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Manhatta aka New York the Magnificent is a collaborative work by painter Paul Sheeler and photographer Paul Strand in an attempt to define and document the early days of the skyscraper metropolis defined best by the city of New York.

What is generally regarded as the first city documentary, Manhatta does not have the energy or fast paced editing of later 20s city examinations such as the invaluable Berlin, Symphony of a Great City, by Walter Ruttman, made less than a generation before its destruction and Ivan Zertov's magnificent Man with a Movie Camera (1929) but its influence is clear as it depicts the phenomena and draw of big city living and its fast paced ways.

Accompanied by writer Walt Whitman title cards reciting his poem "Mannahatta", iconic photographer Strand and Sheeler capture images of Gotham still unsurpassed in both their sedate grace and energetic calamity. Eleven minutes in length, serenely presented., it holds its own to this day as a valuable timepiece.

Johnny Wheeler (Dan Duryea) his moll (Marta Toren) and his gang of thugs have just pulled off a two hundred thou caper and are waiting for the rest of the boys to show to make the split. A defrocked doc Frank Mason (James Mason) plans otherwise and comes up with a daring plan to abscond with both cash and babe, though his main concern remains the cash. Flying off to Mexico their plane runs into engine trouble and they end up in a village where the doc reawakens to his vocation, tending to villagers and animals. Johnny meanwhile remains intent on evening the score.

Truncated at both ends, One Way Street is a diffuse mess with its abrupt opening and lack of background behind the sophisticated Mason mixing up with surly Duryea and his gang. Grossly miscast, he seems out of place and a poor fit in both of his environments. Marta Toren registers as the love interest while Duryea does his usual requisite venal simmering out for revenge.

Argentine director Hugo Fregonese direction is uninspired, visually bland andthe supporting performances outside of Basil Ruysdael, stereotypically rote and overwrought, especially in the hideout scenes. The sudden abrupt finish is a jarring cop out. Made during Mason's poor start in Hollywood and it shows.

Considered upon its release one of the worst films of all time Ishtar has not lost an ounce of its tawdry luster over the decades. A supreme act of narcissistic hubris by two fifty year old mega stars who think they can pass for the next Simon of Garfunkel, the film finds itself in troubled waters from the outset.

Late 20 somethings, Chuck (Dustin Hoffman) and Lyle (Warren Beatty) have dreams of being the next superstar folk/rock duo by way of their lounge act, their only roadblock, getting an agent. They find one (Jack Warden) and he books the pair in Morrocco where the hijinks ratchet up as they involve themselves with the CIA and terrorists.

Sporting great heads of hair with matching headbands this Hope /Crosby road comedy is an utter aberration of crass, slap happy abrasiveness. Hoffman and Beatty have zero chemistry with their poor soul attitudes and their act, so blatantly bad it looks like a lousy self parody of a self parody of a straight comedy. Ineptly directed by Elaine May ( understandably her last) she along with her stars attempt and fail miserably to bowl you over with their charisma in silly mode of heavy handed mugging.

Ironically her former cowriter standup act Mike Nichols directed Beatty with Jack Nicholson in an earlier fiasco, The Fortune, a flop with the same similar abrasive sense of humor, both trying to be Sturges like but ending Stooge like instead, as in Shemp. The legend deservedly lives on.

Dixon Steele (Humphrey Bogart) is an on edge Hollywood writer with a hair trigger temper. He hires a hat check girl for a night to give him an outline on a book he finds worthless book. The task completed he tells her she can grab a cab around the corner and she leaves. The next mornign she's found dead and he becomes a prime suspect. Neighbor Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame) vouches for him but he remains a suspect. A romance on shaky grounds then begins between the two but Laurel begins to have her doubts about Dixon and his erratic behavior.

Bogart's Dixon is a difficult protagonist to sympathize with. He flares up into rages nearly half a dozen times, blames everyone but himself for his anger and has difficulty with apologizing when he does. It is a dark and powerful performance from Bogart that has you on edge like the rest of the film's characters waiting for him to explode. He has his soft moments but his cynicism is always nearby, coldly displaying it during his interrogation with a touch of levity in light of the gruesome topic. Hardened by the war, sick of the Hollywood artifice? Dixon is a difficult character to figure out. Even if unresolved by pictures end, he's well worth following.

