Cue-ball

This episode has some interesting relationships caused by unusual partnerships between the characters, who are all participating in a scavenger hunt!

I chose to binge The Big Bang Theory during the pandemic, knowing only that it was very popular (I've really not kept up with popular culture so I've been bingeing other popular series that came after I really gave up on television, other then The West Wing, in the 21st century). The situation generating much of the comedy -- two socially inept physicists trying to cope with the people around them -- accounts for some, but not all, of the comedy in this show. I think it was on for twelve years (!) because it addresses situations that occur in all walks of life. This episode is a good example, of the dilemmas faced by couple when one person is ready to move in and the other is not, and so on. That doesn't depend on being physicists. This is the first time I've paid this much attention to a show where the characters (and actors) are all younger than I am. I admire the craft of the crew and the cast.

"Technicality" is entertainment-speak for constitutional right. If law enforcement pursuing suspects Constitution be damned is satisfying to the average viewer, it is not satisfying to me.

Can't say why this is funny without spoilers! I'll make this longer so it's long enough for IMDB! It helps to be familiar with the back stories!

The 1957 movie *Twelve Angry Men* is one of the most popular and critically acclaimed movies of all time -- a masterpiece in acting, directing, writing, and cinematography. This 1954 made-for-television version suffers in comparison, but then practically any movie would, and the producers of the later film had the benefit of this version to make adjustments and changes. I watched this version with that in mind, and also to learn more about early '50s television.

The plot is familiar if you have seen the theatrical version. A jury is "charged" with determining the guilt or innocence of a defendant in a murder trial. They then retire to a jury room, and most of the jurors appear to believe the case is simple; two eyewitnesses and damning circumstantial evidence compel the conclusion that the defendant murdered his father. After an initial vote, however, one juror votes not guilty so he can discuss the case more deeply and see if there is room for doubt. The other jurors' reaction ranges from civilized debate to anger, ridicule, and disbelief. A discussion of the testimony and facts ensue, and the jury reaches its decision.

This made for television version is limited by the medium and its time restraints. I'm pretty sure this is a tape of a live broadcast. After time is made for commercials, it clocks in at just over 50 minutes, or about half the length of the theatrical version (itself not a long film). There are not as many subplots, and most of the characters are not developed. Is this a fair criticism for an hour-long TV movie? Or an unfair comparison to a later, more developed version? Mostly the latter, but it did seem that many of the jurors had little to do.

The cast consists of solid character actors, many born in the 19th century and raised in film before television. I thought the best cast was Edward Arnold as Juror #10, the bigot. Franchot Tone as Juror #3 and Robert Cummings as Juror #8 were not as effective even though they were the chief antagonist and protagonist, respectively. But then again, who knew they would have to live up to the likes of Lee J. Cobb and Henry Fonda in the remake? Two actors in this version reprised their roles in the movie (Joseph Sweeney as #9 and George Voskovec as #11).

The atmosphere in this jury room is pretty angry, with the jury ready to come to blows several times. It is not just less subtle than the remake, but less gradated. We don't have time to find out each of the juror's occupations.

The picture is not clear, but that is a symptom of age and the peculiar chance of finding a copy only recently. On the whole, the picture reflected that television was eager to create serious art for its broadcasts, especially when it came to dramatic features. Still, I doubt I would have seen this had it not been for the fact that it was an early form of an idea that became one of the great works of art of our time. It is worth seeing in that context.

I'm a big fan of Joan Allen. Maybe since "Ice Storm", certainly since "Searching for Bobby Fischer" (I'm a chess player) and I bet I will enjoy a lot of her earlier, more reputable films ("Peggy Sue Got Married", for example) just as soon as I get around to seeing them, which has to wait until I've seen all the movies featuring Oscar-nominated performances (so a chess player has a completism fetish; imagine that). But in the line of checking that item off of my lifetime to-do list, I have just finished watching Ms. Allen's most recent nominated performance, that of an Ohio Senator nominated to replace a deceased Vice President, becoming the first woman to be one heartbeat away from the Oval Office. Oh, I had high hopes for this one. And they have been dashed.

