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I think there is a real problem here with what could have been a real 'sleeper' - a modest, but potentially good, film. That problem is the continuity. This movie has a thrown together look, with scenes that don't match, and with dialog that is sometimes spoken as if some climax is about to happen, but never does.

I loved Jeff Morrow in this - he seems to be in a completely different (and better) picture than most of the rest of the cast. Colleen Gray is very pretty, but why is she all dolled up and coiffed in a 1950s beehive-type hairdo if she's out in the Wild West? In typical Hollywood style, no matter what befalls her, her lipstick never smears.

The actors are called upon to suffer many hardships, and one minute they are walking in the desert, and the next they are walking next to a stream near some woods, and how they got there is never accounted for. I couldn't keep track of when they had a wagon and horse, and when they didn't. Events sometimes seem to unfold backwards.

That isn't the actors fault. It's annoying, but it shouldn't detract from the performances, and the kernel of a good story that just never develops properly. It should lead the viewer to speculate about how this movie could have been a bit better. Maybe someone will remake it some day.

If you want to know the plot of this excellent little film, read all of the other very well put comments. All I want to say is: I was just a little younger than the Joey of this film when it was made. I lived in the same neighborhood in Brooklyn where he lived. I took the same train he took to get to Coney Island. At Coney Island, I did all the things he and his brother did (except ride the Parachute Jump - too scary, and anyway they stopped allowing small children on it soon afterwards -- too dangerous), including collecting empty bottles to return to food stands to get a little pocket change. I rode those very same ponies. I waded through those same Coney Island streets that got flooded every time it rained. It always makes my heart jump a little when Lenny is in the candy store and says "Give me a chocolate pop." He doesn't mean soda - in Brooklyn, a "pop" was ice cream on a stick (that's why a Popsicle is called a "Pop"sicle).

That is how we looked, that is how we talked, those are the games we played (BB guns were like forbidden fruit to city boys).

This film gets everything exactly right, in the most charming way, and I love it.

This movie was a very pleasant surprise, and is an excellent example of what a family movie is supposed to be. It uses the clever metaphor of having to train to be a superhero to represent the trials and tribulations of getting through high school and growing up. Elements of Harry Potter and various comic books situations are very well incorporated.

The best part of this movie, in addition to the really good performances, especially by Michael Angarano, a very poised and skillful young actor, is the fact that it has enough in it to please viewers of all ages. The dialog is witty, and the family situations are realistic enough to please adults, there are enough teenage triumph, setbacks and romance to appeal to teens, and there is plenty of comic book style slapstick to delight children. I also liked the fact that the supporting players, notably Dave Foley and Kevin MacDonald, are silly, but actually very funny. Usually such roles are presented as 'throw-aways' for an easy laugh, but these two use their Kids in the Hall talents to make their scenes as significant as those of the lead actors.

This movie didn't get nearly enough publicity. It really is very, very good, and should be given enough support to become the classic it deserves to be.

This film seems to want to cash in on the genre that was so popular in the 1960s. Before the James Bond movies, anything to do with contemporary Europe in American films was either a musical or a noirish spy film. This movie reflects the big-screen, brightly colored and chock full of designer clothing look that was typical of the 60s. This was a time when movies were struggling to compete with color television, and the films got bigger, splashier, and took us to more and more exotic locations.

Paris When It Sizzles is very typical of the movies I remember from that time. It looks very much like the Pink Panther franchise, but it strives to be more sophisticated. I frankly think the direction and editing of the movie drag it down. There are is some very witty dialog ("how funny that we both kept giraffes!"), lots of in-jokes about the movie-making process, two very attractive stars (three if you count Tony Curtis in a supporting role), but it still drags more than it should. Except for Curtis, who is really funny and gets the tongue-in-cheek slant of the film just right, the rest seem to be laboring much too hard. The physical jokes (chase scenes, etc.) are overblown and generally go on too long. The whole look of the film seems heavy-handed when it should have been light and breezy. I have the impression this film was intended as farce, but it's more like that proverbial lead balloon. It's too bad, really. This could have been a lot funnier than it is. Nevertheless, Hepburn looks beautiful and soldiers on gamely, as she always did. Even if she did not enjoy making this movie, as has been reported, you wouldn't suspect it from her performance. She was the right choice for this role, but an actor never knows until she sees the final cut of a movie what it's going to look like. And yeah, I agree, that Dracula thing was pretty awful. Curtis' "Method" actor performance almost makes up for it. And what just what was Noel Coward doing in this picture, anyway? He's about as much of a Hollywood producer as Audrey Hepburn is Xena the Warrior Princess.