Ray's direction is economical and claustrophobic grouping his players close to the volatile Dixon, initiating tension before saying a word. The somewhat enigmatic Laurel is welled played by Grahame who portrays her uncertainty for the "bad boy" type with both fear and desire.

A subplot of ex an Army pal, (Frank Lovejoy) now a detective is much too convenient while a stereotypical supporting cast comes across both flat and over the top, far from where Bogart is with in A Lonely Place.

Besotted Eve Gill (Jane Wyman) gets herself involved in a murder when she rushes to the defense of her former boyfriend (Richard Todd) trying to cover for stage star and present flame Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich). Assisting in hiding him from the authorities she goes undercover to expose Inwood as the real killer.

In spite of its stellar cast Stage Fright is light Alfred Hitchcock in the The Trouble with Harry sense, a broad semi-comic murder mystery. It has moments that reflect darker works but for the most part Wyman's neophyte Eve keeps things innocent while a strong supporting cast featuring Alistair Sim as her father , Sybil Thorndyke, Kay Walsh and Joyce Grenfell in a scene stealer bring levity to the mystery. The enigmatic and charismatic Dietrich naturally swallows up all the oxygen in the room when present, adding to the burlesque of this minor Hitchcock with a surprise finish that may not be first rate Hitch but passable enough.

The Power and the Glory is perhaps Spencer Tracy's most accomplished performance before superstardom swept him up a few years later. While some might point to 20 Thousand Years in Sing Sing as his breakout role, his stretch from a youthful railman to railroad owner, displays the deceptive naturalness of his laid back style that made him the iconic film actor his career delivered.

Rail walker Tom Garner (Tracy) is more than satisfied in life with his job. Illiterate he meets and marries Sally (Colleen Moore) whose support and teaching eventuate in a meteoric rise to owning a rail road. A hard driving workaholic, he battles unions, makes enemies and has an affair that destroys his marriage. Upon remarrying he even makes a bigger fool of himself.

"Power" pre-dates and resembles Citizen Kane as the film opens at Garner's funeral. The story told mostly by a simpering sycophant (Ralph Morgan) attempts his best to paper over the execrable Garner but even the loyal employee's wife near end is fed up with his whimpering and heads for bed.

Drably directed by William K Howard, it does not deter from Tracy's well metered maturing performance, even if absent from actress Helen Vinson's blatant pre-code seduction of his son in the film's most provocative moment.

A sober early script from Preston Sturges with Colleen Moore as Garner's wife delivering more than her share of powerful and touching moments.

The Thin Man goes Home is the fifth of six in a series that ran for a dozen years featuring William Powell and Myrna Loy as Nick and Nora Charles. Deviating in place and habit "Home" is amazingly fresh for the long running series sticking to the formula of multiple suspects and Charles dissection finale.

Nick and Nora visit his rural hometown, Sycamore Springs to see his parents. His father (Henry Davenport) a doctor has always been slightly disappointed in his son and his life choices. When a murder is literally committed on his doorstep Nick is given the opportunity to impress dad.

Nick embraces sobriety during this wartime film by drinking cider and dealing with the crowded discomfort of travel in this period. The perfectly balanced natural rapport between Loy and Powell remains sharp as ever. Similar styled director, Richard Thorpe replaces "One Take" Woody Van Dyke ably while Lucille Watson, Anne Revere and other scene stealers fill out a relatively benign group of suspects. A worthy addition to the series, flexing the same staying power of this dynamic duo in both different locale and era.

Director Basil Deardon returns to a racial tension theme in the murder mystery Sapphire. Dealing with the delicate topic as far back in 1953 with Pool of London, Sapphire approaches it with a lot more emphasis.

Sapphire Robbins is found murdered in a London park where further investigation reveals she was "colored" passing for white. In addition she was pregnant. Her boyfriend, a promising college student is an obvious suspect but Sapphire's dubious past offers up a fair share of others.