First, I don't know when the stakes were raised with regard to accuracy in the visual portrayal of all things related to the White House, but it was no later than "The American President". But someone in this movie's production staff didn't get the memo. It may make a nice comic moment when, five minutes after the President has walked with his Veep nominee onto the front of the White House lawn to have a private conversation, he is finally rediscovered by a cadre of Secret Service agents, but the reality is the time between a president going missing and the Secret Service locking down the West Wing could be measured in seconds, not minutes. Not that reality is important, but that's also in the viewers' perception of White House security, and for me, this ludicrous scene was the most jarring of several that were inauthentic enough to wreck the narrative. The runner-up would be the two men sitting behind the President in his address to the Joint Houses. Those two men would be the Speaker of the House and the Vice President. Oh, wait -- the Vice President is dead? Okay, so maybe these wrong details are unfair quibbles. So let's talk about critical plot points. It turns out the Senator's husband's ex-wife divorced her because he had an affair with the Senator while they were married. Why does the script treat this easily accessible court file as if it were some national secret, only discovered after she was nominated for VP? I found the storyline, and the resolution in particular, unpersuasive. The bottom line is politicians are political animals. A Senator who has never compromised a principle to obtain political power is a noble beast; so is a unicorn. They are also both mythical creatures. John Kerry did not hesitate to go after the lying liars in the Swift-Rove Liars for Bush, and didn't hide behind any principles by failing to answer their lies. (Hmmm. Maybe Senator Hanson had a point.) Other parts of the story were totally implausible, such as the method Governor Hathaway used to try to move his name to the top of the Vice President candidate's list, and the idea that the audience was not supposed to see through the Special Agent's transparent investigation in the subplot.

Of course, I liked Joan Allen, though I prefer her long-haired roles more. I thought Sam Elliot was miscast as the bulldog Chief of Staff for President Jeff Bridges; I kept imagining James Brolin in the role, channeling his excellent performance as Governor Ritchie from "The West Wing".

I notice that this movie gets relatively high marks. Perhaps it's because we've become more interested in political thrillers these days, but as President Shepherd told his aide, Lewis Rothschild, "People don't drink the sand because they're thirsty. They drink the sand because they don't know the difference." Well, I apologize for that. It's not like me to attack the opinions of people who disagree with me. I just don't think "The Contender" stands up to investigation.

There is an unusual twist to "Unfaithful". The trailers and reviews lead you to believe that the movie centers around a wife's meaningless betrayal of her husband and son, for no apparent reason than a childish impulse to have sex with a ne'er-do-well Frenchman probably 15 years younger than her. But when you reach the theater (or, in my case, pop in the DVD), you learn that the betrayal in this movie is much more sinister. It's the director, producer, and writers who have betrayed the audience, and the cast, with the promise of an interesting psychological thriller, and instead have littered the screen with foreseeable cliché after foreseeable cliché. The scenes aren't even original, until perhaps the denouement, but by then I've given up caring.

The plot is as old as man's sexual urges. Woman marries man, moves to suburbs, has a son and a nice house. Woman runs into little French boy and is mesmerized, since we all know French men can bed any American woman they want at the drop of a hat, or a pair of underwear. Woman has sex with French boy. Woman feels guilty but continues. Man finds out. Man forces himself to confront boy. From here, the movie can take different directions, depending on which script the writers are stealing from.

The plot is probably not completely predictable. Well, yes, it is. I did discover a new rule of thumb for evaluating movies: it's okay for the characters to do stupid things, or to do predictable things, but it's not okay for characters to do stupid, predictable things. If you disagree, run down to McMovie's and rent any one of the "Friday the 13th" films; you'll have a blast.

I watched this as part of my quest to see all Oscar-nominated performances. Diane Lane was nominated for Best Actress, losing to Nicole Kidman's performance in "The Hours". I thought Richard Gere did the best job in the film, but Lane did have to create a character who would betray Gere, who looks about two weeks older than he did in "An Officer and a Six-Pack Abdomen", two decades earlier. (Reminds me of an episode of 'Columbo' where John Cassavetes cheated on Blythe Danner. You've got to be kidding.) You want to enjoy an Adrian Lyne film exploring sexuality and obsession? Please check out "Fatal Attraction".

Roger Ebert once said that "Mad Dog Time" should be cut into ukulele picks to give to the poor. I'm not that clever, but I'd say rent this DVD if you're having a large dinner party and are running short of coasters. (For the record, Ebert recommended this film. What does he know.)

It's safe to say that the all-star cast of "Dinner at Eight" was bigger, in its time, than almost any movie made since, but since it's virtually three generations earlier than most movies made today, many of the names are not familiar to most modern movie-goers. And that's a shame. I enjoy a lot of movies just because I like watching great actors at work. "Ocean's Eleven" is a trifle, but it's a trifle with George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Andy Garcia, Julia Roberts, Don Cheadle, and so on. "The Sting" would have been a very good movie even without Robert Redford, Paul Newman, and Robert Shaw; include them and the top-drawer supporting cast, and it's a classic. Ditto for "12 Angry Men" (Henry Fonda, Lee J. Cobb, Ed Begley, E.G. Marshall), "Casablanca" (Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henried, Claude Rains, Syndey Greenstreet, Peter Lorre, Cuddles Sakall) and on and on. I'd say the cast of "Dinner at Eight" was even bigger than "Casablanca" -- both Lionel and John Barrymore (Lionel and Ethel both won Oscars, but the consensus of the time was that John was the best actor, and this movie is Exhibit 1), Oscar laureates Wallace Beery and Marie Dressler (could a 65-year-old veteran be first-billed in today's youth-obsessed Hollywood? Not likely.), Jean Harlow (Marilyn was never like this), and Billie Burke (it's not clear whether she's the good witch or the bad witch).