To really see how surreal farce was done right in the 1960s, I recommend the Beatles' "Help."

Clifford Odets is one of our greatest playwrights, but this screenplay could have used some judicious editing. The dialog goes on and on, and in some scenes it sounds so stilted and unnatural, even though the characters are supposed to be 'real' people. Clash By Night was a Broadway play with Tallulah Bankhead in the lead - the action in that play took place in the fishing community of Staten Island, NY, rather than in California, as in this film.

Nevertheless, this is a good movie, and an adult one. A local woman who has broken off her romance with a married man comes home to the small fishing town in California to collect herself. She gets a really decent, simple guy to fall for her, marries him, and then regrets it. She starts an affair with the local slacker, who is an attractive, 'dangerous to know' type. Her intense agonizing over whether or not to leave her husband and their baby daughter is an indication that maybe she isn't as tough as she thought she was and, in the end she returns to her husband. That's basically the plot, but there is so much more to this film, most notably, the performances.

I think the fact this this movie was directed by Fritz Lang makes it a lot better than if it had been directed by some studio contract director. Although the dialog is so rambling, there is still the appropriate tension among the characters and the movie moves along pretty well. The extreme darkness of the look of the film is appropriate to its title and to the action, even though so much of that action takes place out of doors.

Stanwyck is just right as the tough woman with a conscience she didn't know she had. Ryan plays the character of doubtful morality he was so good at. Keith Andes, as Stanwyck's brother, was seen much more in TV roles, and he doesn't have much to do here but take his shirt off once in a while. Monroe is very sweet as the small town girl who just wants to be happy and be with her man, and is eager to have Stanwyck, who she admires, as her older sister. She is a contrast to Stanwyck's character, who was ambitious and grasping before she came home, and didn't really think she would be able to change. Paul Douglas is positively heart-breaking as the poor, clueless schnook who loves Stanwyck and who hero worships Ryan. The adoration in his face every time he looks at her, and the pride he takes in his friendship with Ryan's character, will make you cry. And when he finally pulls himself together and deals with the fact of his wife's adultery, you will cheer for him.

You can say that Stanwyck and her brother represent two kinds of couples, one who gets together for the wrong reasons, and one where the individuals are right for each other and know it.

"Let us be true to one another," says the Matthew Arnold poem from which the phrase Clash By Night is taken. It also helps, as Stanwyck's character learns, to be true to yourself.

I think this is the best filming of a Shakespeare play, in terms of overall success. The filming is straightforward, with a minimum of distractions, cuts were made to the script to keep things moving, the dialog is clearly spoken, and the performances are terrific all around.

As just about every other comment here notes, if you only know Brando from The Godfather and some of his later, and sorrier films, you will be amazed and impressed by his Marc Antony. This is the Brando that I remember, buff, gorgeous and so talented that we were sure he could play just about any part and blow us away. His performance of the famous "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech is a marvel of clarity, and is the linchpin that makes all of the other action of the play make sense.

James Mason is, I think, perfect as Brutus. He is very much like Shakespeare's Hamlet - mulling over every possible facet of every problem he faces, and agonizing to reach a decision. He was a master at portraying a person's ability, or inability, to reach a painful decision. The awesomeness of his responsibility and the consequences of his actions (after all, they are plotting to kill a king) are beautifully shown in his performance.

John Gielgud is my favorite Shakepearean actor. If you had ever had the privilege of seeing him on stage, you would have gotten the full force of his ability to control the character, the language, and to reach out and hold the audience all at the same time. It doesn't quite come across in this film, but I still think he shows that underneath Cassius' treason there is definitely an element of self-doubt and possibly shame at what he is about to do.

I have to disagree with most of the comments about Louis Calhern's Caesar. Several people have said that he didn't capture the majesty and military bearing that Julius Caesar would have had, but we have to remember that Shakespeare intended this as drama, not history. The whole point of the Roman senators' wish to get rid of Caesar is that he is no longer the Caesar they remember: he has become a smug, self-satisfied politician who thinks he is a king, while Rome is still a republic. I think Calhern captures this smarmy, oily, arrogant quality very well. Rome wanted a general, and this Caesar gave them a high-priced car salesman.

I own a copy of this film, and I watch it often. I think it would serve perfectly as an introduction to Shakespeare. By the way, I remember an anecdote related in the memoirs of John Houseman (the producer of this film). He said someone of importance in British theater (I now forget who - possibly it was Geilgud) had observed Brando's performance in the making of the film, and asked him to come to London to star in a Shakespeare festival. Brando said sorry, I can't. I have to get back to Nebraska to help my father get the crop in. Imagine if he had said yes.

