, Brosnan plays a rich financier who steals to relieve his boredom. As Dunaway did, Russo plays an insurance investigator trying to recover the loot. (In homage, Dunaway reappears as a psychiatrist in this remake; unfortunately, McQueen was already deceased.) Purely as a caper thriller, this one is better than the original, but the theft is secondary to the intrigue between these characters.

Thirteen Days (2000) is another retelling of the Cuban missile crisis in October 1962. It's not bad, but Kevin Costner's attempt to mimic a Boston accent drove me crazy. Meryl Streep he ain't.

The Threat (1949) casts Charles McGraw in his first starring role — the first of his many tough-guy characters in film-noir crime thrillers. This time he's Red Kluger, a vicious prison escapee who seeks revenge against the district attorney, police detective, and tipster he blames for his conviction. This drama moves commendably fast but lacks the stylish lighting and camera work of better-known noir films. On the other hand, it also lacks their confusing plots and overwrought dialogue. McGraw easily overshadows Michael O'Shea, who plays the detective. Virginia Grey is better as the suspected snitch. Overall, an average work.

Three Ages (1923) stars Buster Keaton in a feature-length silent-film comedy about romance throughout history. It weaves together three stories from the Stone Age, Ancient Rome, and the modern day (the 1920s). In each tale, the same cast plays similar characters: Keaton is the underdog lover, Wallace Beery is the overdog lover, Margaret Leahy is the object of their affections, Joe Roberts and Lillian Lawrence are her strict parents, and Kewpie Morgan is another potential rival. In typical Keaton style, there's lots of physical comedy and stunts — including one that disabled him for three days after he missed a jump between rooftops. The intro and structure of this picture are a subtle parody of D.W. Griffith's Intolerance, an overblown epic from 1916.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017) stars Frances McDormand as the aggrieved mother of a murdered teenager in a small town. Upset that the killer hasn't been caught, she taunts the local police by renting three billboards to advertise her frustration. The resulting chain of events disrupts the town and takes several unexpected turns. Rarely do middle-aged actresses find such meaty lead roles in today's Hollywood movies, and McDormand makes the most of it. Her award-worthy performance gets strong support from Woody Harrelson as the equally frustrated police chief, Sam Rockwell as a near-psychopathic cop, and John Hawkes as her abusive estranged husband. This film veers from stark drama to dark comedy and never fails to surprise. It's another triumph for writer/director Martin McDonagh, who was nominated for a screenwriting Oscar for In Bruges (2008) and won an Oscar for his live-action short film Six Shooter (2006).

Three Coins in the Fountain (1954) preserves in film a bygone era when every young lady's fervent desire was to marry as soon as possible. Today, it's comical to watch three American women in Rome avidly pursue their dreamboats: an aging and jaded American writer, a handsome and wealthy Italian prince, and a handsome but poor Italian translator. That this earnest romantic drama was nominated for three Academy Awards — Best Picture, Cinematography, and Original Song — says much about its time. It deservedly won for color cinematography; as the first CinemaScope movie filmed outside the U.S., it shows great views of postwar Rome and Venice before tourists began arriving in droves.

The Three Faces of Eve (1957) won a well-deserved Best Actress award for Joanne Woodward as a woman suffering from multiple-personality disorder. Skillfully shifting among three different personas, she portrays a real patient diagnosed in Georgia in the early 1950s, although names were changed for the film. Woodward's performance is so well calibrated that each inner character is unmistakably distinct. Lee J. Cobb ably plays her psychologist, blending professional stoicism with sympathetic warmth. Throughout, this picture treats mental illness and treatment more humanely than most others of its era. It's a durable classic.

The Three Faces of Fear a/k/a I Tre Volti Della Paura (1963): see Black Sabbath.

Three Hours to Kill (1954) is an above-average Western starring Dana Andrews as a man wrongly accused of murder and Donna Reed as his gal. After narrowly escaping a lynch mob, he returns to town three years later to hunt the real killer. It's good except for some inexplicable action during the final showdown. (Why didn't the killer destroy the proof of his motive? And why does he run out the door instead of shooting through it?)

Three Identical Strangers (2018) has more surprises than most documentaries. It's the true story of identical twins separated at birth and adopted by different families who accidentally discover each other 19 years later. Their reunion is joyous, making feel-good news all over the country. Then comes the first surprise — a third identical "twin" appears. (This isn't a spoiler; you know the film's title.) Triple the fun! The young men get along famously and make even more news. Then comes another surprise. And another. Soon, events take a darker turn. This made-for-CNN film is a superlative documentary that's stranger than fiction.

Three Kings (1999) is a gory romp in the desert with multiple personalities: action/adventure — treasure hunt — buddy comedy — antiwar statement. It's all of the above, but it does none very well. The plot involves George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, Ice Cube, and Spike Jonze in a wild treasure hunt during the Persian Gulf War in 1991.

Three Strangers (1946) is a strange drama full of surprises. Geraldine Fitzgerald, Sydney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre star as three strangers in 1938 London who agree to share the rich proceeds of a lottery ticket and horse race if they win. Fitzgerald's character concocts the scheme on the eve of Chinese New Year because she's enthralled with a Chinese goddess and good-fortune myth. Each stranger hides a secret, however: a broken marriage, financial malfeasance, and a murder. This wryly amusing story twists and turns before reaching a surprising climax, and all three stars are fabulous.

THX 1138 (1971) was the first feature film by director George Lucas, who adapted his 15-minute student film from 1967, Electronic Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB. Stretched to 88 minutes, it envisions a dystopian future in which people are spawned in laboratories, sex is forbidden, and mandatory drugs maintain order. A few renegades try to escape, leading to lengthy chases through underground tunnels. Robert Duvall, Donald Pleasence, and Maggie McOmie star as the runaways. Although this production showed promise for a young filmmaker, it's esoteric and was a flop. After Lucas scored hits with American Graffiti in 1973 and especially with Star Wars in 1977, THX 1138 attracted second looks and now is a well-regarded cult film.

Tidal Wave (1950): see Portrait of Jennie (1948).

Tiger Bay (1959) debuts child actor Hayley Mills, and the untrained 12-year-old displays a remarkable screen presence that acting-school graduates would envy. No wonder she would soon star in a string of Disney comedies, such as The Parent Trap (1961). But Tiger Bay is a forgotten crime thriller in which Mills plays Gillie Evans, a poor British tomboy who witnesses a murder. Gillie is also a reflexive liar who delights in leading adults astray. German heartthrob Horst Buchholz ably plays a seaman implicated in the deed. Their symbiotic interaction drives this drama toward a tense conclusion that pits morality against self preservation. Hayley's real-life father John Mills, a famous British actor, is the police detective trying to crack the case, but he's upstaged in every scene by his amateur daughter. Her unscripted re-enactment of the crime is both true to character and hilarious.

Tight Spot (1955) stars Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith, and Edward G. Robinson in a crime thriller that tries too hard to be both funny and tense. Rogers is out of her usual song-and-dance lane when playing a prison inmate who is the only state witness that can bust a gangster (Lorne Greene, unusually creepy). Her voluminous dialogue is supposed to be amusingly snarky but is overdone and unbelievable. Keith plays a humorless cop assigned to protect her from the gangster's assassins. Robinson has an uncharacteristically smaller role as the prosecutor who urges her to testify. This strained "dramedy" isn't all bad, and it springs some surprises. But it would be better with a different actress and less sassy talk.

The Time Machine (1960) remains the best adaptation of H.G. Wells' 1895 science-fiction novel. Unlike the 2002 remake, it hews more closely to the original story and preserves the scientific and philosophical themes. Rod Taylor ably plays the English inventor who builds a time machine and journeys from 1899 to the future. His quest is to find a more civilized era than his own war-torn world. Instead he finds more wars and a far-future utopia that's actually a dystopia. Even so, he finds cause for hope and human redemption. This startling production was directed by special-effects wizard George Pal and stands among the best sci-fi movies of its time, ranking with The War of the Worlds (1953, another Pal production), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), and Forbidden Planet (1956). Of particular note is the time machine itself, a brilliantly designed prop in Victorian style that today would be called steampunk.

The Time Machine (2002) remakes the 1960 version but fails to match its spirit. Even though director Simon Wells is a descendant of author H.G. Wells, this adaptation diverges more widely from the famous 1895 novel on which it's based. In this retelling, the Victorian Age scientist who builds the time machine is an American motivated by lost love, not an Englishman on a scientific quest. The special effects are good, but they obscure a story that loses its way about halfway through. Still, this movie is worth seeing just for the souped-up time machine itself — a fabulous prop that does justice to the fabulous 1960 original.

The Time Travelers (1964) deserves a cult following. This forgotten sci-fi flick supersedes its low budget by substituting marvelous props and magic tricks for expensive special effects. One impressive scene shot in a continuous take shows repairmen replacing an android's damaged head. The android is obviously a rubber-suited actor, but his head really appears to come off and then back on again. I watched it three times to guess the trick. In another scene, a man strapped on a spinning table suddenly disappears. The story is interesting, too, ultimately featuring a classic time-travel paradox. Demerits for lame attempts at comedy, blatant female cheesecake, and a goofy score, but it's a cleverly designed production that influenced subsequent movies and TV shows.

Timeline (2003) is based on Michael Crichton's novel about modern archaeologists who time-travel to medieval France. As filmed by director Richard Donner (Superman, the Lethal Weapon series), it's a fast-moving action flick with a thrilling night battle during a castle siege. Unfortunately, it's not as historically accurate as Crichton's novel (the English didn't have cannons in 1357), and no archaeologists would behave as these characters do. Also, it's claustrophobic — Donner frames scene after scene with tight shots, denying us a good look at the fascinating world in which the characters find themselves. I was chosen for a focus group to view a preliminary cut of this movie in November 2002, a year before its release. In the final version, an important establishing shot of the castle and some critical dialogue were mysteriously deleted.

The Times of Bill Cunningham (2018) documents the life of a famous photographer who took informal fashion pictures of ordinary people for nearly 40 years. Cunningham (1929–2016) didn't consider himself a photographer, though. He started as a young milliner who changed careers when elaborate women's hats became less fashionable. A friend's gift of a cheap 35mm camera set him on a new course. He began roaming NYC on old bicycles, photographing the attire of ordinary people on the street. He also photographed celebrities and high-society people at ritzy parties. Each week, the New York Times devoted a double-page spread to his impromptu portraits. A true eccentric, Cunningham lived austerely in a cubbyhole apartment above Carnegie Hall while quietly donating money to sick friends, AIDS charities, and the Catholic Church. This entertaining documentary is based on a lengthy 1994 interview by filmmaker Mark Bozek.

The Tingler (1959) wins fame as the first movie to depict an LSD trip — years before hippies discovered the hallucinogenic drug. Oddly, however, this flick is a low-budget thriller, and the LSD tripper is horror-film stalwart Vincent Price. He plays a pathologist on a private quest to find the root of human fear. In a nutty experiment, he takes LSD to induce fear so he can study the effects. Later he discovers a wormlike parasite (the "Tingler") clinging to a frightened person's backbone. Director William Castle spooked some theater audiences by hiding buzzers under the seats. If you like campy horror, you'll love the sudden blackout scenes, the wiggling rubber creature, and the vividly red blood in this black-and-white film.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011) is best appreciated by fans of the John le Carre novel on which it is based. Others will likely find this Cold War spy thriller as convoluted as the Cold War and as difficult to follow as a well-trained spy. Gary Oldman stars as a high-ranking British intelligence officer in the 1970s who tries to root out a double agent working for the Russians. Critics have praised Oldman's performance, which isn't bad but consists mostly of stone-faced stares. Usually, viewers must read not only between the lines but also between the eyes. There are lots of characters and abrupt scenes, so pay attention. The conclusion is an anticlimax that hardly seems worth the preceding effort — but then, the Cold War ended that way, too.

The Titan Find a/k/a Creature (1985) is a forgotten sci-fi movie that echoes the plot of Alien (1979). In fact, the special-effects crew that created the The Titan Find creature worked on the Alien sequel Aliens a year later. The story is about a corporate spaceship sent to Jupiter's moon Titan to claim an archaeological discovery of mysterious pods stored underground by a civilization more than 200,000 years ago. The pods contain unknown alien creatures thought to be either dead or in suspended animation. Of course, they're actually alive, hostile, and hungry. Although this movie is a poor imitation of Alien, it's not all bad. Dark lighting and fleeting glimpses of the creatures disguise the lower budget. The only famous actor is Klaus Kinski in a small but meaty role.

Titanic (1953) premiered only 41 years after a North Atlantic iceberg sank the RMS Titanic in 1912, so adult survivors of this famous maritime disaster would have lived to see it. Their reaction probably mirrors ours today: the dramatic climax looks way too tidy. Unlike in the 1997 remake, the evacuation is relatively orderly, the scarce lifeboats are never half empty or overloaded, and the desperate people equipped only with life preservers are never seen dying in the frigid waters. However, both movies depict the social divide between the first-class and steerage passengers and both focus on a few personal stories, including a pair of young lovers (boyish Robert Wagner and coolish Audrey Dalton). Although their romance is more realistic than the 1997 version, it's easy to see why the remake was a huge hit. As parents, Clifton Webb and Barbara Stanwyck struggle to breathe life into this slow-mo film.

Titanic (1997) brings epic scale, big-budget special effects, and youthful star power to a dramatic story that filmmakers had told less effectively twice before. Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet star as fictional young lovers aboard the RMS Titanic as it steams toward its fatal collision with a North Atlantic iceberg. The famous disaster is almost a subplot, though, as the youngsters begin a steamy romance. DiCaprio's character is a steerage immigrant who has an unbelievable ability to blend with the hoity-toity first-class crowd — among them, Winslet's debutante. The sinking is spectacular and most realistic part of this hugely popular production, which was nominated for 14 Oscars and won 11: Best Picture, Director (James Cameron), Art Direction, Cinematography, Visual Effects, Film Editing, Costume Design, Sound, Sound Effects Editing, Original Score, and Original Song. It's a modern classic.

To Be or Not to Be (1942) is the original version of this screwball comedy that pokes fun at Nazis. It's a hilarious farce that also served as war propaganda without the usual rah-rah rhetoric. Jack Benny and Carole Lombard star as the married members of a Polish theater troupe. Germany's invasion of Poland in September 1939 abruptly cancels their stage play about Nazis. When a secret agent arrives from England on a vital mission, they join the resistance and find new purposes for their realistic Gestapo costumes. This fast-moving film keeps throwing twists and turns. Although it's now a classic, the satire was hard for some people to digest so early in World War II when Nazi Germany was peaking. Also, it was tinged with tragedy when Lombard died in a plane crash one month before release; she was returning from a war bond tour.

To Be or Not to Be (1983) remakes the 1942 wartime comedy starring Jack Benny and Carole Lombard. This time, Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft star as the husband-wife stage actors in Nazi-occupied Poland who join an Allied mission to protect Underground resistance fighters. Like other Mel Brooks comedies, it's a broadly satirical romp flavored with Jewish humor and with song-and-dance numbers. And like the 1942 original, it mocks Nazis as evil but rigid buffoons whose unswerving Hitler worship is ridiculous. In 1942, this story was entertaining wartime propaganda. In 1983, resurgent neo-Nazism brought new relevance to the remake — a sad trend that continues today. Although fighting evil with humor has a long and checkered history, even a soft weapon is still a weapon. And viewed strictly as a comedy, this version is still a winner.