The "madcap" hub of the plot is Ms. Millicent Jordan's (Burke) plan to have a large dinner party, a custom of New York high society not interrupted by the Great Depression, featuring the elusive Ferncliffes, visiting America from London. To round out the table settings, she invites Carlotta Vance (Dressler), an aging actress now relying on soured business investments to support her during the hard times; an American stage actor (John Barrymore), as a natural complement to Miss Vance; and a ruthless tycoon (Beery) as a favor to her husband (Lionel Barrymore), who needs help saving his shipping company, unbeknownst to Ms. Jordan, who is reluctant to invite a man married to a low-class woman (Harlow). That's not the end of things she doesn't know -- her daughter is romantically linked to the actor, even though he is old enough to be her father -- or older. The family doctor (Edmund Lowe) rounds out the dinner guests. There are other unknown connections between the guests that create the dramatic tension up until the cast finally sits down for dinner in the last scene.

The plot, or plots, of "Dinner at Eight" are just a frame on which to hang an excellent suite of set pieces. One of the finest is John Barrymore's self-destruction as he is forced to reckon with the end of his acting career, cruelly spelled out for him by his agent (Lee Tracy). There are also several opportunities to enjoy Beery and Harlow behind the masquerade of marital bliss. And last (literally) but not least is the coda scene between Harlow and Dressler, who performs one of the finest double-takes in the history of cinema.

This movie reminded me of many subsequent classic movies, and wondering whether the performers there were influenced by "Dinner at Eight". Was Ray Milland channeling John Barrymore's senseless drunk in "The Lost Weekend"? Did Broderick Crawford and Judy Holliday study Beery and Harlow to prepare for "Born Yesterday"? Did Gloria Swanson owe something to Dressler for "Sunset Boulevard"? The style of cinema in the 1930s, especially the early 30s, takes some getting used to. Talkies were still in their infancy and there was much less background music than films just a decade later, let alone today, and scenes were usually shot with one stationary camera. You should see "Dinner at Eight" more than once (I'm writing this review after the second time I saw it) and see if it grows on you. Much of the pre-Code dialogue will surprise and amuse you. The DVD also features a short film about Jean Harlow (hosted by Sharon Stone -- a protégé?), and a one-reel satire (from Warner Bros., of course!) that picks mercilessly on the characters from the longer movie.

This movie is much more than an historical curiosity, though it is that too. But it's as entertaining as "It Happened One Night", "Mutiny on the Bounty", and several other treasures from the protoplasmic days when movies were starting to become more than stage plays on a flat screen. If you haven't seen this yet, you've missed something good. Why not have your own dinner party and show this afterward?

I rated this movie a 6 out of 10, perhaps a marginal recommendation, because it was photographed, and acted, brilliantly. I've not read the book, but have read that the movie is faithful to the spirit of the book and hasn't pasted a Hollywood ending onto it. That said, I doubt I will be able to see the movie again.

The plot of the movie is practically recited in the trailers. A woman (Jennifer Connelly) loses her home to a tax eviction to the county for failure to pay a paltry sum of taxes. There is the possibility of a governmental snafu, but then again it appears she bears some, if not most, of the blame. At any rate, an exiled Iranian (Ben Kingsley) sees an opportunity to flip the house and replenish his family's depleted fortune, and buys the home at auction. The conflict erupts into a tragedy shared by the original owner, the Iranian family, and an amoral deputy (Ron Eldard), devastating close to a dozen total characters.

I'm hurting myself by reviewing this movie immediately after I've seen it, but I am at a loss to discern what I was supposed to get out of the film. Some critical details of the book have been omitted from the film (see my comments in the discussion boards) that would have influenced me much differently, but as it was I found many of the characters totally unsympathetic. Thus I missed the conflict between "pretty good" and "also pretty good", and saw the plot simply as good and amorally evil. It did not help that the tragedy fell hardest on the good guys.

I'll try to revisit this in the future to see if a second viewing changes my mind. I would have to term this movie a disappointment, given the potential and the cast.