This is a silly, tear-jerker of a story, but interesting in spite of itself, the kind to help you pass a rainy day when you're feeling kind of blue.

However . . . . if anyone wants to know who was one of America's greatest actresses, they have only to watch Shirley Booth in this film. She was a very low-key, actually kind of dumpy-looking woman, with a not very pretty speaking voice, but she will keep your attention, amaze you, and break your heart. Even though she looks sort of like she could be Robert Ryan's mother, or at least his older sister, you don't have a moment's doubt that this tall, handsome leading man could fall for her and maintain a long-term relationship with her. She is luminous in her quiet way.

Booth did many stage plays, and to give you an idea of the heft of her acting abilities, several of the parts she played on the stage were subsequently played on screen by Katharine Hepburn. Booth unfortunately lacked what Hollywood considered glamor, but she was chock full of talent and charisma. If you know her only from re-runs of the sitcom "Hazel," you are in for a big surprise if you see her in this film, or in the even better "Come Back Little Sheba."

This is a great film about which much has been written, and there are many such thoughtful comments included on this website. I don't really need to add any comments about what a true American classic it is.

Instead, I will comment on the character actors, always my favorite part of a Hollywood movie. Once I've seen the picture, and appreciated the stars and understood the plot, I like to watch it for the supporting players --I don't think there were ever any better character actors than those in the Hollywood studio system in the 1930s through 1950s.

In this case, I am thinking of the young men who were known as the Dead End Kids. I grew up in New York City with just such kids. They are portraying the real thing, and they do it so well. It's unfortunate that they devolved into those silly characters called the Bowery Boys (still true to life as the neighborhood slackers) in those silly movies made in the 1940s and 1950s. They deserved better, although I suppose it was a living.

My particular favorite kid in Dead End is Leo Gorcey. That Spit -- what a little punk. I think he plays the part with just the right mix of teenage bravado, danger and insecurity, and I think he is actually pretty sexy. I could see him playing smooth, urban (not necessarily urbane) villains in other films, but that never happened. Too bad. He would have been very interesting.

When I saw the opening credits announcing "A James Whale Production," I thought - yes, there will probably be outsized and grotesque sets, just like in Frankenstein. I wasn't mistaken. The weird decor of the house and restaurant where the action takes place is a movie in itself. The entire film plays like one big in-joke, like the sorts of things film studios put together to show to employees at Christmas parties.

But that doesn't mean this movie isn't funny, and enjoyable. The two lead characters are the boozy, over the top kind that you know are going to get into more trouble than they can handle. To me, they were sort of a combination of Nick and Nora Charles, and Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald. Their wild party was one of the wildest you'll ever see on film, and no nudity or foul language, either. Of course, there is the matter of that really tasteless, racist bit at the party. I suppose in 1935 some would have considered that funny, but it is painful to watch.

I really liked Constance Cummings. The only other thing I've seen her in is Blythe Spirit. She was very good here in a screwball mode, and she was cute and perky without being obnoxious about it. Robert Young was winning as her not very much more sober and serious husband. The whole mystery with all the suspects in one house thing was pretty silly, but I really think it was supposed to be. This film is to be viewed with tongue in cheek. It's a joke, and a funny one. It has all the stock characters you would expect to find in such an old-fashioned mystery - the rich and careless, the hardbitten law, the ex-con and suspicious (but innocent) servants, and that great, supercilious, snooty butler. Arthur Treacher was the master of that genre. I thought it was hilarious the way he made all those snide comments whenever he turned his head from his employers. The dialog is really very funny, and goes by fast, but not too fast.

I thought the funniest scene by far was where the hero is racing his car to get home, and he almost collides with a truck at a road construction site. The truck driver lets loose a stream of curses, without actually uttering any four-letter words. And listen carefully for the very last thing he says -- well, I won't give it away -- it caps the whole scene and makes it even funnier.

To my mind, anything with Hepburn in it is worth seeing. She brings an intelligence to every role she plays, and often brings out facets of a character we might not have seen in the performance of someone else. In this case, Hepburn is not the usual broken, defeated Blanche DuBois-type woman that is usually associated with interpretations of Amanda Wingfield. I have seen the Gertrude Lawrence version, in which she is very good, but brings to mind a downtrodden Auntie Mame. I also saw Maureen Stapleton play Amanda on Broadway. It was a sad and compelling performance, but that Amanda was lost before the action of the play commenced - there was no hope for her.