To Catch a Thief (1955) pairs Cary Grant and Grace Kelly in a lightweight crime thriller by Alfred Hitchcock. Contemporary audiences loved the pairing despite the 25-year age gap. Grant plays a suave former cat burglar who's suspected of resuming his jewel thievery; Kelly plays the glamorous daughter of a rich widow. They meet on the French Riviera while he tries to catch the real burglar. This breezy story is an excuse for Technicolor scenery, car chases on winding mountain roads, and legendary costume designer Edith Head's gorgeous gowns. Unfortunately, this was Kelly's third and last Hitchcock picture. She met Monaco's Prince Rainier on location, married him, and retired from acting.

Tokyo Joe (1949) was the first Hollywood picture filmed (partly) in Japan after World War II, and it's an interesting time capsule of that period. Humphrey Bogart stars as an American veteran returning to Tokyo to reclaim the nightclub business and wife he abandoned shortly before the war started. Both ventures are trickier than he expected and lead to trouble — with both the U.S. military occupation forces and Japanese gangsters. Although the occupation helped Japan develop a thriving democracy and economy, disgruntled Japanese veterans and fugitive war criminals threatened to derail the effort. This fictional story is a more nuanced view of the postwar recovery. Judged purely as a film, it's a passable drama.

Tombs of the Blind Dead (1972), originally La Noche del Terror Ciego, wastes great costume design and a perfect location on a weak zombie story. This joint Spanish-Portuguese production with dubbed English was filmed in the ruins of a real medieval monastery in Portugal. The zombies are Satan-worshipping Knights Templar who rise from their tombs and blindly hunt for victims. Even the knights' steeds wear fantastic ghostly garb. As usual in horror movies, the victims tend to be beautiful but clueless young women and the brave but clumsy young men who defend them. The visuals outshine the routine screenplay.

Tomorrowland (2015) is more likeable for its theme than for its filmmaking. Too bad, because a better movie is hiding in this jumble. George Clooney and remarkable child actress Raffey Cassidy star in a time-travel story about a bright future that may or may not happen, depending on our actions today. The theme is that pessimism and apocalyptic visions become self-fulfilling prophecies if we fall under their spells. But time-travel stories are always potentially disorienting, so they need special care to keep the narrative coherent. Unfortunately, writer/director Brad Bird fails on that count. It's not for lack of talent — he has written and directed several successful animated features for Pixar. In this live-action feature, though, he stumbles through the opening acts and dwells too long on gratuitous fight scenes. The second half is better, but a straightforward narrative would be more comprehensible without diluting the suspense or the message.

Too Late for Tears (1949) is a superb film noir starring my fave femme fatale, Lizabeth Scott. She plays a bored and greedy housewife who unexpectedly finds a satchel full of money. Her straight-lace hubby (an earnest Arthur Kennedy) wants to surrender the mysterious loot to the police, which would wreck her dreams of wealth and luxury. Then comes the satchel's claimant — a menacing crook who won't reveal the source of the cash. Watching Scott's character alternate between fear and manipulation is sheer bliss. Dan Duryea delivers a great performance in an unusual role as the bad guy who starts wondering if he's really the victim. Unlike many films noir, this one is easy to follow through its twists and turns. And it ends not with a bang, but with a scream.

Top Gun: Maverick (2022) is the satisfying sequel to Top Gun (1986), the hugely popular action movie about U.S. Navy fighter pilots. Tom Cruise is back as Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, a hotshot whose skill keeps saving his career despite infractions. Older now, he's tapped to train much younger pilots for a nearly suicidal mission to bomb an underground uranium-enrichment plant. (The movie never names the target nation, but it's implicitly Iran.) To add more drama, one trainee is the spiteful son of Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Maverick's buddy who died in the first movie. Val Kilmer reappears as "Iceman," another old friend, now an admiral. But the female co-stars from 1986 — Kelly McGillis and Meg Ryan — didn't make the grade this time; Jennifer Connelly is the new gal pal. (In Hollywood, estrogen doesn't age as well as testosterone.) Cruise insisted on filming the actors in real F/A-18 jets instead of using simulators and computer graphics, so the acting is more realistic than the story. For viewers, it's a thrill ride.

Total Recall (1990) ranks with Blade Runner (1982) as the best film adaptations of Philip K. Dick's science fiction. It translates the short story "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" into a rollicking action thriller starring Arnold Schwarzenegger as a construction worker who may or may not be a secret agent, depending on whether his memories are real or implanted. Sharon Stone delivers a memorable performance as his lovely wife, who may or may not be a deadly counteragent, depending on whether his secret mission is real or imagined. The question of reality versus fantasy energizes this movie, which is full of surprises. The special effects are exceptional, especially for a time when computer graphics were still immature. A twisted sense of humor adds spice. Like all good thrillers, this one leaves you hanging right to the end.

Touch of Evil (1958) is another Orson Welles masterpiece. Only 20 years earlier a boy genius, by 1958 he was already in danger of becoming a has-been. Yet again he proved his talent by co-writing, directing, and starring in this wicked murder drama placed on the Mexican border. Welles dons fattening prosthetics to play a corpulent, sleazy police detective. Charlton Heston in dark makeup is bizarrely cast as a Mexican police detective newly married to an American (Janet Leigh, as perfect for this role as she was two years later in Psycho.) Another oddity is German sex-bomb Marlene Dietrich as the madam of a Mexican whorehouse. It all adds to the perversity of this film, which gets surprisingly graphic for 1958. As usual, the studio mangled Welles' original version before release, but a 1998 restoration was guided by his 1957 protest memo. Any version is worth watching. The first scene is famous for a long unbroken tracking shot (3 minutes 20 seconds) filmed before Steadicam was invented. And the dramatic climax is among the best in film noir.

The Town (2010) is an above-average action movie directed by Ben Affleck, who also stars as the crooked but not hopelessly immoral leader of a bank-robber gang. His alter ego is a short-fused gunman played to perfection by Jeremy Renner (Oscar nominee for The Hurt Locker, 2009.) Their increasingly bold and violent robberies frustrate an FBI team led by Jon Hamm as a relentless special agent. To multiply the tension, Affleck's character is attracted to a hopelessly moral bank teller (a believable Rebecca Hall). This film could thrive as sheer entertainment but reaches for higher meaning and sometimes achieves it. At other times, impenetrable accents and an unnecessary revenge subplot get in the way. On balance, it's a cut above the typical action flick.

Toy Story (1995) freed animated children's movies from sugary Disney fairy tales by presenting a more complex story that's equally entertaining for adults. Although it was released by Walt Disney Pictures, it was produced by Pixar Animation Studios, the brainchild of Apple cofounder Steve Jobs. Toy Story was Pixar's first feature-length film and the first such film created entirely using computer graphics. Its innovative look has since been imitated by numerous other animated features as well as Pixar's own sequels and other film projects. The screenplay is equally novel. It's more mature and always glows with humor and spirit. The basic story is about a boy's toys who come alive when people aren't looking and have complex relationships with each other and the human world. It was the first animated screenplay nominated for a writing Oscar. Randy Newman reaped two more nominations for his original score and featured song. This brilliant work deservedly became an instant classic.

Toy Story 2 (1999) is a must-see for grownups as well as children — it's not often that a sequel is as brilliant as the original. Another triumph for the animation wizards at Pixar Animation Studios.

Toy Story 3 (2010) completes a trilogy of outstanding animated features that left me wanting more sequels — a rare accomplishment for any work in film. In this installment, a grown-up Andy prepares to depart for college and leave his boyhood (and toys) behind. Will his once-loved playthings be retired to the attic in hope of a next generation, or will they be forever entombed in a garbage dump? Turns out there's a third fate that may be heaven or hell — donation to a child-care center. Toy Story 3 is an adventure as compelling as any classic fairy tale, and it never lacks wit or cleverness. It's so good that you won't miss much if you skip the 3D version.

Traffic (2000) is perhaps the best film ever made about the impact of illegal drugs. It discards political correctness to bash liberals, conservatives, and Mexicans with equal abandon. Everyone should see it. Benicio Del Toro won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, and Steven Soderbergh won Best Director. Traffic also gathered Oscars for writing and film editing.

Training Day (2001) brought a long-deserved Academy Award to Best Actor Denzel Washington. Although his performance as a gritty LAPD narcotics cop in this film is superlative, I suspect he really won the Oscar for two overlooked performances: Malcolm X (1992) and The Hurricane (1999). Training Day is just another example of the high degree of craft that Washington brings to all his roles. He is strongly supported here by Ethan Hawke, who plays a good-cop rookie. Hawke's character is bamboozled by Washington's bad-cop character, and their ultimate conflict reveals the seamy gray area of undercover police work.

Trainspotting (1996) instantly attracted a cult following for its bleak humor. A young Ewan McGregor stars as Renton, one of several Scottish drug addicts wallowing in a lowlife existence. They support their habits with petty thievery, but only one is really bad. Robert Carlyle convincingly plays this character as a knife-wielding big talker with a violent short-fuse temper. Their misadventures multiply as they careen toward a major drug deal. This quirky film is equally funny and tragic. Be prepared for profanity, gross scenes, and dialogue so thick with Scottish accents and slang that subtitles are almost required for English speakers.

Transamerica (2005) is an offbeat drama about a Los Angeles transsexual who unexpectedly discovers she fathered a son during a brief affair before she became a woman. Now her son is a 17-year-old juvenile delinquent, jailed in New York City. Without disclosing her identity or relationship, she bails him out, and they embark on a road trip to California. Although this movie offers some insight into transsexuals, there's only one compelling reason to see it: Felicity Huffman of the TV show "Desperate Housewives" delivers an absolutely stunning performance as a transsexual man/woman. No wonder she was nominated for an Academy Award as Best Actress.

Trapped (1949) is an above-average film noir that was feared lost until preservationists restored a private collector's copy. Lloyd Bridges effectively plays a ruthless counterfeiter who escapes from prison and tries to recover his printing plates so he can make more cash. Barbara Payton is equally good as his flashy cigarette-girl lover. Several actors play G-men on his trail, but only John Hoyt stands out, barely. Although this picture opens with a stiff civics lesson on the U.S. Treasury Department, the U.S. Mint, and the Secret Service, it soon becomes a decent crime thriller with a twisty plot and rapid-fire dialogue, so pay attention. The climax is electrifying.

Travelin' Band: Creedence Clearwater Revival at the Royal Albert Hall (2022) resurrects archival film of a classic 1960s American rock band playing a concert in London on April 14, 1970. Led by singer/songwriter and guitarist John Fogerty, Creedence Clearwater Revival included his brother Tom on rhythm guitar, Doug Clifford on drums, and Stu Cook on bass. This documentary starts with actor Jeff Bridges narrating the band's history, then concludes with the full 42-minute concert. It's a remarkable record of a great band at its peak. They're very tight. If 42 minutes seems brief, it's because they move quickly from song to song with almost no chatter, pausing only to tune or switch their instruments. Another revelation is the concert's simplicity. It's just the musicians and their road amps — no elaborate staging or lighting. Creedence didn't need them.

Treasure Island (1934) is a rollicking adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson's classic 1883 novel. Jackie Cooper plays Jim Hawkins, the boy who's spellbound by pirate Long John Silver during a hunt for buried treasure on a tropical island. Wallace Beery delivers a growling over-the-top performance as the one-legged Silver, surpassing even the hammiest performances of his rowdy crew. The great Lionel Barrymore has a small role as another pirate hoarding the treasure map. Although somewhat dated, this movie holds up well and was a big production in its time.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948) won three Oscars but lost Best Picture to a nearly forgotten production of Hamlet. The more-famous classic today is Treasure. John Huston won Academy Awards for writing and directing the screenplay, and his father Walter Huston won Best Supporting Actor. The elder Huston upstages the star, Humphrey Bogart, although everyone in this outstanding picture is top-notch. Bogart plays a down-and-out American in 1920s Mexico who makes a new friend (Tim Holt) and recruits an grizzled old prospector (Walter Huston) to hunt for gold in remote Mexican mountains. Their struggles with wild nature, sly bandits, and hard labor are the least of their troubles, for this is a morality tale of greed, distrust, and betrayal. But humor softens its mean streak, and there's always another surprise coming. It's a masterpiece.

The Tree of Life (2011) is an ambitious attempt to portray three grand concepts: the universal cycle of life, the moral conflict between selfishness and compassion, and the promise of an afterlife. All this would be a big bite for a college course in philosophy or theology, much less for a 139-minute feature film. But writer/director Terrence Malick (The New World, The Thin Red Line, Days of Heaven) does surprisingly well, pushing film to its limits of artistic expression. First, he introduces his theme: the conflict between nature (struggle for survival) and grace (compassion, civilization). Then he starts at the very beginning, showing the creation of the universe and the evolution of life — processes that are frequently destructive and violent. Next he presents a middle-aged businessman (Sean Penn) haunted by the death of his younger brother and memories of an overbearing father (Brad Pitt) and nurturing mother (Jessica Chastain). Finally, Malick suggests redemption after physical death. Stunning cinematography, fine acting, and acute attention to detail make this film seem both epic and personal. Despite the vast timespan it covers, the story appears to move slowly — too slowly for some viewers. But The Tree of Life ranks with 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Koyaanisqatsi (1982) as a bold exploration of life in the medium of film.

Tremors (1990) launched several sequels, a prequel, and a TV series — not always a reliable indicator of quality, but in this case it is. Man-eating monsters burrowing underground are menacing a small, isolated town in the American West. The eccentric townfolk are slow to recognize the threat, but once aroused, they employ Yankee ingenuity and lots of guns (of course). This sci-fi thriller is a broad comedy with good performances from the whole cast, led by Kevin Bacon, Fred Ward, and Finn Carter. It holds up well.

The Trial (1962) adapts Franz Kafka's 1925 posthumously published novel in a film written and directed by Orson Welles. Given that provenance, we expect greatness, and Welles declared this picture his best work. But it's no match for his true masterpieces: Citizen Kane (1941) and Touch of Evil (1958). The Trial is less coherent and mired in needless dialogue. Welles isn't solely to blame. Kafka wanted these papers destroyed when he died, but his survivors rescued them and decided how to order the loose chapters. Welles's screenplay reorders them again and changes the ending. The basic story remains, however. Anthony Perkins plays a mid-level office worker arrested on undisclosed charges by secret police operating in an authoritarian state. His frustrating attempts to learn the charges and defend himself lead him from one unhelpful character to another. The acting is faultless, and the European location sets are terrific. This movie succeeds as a surrealistic dark comedy, but it tries too hard to be avant-garde.

Trilogy of Terror (1975) is an above-average made-for-TV movie of its era, thanks mainly to the talents of the late Karen Black. She stars in all three short films in this thriller. Then too, all three are based on stories by Richard Matheson, a skilled science-fiction and suspense writer. The first two segments are merely average and unsurprising if you're expecting a surprise. It's the last one that rocks. Karen Black is spectacular in "Amelia," a wild tale about a spooky Zuni doll.

The Trip to Bountiful (1985) won Geraldine Page the Academy Award for Best Actress, well deserved. This is one of the rare Hollywood movies centered on an older woman — Page was 60 at the time but looks older. She appears in almost every scene and rules every scene in which she appears. Her character is a fragile widow living in a cramped Houston house with her loyal son (John Heard) and bickering daughter-in-law (Carlin Glynn). Exasperated and nostalgic, she yearns to visit her rural childhood home in a small Texas town called Bountiful. Her desire soon clashes with the inevitable changes that time brings. This is an actor's movie with good supporting roles all around, but the drama hinges on Page, a veteran stage and screen actress. Horton Foote adapted the Oscar-nominated screenplay from his own 1953 teleplay.