Jack Nicholson has been very good in some recent blockbusters, but I enjoy his performances in lesser-known movies even more, especially in the 1970s. The movies "Five Easy Pieces", "Carnal Knowledge", and "Chinatown" -- and Nicholson's performances -- are famous, but fewer people are familiar with "The King of Marvin Gardens" or this movie, "The Last Detail". I remember watching the Oscars in 1974; when they played a clip from the movie after announcing Nicholson's nomination for Best Actor, the network had to beep out half the words. It's definitely salty.

The plot of the movie, like many Nicholson flicks of the 1970s (and Hal Ashby films), is just a frame to hang several set pieces on. A young sailor (Randy Quaid) has been sentenced to go to the brig for eight years, a disproportionately harsh punishment for his petty crime. Two sailors are assigned the task -- the "detail" -- to transport him to Portsmouth where he can report to prison. It's actually soft duty for the sailors (Nicholson and the late Otis Young), since they have a leisurely schedule for their own return to home base.

Nicholson's photo on the DVD cover captures his characterization of his role, "Bad Ass" Buddusky. Watch as he gets the poor prisoner his first beer, his first girl, and so on. We also discover what the Navy thinks of Marines, and vice versa, in a scene where Nicholson's grin almost swallows his ears.

If you're a Jack Nicholson fan and haven't seen this movie, give yourself a treat and rent it soon.

I recently saw "Mister Roberts" for the first time in a theater, part of a double-bill with "Twelve Angry Men". The latter is one of my all-time favorite movies, but I've always had reservations about "Mister Roberts", in large part, I think, because I'd always seen it in pan-and-scan on AMC instead of the original CinemaScope perspective of the original. Well, even on a movie screen, I think some of the scenes had to be chopped (or Mervyn LeRoy just liked including William Powell's shoe in a screen-shot, but not the rest of him) but I enjoyed this movie much more in a theater than on a TV screen. For one small example, I'd never noticed the detail of the warships passing by during the opening credits before.

The story of "Mister Roberts" is a bit melodramatic for my taste -- after all, it started out on Broadway -- but it doesn't matter because you have five huge headliners to carry it, all at different stages of their careers -- William Powell in his last feature film; James Cagney, James Fonda, and Ward Bond in their mid-career phases (though Bond would be cut down too young in 1960); and Jack Lemmon in practically his first movie. There is an outstanding photo of these five actors singing together accompanied by Cagney's guitar in the photo gallery. Anyway, Mister Roberts is a college-grad who felt a duty to be involved in WWII, but who had the bad luck to be assigned to a cargo ship that is never involved in combat duty. What's worse, the commanding officer is a petty Merchant Marine who got in the Navy because they needed anyone they could get, and he resents Mister Roberts and anyone else who he thinks looks down on him. Roberts shares a room with Ensign Pulver, not exactly a coward but someone who'd be happy to go through the entire war without meeting his Captain. The ship's surgeon is played by William Powell with the same wit and facile mastery that he brought to the "The Thin Man" series decades earlier; but you can tell he's not Nick Charles because of his gray hair. Finally, the great Ward Bond is the top noncom in the cargo hold.

The movie depends on a lot of stereotypes that feel like crutches to me -- sailors ogling women, sailors getting drunk, sailors going nuts on liberty, etc. The high points of the action involve the interaction of the headliners, or their solo moments. Jack Lemmon's outstanding (and Oscar-winning) performance established him as an up and coming star, and presaged his great work in "The Apartment", "Some Like it Hot", "The Days of Wine and Roses", and the other masterpieces of his "Early" period. The final scene is one of the best in Lemmon's career.

I strongly recommend you find a way to see "Mister Roberts" in widescreen format. This is a movie, like "Lawrence of Arabia" or "Anastasia", that is just ruined when presented full-screen.

I only had one thing to add to the other reviews. But first I'll note that this is one of those "Golden Age" movies where every member of the cast is a pro. What a great scene between C. Aubrey Smith and Frank Morgan, both extolling the virtues of their own countries to the other's detriment (England v. USA). And the star of the movie is the great, under-rated Irene Dunne.

But, if for no other reason, you should see this movie just to hear our (America's) national anthem, played in a context that will absolutely make you cry. It rivals the "Marseillaise" performance in "Casablanca" for bringing a lump to your throat -- only this time, it is not a gesture of defiance, but of gratitude.

"Absence of Malice" doesn't fit comfortably into any particular genre. I suppose it's a cross between a heist movie and a thriller, with the newspaper business as its canvas and a dollop of revenge thrown in. Its strong cast and story average out a journeyman production that looks more like a TV movie, resulting in an entertaining drama.