In attempting to solve matters the two detectives played by Nigel Patrick and James Craig must confront there own veiled bias and attitude in relationship to the crime. Craig in particular chafes around race while Patrick attempts to remain objectively professional. In doing so it gives Dearden the opportunity to show bigotry goes both ways as a well heeled and connected character played by Gordon Heath gives him a condescending going over.

Dearden's overall direction is a touch stilted in moments and a banal jazz score sensationalizes needlessly. The color photography is garish at times as well but the writers are to be commended for developing a story displaying predjudice in its many forms.

Cantankerous shoe store owner and widower Henry Hobson (Charles Laughton) rides herd on his three daughters in this Edwardian period piece directed by David Lean. Pompous and demanding he neither pays or allows his daughters to choose husband with the oldest Maggie (Brenda De Banzie ) looking after his needs he decides, into dotage. She has other plans however that will undermine his run of the family and the business.

A rare comedy for Lean who specialized in drama and epic directing and getting the same results here with fine performances, sharp editing and outstanding lensing by Jack Hildyard. Laughton naturally dominates with a patriarchal surliness so ingrained it is hard to find any sympathy for his well deserved just desserts. John Mills as a dimwitted shoemaker transitions nicely to proper shop owner much in part to Maggie who sees the potential in him to turn matters in her favor. The courtship between the two is both comic and shyly tender. The town setting is idyllic with hints of poverty and Hildyard captures it nicely as well as depict Hobson's dipsomania in surreal fashion. A solid, charming film.

Jim Carrey once again attempts to be taken serious as an actor along with Kate Winslet playing a Madonna manque in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Shapeless but with lots of tricks, writer Charles Kaufman's banal dialogue has to be rescued on cue by either a surreal happening or reversing course in jarring fashion. A romantic, science fiction hybrid, it fails miserably on both levels.

Two misfits meet in Montauk one cold morning. Sad sack Joel (Carrey) and mercurial Clementine (Kate Winslet) somehow click and a romance begins. When besotted Joel visits her with gifts at the store she does not even recognize him. It turns out she's had a procedure to erase Joel from memory. Joel pained by the experience decides he wants to go through the same procedure under the guidance of a trio of irresponsible assistants.(Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo, Elijah Wood). In the interim the story confusingly switches from reality to Joel's haywire procedure allowing the director Michael Gondry to work on a variety of levels.

Simpering and slovenly Carrey once again fails to register dramatically, his hang down demeanor and sheepish poor lugubrious me turn one extended self pity party of dealing with past, present and supernatural. Winslet is whimsically trying while Dunst, Ruffalo and Wood dimwit stooges spout insipid dialogue and act like 10 year olds.

There's a handful of eye popping visuals but cinematographer Ellen Kuras lensing is pedestrian in moments, especially around lighting. Given the freedom of padding human emotion with sci-fi both writer and director make the most of these liberties but in doing so fail to tell a coherent, grounded story with this overall shallow and disheveled slight of hand film.

Made during schlockmeister William Castle's (Whistler films, The Tingler) early career When Stangers Marry is a well paced thriller featuring major players in their early years. Filled with quirky moments (one outstanding Harlem nightclub scene in particular) it is a tight to its vest mystery that does not disappoint.

Millie Baxter ( Kim Hunter) impulsively marries traveling salesman, Paul Baxter (Dean Jagger) after a three day courtship. When a woman in Philly is strangled, coincidence points the finger at Baxter, that the gullible Millie has hard time believing. Fred Graham a former boyfriend, (Robert Mitchum) and detectives try to bring her up to speed about the danger but she remains resolute in her trust.

Admittedly, outside forces are in play when taking into account the trajectory of the careers in the years to come for the three leads here who acquit themselves well and convincingly enough to keep the plot nebulous. Castle for his part streamlines the tension, barely allowing the audience to catch its breath watching Millie putting herself in harm's way. A short and sweet, solid mystery.