A Trip to the Moon (French: Le Voyage dans la Lune, 1902) is the famous grandfather of all science-fiction movies. Made even before the Wrights flew the first airplane, it depicts a manned moonshot that's hilarious in most respects but prescient in others. This groundbreaking motion picture became the first international hit and featured revolutionary special effects. Inspired partly by a Jules Verne novel, it was the work of pioneering French filmmaker Georges Méliès. He labored for three months on this 16-minute production, which was an unusually long project and lengthy reel for its time. Hundreds of women laboriously hand-colored the original prints frame by frame. It's the first movie to depict extraterrestrials (moon men), who were portrayed by acrobats from the Folies Bergère in Paris. The story is pantomimed without dialogue cards. Prescient elements include the spacecraft (a capsule-shaped projectile) and an ocean splashdown recovery by a navy ship. The best version to watch is a careful restoration finished in 2010 and documented in The Extraordinary Voyage (2011), a/k/a Le Voyage Extraordinaire.

The Triplets of Belleville (2003) is an off-beat animated film from France. It has two things in common with Finding Nemo: it was nominated for a 2003 Academy Award in the animated-feature category, and it's laugh-out-loud funny. Otherwise, it couldn't be more different than Pixar's slick computer-generated cartoon, which won the Oscar. Triplets is more adult-oriented, though not risque, and the humor and artwork are far more bizarre. In pure animation, with no English subtitles, it tells the story of a matronly French woman who has a stupid dog and a bicyclist son. To say more would give away the numerous surprises, but it stays unconventional until almost the end.

Trog (1970) stars Joan Crawford in her last feature film, and she said it was her worst. Despite its minor cult following, few would argue that Crawford was slumming in this low-budget British thriller. She plays a compassionate scientist who captures and tries to civilize a missing-link ape-man discovered by spelunkers in an unexplored cave. The creature is a prehistoric relic from dinosaur days, even though primates and dinosaurs never coexisted. Crawford is a trouper, though, and she delivers the best performance among a mediocre cast.

The Trollenberg Terror (1958): see The Crawling Eye.

The Trouble With Harry (1955) flopped in the U.S. but was popular in the U.K., where audiences were more receptive to director Alfred Hitchcock's dark humor. This atypical departure from his usual thrillers centers on a corpse on the ground near a small New England town. Several residents discover the body, but they're unsure what to do about it. These eccentric characters include a retired sea captain, a middle-aged spinster, an abstract artist, a single mom, and her precocious son. All have their reasons for not involving the deputy sheriff, another oddball. Although this subtle comedy gained popularity over time, modern reviewers often find it too dated. It's also known for introducing Shirley MacLaine in her first feature film.

Troubles (1914): see Making a Living.

Troy (2004) condenses and distorts the story of the Trojan War as told by Homer in the Illiad. But then, nobody knows how accurate Homer's version is, either. In this Hollywood blockbuster, heartthrob Brad Pitt plays Achilles as a reluctant warrior who fights only for personal glory, not for gods and country. Orlando Bloom plays Paris, a Trojan prince who provokes war by stealing Helen, wife of the king of Sparta. Diane Kruger is Helen, whose "face launched a thousand ships" — the Greek invasion fleet dispatched to get her back. The strong point of this lightweight but entertaining movie is the computerized special effects, which allow the fleets and armies to seem adequately vast. One disappointment is failing to explain the vulnerability of Achilles' heel.

True Grit (2010) is a grittier remake of the 1969 Western drama that won John Wayne his sole Oscar. Jeff Bridges, another Oscar laureate, reprises the role of Rooster Cogburn, a coarse U.S. marshal who helps a spunky frontier girl pursue the outlaw who murdered her father. Matt Damon co-stars as a flashy but resolute Texas Ranger on the same deadly trail. But good as they are, Damon and Bridges are outstaged by newcomer Hailee Steinfeld. Her steely portrayal of the determined daughter is the best screen debut since Noomi Rapace defined the role of Lisbeth Salander in the Swedish Millennium trilogy. Both girls mix grit with guile. The dialogue, written by Oscar winners Joel and Ethan Coen (No Country For Old Men), sounds unrealistically formal and is sometimes difficult to decipher, yet somehow it rings true. Rarely does a remake overshadow an instant classic by becoming another instant classic.

The True Meaning of Pictures: Shelby Lee Adams' Appalachia (2002) debates whether Adams' photographs of poor mountain folk in Kentucky are respectful or exploitative. This documentary film about a documentary photographer considers both sides but leans toward Adams, who has published multiple books of his in situ portraits. Himself bred in a Kentucky mountain town, Adams spent years visiting the impoverished inhabitants of remote "hollers" who live in a world apart. He wins the cooperation of his subjects and carefully photographs them with a tripod-mounted large-format view camera, b&w film, and umbrella-flash lights. The results are starkly lit images that reveal every detail. Often they're shocking — pictures of crippled old people, disfigured young people, mentally disabled offspring, and decrepit shacks. Critics say he poses his subjects too carefully and that they don't understand how outsiders view them. Adams defends himself as a compassionate observer. Although by journalistic standards his pictures are sometimes overstaged, they are worthy documents of a backwoods American subculture.

Trumbo (2015) dramatizes the Cold War persecution of Dalton Trumbo, a successful novelist (Johnny Got His Gun, 1939) and Hollywood screenwriter (Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo, Roman Holiday, The Brave One, Spartacus, Exodus, among many others). Before World War II, he was an anti-fascist isolationist. Later he joined the Communist Party USA. His politics became ruinous during the postwar years. After an uncooperative appearance before the U.S. House Un-American Activities Committee, he was imprisoned for contempt of Congress and blacklisted. Desperate for work, he wrote screenplays under pseudonyms and friends' names. Two won Oscars — Roman Holiday (1953) and The Brave One (1956) — for which he received no credit until years later. Trumbo is a generally factual drama that sympathizes with a nonviolent communist who stood on his First Amendment rights to the detriment of his career and family. It's well made and relevant today in debates over "cancel culture" from both ends of the political spectrum.

Trust the Man (2006) begins with childish potty humor in the very first scene. Literally. Surely, one thinks, the lowbrow banter is merely a clever setup for the sophisticated adult humor to follow. But no. Writer/director Bart Freundlich can't tell the difference between trashy sex talk and adult conversation. Even his attempts to stage serious, soul-baring scenes read like screenwriter clip art. He squanders a good cast: David Duchovny, Julianne Moore, Billy Crudup, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Garry Shandling, Ellen Barkin, and more. Hailed by some critics as an ideal date movie in the vein of Woody Allen, Trust the Man isn't even fit for Fox TV.

Twelve O'Clock High (1949) won praise from veterans as Hollywood's most realistic depiction of U.S. bombing missions over Europe early in World War II. No wonder: screenwriters Sy Barlett and Beirne Lay Jr. were Air Corps vets, and director Henry King employed experienced airmen as consultants. The major characters are based on real people, and the air raids reflect actual events. Although genuine combat footage bolsters the mission scenes, most of the drama happens on base when a strict brigadier general (Gregory Peck) relieves a popular group commander (Gary Merrill) to reform a "hard-luck" B-17 bomber unit. Their contrasting leadership styles, the rigors of air combat, and the morale problems of young men under stress are central to this excellent film. Peck's characteristic stiff acting suits his role as an "irontail" commanding officer.

The Two Jakes (1990) is the disappointing sequel to Chinatown (1974), a neo-noir classic. Jack Nicholson returns as Jake Gittes, a Los Angeles private detective who seems to attract devious clients, crooked businessmen, tricky dames, and cruel gangsters. This story, again written by Robert Towne, takes place shortly after World War II. Gittes' plan to expose a wife's infidelity suddenly explodes into homicide, police trouble, gangster threats, land disputes, and oil-industry intrigue. Film noir is famous for twisty plots, and this one is especially hard to follow, more so if you haven't recently seen Chinatown. Despite superb performances and cinematography, it's too cluttered. Some blame Nicholson's direction; Roman Polanski masterminded its predecessor.

Two of a Kind (1951) features two film-noir stars in a daring scheme to defraud an elderly millionaire. Lizabeth Scott plays the femme fatale who recruits a small-change crook (Edmond O'Brien) to pose as the rich man's long-lost son and heir. To carry out their plan, he must give up something irreplaceable and step up his game. It's a tall order, but the payoff will be huge. Although this thriller has energy, it takes a silly detour when the impostor must woo the millionaire's niece. The failed comedy almost ruins the drama. Fortunately, the climax gets back on track. The result is a flawed film that nevertheless has merit.

The Two Mrs. Carrolls (1947) miscasts Humphrey Bogart as a psychologically troubled artist. Even this great actor looks unconvincing in both aspects of the role. Barbara Stanwyck is much better as his extramarital lover and later his wife, although the film's jump to her spousal status is abrupt and initially confusing. The opening scenes tease a romance, but quickly we learn that Bogart's character is a bald-faced liar. From there, the movie gradually becomes a thriller and a not-very-mysterious mystery. Alexis Smith stands out as a bold seductress with a stunning wardrobe. This picture is a rare example of Bogart actually weakening the story, especially toward the end. Consider it a rehearsal for his Oscar-nominated portrayal of an unstable character seven years later in The Caine Mutiny.

Ugetsu a/k/a Ugetsu Monogatari (1953) is a beautifully photographed Japanese film that established the international reputation of director Kenji Mizoguchi. The title means "Rain-Moon Tales," and it's based on two Japanese short stories from 1776 and a French story from 1883. From these disparate sources, Mizoguchi weaves a well-integrated plot about two peasant families struggling to survive during a Japanese civil war in the 1500s. One husband is eager to exploit wartime demand for his pottery; the other yearns to be a samurai. Their wives are more wary. This atmospheric film melds historical drama with supernatural mystery. It won rare international acclaim: an Oscar nomination for costume design and the Silver Lion award at the Venice Film Festival. It's as watchable today as it was in 1953.

Un Homme et une Femme a/k/a A Man and a Woman (1966) was a low-budget sleeper hit that entranced international audiences and won several top awards. Even the musical score was a smash. Anouk Aimée and Jean-Louis Trintignant star as lonely single parents who meet when their children attend the same boarding school. Their romance slowly simmers until a dramatic event brings it to a boil. But both are haunted by their pasts, which threaten their chance at new happiness. Like other French New Wave films, this one moves at a deliberate pace that bores some viewers. Director Claude Lelouch prefers to show, not tell, his story — and it's a story that resonates with many people. It won Oscars for Best Foreign Film and Original Screenplay; Lelouch and Aimée were nominated. It also won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival and Golden Globes for Lelouch and Aimée.

Une Nuit Sur le Mont Chauve (1933): see A Night on Bald Mountain.

The Undead (1957) is one of the best works by director Roger Corman, the king of low-budget camp. True to form, it's campy, silly, and far-fetched even for a sci-fi horror flick. But it's also poetic, amusing, and thought provoking. It reminds me of Ingmar Bergman's classic The Seventh Seal, released the same year. No, they aren't on the same plane, but the settings are similar, and both films challenge a leading character with a dilemma of life, death, and the mystery of eternity. The Undead stars Pamela Duncan as a modern-day streetwalker sent to the Middle Ages by a scientist using an exotic Tibetan hypnosis technique. She enters a past life, wrongly sentenced to death for witchcraft. But will her escape only pose another dilemma? Although Duncan's performance is par, she's eclipsed by Mel Welles as a rhyming gravedigger, Dorothy Neumann as a friendly witch, Allison Hayes as an unfriendly witch, and Billy Barty as a devilish imp. The Undead ranks with The Little Shop of Horrors (1960) and A Bucket of Blood (1959) as Corman classics.

Under Siege (1992) caters to fans of high-body-count action movies that strain credulity. Steven Seagal plays a former U.S. Navy SEAL demoted to cook who tries to retake a warship from domestic terrorists who want to auction its nukes to global bidders. The vessel is the USS Missouri, a World War II battleship reactivated in the 1980s before retirement in 1992. Despite the improbability of one man recapturing a huge ship — and prolific automatic-weapons fire that somehow doesn't ricochet in the narrow corridors — this action flick is better than most.

The Underworld Story (1950) is an above-average drama riding almost entirely on the capable shoulders of film-noir veteran Dan Duryea. But instead of playing his usual role of a crook, he's a conniving reporter who's blacklisted after writing a story that gets a mob witness killed. Exiled from the city, he talks his way into a small-town newspaper and is soon embroiled in a murder scandal. The supporting cast struggles to play even second fiddle to his manic performance. Oddly, one cast member is a white-as-snow actress (Mary Anderson) who sympathetically plays a black maid — a concession to prejudiced Southern audiences of the 1950s.

The Undying Monster (1942) features the film debut of Charles McGraw but otherwise is a below-average werewolf thriller. McGraw, later famous as a film-noir tough guy, has a bit part as a servant and already wears his trademark grimace. The rest of the cast is unremarkable, as is the story, which is further hobbled by lame attempts at humor. Lon Chaney Jr.'s werewolf movies are much better.

Unfrosted (2024) debuts comedian Jerry Seinfeld as the director, co-writer, and star in a quick-witted farce about the invention of Pop-Tarts. It fictionalizes a feud between the two corporate giants of breakfast cereals: Kelloggs and Post. They're spying on each other while trying to develop a new breakfast pastry. Seinfeld's fingerprints are all over this comedy, which abounds in crazy characters and zippy one-liners. A great cast includes Melissa McCarthy, Hugh Grant, Amy Schumer, Peter Dinklage, Christian Slater, Jon Hamm, Cedric the Entertainer, and Saturday Night Live regulars Mikey Day and Kyle Mooney. One amusing scene mocks the January 6, 2021 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. Two jokes in poor taste should be cut, though: one about NASA astronaut Gus Grissom (killed in the 1967 Apollo fire) and another about President John F. Kennedy (assassinated in 1963).

The Uninvited (1944) muddles a promising haunted-house story with confusing dialogue. Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey play unusually close adult siblings who buy an abandoned seaside manse in England. Despite numerous teasers, the mild scares are a long time coming. Then the plot fumbles over a backstory about two women who met untimely deaths and a 20-year-old granddaughter who behaves like a child. Add a curiously strict grandfather, a country doctor amenable to séances, and the stern proprietor of a mental institution who's vaguely lesbian. Although the infrequent special effects were so good for 1944 that British censors cut them, this flawed thriller is more talky than scary.

Unseen (2016) is a documentary about serial killer Anthony Sowell, whose 11 murders of black women in Cleveland went undiscovered for years. By targeting drug addicts and prostitutes in his rundown neighborhood, Sowell flew under the police radar. Even when some of his near-victims escaped his clutches, they were either disbelieved or declined to file complaints. When a rape victim finally grabbed the cops' attention in 2009, investigators found 11 bodies decomposing in Sowell's house or buried in his backyard. Director Laura Paglin captures emotional interviews with the survivors and with some children and friends of the ones who died. Although this film focuses on the murders, it also documents a depressed neighborhood eroded by drug abuse.