The movie's action begins when the FBI, frustrated that its investigation of the death of a local mobster has reached a dead end, tricks newspaper reporter Megan Carter (Sally Field) into thinking that Michael Gallagher, a liquor wholesaler (Paul Newman), whose late father was connected with the Mafia, might be under investigation. The paper runs with the story, resulting in the destruction of Gallagher's reputation, disaster for a woman offering him an alibi, and Carter's realization that she was used by the feds. But Gallagher throws some fine counter punches, turning the tables on the feds and requiring a trip to Florida by "Assistant United States Attorney General James Wells" (Wilford Brimley in a career role) to mop up the mess.

Newman, whose fine performance in "The Verdict" and reprise of Eddie Felson in "The Color of Money" were still ahead of him, gives a fine nuanced performance as Gallagher, and is complemented by the younger Sally Field, back in "Norma Rae" form after a string of less-than-memorable films. As always, one of the hallmarks of quality films is the depth of the cast, and besides the two headliners, Wilford Brimley won't soon be forgotten with his short screen appearance as the AG leading the finale. While this movie was nothing close to Bob Balaban's debut, it is the first role of his that I remember and I remember it fondly; he brings a nonchalance to the amoral detective for whom the end will hopefully justify the means. Finally, Josef Summer's appearance as Carter's editor adds both compassion and reality to the press's day-to-day world.

With a great cast and a very good story (that seems natural enough, but was probably not created easily), "Absence of Malice" had the makings of a great movie. I wish that it did not appear so washed-out, or photographed so unambitiously. I can't put my finger on it, but the movie is not visually stimulating, even though it's cognitively compelling. Maybe the Florida location provided too much sunlight, but I found the imagery of the film to be only average. That aspect does not keep me from recommending it.

This 1979 documentary has just been released, apparently, and I saw it this evening before it left Austin. The trilogy refers to three glimpses of the exiled Buddhists of Tibet -- the Dalai Lama in his residence; a monastery performing a beautiful ritual entitled "The Beautiful Ornament"; and monks in another monastery performing a death ritual for an old man with no family in a nearby village. If you are a student of Buddhism (I am), this is a good account of the various rituals, but it is difficult to watch as a movie until the third part. Not difficult emotionally, but mentally; it's very hard to concentrate during the chanting. The imagery is beautiful, and also demonstrates Buddhism's emphasis on impermanence. The final third of the movie works best AS a movie, and looks more directed than the earlier parts.

I imagine that this film may be released as a DVD in the near future. If so, it would be a great source for Buddhist visualizations or meditative imagery.

I just don't get Otto Preminger. Other than "In Harm's Way", "The Man with the Golden Arm", and "Anatomy of a Murder", I am routinely disappointed by his movies, all of which fail, in my opinion, because of bad directorial decisions. "Bunny Lake is Missing"'s shortcomings fall in his lap as well.

The idea behind "Bunny" may remind contemporary viewers of the recent "Flightplan". Ann Lake, an American recently transplanted to England with her daughter Bunny, is terrified when she can't find Bunny at her new English school at the end of her first day there. But when she and her brother call the police, the investigation appears to focus more on whether the young girl ever existed in the first place, when Superintendent Newhouse (Laurence Olivier, wasted in this movie alongside Noel Coward) discovers no one at the school remembers seeing the girl. The viewer is given a healthy overdose of interesting possible suspects, but the storyline disallows all but the most obvious conclusion, and the movie keeps going 20 minutes after it's confirmed. I saw this movie because I was interested in Carol Lynley (after seeing most of "Shock Treatment") and Adrienne Corri ("A Clockwork Orange"), but every directorial detail of this movie -- from the cameras following the characters among the hallways of the buildings to the myriad mismatched musical accompaniments -- detracts from, rather than enhances, the dramatic effect of the film. Let's hope Reese Witherspoon's remake is an improvement.

I've added a "spoiler" warning in case you haven't seen either the 1933 or the 1976 version of this movie. While this remake is better than the Jessica Lange version of the '70s, it's not much better, and it's not worth the three hours of your life it takes to consume it.

Much has been said about the length of the movie, and how it takes forever to see the monster. In my opinion, the first hour of the movie is the best. Not just the development of the characters, but the development of the context. Depression-era New York, where homeless people live in Central Park in the shadows of skyscrapers and the ritzy hotels on Park Avenue. Burlesque performers trying to keep people happy by making them laugh and forget life with spectacles. An egotistical director (whose resemblance to Orson Welles can't be that coincidental), an out-of-work actress, a screenwriter who prefers to the stage, a mean set of studio execs, a battle-scarred steam tramp whose crews have skins of leather, and we're off to the races. After what seems like a futile race across the ocean, we come upon Skull Island, which director Carl Denham discovered on a map. (Who gave him the map, and why, are details we aren't privileged enough to discover.)