Ann Harding gets top billing in this lesser known Philip Barry (Holiday, The Philadelphia Story) play that remains civil from end to end without much rancor. A drawing room drama it varies little from stage blocking with director Edward Griffith (including an assist from George Cukor ) leaving it to the professionals to deliver the goods performance wise.

Book publisher Tom Collier ( Leslie Howard), unsatisfied with producing tripe mulls selling the business while preparing to marry a somewhat mercenary woman played by Myrna Loy who shows signs of upending his lifestyle completely, symbolized by the fact she wants to rid the house of Tom's butler and ersatz buddy (William Gargan). She's the opposite of Daisy (Harding) a woman led to believe she would be with vacillating Tom.

Harding made 20 films during an 8 year run, many pre-code before retiring the first time. In Kingdom she runs hot and cold with both strong and weak scenes with Howard. Howard plays his typical romantic dreamer well, while the calculating materialistic Loy character follows suit with William Gargan providing the comedy relief along with an assist from Ilka Chase.

While it plods in moments Animal Kingdom is overall a well mannered and soberly presented sophisticated drama, minus fireworks.

Leah St. Aubyn (Susan Peters) is a courageous role model to all those around her. Paralyzed after saving her husband and his daughter from beautiful but treacherous coastline that fronts their magnificent mansion in the Cornish countryside she manages to keep an upbeat attitude in spite of the setback. In truth however she is a manipulative deceiver determined to keep the large family around her in the home for as long as possible.

Helmed by action director John Sturges (The Great Escape, Magnificent Seven) early in his career Ram moves along with a serene tension as the diabolical Leah juggles the emotions of the rest of the cast from the confines of her wheelchair with rumor and innuendo. Given the viewers omnipotent position, Leah's actions at times seem obvious due perhaps to the fact we are witness to her diabolical side they remind blind to.

The story within the story is even more compelling when one takes into account Ms. Peters had a promising career when she was in fact paralyzed in an accident. She soldiered on for a few more years appearing in theatre but eventually passed away in her early 30s. Witnessing her gallant effort here both distracts and adds to the fictional tragedy itself.

Sixty plus years after its release Lawrence of Arabia remains for me the finest of epics in spite of its overlong running time which in the past ran anywhere from 166 minutes to this 3 hour 22 minute present day director's cut. It is a magnificent cinematic achievement probably never to be repeated with todays artificial CGI capability.

Based on the life of TE Lawrence, a British officer who helped lead the Arab revolt against the Ottoman empire during World War1, it is a 70 MM visual feast on a scale like no other as the desert takes center stage over some outstanding acting provided by an all star cast and incredibly tasteful direction David Lean.

Assigned to work with King Fasal to disrupt the Turks in Arabia Lawrence (Peter O'Toole) unites two Arab tribes to fight their common foe. After a daring raid on the coastal town of Acaba he gains fame and more arms for the Arabs along with the promise of letting Arabs rule their land. The British play him along with no intention of granting independence but colonialism instead. In battle the mild mannered Lawrence soon commits to atrocity and war crimes.

Under Lean's direction, Freddie Youngs photography is breathtaking in its sweep including the magnificent interiors of the Alcazar in Seville subbing for Cairo. Capturing its unforgiving vastness and disposition along the route to Acaba he follows it up with a rousing taking of the town in what has to be one of the most exciting panning shots in history.

O'Toole transforms nicely from banal officer, to megalomaniac to war criminal, though sometimes a bit overly sensitive in some situations. Omar Sharif as a chieftain is wooden, Tony Quinn as the other, properly over the top. A supporting cast featuring Jack Hawkins, Claude Rains, Arthur Kennedy, Jose Ferrer and Anthony Quayle are letter perfect amid impeccable set design in this questionable but beautifully presented piece of history, it's overlong length its only drawback.

This brutally oxymoronic titled film features Burt Lancaster and Joan Fontaine making foolish choices in a London locale drama. The two cross paths as he runs from a murder he has just committed. She remains oblivious to this but his violent outbursts remain a deep concern.