Unsupersize Me (2013) resembles an infomercial but is really an unpolished yet sincere documentary promoting veganism. Filmmaker and self-star Juan-Carlos "Carly" Asse operates the Zen Fitness health club in Gainesville, Florida and sells a few products online, such as DVDs and vegan cookbooks. This film isn't a pushy sales pitch, though. Instead, Carly champions a strict vegan diet for weight loss and general health. His centerpiece case study is Tracy Ryan, a former 245-pound woman who lost 200 pounds in one year on the Zen Fitness diet and training regimen. The filmmaking is amateurish but makes the point.

The Unsuspected (1947) is a beautiful but cluttered film noir starring Claude Rains and Audrey Totter. Despite the title, the suspect won't stay unsuspected for long. Rains is perfect as the star host of a true-crime radio show whose assistant is murdered in the opening scenes. Totter plays his dotty niece who's curiously uncurious about the killing, which the police initially rule a suicide. Although more characters enter the story, no one seems to have a motive. The climax solves the crime without really explaining it. Nevertheless, this movie is worth watching because it's so stylish.

Up (2009) is Pixar's latest computer-animated feature, and it's unusual for a movie geared toward children: the main character is an old man. But screenwriters Bob Peterson and Pete Docter cleverly begin their story by showing the elderly codger (voiced by Ed Asner) as a young boy. In a rapid series of flashbacks, he grows up, marries, ages, and suffers the inevitable pains of aging. Youngsters can identify with the character and perhaps grasp that old people weren't always old. Soon he gains a young boy as a sidekick. Together, they embark on a journey to a lost world in South America, where the man hopes to fulfill a lifelong dream. Up is quick-witted, surprising, beautifully rendered, and entertaining. The 3-D version is gorgeous without being gimmicky.

Up in the Air (2009) is the first major feature film in which the Great Recession plays center stage (not counting Michael Moore's documentary, Capitalism: A Love Story). It's about a professional layoff expert (deftly portrayed by George Clooney) who flies around the country, delivering bad news to workers whose bosses can't stomach delivering the bad news themselves. However, the recession angle feels like a plot revision, amplified with clips of nonactors who really were laid off. Actually, this movie is about the elitism of first-class business travel, fleeting affairs on the road, and the doldrums of middle age. In a role-reversal twist, Vera Farmiga is perfect as a traveling businesswoman with a roaming libido. Anna Kendrick contributes a good performance as a tightly wound young whippersnapper. The last "layoff" ultimately defines this story, but it's blunted by an unnecessary coda that returns to the recession theme.

Us (2019) is a disappointing horror film written and directed by the talented Jordan Peele. Unlike his previous film (Get Out, 2017), this one ends with an illogical plot twist reminiscent of an M. Night Shyamalan head-scratcher. A family on summer vacation in Santa Cruz, California is terrorized by mysterious people who appear to be their evil twins. The movie is a nonstop thrill ride with excellent acting, most notably by Lupita Nyong'o, who plays the family's fierce matriarch, and Shahadi Wright Joseph, the teen daughter. It's all good until the end, when a surprise twist that's inconsistent with the rest of the story throws viewers for a loop. In this case, Peele is trying a little too hard to build on his hit with Get Out.

The Usual Suspects (1995) is a crime-caper flick that tries to be clever by spoofing us with increasingly confusing plot twists, and indeed it won an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. But the misdirection serves mainly to dress up a violent climax, and the big reveal doesn't really explain the confusion. There's lots of needless dialogue and flat attempts at dark humor. The story is about five criminals united by accident who embark on several capers and eventually find themselves over their heads. Then one character (well played by Kevin Spacey, who won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor) tells police about a mysterious crime boss who may be manipulating everything. This twist turns the story in yet another direction — or misdirection? It makes more sense on a second viewing but isn't worth the trouble.

Valkyrie (2008) is based on the true story of high-ranking German army officers who tried to assassinate Adolf Hitler in 1944. Tom Cruise plays Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, the combat-veteran officer who led the plot. Surprisingly for a Hollywood movie, Valkyrie hews close to actual history, even including small details that only scholars will notice. Cruise portrays Stauffenberg as a German patriot driven to save his country from the evils of fascism and the consequences of total defeat. His performance is adequate, perhaps a little too strident. The main attraction of this film is its faithful dramatization of a little-known incident that could have changed history.

Valley of the Dolls (1967) adapts Jacqueline Susann's bestseller about three show-biz women seduced by fame, pills, booze, and disloyal men. The novel must be better, because this picture is an oddly disjointed melodrama. Patty Duke, Barbara Parkins, and Sharon Tate star as the three wayward women. ("Dolls" is also slang for pills.) Duke gets the most dramatic scenes as she tries to break away from her sugary teenage characters in TV's The Patty Duke Show. Tate's performance is stiff, but unfortunately she became unforgettable when Charles Manson's hippie gang murdered her two years later. Although famous composer John Williams wrote the Oscar-nominated score, it's strangely mismatched in several scenes. This movie tries to capture the psychedelic 1960s but feels more like a B-grade 1950s production.

Vanilla Sky (2001) is the most intriguing mainstream-film exploration of reality and illusion since Total Recall (1990). Tom Cruise stars as a rich playboy who is painfully disfigured in an accident...or is he? Then he's charged with murder...or is he? And who are the mysterious people who haunt his memories? Unfortunately, the filmmakers feel obliged to explain everything in tedious detail in the overlong conclusion, not trusting the audience to tolerate even a bit of the ambiguity that energizes a truly fascinating film like Mulholland Drive (2001). Still, Vanilla Sky is an interesting piece of work.

The Vanquished a/k/a I Vinti (1953) is an early film by Italian writer/director Michelangelo Antonioni that shows little of his later talent. Best known for Blow-Up (1966) and Zabriskie Point (1970), Antonioni bases this episodic trilogy on the "juvenile delinquent" scares of the 1950s. The common theme is teens gone rogue. The first two segments are mediocre and end confusingly. The third is more intriguing and prophetic — foreshadowing some scenes in Blow-Up — but also injects lame attempts at humor with a running joke. This film is mainly of interest to Antonioni completists.

The Vault of Horror a/k/a Further Tales of the Crypt a/k/a Tales of the Crypt II (1973) comprises five short horror stories related as nightmares by five men trapped in a strange basement. Their dreams include vampires, voodoo, murders, and gory accidents. This British film wasn't a big-budget production but is quite well done and best seen uncut. Some versions delete the most graphic scenes (tame by today's standards) or truncate the surprise climaxes.

The Verdict (1946) stars Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre in a tidy crime thriller. It's 1890, and a Scotland Yard superintendent (Greenstreet) has inadvertently hanged an innocent defendant for murder. Replaced as superintendent by an boastful younger man, he works privately to right the wrong. Then another murder related to the first one complicates the case — it's a classic locked-room mystery. Lorre plays a high-life artist who may be a suspect. This lively whodunit keeps you guessing until the end.

Veronica Guerin (2003) is based on the true story of an Irish newspaper reporter who was killed by drug dealers in 1996 after writing a series of sensational articles about their underworld. Cate Blanchett deftly portrays Guerin as a fiercely determined woman who conceals her fear and projects a public persona of confidence, even cockiness. At times, however, Guerin acts recklessly, seemingly unaware of how dangerous the subjects of her exposés really are — with tragic consequences. Although the ending of this story is never in doubt, the film is suspenseful, and it presents Guerin as a real human being with character flaws, not just a crusading hero.

Vertigo (1958) vies with Rear Window (1954) as director Alfred Hitchcock's supreme masterpiece. The great James Stewart stars as an acrophobic police detective guilt-tripping over the plunging death of a fellow officer. Prematurely retired, he reluctantly agrees to investigate the suspicious behavior of a friend's wife (brilliantly played by Kim Novak). As he follows her around San Francisco, she becomes even more mysterious. Is she suicidal? Does she believe in reincarnation? When another dizzying death knocks him further off balance, this drama takes even stranger turns. Throughout it, Stewart and Novak are outstanding as characters with multiple facets. Barbara Bel Geddes co-stars as a woman who loves Stewart's character but who is unable to win his attention. Her disappearance adds evidence to alternative interpretations, including theories that some or all of this story is a psychotic dream. From any perspective, Vertigo is a must-see classic.

A Very Long Engagement (2004) was one of the best movies of the year, nominated for two Oscars (Art Direction and Cinematography). Audrey Tautou, the lovable star of Amelie (2001), plays the French fiancée of a young World War I soldier condemned to die for cowardice. After the war, she refuses to accept his death and embarks on a heartbreaking search to find him. This is an emotionally moving film about the power of love and the brutality of war, marred only by a storyline that sometimes gets a little too complicated to follow. But the acting, dialogue, and cinematography are exceptional. (In French with English subtitles.)

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008) is an offbeat romance written and directed by Woody Allen. He doesn't appear in the film, deferring to younger stars like Javier Bardem, Scarlett Johansson, Rebecca Hall, and Patricia Clarkson. Set in Spain, the movie follows two young American tourists (played by Johansson and Hall) who meet an impetuous artist (the amazing Bardem, who was the sociopathic killer in No Country For Old Men). Adding to the volatile mix is the artist's ex-wife, a fiery character played by Penelope Cruz, a highlight of the film. This love quadrangle becomes even more entangled after the arrival of one tourist's American fiance. The results are funny, sexy, and romantic, though these characters seem to exist in a world without money worries or STDs. By the end, everyone seems spoiled and frivolous.

The Village (2004) is a typical film by writer/director M. Night Shyamalan (Signs, Unbreakable, The Sixth Sense): a tense thriller with a surprise ending and huge plot holes. This time, the story is about an isolated village of Amishlike people who appear to live a simple, happy life. Their peace, however, is really an uneasy truce with mysterious monsters who prowl the surrounding forest. Manned watchtowers and burning torches guard the village's perimeter at night. Any human intrusion into the woods might provoke an attack, so the villagers lead their rustic lives against a backdrop of fear and superstition. Unfortunately, the long buildup to the surprise ending has more tedium than tension, and the twist is only slightly more plausible than those in Shyamalan's previous films. Is the villagers' fear of the unseen creatures really any better than another fear the village elders are trying to escape? Is the movie a commentary on gated communities? Or is it a parable of American isolationism? This flawed but curious film might gain meaning as the years go by.

Village of the Damned (1960) is a suspenseful thriller about strange events in an English village that inexplicably lead to the births of 12 strange children. They seem to have supernatural powers, and the adults aren't sure what to do about it. George Sanders ably plays a science professor who wants to study the kids and teach them to become useful geniuses. The British government and military are rather more suspicious. Although tame by modern standards, this is a fine thriller that spawned an equally fine sequel, Children of the Damned (1964), and a 1995 remake.

Violent Saturday (1955) isn't violent by modern standards, but we know Lee Marvin is playing a really bad guy when he stomps on a child's hand in an early scene. This interesting crime thriller would be a typical film noir if not for its bright Cinemascope color production and Arizona location. The main plot involves businesslike robbers planning to raid a small-town bank. Meanwhile, the bank manager is obsessed with a pretty young nurse who attracts the rich alcoholic son who will inherit the town's copper-mining company, which employs a good-guy manager (Victor Mature) whose own son is ashamed because the father didn't win medals in World War II. Also meanwhile, the alcoholic's wife is tramping with a swinger at their hoity-toity country club. Then there's the librarian who is indebted to the bank that's about to be robbed and is tempted to steal money to pay her bill and has an uncomfortable confrontation with the bank manager who's obsessed with the nurse. On top of all this, Ernest Borgnine plays a pacifist Amish farmer who unknowingly becomes entangled in the robbery scheme. If this movie sounds like a mess, trust me, it isn't.

The Virgin Spring (Swedish: Jungfrukällan, 1960) won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film and cemented Ingmar Bergman as Sweden's greatest filmmaker. Although Bergman regular Max von Sydow stars as the patriarch of a peasant family in medieval Sweden, his role is minor until the end. Three lesser-known performers drive this drama: Birgitta Pettersson as the family's spoiled daughter, Birgitta Valberg as her indulgent mother, and Gunnel Lindblom as a spiteful servant girl. They are superb. Based on a 13th-century ballad, the story pits virgin innocence against female jealousy and male aggression. The violence is bitter, but forgiveness and redemption are possible. This beautifully photographed film also creates an evocative atmosphere of medieval peasant life — a refreshing departure from most period dramas that center on royals and nobles.

The Virgin Suicides (2000) is an extraordinary debut for writer/director Sofia Coppola. This story about a bizarre teenage suicide and its emotional aftermath evokes the awkwardness and claustrophobia of adolescence more strongly than any film in recent memory.

Vishniac (2023) documents the life of Roman Vishniac, an amateur scientist and photographer who recorded haunting images of Jewish communities in Europe before the Holocaust. As the Nazis began persecuting Jews in the 1930s, Vishniac roamed Europe with his cameras, working partly for himself and partly for an American charity that sponsored refugees. Vishniac and his own family barely escaped the horror. Years later, his photographs of a vanished world still captivate viewers. Even apart from their historical value, his images and descriptions rank among the best reportage of the 20th century. Vishniac also won fame for his studies of microscopic organisms. This excellent documentary includes interviews with his daughter and grandchildren.

Viva Las Vegas (1964) was Elvis Presley's most popular movie, but co-star Ann-Margret upstages him in every scene. His famous gyrations look tame next to her Brownian motion. And she's stunningly sexy with her neck-to-feet legs and minute-to-minute costume changes. Although Elvis excels as a singer, she holds her own in that respect, too. Their screen chemistry is fortunate, because this glitzy Hollywood production is mostly musical. The thin plot casts Elvis as an aspiring race-car driver trying to scrounge enough money for a new engine. Ann-Margret plays an overqualified pool manager at the Flamingo. (Vintage hotel-casinos abound in this 1964 film; few remain.) Watch this flick for its campy humor, wild choreography, and early-1960s ambiance.

Vivre Sa Vie a/k/a My Life to Live a/k/a It's My Life (1962) shows the descent of an aspiring actress into prostitution. Jean-Luc Godard directed this classic of French New Wave cinema and cast the beautiful Anna Karina in the lead role. Her character, Nana, is broke and yearns for a break into motion pictures. When she can't pay her rent, she slides into the older profession. Godard filmed this largely scriptless drama in vignettes that sometimes question life, language, and role playing. It veers from slow cinema to high-minded philosophy before ending abruptly. Unless you're a French New Wave fan, Karina's performance is the main reason to watch this arty film.

Vox Lux (2018) begins with a bang, then loses momentum. And then it confuses us with an abrupt transition in which the same actress plays a different character. Too bad, because the opening promises a socially relevant movie about school shootings and pop-culture celebrity fame. Raffey Cassidy stars as Celeste, a 14-year-old girl involved in one of those senseless massacres that have plagued American schools since Columbine in 1999. The film's fictional shooting takes place the same year. At a memorial service, Celeste moves the crowd with an original song. It's a surprise hit, and soon she's bound for pop-music stardom. Suddenly the movie jumps forward 18 years. It's not immediately apparent that a different actress (Natalie Portman) is now Celeste while Cassidy plays her teen daughter. Moreover, Celeste has changed so radically that it's difficult to relate her new personality with her younger self. Although Portman is great, this movie is like two movies, and it ends with repetitive scenes that pad it to feature length.