When we arrive at the island, the originality dial is turned back three notches. The native's camp looks washed out of color and is not so much primitive as dreary. We know what happens next (and next, and next, and next, of course, but just knowing the plot doesn't doom a remake): natives see blonde, natives want blonde for Kong, crew rescues blonde, blonde is kidnapped from ship, Kong gets blonde, and so on. It turns out there are all kinds of XXL monsters on the island, from dinosaurs to some slugs and other things with no dramatic purpose than to demonstrate the state of the art of CGI. Kong has no visible scars when we first see him taking possession of the tribe's latest sacrificial offering, so apparently he doesn't have nonstop deluges of battles against other beasties very often. The story of Ann Darrow's affection for Kong (after she notices that he's not killing her) is more touching than the 30 minutes of giant doo-dads crawling over her would-be rescuers. That's time that could have been spent answering some of the questions the movie didn't address -- like how, once Kong was captured, was he put on the ship.

The third act is Kong in New York, and this is more satisfying than the menagerie on Skull Island, and more dramatically satisfying. The sets of New York are all very impressive (I might be wrong but I think I saw the Singer Building in the Manhattan skyline; nice touch if true) and we see Kong calming down, even having fun with, his new live-action Barbie, but not for long, as the bad men with guns come after him. He manages to climb up to the top of the Empire State Building just in time for some WWI era bombers to do him in, all to the great dismay of Ann Darrow, who shows her sadness by rushing up every ladder she can find so at least the acrophobiacs in the audience will have a heart rush.

I barely liked this movie, mostly because I'm nuts about New York. And don't mind watching a movie that last three hours. But this movie should have been about 140 minutes. It would have been no great sacrifice to chop out half an hour from the chase scenes, and there'd even have been time to fill in the holes of the storyline.

Like many folks who've seen "You've Got Mail", I'd heard of "The Restaurant Around the Corner", but had never gotten around to seeing it until Christmas Eve, when it ran on TCM. What a gem! The hallmark of a great old movie, like a jazz or country album, is not the headliners but the supporting cast. Jimmy Stewart is so, well, Stewartesque as the senior employee of Matuschek and company, a gift shop anticipating a busy Christmas, and Frank Morgan, his boss, makes you forget all about The Wizard of Oz and almost convinced me that rich people really are worse off than those who have to work for them, when he suspects his wife of an affair with one of his employees. Margaret Sullavan stirs the shop's crew when she manages to sell a hard-to-move item to one of the shop's hardest customers, and she and Stewart create a delicious love/hate relationship that was imitated, not matched, by Ryan and Hanks decades later. The cast includes Sir Joseph Schildkraut, one of the earliest Oscar-winning supporting actors, and his role as Vadas, a co-worker to Stewart, is marvelous; at once mousy (whenever he hears the boss asking for an "honest opinion", he disappears as if the building is on fire) and fatherly, offering both Stewart and Sullavan advice on their love lives. The rest of the supporting cast is not as well known as the leads, but equally as delightful. Grace Hayle (not even credited) plays "plump woman" for perhaps the 100th time in her prolific career as a character actress. The movie exhibits the "Lubitsch touch", and sixty years after its release it still has moments that will make you laugh out loud. If you aren't used to watching movies from the 30s and 40s, you might not be used to the long sequences that, today, would be accompanied by soundtracks; likewise, some of the entrances and exits (walking into the scene after the camera has started) may appear dated. But that is part of the film's charm, for me at any rate.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to discover this happy little movie. Look for it year round, or at Christmastime.

I have seen GNAGL one time, and may be acting hastily in reviewing it without seeing it again. The story -- Edward Murrow, a successful and affluent, if not wealthy, newsman risking his livelihood to take on Joe McCarthy -- is both compelling in its historical context and in the lessons it offers for today's leaders (who probably won't see the movie and who wouldn't heed its message if they did). But I found the narrative of the movie dry and uncompelling. I appreciated the choice of filming the movie in black and white (and scoring it with a sparse but effective "black and white" soundtrack of jazzy standards; the opening rendition of "When I Fall in Love" was the perfect mood setter). I wanted to see more background of the main characters -- both the newsmen, and the careers they had before this moment that brought them together, and McCarthy. The movie did not explore how, and why, McCarthy became so powerful, so quickly, in the first place; that was a filmworthy element that should have been emphasized, IMHO.

The performances were uniformly enjoyable, and the creation of the '50s environment was masterful, from the nerd-glasses to the cigarette commercials to the all-night gin joints. But at 98 minutes, the film didn't sate my thirst for the subject matter. I would have enjoyed another quarter hour, and there was story enough to provide it.