Former Canadian POW, Bill Saunders (Lancaster) more than likely in the throng of PTSD, strikes out in a pub one night with the publican who smashes his head after falling from a blow by Saunders. She passively allows him a place to hide but then wants to be rid of him. He persists and they strike up an affair. However, witness to the murder (Robert Newton), blackmails Saunders to pull off a major heist of valuable penicillin.

In similar desperate situation films (The Killers, Criss Cross, Sorry Wrong Number) for Burt the females (Ava Gardner, Yvonne DeCarlo, Barbera Stanwyck) are out to exploit but Fontaine hangs tough with her man despite major warning signs.

The three leads give solid performances while DP Russell Metty gives the film a suitable claustrophobic and dark look but the actions of Saunders and Wharton responding to their dilemmas lack logic as they dig themselves a deeper hole, their grim optimism at crunch time ringing hollow.

Barney (Louis Heyward) and Sheila Page (Joan Leslie) have a rather tumultuous love-hate marriage brought on by Barn's drinking. On New Year's 1946, the strain of the marriage reaches its peak and Sheila is forced to barney shoot dead. Naturally regretting the ordeal she like all of us in a similar situation would wish for a do-over, the big "if, if I could only." In Leslie's case this wish is granted but she must re-live the year in the process.

This noir/fantasy hybrid is more than palpable once one accepts the outlandish premise. An urbane cast of the leads Tom Conway, Virginia Field a ditzy but subtly sharp, Natalie Shaffer and a fine sensitive turn from Richard Basehart make this an entertaining if not gripping mix, outside of Heyward's impressive descent into madness, which deserves special mention.

Established superstar meets upcoming superstar in this comical Mae West vehicle where the "force of nature" manages to commit murder, accomplice to another and end up with a marriage proposal from Cary Grant before Will Hays and Joe Breen arrive to excise the vice in the film for decades to come.

Lady Lou (West) is the belle of the Bowery, packing the house every night with her hour glass figure and Edward G. Robinson singing style aided by a touch of tremolo. Naturally every red blooded man within the area want her with the exception of a Salvation Army officer (Grant) which irks her to a degree.

West is West as she bombards the audience with double entendre and complimentary leering at the handsome and stilted Grant as he moved up in billing. Rafaella Ottiano and John Landau offer surly supporting characters while Gilbert Roland as a gigolo matches Grant in the looks department that West also shows some interest in. Inferior in comparison to "I'm no Angel," made later in the year but more than enough "subtle inference" from the iconic Ms. West to keep her fans entertained.

Charles McGraw gets to play a rare romantic lead in his career in this generic B crime thriller. Co-starring vampish fatale Jeanne Dixon it is a suitable supporting cast and some sardonic dialogue that carries the film before it collapses with an overlong chase about the LA tidal basin making all before it almost superfluous.

Insurance dick Joe Peters (McGraw) is an honest investigator who along with partner, Harry Miller (Louie Jean Heydt) make for a successful and close team. After completing another successful case they split up and he meets fortune hunter Diane Morely (Dixon) who wants more than an investigator's salary to support her.

McGraw is gruff in everything he does with thugs and lovers. Dixon lust for money and the material burns in her eyes. Heydt makes for a convincing partner as does Lowell Gilmore as a slimy crook but Harold Daniels direction is lack luster, the look basic B.

The opening cat walk across the credits outshines this cast of heavy hitters who give en masse mockable performances in this Big Easy drama about a Bourbon St. Area bordello.

Texas drifter Dove Linkhorn (Laurence Harvey) hops a boxcar with teenager Kitty (Jane Fonda) to New Orleans in search of his long lost love, Haillie (Capucine) who happens to work at Jo Courtney's (Barbra Stanwyck) watered down version of a whorehouse. Jo also has the hots for Haille and will not give her up without a fight. Undeterred by her situation, Dove remains determined to whisk her away from the house of ill repute

Outside of the provocative lesbian aspect, with Stanwyck playing one of the more openly sapphic roles of its day, Walk is a drag, slow in pace, the acting stilted the dialogue trite. Harvey offers a poor drawl, Capucine in the finest of fashion drab and unemotive, Fonda, sloppily precocious. Stanwyck is not immune as well, though she does have a couple of powerful scenes along with her throwing herself in the middle of a fray, pulling bodies apart. Anne Baxter in a subplot also fans at playing a road stop senorita in bad accent.