Voyage of the Damned (1976) dramatizes a real event on the cusp of World War II: the ocean liner St. Louis carrying 937 Jewish refugees from Germany was refused landing in Cuba, the USA, and Canada. Despite a starry cast and obvious opportunities for drama, this movie bombed at the box office. One reason is that it dilutes the historical facts with the usual Hollywood distortions. Another reason, perhaps, is that it exposes a shameful episode in which free nations critical of Nazi Germany's antisemitism failed to save hundreds of desperate people. Postwar guilt led the USA and other countries to loosen their asylum laws — reforms now under attack as more desperate people search for safe havens.

Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women (1968) is a pointless mashup of footage from Russian sci-fi films made in 1959 and 1962 plus new American scenes and English overdubs added in 1965 and 1968. Why so much effort was expended to make such an awful movie is baffling. Of some historical interest is the Russian footage, offering a glimpse of Soviet film production during the early Space Age. The overdubbed dialogue is ridiculous, but it's unclear whether the Russian script was translated or rewritten. All scenes of scantily clad Venusian women are American additions in a desperate attempt to make the visit to that planet more appealing.

Wait Until Dark (1967) stars Audrey Hepburn in a tense crime thriller. If you think Hepburn was miscast in anything but a rom-com, think again. She reaped an Oscar nomination for playing a recently blinded woman who's innocently enmeshed in a heroin-smuggling plot. Alan Arkin excels as a sociopathic mastermind who won't take "no" for an answer. Richard Crenna and Jack Weston play ex-cops gone slightly less bad. Although their plan to trick the woman is ridiculously complex, it serves to stretch the suspense to a breaking point in the climax.

Waiting for Godot (1961) adapted Samuel Beckett's absurdist-comedy stage play for broadcast television. It was produced by a New York TV station and syndicated to other local stations. Now restored, it's available for Internet streaming. It stars Burgess Meredith as Vladimir, Zero Mostel as Estragon, Kurt Kasznar as Pozzo, Alvin Epstein as Lucky, and Luke Halpin as The Boy. This sparse but well-acted production divides Beckett's two-act play into five acts to leave room for commercials (now removed) but otherwise remains faithful to the famous original. Vladimir and Estragon are wanderers waiting for a rendezvous with Godot, a mysterious off-stage character. Pozzo and Lucky are a master-slave pair of passersby. Nothing much happens, and the dense dialogue is mostly idle chatter sprinkled with religious references and philosophy. Further description is pointless; this opaque work baffles most viewers and spawns many interpretations.

Waiting for Guffman (1996) is a hilarious mockumentary about a small-town community theater expecting a visit from a big-city theater critic. Desperate to make the best possible impression that might lead to greater things, everyone involved in the production spares no effort in preparation. To further stir the pot, a high-school music teacher who claims Broadway experience asserts more control. It's a great comedy setup, and the inspired ensemble cast includes Christopher Guest, Fred Willard, Catherine O'Hara, Parker Posey, Eugene Levy, and Bob Balaban. Guest directed and co-wrote the screenplay with Levy. It's in the same vein as Guest's other mockumentaries, such as This Is Spinal Tap (1984), Best of Show (2000), and A Mighty Wind (2003).

Waitress (2007) is the artful but tragic legacy of Adrienne Shelly, the 40-year-old writer, director, and actress who was murdered while completing this film. Waitress is her tour de force. It's about a young woman who feels trapped in her sad marriage and dead-end job at a roadside diner. An unwanted pregnancy and potential love affair complicate her life still further. Keri Russell stars as Jenna, the suffering waitress. Shelly, who wrote and directed, plays a comic-relief supporting role as a colleague in search of love. This well-turned drama combines elements of Fried Green Tomatoes (1991), Bagdad Cafe (1987), and Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974), spiced with lots of good character acting. It's a shame we won't see more of Shelly's work.

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story (2007) is a mock biopic of a fictional rock-a-billy singer patterned after Johnny Cash. It helps if you've seen Cash's 2005 biopic, Walk the Line, but it's not essential. Starting from humble country roots, Cox launches his meteoric career in the 1950s and takes detours into folk music in the 1960s, disco in the 1970s, and even hip-hop mashups in the 2000s. John C. Reilly is superb as Cox, singing original songs that sound authentic — until you listen closely to the clever lyrics. This movie is lots of fun but would be funnier if writer/director Jake Kasdan and cowriter Judd Apatow had put more trust in their witty satire instead of resorting to adolescent sight gags. This Is Spinal Tap (1984) is a better musical mockumentary.

Walk the Line (2005) is an interesting but crippled biopic about the early life of Johnny Cash. Even if you aren't a Johnny Cash fan, it's an entertaining rags-to-riches story that doesn't ignore his troubles with drugs, drink, and women. Unfortunately, it fails miserably to convince anyone that Joaquin Phoenix is Johnny Cash. Phoenix, a good actor poorly cast for this role, looks too slick and cynical to portray a much-loved country-western singer whose face was so distinctive and so rural-American ethnic. It's like knotty-pine paneling pretending to be pine bark. Surprisingly, Phoenix's vocal performance — he sings all the Johnny Cash songs in the movie — is better than his character acting. Better yet is co-star Reese Witherspoon as June Carter, Johnny's second wife. Witherspoon won the Best Actress Oscar for nailing the look, diction, and manners of a Southern Baptist country-western singer, in the days before cartoon versions of C&W performers became popular.

Walking Tall (1973) dramatizes the true story of Buford Pusser, a Tennessee sheriff who cracked down on sleazy criminals in his corrupt county. This sleeper hit premiered when many Americans craved tougher law enforcement — a recurring theme. Joe Don Baker forcefully portrays Pusser as a no-nonsense ass-kicker who talks loudly and wields a big stick. Literally, because he totes a wooden club instead of a gun. (It's one of many ways this violent movie stretches the truth.) Not coincidentally, this drama about brutal law enforcement appeared shortly after Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry won acclaim.

Wall-E (2008) is a fun computer-animated feature from Pixar. Centuries in the future, "Wall-E" is the last surviving robot on an uninhabited Earth. Unaware that his job is irrelevant, Wall-E spends his days compacting garbage and stacking the cubes in massive piles. A lone cockroach is his only companion — until a space probe searching for organic life arrives. The story sounds bleak, but it stays lively. I liked the unusual mix of animation styles, from cartoonish to photorealistic. The robot and storyline are reminiscent of the science-fiction cult masterpiece Silent Running (1972). Some wingnuts bash Wall-E for portraying garbage, pollution, and overindulgent consumerism as bad things, but my criticism is the absurd ending. It couldn't possibly have been written by anyone familiar with the amount of work involved in growing food.

War of the Colossal Beast a/k/a The Colossal Beast or Revenge of the Colossal Man (1958) is an average sci-fi flick and sequel to The Amazing Colossal Man (1957). Flashbacks explain how a U.S. Army officer grew 60 feet tall after radiation exposure (the 1950s go-to explanation for anything weird). Although in the previous film he supposedly died after terrorizing Las Vegas and falling off Hoover Dam, this time he reappears in Mexico and ends up terrorizing Los Angeles. In every way, it's a routine 1950s monster movie.

War Horse (2011) is the sentimental story of an English farm horse sold to the cavalry during World War I. His previous owner, a forthright farm boy (ably played by Jeremy Irvine), later joins the army and tries to get him back. In adapting this movie from a British novel and stage play, director Steven Spielberg and the screenwriters use the horse as a common story thread. Several people take possession of the animal in turn, only to lose it to someone else. In a Spielberg movie, there's little doubt where the horse will end up. And the final scene is so overdone that it would embarrass a film-school student. Nevertheless, this 146-minute drama stays interesting and doesn't blow its realism with the usual Spielberg fantasy touch. (Warning: the violence and simulated animal abuse may distress small children.)

War Photographer (2001) is a well-made documentary about James Nachtwey, a photojournalist who specializes in conflict reportage. He has covered almost every war from the 1980s to the 2010s and has been injured multiple times. This film focuses on his coverage in Kosovo, Indonesia, Palestine, and South Africa. A unique feature is a motion-picture minicam attached to his 35mm SLR that shows the action from his point of view. Often this behind-the-camera angle reveals him quickly adjusting the SLR's shutter speed and aperture while shooting. Nachtwey's working method is to acquaint himself with his subjects so he can photograph them at very close range — sometimes uncomfortably close, it seems. Although we don't see anyone objecting to his proximity, surely it must happen, and his in-the-face technique risks prompting some people to perform for his camera. This Oscar-nominated documentary should be required viewing for aspiring photojournalists.

War of the Satellites (1958) typifies most sci-fi flicks of this era: low budget, crude effects, bland sets, and a plodding screenplay. Director Roger Corman (better known for The Little Shop of Horrors, 1960) does his best with those handicaps, as do the actors. Richard Devon ably plays a scientist leading a United Nations project to launch exploratory satellites into orbit — an effort stymied by a mysterious barrier that destroys everything on contact. Susan Cabot plays his assistant but is relegated to a minor role. One standout is Dick Miller, a Corman favorite, who has a larger part than usual in this film. Overall, it's tolerable, mainly because it's short (66 minutes).

The War of the Worlds (1953) ranks among the best science-fiction films ever made. The Oscar-winning special effects still impress, even today when computer graphics make any illusion possible. More than that, Barré Lyndon's screenplay and George Pal's production skillfully adapt H.G. Wells' 1898 novel to the modern age. These Martian invaders attack Earth not in spindly tripod walkers but instead in levitating war machines shielded by powerful force fields. And Earth fights back with tanks, artillery, jets, and atomic bombs. Yet the human aspects of this remarkable film make it an all-time classic. Gene Barry plays a scientist frantically trying to find an effective defense, with his loyal assistant (Ann Robinson) always at his side. Although the movie departs in many ways from Wells' book, it preserves the thrills and the spirit. You must see it.

War of the Worlds (2005) is a disappointing remake of the 1953 classic sci-fi thriller, based on H.G. Wells' 1898 novel. Instead of portraying the epic scope of a Martian invasion, this version is claustrophobic, telling the story from the narrow view of one New York City dockworker (Tom Cruise) and his young daughter (Dakota Fanning). Director Steven Spielberg even cheats us from seeing a much-anticipated battle between soldiers and aliens. He shows tanks, jets, helicopters, humvees, and soldiers furiously firing their weapons, but he keeps their targets off-screen, to the point that one character pleads with another, "I must see this!" — and does, but without us. Because we never see the alien force-fields in action, the significance of birds perching on one of their war machines in another scene is unclear (its shields are down). And in a nonsensical twist, the alien machines emerge from underground, where supposedly they have been buried for millions of years, waiting like terrorist sleeper cells. If it's allegorical, the rest of the film doesn't capitalize on it.

WarGames (1983) premiered near the beginning of the personal-computer revolution and shows remarkable insight. When a teenager (Matthew Broderick) uses his bedroom computer to hack into a U.S. government mainframe, he finds a nuclear-war simulator — and you know there will be trouble. Because the Cold War between the U.S. and Soviet Union still threatened in 1983, genuine off-screen tension amplified the movie's fictional suspense. But it's funny, too, more like Dr. Strangelove than Fail Safe (both released in 1964). It foreshadows today's cyber attacks and security breaches. The picture was nominated for three Oscars (Original Screenplay, Cinematography, and Sound) and won a technical award for special effects. It remains one of the best examples of the computer-hacking genre.

Wattstax (1973, restored 2003) documents a huge concert that Memphis-based Stax Records hosted at the Los Angeles Coliseum in 1972. The event was a benefit on the seventh anniversary of the 1965 Watts riot in L.A. Nearly 100,000 people saw numerous black performing artists, including Isaac Hayes, the Staple Singers, Rufus Thomas, Albert King, the Bar-Kays, and others. Some Stax artists were absent for various reasons, so the film adds videos of their performances elsewhere. It also features brief interviews with local people, scenes of Watts street life, and Richard Pryor comedy routines. The music is contemporary soul, funk, blues, jazz, and gospel. Both the concert and the documentary are precious snapshots of 1970s black culture before rap and hip-hop. The 2003 version restores some Isaac Hayes songs cut from the 1973 version, and the 30th-anniversary DVD adds more outtakes.

Wavelength (1983) rises above mediocrity on a relatively small budget. It's a humane sci-fi flick with an interesting story and decent acting. Robert Carradine stars as a struggling Los Angeles musician whose new girlfriend hears strange sounds near a mysterious government installation. Exploring the phenomenon entangles them in a top-secret Air Force project to analyze crash-landed space aliens. The girlfriend is played by Cherie Currie, previously the lead singer for the Runaways girl-rock group, and she's pretty good here. Veteran actor Keenan Wynn has a small role as a grizzled old mining engineer. Critics say this movie is too similar to Starman (1984) and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial (1982), but writer/director Mike Gray penned his screenplay before both.

Way Down East (1920) stars Lillian Gish in one of her best performances: Anne Moore, a young waif tricked into a sham marriage by a rich man's roguish son. When she gets pregnant, he drops her, and she's disgraced. D.W. Griffith directed this morality tale, his most popular silent film after The Birth of a Nation (1915). It's sympathetic to graceful women and harsh on rigid-minded men — preachy title cards promote monogamy and marital fidelity. Famous scenes include Gish's peril on ice floes rushing toward a waterfall and brief parts in (muted) color. A few silly slapstick scenes contribute to the overlong 2.5-hour running time. Although some footage is missing even after restoration, still shots and title cards fill the gaps. This nearly lost picture is a cinema classic.

Way Out West (1937) stars the classic comedy team of Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy in one of their best romps. They journey to an Old West frontier town, seeking a young woman whose father recently died. She will inherit a gold mine, but a devious saloon owner and his showgirl wife plot to steal it. The comedy is deadpan slapstick, reminiscent of silent film, and peaks when the characters fight over the deed. Some jokes will baffle modern viewers, such as Laurel rolling up his pants while hitchhiking — a reference to Claudette Colbert's sexy prank in It Happened One Night (1934). But most of the humor holds up.

We Were Soldiers (2002) uses the latest special effects to bring the gory realism of Saving Private Ryan to Vietnam. It's based on a true story about the first pitched battle between the U.S. Army and the North Vietnamese Army in 1965. Although dominated by combat, it also shows the impact of separation on the soldiers' wives back home. It can't resist the usual war-movie clichés — the tough training, the crusty old sergeant (played by Sam Elliot), the charismatic leader (Mel Gibson), the religious soldier who's reluctant to kill, and even an implausible bayonet charge. Nevertheless, We Were Soldiers departs from most other war movies by portraying the enemy more realistically and with some humanity. In particular, it refutes the myth that Vietnam was primarily a guerrilla war fought by Viet Cong peasants.

The Wedding Party (1963/1969) struggles to find comedy in the wedding of two young people on a New York island. It's essentially a student film — the first feature by Brian De Palma along with his theater professor and another student. De Palma later directed many hits, such as Carrie (1976), Dressed to Kill (1980), Blow Out (1981), The Untouchables (1987), and Casualties of War (1989). Filmed in 1963, The Wedding Party didn't premiere until 1969 due to an ownership dispute. It's interesting mainly because two of the neophyte actors are Robert De Niro and Jill Clayburgh, who later won their own fame.

West Coast Beat & Beyond (1984) is a one-hour documentary on Beat Generation writers. Mostly it's footage of Beat figures (such as Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, and Jan Kerouac) telling anecdotes or reading from their works at public events. Muddy audio and sparse historical context make this film interesting mainly to avid fans of Beat literature.