There are precious few actors who can create two successful television characters. More recent examples include Mary Tyler Moore (Mary Richards and Laura Petrie) and Bob Newhart (Bob Hartley and Dick Loudon). In 1966, Burr completed a nine-year run as the most recognizable attorney on television. In 1967, returning to television, his challenge was to create a new character that wouldn't stand in Perry Mason's shadow. The result was Ironside -- a rough, former chief of the San Francisco police forced to retire when an attempted assassination leaves him paralyzed. (The theme music is reprised in "Kill Bill Vol. 1", whenever the Bride flashes back on her paralyzing injuries.) Bob Ironside had none of Perry Mason's polish, frequently spoke without thinking, and enjoyed fast cars as much as he relished good police work. He was given a special task force that included a regular joe beat-cop, Ed Brown (even in the sixties, a more vanilla name was never given a character); a highbrow, educated female detective (Eve Whitfield); and a troubled black youth, Mark Sanger, who was to Ironside what Charlie Young is to President Bartlet on "The West Wing". Instead of the Los Angeles setting of Perry Mason, Ironside was in San Francisco. In addition, while Perry Mason kept the lights on at CBS for nearly a decade, Ironside was a steady performer for NBC for almost as long. The show was an instant critical and commercial success.

I think the reason Ironside is not as popular in reruns now as it was in the late 70s and early 80s is it will always be in the shadow of Mason, and that's a shame. The two shows are not the same, and there are many memorable episodes of Ironside. One in particular features Ironside isolated in his apartment, being stalked by a killer, that always reminded me of the climactic scene in "Rear Window" -- in which the killer was played by Raymond Burr! One of my favorite lines of dialogue, from the pilot, was his ribbing of his female detective: "By all means, ask Detective Whitfield. She's had the benefit of a classical education." That line -- which would never have passed Perry Mason's lips -- is a good sample of Ironside's tone through the series.

Paul Newman reprised his role of Eddie Felson from "The Hustler" (1961), on all short lists of great movies, to star in "The Color of Money", a worthy sequel in the way "Rocky II" was to "Rocky" -- not a great movie, but very good.

Eddie, advancing in years, has apparently left the hustling circuit for a more respectable job as a liquor wholesalesman. On his route, he encounters a brash, obnoxious pool shark named Vincent (Tom Cruise) and his girlfriend (Mary Mastrantonio). Vincent has the talent, but not the brains or knowledge, to be another great hustler, so Eddie, his desire for the circuit reignited, offers to stake Vincent and teach him the ropes, in exchange for a substantial piece of the winnings. At first, Vincent's ego and obnoxiousness threaten his development, but he soon learns all of Eddie's tricks -- and a few of his own. By the time of the big tournament at the end of the movie, Eddie and Vince have split ways -- and find themselves on a collision course.

I just realized that "The Color of Money" is my favorite Tom Cruise movie, but not my favorite Paul Newman movie (which could well be "The Hustler"). I re-viewed this movie recently after a long discussion with some friends about the difference between a movie star and an actor, and the few living legends that are both (besides Newman, I'd include Jack Nicholson and Robert de Niro). As always, Newman, even with such a huge public persona, disappears into the role of the middle-aged grifter, heartbroken how far his game has fallen in the days since he left the pool hall circuit. But he also makes the other performers around him shine. Cruise's trademark cockiness shines through in Vincent. Besides Mastrantonio, one of my favorite actresses Helen Shaver turns in a nice performance as Eddie's girlfriend, and Forest Whitaker first appeared on my radar in his short time on screen.

The other star of the movie is the game. While Scorsese didn't make his movie into the character study of "The Hustler", he uses the pool tables and balls as a medium for many artistic scenes. If you are someone who enjoys looking at beautiful movies, you won't be disappointed. And there might even be some real pool players -- you never know...

The story is good, not great. "The Color of Money" is not cut from the same felt as "The Hustler", and does not try to be. It is a movie about pool, not a character study. I don't think I would be up to repeated viewings as frequent as "The Hustler", but it's a fine way to spend an evening watching Newman and Cruise shoot pool.

Although I don't think this is Hitch's best film (IMHO that's "Rear Window"), it's my favorite, partly because it features the Century Limited (which also has a featured role in "The Sting") and partly because the cast is so deep -- besides the top drawer stars (Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint, James Mason, and Martin Landau) it has great supporting character actors -- Leo G. Carroll, Jessie Royce Landis, Philip Ober, Edward Platt, Ed Binns, Les Tremayne, and the uncredited Malcolm Atterbury.