Ed Dmytryk's direction is uninspired, his scenes flat (even with Joe McDonald lensing) and unconvincing, the editing perfunctory. Walk is a crawl.

Bikers, Captain America (Peter Fonda) and Billy (Dennis Hopper) make a major drug deal and with the profits set sail to look for America inhaling both the landscape and weed along the way in vast quanity. Meeting with both friend and foe as they travel from LA to the Mardi Gras in New Orleans the pair approach the journey with two different temperaments while remaining loyal to each other.

With it's release in 1969, Easy Rider, changed the course of American independent filmmaking by producing a blockbuster of immense proportions that had the suits sitting up in Hollywood taking notice. Today, while still retaining some of its purpose it has become more caricature than message over the decades, unintentionally comic in serious moments with its "oh wow" simplistic take on the world laughable in more than one moment.

Director Hopper's vision is both pretentious and self indulgent whether sitting around a campfire stoning out, trying to get locals to go red neck on them, present a false hippie commune utopia, or stage a bad trip in a graveyard. His performance is both abrasive and annoying as he fulfills the role of hippie stoner to the hilt while Fonda plays the introspective flower child in search of meaning. It is Jack Nicholson, though, as an alcoholic lawyer in a 30 minute supporting role that steals acting honors.

What does make Easy Rider roar however is the landscape and audacious cinematography of Lazlo Kovacs along with an outstanding music score for the ages featuring The Byrds, Hendrix, Dylan and Steppenwolf signature tune "Born to be Wild." Giving the film an energy relative to its time, it informs rather than generically accompany as an afterthought.

An important film that has not aged well in retrospect to what it proposed with its message tarnished only months away with Manson and Altamont waiting in the wings to dissemble the hippie trip with the ugly reality of its utopian vision.

Wes Anderson's latest toy box movie seems to have consumed too many carrots. Set in a town in the middle of the desert, it almost requires sunglasses to watch as Wes turns up the kliegs to a point of almost bleaching out his signature pastel puke pallet.

A group of science whiz kids and their parents, a movie star, along with a grieving dad and his kids find themselves confined in Asteroid City, population 7, by the government when an alien decides to drop in on a campfire one nite. Accompanying the story is a confused absurdist sub-plot trying to figure out what is happening on a parallel plain.

Anderson's world of dead panned weebles, spouting gibberish and non-sequitur wears thin fast as he bombards the audience with banal and clever visual moments that fail to advance the story, probably too hard to figure or care about in the first place.

His players feature a huge all-star cast mostly reciting and offering nothing; only perhaps to show us what good sports they are appearing in Pee Wee's playhouse. The insipid dialogue would suffer even worse without the celebrity mug spouting it. A soddenly pretentious and self indulgent work by someone riding on the same fumes since Grand Hotel Budapest.

Sex and cigarettes get equal billing with Leonard Bernstein's music in this biopic that spends as much time on his wife as himself. Featuring two strong performances from Bradley Cooper and Carey Mulligan it is one massive marital bicker that fails to focus on what made him famous, his music. And while Cooper seems to catch the mannerisms and style of the famous conductor, he fails him as the pictures director and co writer.

Young Lenny Bernstein gets the break of a lifetime when Bruno Walter calls in sick for Carnegie Hall . He gets rave reviews and the career begins as a famed world wide conductor and successful composer resulting in numerous, Tony, Emmy and Grammy awards along with worldwide recognition. Things however did not go swimmingly at home for the bi-sexual Bernstein who was less than discreet in his affairs that brought his marital discord to a high pitch..

Director Cooper turns Maestro into little more than a mid-day soap opera while glaringly failing to utilize or capitalize on his music. He allows scenes to drag, dreadfully stages a cancer diagnosis scene and for some reason in a couple of others moments frames in long shot that demands close-up which results in diluting the emotional power in both.