West Side Story (2021) remakes the 1961 blockbuster that won 10 Oscars, including Best Picture. This version directed by Steven Spielberg was nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, despite a poor box-office performance. Both movies adapt the 1957 stage musical that in turn adapts William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Transplanted to early-1960s New York, they substitute two warring street gangs (the Jets and the Sharks) for Shakespeare's two warring families. When boy from one side meets girl from the other side, sparks and songs fly. The remake honors the 1961 production style but feels overlong and ramps the violence (of course). The song-and-dance numbers are faultless, and the acting is fervent, yet the sum doesn't quite add up. Recommended mainly for musical fans.

Westworld (1973) previews the plot of Jurassic Park (1993) — a futuristic amusement park goes awry with fatal consequences for the guests. Both sci-fi thrillers are based on novels by Michael Crichton, who also directed Westworld. Instead of resurrected dinosaurs, the out-of-control killers in this movie are androids playing historical characters. They populate three related parks: Westworld (the 1880s Old West), Romanworld, and Medievalworld. James Brolin and Richard Benjamin star as two guests in Westworld, but the real star is Yul Brynner as a robotic gunslinger who nurses a grudge. Although the plot holes multiply with the bullet holes, this picture still thrills and was a huge hit. The android-vision computer graphics were innovative in 1973.

The Whale (2022) preserves the confinement of a stage play about a morbidly obese man who's too immobile to leave his apartment. This film is a "chamber piece" on a single set. Brendan Fraser, formerly known for youthful roles in lesser movies, is outstanding as Charlie, the obese man. Wrapped in a realistic fat suit, Fraser plays him as a grieving gay man who seems to be committing suicide by food. His survival depends on teaching online college classes (while hiding his image in the video conference calls), his volunteer visiting nurse (whose motivation is revealed later), and a desire to salvage his bleak life by reuniting with his teenage daughter (years after losing custody in a divorce). The daughter drama is central. He's so desperate to reconcile that he repeatedly tells her she's "amazing" even though she's a cruel brat. Pay attention to an essay on Moby-Dick in an early scene — it's important later. Despite controversy over fat-shaming, this picture is sympathetic and deserves its Oscar nominations for Best Actor (Fraser), Supporting Actress (Hong Chau as the nurse), and Makeup/Hairstyling. Fraser and the makeup artists won.

What the [Bleep] Do We Know!? (2004) must be the strangest film of the year. Talking-head interviews with real scientists, scholars, and philosophers are woven together with computer graphics, special effects, and a fictional drama about a deaf woman photographer. The interviews probe the mysteries of life and the universe, emphasizing the effects of our thinking on the organic structure of the human brain. Dazzling computer graphics help illustrate various theories, sometimes to excess. The fictional story about the photographer tries to apply theory to real life, also with mixed results. The role of the photographer is curiously overplayed by Marlee Matlin, who won an Academy Award for Best Actress in Children of a Lesser God (1986). Overall, this movie is a fascinating grab bag, swinging wildly between eloquence and gibberish. It would work better as an episode of Nova on PBS.

What Did Jack Do? (2017) parodies b&w film noir in a bizarre but amusing 17-minute short by maverick director David Lynch (Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Twin Peaks, etc). Lynch plays a hard-boiled detective interrogating a talking monkey suspected in a murder. Both characters spew cliché dialogue ripped from the scripts of 1940s crime thrillers. If the premise seems absurd, it is. Recommended mainly for Lynch fans.

What Lies Beneath (2000) is a wonderfully creepy tale about betrayed love and revenge from beyond the grave, with clever allusions to Vertigo, Rear Window, Psycho, and The Shining. When Harrison Ford is the weakest link in a cast, it must be a terrific movie.

What Remains (2005) is a good documentary on Sally Mann, a fine-art photographer who first stirred controversy with frank pictures of her children. Using a clumsy 8x10-inch large-format camera on a tripod, Mann gained fame by posing her youngsters (a son and two daughters) in various monochrome motifs, usually outdoors on their Virginia farm, and sometimes nude or seminude. Some viewers and art critics accused her of exploiting her kids for soft porn, although the images aren't overtly sexual. Nude and seminude family snapshots of children are common, but the formality of her art and her willingness to publicly share it broke conventions. Later she drew more controversy by exhibiting photographs of rotting corpses. This calm documentary lets Mann explain her work and makes her seem less extreme than she first appears.

What Women Want (2000) is comedy lite, but amusing and a good date movie. Mel Gibson plays an ad exec who suddenly acquires the ability to read women's minds — a skill that helps him create new ad campaigns for women's products. Helen Hunt is his love interest and the main woman whose brain he picks for insight into the ever-mysterious female psyche.

What! (1963): see The Whip and the Body.

What's Eating Gilbert Grape (1993) initially flopped but is now praised and known for Leonardo DiCaprio's breakout performance as a mentally handicapped youngster. DiCaprio was nominated Best Supporting Actor as Arnie, an innocent but uncontrollable boy who burdens his poor Midwestern family. DiCaprio was so convincing that many viewers believed he was genuinely disabled. Johnny Depp stars as Arnie's older brother who stoically shoulders most of the fatherless family's responsibilities. Darlene Cates, who was genuinely morbidly obese, plays their chronically depressed mother. Juliette Lewis, Mary Steenburgen, and John C. Reilly add strong support. This socially relevant drama oozes realism. Corporations roll over small-town family businesses, and struggling families are stranded in a rural health-care desert while oblivious vacationers roll by in Airstreams.

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) may be the bitterest tale of sibling rivalry since Cain and Abel. Herself an aging movie star, Hollywood queen Bette Davis shed all vanity in her astonishing performance as an aging child star. Lathered in grotesque makeup — her own creation, as the makeup artists feared banishment if they so disfigured a beloved actress — Davis portrays Baby Jane as a delusional has-been who dreams of reviving her long-lost screen fame. Secluded in her Hollywood mansion, she torments her paraplegic sister, played with nearly equal drive by Joan Crawford. The real-life feud between these stars made inhabiting these roles easier, but their acting is still fabulous. Tension builds as this classic film teeters between tragic drama and black comedy. Although two-time Oscar winner Davis lost her Academy Award nomination for Best Actress to Anne Bancroft in The Miracle Worker, her Baby Jane performance is more memorable.

When Michael Calls (1972) somehow became popular beyond all reason when it premiered as a made-for-TV movie. It was nominated for an Edgar Allan Poe Award and some high schools even assigned students to read the source novel. Although this thriller isn't terrible, it's definitely average. Credit the cast: Ben Gazzara as a divorced but doting father; Elizabeth Ashley as his ex-wife haunted by mysterious phone calls from a nephew who's supposedly dead; and Michael Douglas as a psychologist. When the mysterious caller turns murderous, the manhunt begins. This movie was so-so in 1972 and hasn't improved with age.

Where Are My Children (1916) is an unusual silent film about birth control and abortion — two social issues that remain controversial today. It's a melodrama, not a documentary, and it seems contradictory. The main character is a district attorney who supports contraception to prevent unwanted children from becoming paupers and criminals. For unexplained reasons, however, he convicts a doctor who publishes a book on the subject. Then the doctor reveals that the prosecutor's wife has been one of his secret patients, along with several of her friends. Although the film never explicitly mentions abortion, it implies that the doctor's "professional services" are pregnancy terminations. The prosecutor is heartbroken that his childless marriage is his wife's fault. This film seems to condone eugenics for lower-class people but not for others. (Interestingly, the actors who play the prosecutor and his wife are the actual parents of Tyrone Power, a 1950s movie star, who briefly appears as a "ghost child" near the end.)

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950) stars Dana Andrews as a brutal police detective who accidentally kills a suspect. Instead of coming clean or plausibly claiming he found the man already dead, he attempts a clumsy cover-up too unbelievable for an experienced homicide investigator. The subterfuge dominates this otherwise nifty film noir penned by super screenwriter Ben Hecht (The Front Page, 1931) and directed by the great Otto Preminger (Laura, 1944). Co-stars include the gorgeous Gene Tierney as a love interest, Gary Merrill overplaying an arrogant gangster, and Karl Malden as the detective's stiff boss. Andrews is pitch-perfect as a bad-apple cop walking the border between right and wrong.

Where'd You Go, Bernadette (2019) stars Cate Blanchett, which alone justifies watching this uneven psychological drama if you like her mannered acting style. Blanchett plays Bernadette Fox, a celebrated architect who hasn't worked in 20 years for reasons this movie withholds excessively. It's not a big reveal, but it explains her retreat to an old mansion in permanent disrepair. Her only relationships are with her workaholic husband (Billy Crudup), her precocious teenage daughter (Emma Nelson), and an unseen texting pen pal. Some scenes try too hard to find humor in Bernadette's depressive doldrums. Her slide continues until converging events kick the story into higher gear. Although the opener foreshadows her fate, the journey is the drama.

The Whip and the Body (Italian: La Frusta e il Corpo) a/k/a Night is the Phantom a/k/a What! (1963) pairs British horror star Christopher Lee with Italian horror director Mario Bavo for the only time. This gothic thriller was released under different titles in different markets after censors objected to sadomasochistic scenes that seem relatively tame today. Lee plays the eldest son of a wealthy family who was disowned and exiled by his father. He returns to the family castle claiming to ask forgiveness but actually to restore his inheritance and resume an S&M relationship with his brother's wife (sultry Israeli actress Daliah Lavi). Two lashings followed by implied sex riled Italian censors and forced cuts in the international releases. The routine story moves slowly, but the moody Technicolor cinematography creates a nightmarish atmosphere, and the final scene is dramatic.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (2016) is loosely based on Kim Barker, a newspaper reporter who spent years covering the U.S. war in Afghanistan. In this entertaining Hollywood version, Barker is a frustrated TV newswriter who volunteers to become a war correspondent, despite her inexperience. Tina Fey skillfully blends gravity and levity in this role. The focus is on ex-pat life in a war zone, not the war's politics, strategy, or tactics. Between occasional forays into the field, the foreign journalists live in a fortified Kabul "guest house" and engage in drunken parties, casual sex, and tricky relationships with the locals. Change the scenery and it could be the Caravelle Hotel in Saigon in the 1960s or almost any war-correspondent enclave since World War II. Billy Bob Thornton is great as a U.S. Marine Corps general but can't quite match Robert Duvall's U.S. Cavalry general in Apocalypse Now (1979).

White Heat (1949) is a must-see classic starring the great James Cagney as a psychopathic gangster. Although the Hollywood censorship of its era prohibited graphic violence, this film piles up an unusually high body count, including some cold-blooded murders. Cagney plays a gang leader with an extreme mother fixation and a propensity for psychotic headaches. In one scene, he flattens his wife for her sarcastic remark about his mom — reminiscent of the famous scene in The Public Enemy (1931) in which another Cagney gangster shoves a grapefruit in his girlfriend's face. The point is that these criminals know no bounds, so the suspense is constant when they're on the screen. The explosive climax is classic in itself, as are the gangster's last words.

White Zombie (1932) won cult status as the first zombie thriller — or, at least, the first movie to name the walking dead as such. Bela Lugosi stars as the wicked master of undead folks in Haiti. He compels most of them to toil all night in his sugar-cane mill, which sorely needs a health inspector and labor union. When a rich creep asks him to help seduce a visiting bride-to-be, things get weird. Former silent-film actress Madge Bellamy glows as the lovely lady who inspires the weirdness. The last act is a throwback to silent films, with minimal dialogue, extreme close-ups, and 1920s makeup. It's slow and predictable but palpably moody.

Who Killed the Electric Car? (2006) is a worthwhile but unbalanced documentary about California's first attempt to promote zero-emission vehicles. By requiring automakers to sell certain percentages of such vehicles by certain years (10% by 2003), the California legislature hoped to jump-start the electric-car market. Unfortunately, the auto and oil industries fought the initiative. In 2003, California capitulated, and General Motors repossessed hundreds of perfectly good electric cars from people who loved them. Rejecting all offers to purchase the cars for their remaining lease values, GM hauled the sleek vehicles to a desert dump and crushed them. Although this documentary contains good information, it withholds crucial data, such as the high production cost of GM's EV1 — about $80,000. Better balance would have made a better film.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) reduces a marital spat to near-mortal combat. Real-life husband-and-wife Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor deliver stunning performances as a married couple wallowing in disgust so deep it's mutually assured destruction. Faithfully adapted from Edward Albee's 1962 play, this film is essentially one long argument between a college professor (Burton) and his bitter wife (Taylor), who is also the college president's daughter. Their unsuspecting house guests are a younger professor (George Segal) and his newlywed wife (Sandy Dennis). Consequently, this verbally brutal drama intersects the maladies of middle age, marital decay, and career disappointment. The climax is an explosive surprise. Nominated for an astonishing 13 Academy Awards, it won five, including Best Actress (Taylor) and Supporting Actress (Dennis). Its bleakness probably lost it Best Picture.

The Widow of Saint-Pierre (2001) is about a compassionate woman who tries to reform a condemned murderer. It's 19th-century French Canada, and the guillotine looms over the killer's head — if the town can find a willing executioner. This moody period piece is well done, but the title is a tipoff that you shouldn't expect a happy ending.

Wild (2014) stars Reese Witherspoon as a broken woman who seeks redemption by hiking the Pacific Crest Trail alone — a grueling trek through deserts and mountains for which she is wholly unprepared. Based on the bestselling autobiography by Cheryl Strayed, this is a rare movie in which the central character is an adult woman who isn't primarily concerned with romance. Witherspoon delivers a fine performance as Strayed, and Laura Dern makes the most of her flashback appearances as Strayed's mother. The female viewpoint runs so strong in this film that many of the male characters come across as unsettling, creepy, or downright dangerous, which is probably realistic for a lone woman on such a perilous journey. Gorgeous cinematography and acute sound editing complete the picture. This would be a great double feature with Into the Wild (2007), which tells a similar true story from a male viewpoint.

The Wild Bunch (1969) shocked audiences accustomed to Hollywood westerns produced under the strict censorship of the 35-year-old Hays Code. This violent film by notorious director Sam Pekinpah revels in brutality, drunkenness, gunfights, and prostitution. The body count is so high it's uncountable without analyzing the shootouts frame by frame. Pekinpah made this gorefest just as the Hayes Code fell to a rating system that grants filmmakers more freedom — and more responsibility. Critics condemned the violence, but fans say it's truer to the Old West. Actually, though, it's placed in 1913, when an outlaw gang tries to defy changing times and their own aging. The stars are superb, led by William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan, Edmond O'Brien, Ben Johnson, and Warren Oates. The climax implies that restful retirement is spiritual death.

The Wild One (1953) started the biker-gang craze and inspired many imitators. Marlon Brando stars as Johnny, the defiant leader of the Black Rebels Motorcycle Club. The Black Rebels are actually white guys in black leather jackets. They roar into a small California town, guzzle beer, get rowdy, frighten the local squares, and intimidate the passive police. More trouble starts when a rival gang appears, led by an exuberant vagabond (Lee Marvin). Mary Murphy co-stars as a harassed cafe waitress. Based loosely on the exaggerated 1947 "Hollister riot," this drama warned the public against outlaw bikers but actually made them look cool to youngsters. Brando's moody method acting contrasts with Marvin's broad style, portraying Johnny as an alienated antihero. This classic movie has a famous exchange: "What are you rebelling against, Johnny?" His answer: "Whaddaya got?"