The plot's merely a device to put together a string of unlikely set pieces involving Roger O. Thornhill (Grant), an advertising exec who is mistaken for a secret agent by two thugs, and taken off to meet the evil Jonathan Van Damme (Mason) masquerading as a UN Diplomat. The purpose of the charade is never explained; nor are Van Damme's contrived methods of offing Thornhill, none of which is successful. In a series of unlikely coincidences, Thornhill finds himself wanted for murder and fleeing from the police on the Century Limited, the train from New York to Chicago that saw thousands of passengers a day in its prime. Thornhill meets and seduces a beautiful young blonde on the train, who remarkably agrees to hide him from the authorities; mirabile dictu, she's Van Damme's girlfriend. But we don't care about the improbably confluence of events that drive the picture to its remarkable conclusion in South Dakota.

The first among many excellent off-screen contributions is the Bernard Hermann soundtrack, whose frequent hemiolas paint an aural picture of the jagged angles suggested by the title and the opening credits set against the facade of the UN building.

I agree with the many reviewers who put this movie at the top of their lists, and pity those who can't see the humor or suspense in this Hitch classic. One suggestion -- see this on the big screen, if you can. Just for an example, the crop dusting scene is suspenseful enough on DVD; the last time I watched it in a theater, people were ducking in their seats to get away from the plane.

I liked "Supremacy" more than "The Bourne Identity", which I thought was a very good film. The car chase scene here ranks with the all-time greats (IMO, it knocked "The French Connection" off of the top of the hill). Joan Allen was note-perfect as the latest "Get Bourne" antagonist, though my own little fetish for Helen Shaver had me wishing this film had been made 15 years ago.

I agree with the other critics and users, though, that the camera-work detracted from, rather than enhanced, many of the scenes. Part of the problem for me may have been the crowded theater; I had to sit too close to the screen. I can't help wondering whether I'd missed a lot of details because of the quick cuts, the soft focus, and the constant zooming. Not much has been said about the sound editing, though, and it was very effective.

I've seen The Hustler repeated times, thought not as many as some of the other commentators. Recently I saw it for the first time in the theater, at the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin. Watching "The Hustler" in a theater is like listening to Dave Brubeck's "Time Out" album: you start to see and even hear things in black and white. You know the pool tables are green, and the balls are multi-colored, but somehow the black and white perfectly matches the colorless existence of the protagonist and his supporting players. You can smell the cigarettes, taste the booze.

Newman, Gleason, Scott, and Laurie all turn in great performances. But this movie, made after the heyday of the studio players' contract, still bears the hallmark of great movies from that era: strong supporting performances all the way down the line. Vincent Gardenia, for pete's sake, as the unlucky bartender in the first scene! Michael Constantine as Big John. Myron McCormick as Charlie, Eddie's sponsor most of the way through the movie. And Murray Hamilton as the millionaire Southern mark. This movie was made when supporting roles were an end in themselves, by actors who believed every second they were on screen should be of high quality.

The day I wrote this review -- January 18, 2004 -- The Hustler was no. 143 on the Top 250 list. No way are there 142 better movies.

Besides being a slightly better-than-average romantic comedy, this movie features several very familiar television supporting stars -- if you're an old coot like me anyway! -- including Eva Gabor ("Green Acres"), Edgar Buchanan ("Petticoat Junction"), Harry Morgan ("Dragnet" and "M*A*S*H"), Frances Bavier ("The Andy Griffith Show"), Richard Deacon ("The Dick Van Dyke Show"), Marion Ross ("Happy Days"), and last, but not least, the Batmobile!

I've seen this movie referred to by various commentors as a "great western". It's really a very good anti-western, in the tradition of High Noon. More should not be said about the non-traditional protagonist played by Jimmy Stewart. For my two cents, Stewart is the one fly in the ointment; I just can't buy the 54-year-old actor as a young, eager-beaver attorney trying to make his way in the wild west.

Like all great movies, the success of TMWSLV is largely attributable to its cast. I'm not just talking about Stewart (a great actor if not perfect for this role), Wayne, and Marvin, all superb and clearly having fun making this movie. Valance's henchman are portrayed superbly by Strother Martin (best known as the warden in Cool Hand Luke) and Lee Van Cleef (famous for lighting a match on Klaus Kinski's face in For a Few Dollars More). Edmund O'Brien and Woody Strode have lots of screen time as the publisher of the newspaper and Wayne's ranch hand; John Carradine has a short appearance in a great ham job as a lawyer at the convention in Capitol City. It goes on and on ... Denver Pyle, Andy Devine, and Ken Murray as the townfolks.

If you can pretend that Jimmy Stewart is twenty years younger, you will really enjoy TMWSLV. My favorite scene is when Lee Marvin trips Stewart while he's carrying out John Wayne's steak.

(PS: Tonight, I saw this right after Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. It's interesting to see the difference in Stewart in 1939 and 1962.)