Late in the film Bernstein obliquely references Ken Russell work about the composer Tchaikovsky, The Music Lovers. He would have been wise to study Russell more closely for he was a master of incendiary bios on composers (Mahler, Debussy, Liszt) and the way he gave life to these productions was through mainlining their music provocatively into the story which Cooper for some unknown reason fails to do here.

Film director Wim Wenders had been away from his country of Germany for eight years when he returned to try and flesh out his favorite city, a still divided Berlin. In his search for a protagonist as guide he came up with the unique idea of using angels who could cover the city free of barriers.

In Wings, angels invisibly flood Berlin, eavesdropping and providing comfort for a cross section of Berlin. Children can recognize them but adults lost in thought and task cannot. Two in particular, Damiel (Bruno Ganz) and Cassiel (Otto Stander) are focused upon as they listen and support locals in libraries, subways and throughout the city, "The Wall" no impediment. While Cassiel is content to be the cold dispassionate observer, Damiel yearns to get in the game and opts out and into the human race.

The first hour of Wings of Desire is a sublime B&W journey of unique perspective with the angels in the midst of the mundane and tragic of everyday Berlin given the freedom to go where they please. Powerful moments of incessant interior monologue are mixed with whimsical along with the brilliant thought behind and casting of Peter Falk, playing the movie star unable to see but feel the ethereal creatures presence. The second half slows after Damiel's transition and relationship with a trapeze artist begins to blossom and the celluloid turns to color but by then Wenders idea either has you hooked or disappointed. In my case it is one of the finer films of the 1980s.

Uprooting from Nazi Germany (who had big plans for him) and immigrating to the US and Hollywood Fritz Lang hit the ground running with two sharp perceptive pieces of dark Americana, Fury with Spencer Tracy and You only Live Once with Henry Fonda. His third effort, You and Me however was quirky effort with Kurt Weill theatrics that betray what looked like Lang's immediate grasp of the American scene. A sloppy goulash of caper, comedy, romance and music it fails to jell in anyway.

Macy's like department store owner Mr. Morris (Harry Carey) has a soft heart for ex-cons and hires them to work throughout the store. Two of his success stories played by George Raft and Sylvia Sydney meet and fall for each other but a former con (Barton Maclane) not up for reform plots with the other con/employees to rob the store.

You and Me is on sorry footing from the outset with its poor mix of genres never establishing a set mood and it results in a type of warped burlesque with some ill fitting Mack the Knife musical numbers of the boys lamenting the "good life" back in stir. Uneven at best, the Capra corn climax, simply puts a fork in this disheveled mess.

Dealer in art and antiquities Robert Klein (Alain Delon) has a pretty good gig going in Nazi occupied Paris during WW 2. He buys at "bargain prices" art work from desperate Jews trying to escape or survive Vichy, France and feels little guilt over it. Not his problem. But matters suddenly change when he is mistaken for another Mr. Klein and becomes circumspect in the process. The smug sense of entitlement soon turns to desperation and to find out just who this other Klein is as French authorties begin to zero in on him.

Klein opens with a very disturbing scene of an insensitive doctor manhandling a woman with Jewish features during examination. It is a brutal scene that sets the mood and the stakes Klein will soon face of dehumanization and deportation to camps. He desperately wants to clear himself but at the same time willing to jeopardize his freedom by meeting up with Klein.

Alain Delon gives an outstanding performance as the perplexed Klein. The long time matinee idol stretches well beyond his looks and digs deep to give a multi-layered tragic performance. Whether condescendingly being disdainful of sellers or squirming before authorities Delon oozes the role the cavalier then desperate Klein.

Director Joe Losey's somber direction never lets up on the fear, paranoia and confusion Klein faces as he deals with cold French authorities. Void mostly of a music score it approaches being a clinical observation about a society of collaborationists indifferently performing their dark duties with the viewer as Delon spiraling into some Kafkaesque nightmare. It is an uncomfortable but powerfully sober watch.