Wild River (1960) combines fine acting, unusual role reversals, and an unconventional conclusion in a drama about the Tennessee Valley Authority in the 1930s. To prevent deadly floods, President Franklin D. Roosevelt created the TVA to dam the Tennessee River and generate electricity for poor rural dwellers. However, these huge projects required the TVA to acquire vast tracts of land and relocate thousands of people. Montgomery Clift stars as a TVA official who must persuade a stubborn elderly woman to abandon her island farm before a new reservoir submerges it. Jo Van Fleet, though only 45 at the time, brilliantly inhabits this role. Clift is equally stubborn as the stiff TVA bureaucrat, but he characteristically presents himself as a passively nonaggressive character. Indeed, he's so passive that the old woman's listless granddaughter fills the gap. Lee Remick is absolutely stunning in this reversal role. Before reaching a somewhat unexpected climax, this movie also confronts Jim Crow racism without being preachy or unrealistic.

Wild Strawberries (1957) quickly followed The Seventh Seal as Swedish writer/director Igmar Bergman's next meditation on life and death. This one takes place in contemporary time, however, and portrays death not as a legendary Grim Reaper character, but more realistically as a looming inevitability. Victor Sjostrom, in real life an 80-year-old Swedish director, skillfully plays a retired doctor soon to be honored with a lifetime achievement award. During his road trip to the ceremony, he confides in his daughter-in-law, meets energetic young people, and experiences visions of his past regrets. Although this film is neither as dramatic nor as interesting as The Seventh Seal, it was a hit that made Bergman a world-famous independent filmmaker.

Willard (1971) was a surprise hit that inspired a sequel and more thrillers of animal terror. Bruce Davison stars as Willard, the disgruntled employee of a boorish man who hijacked the family business and rules like a tyrant. Ernest Borgnine plays this guy to perfection. Davison is equally convincing as a bumbling office clerk who is friendless and dominated by his ailing mother (an amusing Elsa Lanchester). One day Willard develops an affinity for wild rats in his backyard. Soon he breeds hundreds of rodents who can obey his commands. You can guess what happens next. This popular movie isn't exceptional, but it clicked with viewers and has a peculiar charm.

William Eggleston in the Real World (2005) profiles the famous photographer who pioneered color in the art world. In 1976, Eggleston was the first photographer to have a one-man color show at the prestigious New York Museum of Modern Art. His saturated-color dye-transfer prints and seemingly random compositions provoked the wrath of the establishment, which favored black-and-white art photography. Eventually, his choice not only endured but dominated. This documentary shows many of his photos, interviews him in various settings, and follows him on a project. But don't expect Eggleston to explain his work, because he's a man of few words. Indeed, he's so visual and rarely verbal that he resembles someone on the autism spectrum.

The Window (1949) breaks film-noir convention by featuring a central character who's not a gangster, detective, innocent victim, or femme fatale. The focus of this tight crime thriller is a 10-year-old boy who accidentally witnesses a murder. His life is jeopardized when no one believes him. Only a child actor as talented as Bobby Driscoll could carry this weight, and his performance won him an honorary Juvenile Oscar. Location filming in the Lower East Side tenements of New York City adds gritty authenticity. In a tragic twist, Driscoll died anonymously of a drug overdose in a similar tenement 20 years later and was buried in a pauper's grave.

Wing and a Prayer (1944) dramatizes U.S. Navy aircraft-carrier operations in the South Pacific during World War II. A wartime production, it's wildly inaccurate. It was supposed to portray the torpedo-bomber attack on Japanese aircraft carriers at the pivotal Battle of Midway in 1942. That attack failed, however, and every plane was lost. (Dive bombers sank the carriers later.) In this film, fiction replaces futile heroism. The wrong types of torpedo bombers score hits that never happened, and odd fleet maneuvers replace the equally important Battle of the Coral Sea. In its favor, this movie does show the challenges of WWII naval aviators.

Wings (1927) deservedly won the first Academy Award for Best Picture in 1927–28 and has been digitally restored. This superlative silent film follows two young men who become U.S. fighter pilots during World War I. Dramatic aerial footage shot with stunt pilots realistically portrays the fierce dogfights between early biplanes flying high above the battlefields in France. Actual documentary footage augments tragic scenes of trench warfare. The restoration includes a newly recorded musical soundtrack and takes a few liberties, adding sound effects and touches of color as burning planes plunge to their doom. Charles "Buddy" Rogers and Clara Bow give lively performances, and Gary Cooper debuts in a bit part. It's one of the best silent films ever made.

Wings of Hope a/k/a Juliane's Fall into the Jungle (German: Julianes Sturz in den Dschungel, 1998) tells the true story of Juliane Koepcke, the sole survivor of a Peruvian plane crash in 1971. Only 17 at the time, Juliane miraculously survived a 10,000-foot fall, albeit with severe injuries. She struggled alone through an Amazon jungle for 11 days before finding help. Famous German filmmaker Werner Herzog directed this fascinating documentary, which retraces her grueling escape. Herzog's involvement is personal — at the last minute, he was bumped from the same flight.

The Winslow Boy (1999) is a pleasant but critically overrated Victorian drama by David Mamet, who is out of his lane in this genre.

Winter's Bone (2010) deservedly garnered a Best Actress nomination for 20-year-old Jennifer Lawrence but undeservedly was nominated for Best Picture. The whole cast is great — as her volatile uncle, John Hawkes was nominated for Best Supporting Actor. But this movie is interesting mainly for its depiction of rural poverty and meth addiction in the Ozarks region of Missouri and Arkansas. The locals belong to the low American caste disparagingly known as "white trash." They're trapped in a cycle of poverty and drugs from which the only escape seems to be military service. Lawrence plays a 17-year-old girl forced to care for two much younger siblings and a catatonic mother. Her father is missing, and she must find him to save the family farm. Her search is harrowing but less interesting than the violent social landscape she navigates.

Witchcraft Through the Ages (1968): see Haxan (1922).

Witness (1985) moves a routine crime thriller from the usual urban setting to a rural landscape. Hyper-rural, in fact, because Harrison Ford plays a Philadelphia police detective who seeks refuge from his criminal pursuers in the Amish community of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. It's an interesting but improbable twist as he tries to pass as Amish and even more improbably falls in love with an Amish widow. The Amish angle almost (but not quite) makes us forget that the hunted detective could simply have called for help instead of spending weeks pretending to be a throwback farmer. This movie was nominated for an astonishing eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director (Peter Weir), and Actor (Ford). Oscar voters had second thoughts, because it won only two: Original Screenplay and Film Editing. It's good but not great.

The Wizard of Oz (1939) remains one of the all-time best motion pictures, and it seems ageless. Never miss a chance to experience it on a big screen in a real theater, if possible. (I've seen it twice at the beautifully restored 1925 Stanford Theater in Palo Alto, California.) It excels in every category: writing, acting, singing, costuming, cinematography, set design, art direction, special effects, you name it. That it followed the black-and-white silent-film era by only one decade is astonishing. And it's a wonderful fantasy tale that children and adults can enjoy. The only puzzle: Why no sequels? L. Frank Baum, who wrote the novel on which the film is based, wrote 13 other Oz books. Nowadays, even a moderately successful movie spawns sequels. Perhaps no filmmaker is up to the challenge.

The Wolf Man (1941) ranks as a must-see classic thriller alongside Frankenstein and Dracula from 1931. All were Universal Pictures productions in the golden age of Hollywood horror. Lon Chaney Jr. stars as an innocent man cursed to transform into a murderous werewolf during a full moon. His animalistic performance and the stunning makeup landed him in four sequels. Typical Universal elements include an unwitting monster, a beautiful damsel in distress (Evelyn Ankers), and a bittersweet climax in which vanquishing the monster is both triumphant and tragic. This picture also popularized Hollywood's version of werewolf superstitions, such as the lunar influence and the counter-effects of silver. Only Frankenstein and Dracula have inspired more derivative works.

The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) is an audacious drama based on the true story of Jordan Belfort, an unscrupulous stockbroker. Martin Scorsese directed this bawdy tale of greed and corruption, and it's structured like his classic 1990 mobster flick Goodfellas. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Belfort, a slick operator who could sell almost anything to anybody. He gathers a team of essentially stupid but wickedly effective salesmen who build a rogue Wall Street brokerage specializing in penny stocks, rigged IPOs, and other flim-flams. Their wild life of money, parties, drugs, and call girls soon attracts attention from the SEC and FBI, but white-collar crooks are nothing if not slippery. Although DiCaprio's performance sheds all restraint — true to his character — some scenes are marvelously subtle. He gets fantastic support from Jonah Hill, Matthew McConaughey, Rob Reiner, Jean Dujardin, and many others. This movie is the necessary aboveground sequel to the underground crime world depicted in Goodfellas. Be warned, however: it's laced with obscenity and some sex scenes bordering on porn.

The Woman on the Beach (1947) entangles Joan Bennett, Robert Ryan, and Charles Bickford in a dull love triangle in which all three actors play nutty characters. Bennett, a great femme fatale in other films, is largely wasted here in a wishy-washy screenplay. Ryan plays a U.S. Coast Guard officer suffering from PTSD and fickle tastes in women. Bickford's character is just plain unlikable. It's unclear why we should care who ends up with whom.

The Woman in Green (1945) a/k/a Sherlock Holmes and the Woman in Green was the 11th of 14 pictures in the series starring Basil Rathbone as the English private detective and Nigel Bruce as his sidekick, Doctor Watson. If you think the series was wearing thin by then, you'd be wrong. This one is a clever little mystery that borrows elements from a few Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle but is mostly original. Lydia Marlow expertly plays a beautiful seductress and amateur hypnotist. Henry Daniell is convincing as the coldly calculating criminal, Professor Moriarty. The mystery isn't whodunit but why, and how Holmes will trap the evildoers. Although it's never in doubt, the climax is dizzying.

Woman in the Moon (1929) a/k/a Frau im Mond (Germany) a/k/a By Rocket to the Moon (USA) a/k/a Girl in the Moon (UK) is a milestone in science fiction. It introduced the first realistic details of manned spaceflight, including a vertical assembly building, 10-second countdown, multistage rocket, G-force acceleration, escape velocity, weightlessness, and retro-rocket braking. It also debuted the cliché of a misfit space crew. The great German filmmaker Fritz Lang directed this silent film based on his wife Thea von Harbou's 1928 novel The Rocket to the Moon. Unlike Lang's other films, however, this one plods slowly, impeded by an espionage subplot. The fully restored 169-minute version is tedious. Some versions clock at 91 minutes. In any form, it's a stellar example of early sci-fi — so realistic that the Nazis banned it while developing their secret V-2 rocket weapons.

Woman on the Run (1950) is an excellent fast-paced film noir starring Ann Sheridan as the wife of an elusive crime witness. The cops want him to testify against a killer, and the killer wants him dead. Can she find him first? She isn't too motivated at the outset because their marriage is failing, but then she begins learning new things about him. Filmed in San Francisco when it was still a roughneck seaport, this movie is notable for its urban scenery and female lead role.

The Woman in the Window (1944) still impresses. This twisty-turny film noir was written by Nunnally Johnson (best known for The Grapes of Wrath, 1940) and directed by Fritz Lang (who first won fame for Metropolis, 1927). Edward G. Robinson stars as a meek middle-aged college professor who becomes enamored with a beautiful young woman (Joan Bennett, a great femme fatale). When their casual meeting turns to murder, the plot begins to reek with intrigue. Then Dan Duryea shows up to further stir the plot. A surprise ending clears the air and adds a touch of humor. If you like this picture, watch Scarlet Street, a similar film noir made a year later that reunites Lang, Robinson, Bennett, and Duryea.

The Woman in the Window (2021) explicitly references the classic thrillers Laura (1944), Spellbound (1945), Dark Passage (1947), and especially Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954) — from which it borrows its spy-on-neighbors plot. In Hitchcock's chamber piece, Jimmy Stewart brilliantly played an apartment dweller who's homebound by a physical ailment (broken leg). In this homage, Amy Adams brilliantly plays an apartment dweller who's homebound by a mental ailment (agoraphobia). Shortly after new neighbors move into a townhouse across the street, she witnesses a crime. Or did she? Her fragile personality makes skeptics of the police. This derivative drama works by introducing multiple suspicious characters before springing a surprise. It's a bit confusing, though — a film-noir fault that Hitchcock avoided.

A Woman's Face (1938) stars Ingrid Bergman in a Swedish film that shows flashes of her brilliance that later won fame in Hollywood. She plays a young woman whose fire-scarred face makes her a social outcast. Her prospects limited, she joins a gang of petty blackmailers. Then one caper accidentally leads her to a plastic surgeon who hopes he can mend her soul as well as her face. Shall she continue a life of crime that's verging on great wealth — but only by committing a worse offense? Or has she a chance for a decent life? Bergman's performance is the sole highlight of this tepid drama. She's good, but she was destined to become better. In 1941, an American remake featured a superior performance by a more experienced actress: Joan Crawford.

A Woman's Face (1941) stars Joan Crawford in one of her best performances. She plays a young woman whose face was scarred by fire and who is now a social outcast, enduring a miserable existence in a gang of small-time blackmailers. Then she meets two men who could change her life: a wealthy suitor who tempts her toward worse crimes, and a surgeon who hopes that repairing her injury will also repair her soul. Crawford wears this role well, portraying a range of emotions using subtle facial expressions and speech mannerisms. Although this movie tells a powerful story, it's undermined by fake Swedish accents and distracting scenes that are hard to follow. It remakes a 1938 Swedish film starring Ingrid Bergman as the scarred woman. Bergman was good; Crawford is better.

Women's Prison (1955) preaches prison reform and the Hollywood cliché that inmates are good and wardens are bad. At the same time, it exploits the lurid appeal of imprisoned women that became popular after Caged attracted audiences and three Oscar nominations in 1950. This imitation is weaker but still entertaining. As in Caged, a fragile, naïve convict (a humdrum Phyllis Thaxter) is facing her first jail time. She's befriended by repeat offenders (Audrey Totter and Cleo Moore), tormented by a cruel warden (Ida Lapino), and treated kindly by a sympathetic doctor (Howard Duff). Lapino is believable in a baddie role that's unusual in her long career. Totter and sexpot Cleo Moore are flashy bleach-blondes who provide the eye candy and a weepy subplot. These prison movies didn't seem to stir much reform, though.

Wonder Woman (2017) tries to rise above the usual summer blockbusters by adding dashes of feminism and moral ambiguity. It doesn't go far, however. Although Israeli actress Gal Gadot delivers a credible performance as an incredible character, the plot settles into a comfortable good-versus-evil fable with few shades of gray. German viewers will probably dislike their portrayal as the bad guys — in particular, a bizarre reimagining of Erich Ludendorff, a real World War I general — but they must be used to the Hollywood treatment by now. The movie's high point is the midpoint, when Wonder Woman departs her secluded island of Amazons and enters the gritty London of 1918. The culture clash is at once amusing and disquieting. Her puzzlement over women's fashion soon turns to confusion over the fetish for war.

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (2023) won the Academy Award for Best Live-Action Short Film and is a good 39-minute introduction to the unique style of writer/director Wes Anderson. Famous for his cartoonlike art direction and set designs, as well as his quirky storytelling, Anderson adapted this light comedy from a short story by British author Roald Dahl. The main character, Henry Sugar (Benedict Cumberbatch), is an idle man of inherited wealth who learns an unusual skill that can make him much wealthier. His use of this skill brings the tale to its conclusion, but Anderson's visual creations nearly supersede the plot. His feature-length films — such as Moonrise Kingdom (2012) and The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) — strike a better balance of style and substance.

The Woodmans (2010) documents the brief life and avant-garde photography of Francesca Woodman (1958–1981). Interviews with her artistic parents, brother, and classmates are particularly insightful, as are excerpts from her journals. Her talent was obvious from her first year in art school. She arrived fully formed, despite having used her father's hand-me-down camera for only a short time. Francesca's b&w photographs and brief film clips often show herself nude in rundown settings. Some are vaguely disturbing, like those of Ralph Eugene Meatyard (1925–1972). Although they are "selfies" (a modern term), they radiate an entirely different vibe and are staged much less elaborately than those of Cindy Sherman (b.1954), another famous woman self-portraitist. Unfortunately, Francesca died before her work could evolve.

The World is Not Enough (1999) is a shameless self-parody, like all other recent James Bond movies, but it's fun.

The World of Suzie Wong (1960) debuts Nancy Kwan, the talented Chinese-English actress who later starred in Flower Drum Song (1961) and many other films and TV shows that needed an "exotic" Asian beauty. Her precocious skill in this romance-drama belies her youth (18) at the time. Kwan plays the title character, a "bar girl" (prostitute) in Hong Kong, still a poor British colony in 1960. William Holden (then 42) plays an American architect struggling to become a painter. This Technicolor production is a great time capsule of Hong Kong before it became a center of Asian trade and finance amid a forest of skyscrapers. But the story provokes criticism for its clichés of Chinese culture and morals. In its defense, it also shows the hypocrisy of white prejudice. A year later, Breakfast at Tiffany's featured a similar love story — and its own Asian clichés — with more flair.

World's Greatest Dad (2009) bombed at the box office and shocked people who ignored the R-rating and mistook it for a family-friendly Robin Williams comedy. Indeed it stars Williams as a high-school poetry teacher, but it's nothing like his similar role in Dead Poet's Society (1989). Instead, it's a dark comedy about the teacher's troubled relationship with his uncouth teenage son (an appropriately repellent Daryl Sabara). The first half is especially profane and sexually offensive, though not without purpose. When an unexpected event causes everyone to revisit their negative opinion of the creep, this offbeat film becomes a commentary on social group-think and the quest for redemption. Written and directed by comedian Bobcat Goldthwait, it's not for everyone, but it makes a sharp point.

The Wrecking Crew! (2015) is an enlightening documentary about a small group of Los Angeles session musicians who anonymously played on hundreds of records in the 1960s and '70s. You've probably never heard of them, but you've certainly heard them. They backed vocals for singers as varied as the Beach Boys, the Monkees, Dean Martin, Nancy Sinatra, Sonny & Cher, the Mamas & the Papas, and Glen Campbell (himself a member of the informal crew before embarking on a solo career). Director Denny Tedesco was inspired to memorialize their work by his father Tommy, the crew's ace guitarist. Denny weaves present-day interviews with historical film footage, photographs, recordings, and interviews with people now deceased (such as impresario Dick Clark). It's a remarkable story whose telling is long overdue.

The Wrestler (2008) stars Mickey Rourke as an aging professional wrestler struggling to make a subsistence living, 25 years after his glory days in the 1980s. Rourke has made a career of playing downbeat characters, and this role is his masterpiece. As Randy "The Ram" Robinson, he tours the small-time wrestling circuit in New Jersey, subjecting his battered body to further abuse for a few bucks. Rourke has the highest-resolution face in Hollywood — you can study it for hours, reading the pain and fatigue of his character in every scar and wrinkle. Marisa Tomei ably plays his love interest, an aging stripper who also struggles to keep her marginal career alive. The only serious flaws of this film are two clichés: over-reliance on shaky hand-held cameras, and the cut-to-black missing-page ending.

A Wrinkle in Time (2018) is largely faithful to the popular young-adult novel by the late Madeleine L'Engle, first published in 1962. (I loved it in 5th grade and read it again before seeing this film.) The modern multiracial cast may surprise some viewers; like most books written in those days, it assumed everyone is white. The story hasn't changed, however. Melding science fiction and fantasy, it's about three extraordinary children who search for a missing scientist — the father of two of them. The kids receive unexpected help from three mysterious women (charmingly played by Oprah Winfrey, Reese Witherspoon, and Mindy Kaling) who seem to have supernatural powers. But the stars are Storm Reid as troubled daughter Meg, Deric McCabe as prodigy son Charles Wallace, and Levi Miller as their friend, Calvin. Although special effects beyond the reach of 1960s filmmaking help bring this marvelous story to life, director Ava DuVernay wisely preserves the book's theme: love versus evil.

The Wrong Man (1956) sacrifices some suspense with its title — we know at once that an innocent man will be wrongly accused of a crime. But the main strength of this Alfred Hitchcock drama is Henry Fonda's measured performance as the misidentified suspect. A modern actor would probably explode with defiant outrage against the injustice. Instead, Fonda plays his character as a mild-mannered family man who is bewildered by his arrest, then frightened when jailed, and finally distraught when tried. His muted performance in realistic scenes filmed on actual locations is crafted to stir outrage in us, the helpless onlookers. We can see ourselves in his predicament. To compound our anger, it's a true story, and it's more truthful than most dramatizations. Although a modern production might also introduce a racial angle, this one is lily-white.

Wuthering Heights (1939) condenses Emily Brontë's classic 1847 romance novel into a 103-minute drama. Because it unrolls in flashback, we know it's a tragedy, and it ends with one of Hollywood's most melodramatic death scenes. This prestige production stars Lawrence Olivier (as Heathcliff, the street-urchin turned love-smitten rogue), Merle Oberon (Catherine, his fickle lover), Cecil Kellaway (Cathy's father), David Niven (Edgar Linton, another suitor), Geraldine Fitzgerald (Isabella, Edgar's rebellious sister), Flora Robson (housemaid/narrator Ellen Dean), and Leo G. Carroll (Ellen's husband). Skilled wordsmith Ben Hecht helped write the screenplay, which preserves some Brontë language. Gregg Toland (later of Citizen Kane fame) won an Oscar for his moody cinematography. Veteran film composer Alfred Newman penned the music, and top-shelf director William Wyler guided the project (with interference from producer Samuel Goldwyn). Despite all the star power, this film has a Cliff Notes vibe, and it omits much of the book. Toland won the only Oscar among eight nominations, including Best Picture, Director, Screenplay, Actor (Olivier), Supporting Actress (Fitzgerald), Art Direction, and Original Score.

X-Rated: The Greatest Adult Movies of All Time (2015) traces the history of XXX pornographic feature films. Although it briefly shows clips from the silent-film era, it focuses on the modern period from the 1970s to the 2010s. It cites the 1972 releases of Deep Throat and Behind the Green Door as the breakthroughs that ushered porn into mainstream American culture. These hits were soon followed by The Devil in Miss Jones (1973) and many others. This documentary interviews several directors and performers who made these erotic films, and it describes the industry's transitions from porn theaters to home videotape machines to Internet video streaming. It notes that streaming circles back to the short clips of the silent era, displacing the once-popular feature-length pictures that sometimes aspired to higher art. The interviews are interesting, but be aware that this documentary shows many explicit excerpts from the X-rated movies it covers.

XX/XY (2003) is a romantic drama about three horny college friends who meet ten years later and get a second chance to mess up their lives. Mark Ruffalo plays an animation artist who seems determined to destroy all his female relationships. Maya Stange plays his oblivious college girlfriend, and Kathleen Robertson is her wild roommate. The choppy film editing is ill-suited to a drama in which we'd rather see the actors play their parts without abrupt jump cuts, and Ruffalo's face-twitching mannerisms don't help. There's more heat than warmth in this story, and the conclusion seems designed to baffle men and irritate women.

Yesterday (2019) cleverly recycles the Beatles' songbook by transporting a failing folk singer (Himesh Patel) into an alternate reality in which no one else remembers the famous band or their classic songs. Soon he rockets to fame by "writing" Beatles hits that seem new to this otherwise familiar world. But he feels fraudulent, and his rising fame threatens relationships with his old friends and attractive manager (Lily James, Downton Abbey). Upon discovering more anomalies, he seeks to reconcile the world he remembers with the strange new one. Jack Barth and Richard Curtis wrote this brilliant story, and the film is expertly directed by Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours, Trainspotting). It's a delight for Beatles fans. A touching scene near the end resurrects memories of things that really happened while stirring dreams of things that might have been.

Yosemite (2015) adapts two short stories by actor James Franco, who also co-produced and appears in this tepid picture. The events reflect his childhood memories from Yosemite National Park and Palo Alto, California in 1985. The screenplay unfolds as three episodes with a few common characters, each seen from a different boy's viewpoint. It moves slowly and often builds unresolved tension. This movie feels personal and likely means more to Franco than it will to most viewers.

You Can Count On Me (2000) is an engaging relationship movie about a single mom and her restless brother whose lifestyles clash over issues of freedom and responsibility. It's funny, sad, and touching without stooping to the level of a soap opera. Strong acting makes it worth watching.

You Can't Take It With You (1938) won Best Picture and Best Director but is a curious work by Frank Capra, famous for his upbeat views of America. It's a light comedy intended to lighten America's mood during the Great Depression on the cusp of World War II. Unemployment, war omens, capitalist greed, fascism, communism, and other ills of the 1930s all bear mention in passing. Oddly, when many Americans were desperate for work and barely surviving, the story centers on an eccentric family living comfortably despite no significant income. They spend all day doing whatever they please, free of worry. Hints of divine support (thriving as "lilies of the field") are inadequate and must have seemed cruel to less-blessed contemporaries. Two black servants joke about receiving relief (welfare), painting them as deadbeats when actually they're the hardest-working members of the household. Then a daughter (Jean Arthur) is wooed by a wealthy banker's son (James Stewart), who dreams of abandoning his secure future for an insecure scientific career — to develop solar energy! This film strives to be a morality tale and a tribute to American values but seems strangely out of tune, even for its own time.

You Only Live Once (1937) isn't one of Henry Fonda's best films, but he's the best thing about it. He plays a convict promising to go straight. And he tries, immediately marrying a sweetheart (waif-like Sylvia Sidney) who waited years for his release. But this budding romantic story darkens when they encounter hostility and he jeopardizes the job arranged to be his road to respectability. The implication is that our unforgiving society won't help an ex-con, although in this case he makes much of his own trouble. Some film critics relate this story to the notorious 1930s bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde, but the similarities are superficial. Now rated a classic, this early film noir was the second American film by German director Fritz Lang. His previous film (Fury, 1936) was better but judged too "political" for condemning public hysteria over crime. Many of his earlier and later works are superior. This one ends ambiguously by suggesting either redemption or hallucination.

Young Adult (2011) stars Charlize Theron in a great performance as a slutty, alcoholic former prom queen, 20 years removed from her social triumphs in high school. But her flaws are so deep, and her self-delusions so comical, that it's hard not to feel a bit sorry for her. She's a train wreck waiting to happen. The collision looks inevitable when she returns to the small town of her youth to seduce her high-school boyfriend, now a devoted family man. Although the trailers portrayed this film as a light comedy, it's really a drama with rather dark humor. Screenwriter Diablo Cody (Juno, Jennifer's Body) dodges clichés and concocts an audacious conclusion that will dissatisfy some people but actually is perfect, in a real-life sort of way.

Young Frankenstein (1974) spoofs Frankenstein horror movies, specifically the Universal Pictures classics of the 1930s and '40s. Comedy greats Gene Wilder and Mel Brooks wrote the screenplay, which references many characters and scenes familiar to Frankenstein fans. Others may find this romp amusing but will miss the numerous in-jokes. Wilder also stars as Dr. Frankenstein, a grandson of the mad scientist who assembled parts of stolen corpses in a blundered attempt to create a superman. Marty Feldman is perfect as Igor, his bug-eyed hunchback handyman. Other co-stars include Cloris Leachman as a witchy house servant, Teri Garr as a sexy lab assistant, Madeline Kahn as the doctor's fastidious fiancée, Peter Boyle as the addle-brained monster, and Gene Hackman as a hilariously blind hermit. The details are impressive, such as the authentic lab equipment. The humor ranges from subtle to slapstick to campy and won't appeal to everyone, but this parody is a good-hearted homage to much-loved horror pictures.

Zappa (2020) documents the uncompromising life and art of Frank Zappa (1940–1993). Known mainly as a rock musician, he was actually a prolific composer of avant-garde music that defies categorization. Although his best-known work is obliquely rock, he also composed, performed, commissioned, and conducted orchestral pieces in a modern classical style. Experimental filmmaking was yet another interest. Later he became a vocal opponent of music censorship who testified before Congress. This informative documentary by Alex Winter won the cooperation of Zappa's family and associates. It recounts his unusual childhood but focuses on his music over personal trivia. Although Zappa fans criticize some omissions, his career was so expansive that a two-hour film struggles to cover everything. For Zappa newcomers, it's a revelation.

Zemlya (1930): see Earth.

Zero Dark Thirty (2012) is the controversial dramatization of the CIA's pursuit and killing of Osama bin Laden. Writer Mark Boal and director Kathryn Bigelow previously collaborated on The Hurt Locker (2008), winner of six Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Director, and Original Screenplay. Zero Dark Thirty is an equally tense and artful thriller, despite the obvious climax. In fact, the "true story" backdrop undermines this film. No one questions its craft, which is outstanding. Instead, we may be too close to the actual event to judge this movie fairly. Some viewers say the climactic raid reveals too much about U.S. Special Forces tactics, even though it resembles those in many other action movies. Other critics say the interrogation scenes validate torture, even though the film shows it backfiring badly by luring CIA agents into following a false lead to their deaths. Indeed, the film suggests the CIA got nowhere until an ally shared intelligence that led agents to Bin Laden's hideout in Pakistan. Zero Dark Thirty deserves another viewing after time has cooled its controversies.

The Zone of Interest (2023) employs slow cinema to show the banality of evil. During World War II, a German family goes about its daily business, seemingly untouched by the conflict. The twist is that the father is the SS commander of the Auschwitz concentration camp. His wife, children, and servants live a pleasant existence in a house with a nice yard, garden, and swimming pool. Only a wall and willful ignorance separate them from the nearby horrors. Whereas Holocaust films usually highlight the victims, this one shows genocide and slavery intersecting with military precision and industrialized capitalism. Despite fine acting, art direction, and fantasy elements, it's a bleak one-note performance until the end, when it suggests that evil infects both the body and soul.

Zorba the Greek (1964) showcases Anthony Quinn's extravagant portrayal of Zorba, a weathered Greek bon vivant who spouts dubious folk wisdom. With one or two exceptions, the other actors in this comedy-drama are stage dressing behind Quinn's overcooked performance. Zorba joins a staid British writer (played straight by Alan Bates) who journeys to Crete. Together, they try to revive an abandoned coal mine, despite having no experience in the business. It's supposed to be funny, but Quinn's antics overpower the story. His only competition is Lila Kedrova as a French hotelier. Although she won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, her heavily accented English obscures much of her dialogue. Most other cast members play the idle idiots who inhabit the village. When their cruelty emerges, Zorba and the Brit inexplicably remain in town. This movie was nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, and Actor (Quinn). It won only Supporting Actress, Art Direction, and Cinematography, suggesting that Oscar voters shared my view that this classic is overrated.