In this version, however, Amanda is definitely a fighter, and I think the performances of the other three actors have been taken up a notch or two more than usual to accommodate Hepburn's dominance. The arguments that Tom and Amanda have are truly terrifying, and it is evident why Tom feels that his creativity is being stifled - this Amanda drives him crazy.

Here is how I see Hepburn's Amanda: she was a very successful Southern belle, who is not imagining or augmenting her reminiscences. She really was the star of the show back home, but she made a grave error in falling for and marrying a completely unsuitable man. You can imagine that Amanda and her husband had the same kind of screaming fights that she now has with her son. Amanda regrets her mistake, and she sees her flawed and needy children as a sort of karmic result of her bad marriage. However, she refuses to give up, and she hounds them relentlessly to do something "better" with their lives. She is especially hard on her son because she fears that his wanting to be a writer will lead him to become the shiftless dreamer his father was. Additionally, there is a mild inference that Tom's nightly trips 'to the movies' may have some darker ulterior motive (perhaps gay sex?), and that Amanda suspects this.

Sam Waterston is a very strong Tom Wingfield. This Tom is conflicted in his feelings for his mother, and he is very guilty about his inability to do anything for his sister. In addition, there is an element of selfishness in this Tom, which he certainly inherited from his mother as well as from his absent father. Undoubtedly, Amanda's upbringing was of the sort that produces a vain and self-centered woman. As in the case in many families, Tom and his mother are very much alike, and that makes for a lot of friction. The last scene of the play, where Tom is anguished at his self-imposed isolation as well as his guilt in abandoning his sister and his mother, is beautifully played by Waterston. The play, certainly autobiographical, is also something of a metaphor, which Tennessee Williams used over and over, the acting out of his guilt at being unable to prevent his own sister from being lobotomized. It isn't likely he could have done very much as a young man to help her, but he never got over sharing her feeling of helplessness.

Michael Moriarity's performance as the Gentleman Caller is very interesting. He is a perfectly nice guy who gets caught in the mind games that the Wingfields play. It makes his ultimate rejection of Laura that much more poignant: he isn't the fast-talking, possibly dishonest guy that would be all wrong for her, but rather a decent young man who might have made a difference in her life, if he weren't faithful to his existing girlfriend. Then again, if Laura had really wanted him, she could have used all of the techniques she learned from her mother's tales of gentlemen callers to win him over. What we have in the Wingfields are three characters who don't like where they are, but who, because of weakness or psychological dependency, can't find a way out.

Joanna Miles' portrayal of Laura is especially interesting. In the first place, this actress was rather tall and robust looking, not the usual broken blossom associated with this role. But because of this, she very much looks like she could be Hepburn's daughter. Laura's fears and insecurities are shown very subtly by Miles. In this family relationship, the mother reads the cues of helplessness given by the daughter and lets her remain outside of society. However, for all of Laura's weaknesses and inability to cope, you sense a steely center. She does not do what she does not want to do, even though her brother does bend to Amanda's will to a degree. It was a common ploy in earlier days for women to pretend to be incapacitated so that they didn't have to participate in everyday life, and more particularly, so that they wouldn't be considered marriage material. After Tom leaves his family, you can imagine that the battle of wills in the Wingfield home will continue, but this those battles will be between Amanda and Laura.

With four outstanding performances, this version of The Glass Menagerie is a must-see. When I was a girl, such great American (and other) plays were broadcast every week, and not just on 'educational' channels. I am very glad that many of these performances are available on DVD, now that I am old enough to understand what I am seeing. Unfortunately, many of these transfers are not wonderful, and the video may not be of the best quality. Nevertheless, they are worth seeing to study and to enjoy. We were blessed to have a talent like Hepburn perform for us. I hope that each succeeding generation will view her work, which we are lucky to have preserved.

I simply can't warm to this movie - it's just too self-consciously weird. Maybe it's supposed to look like a living cartoon, but it comes across more like a trip through the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. The comment in the NY Times TV listing for this movie is that it is "Freudian," and I have to agree. There is just so much symbolism stuffed into this that it's easy to interpret it in just about any way you care to, including old-fashioned Freudian psychology, which would have probably been the interpretation of choice when this movie was released in 1953. As I watched it recently, I remembered the rumor that Dr. Seuss did not really like children, and I think this film bears that out. It is a fantasy of adult cruelty toward children which is executed with great relish. The word that comes to mind to me to describe this movie is "sour." (Another would be "overstuffed.") Nevertheless, many of the actors whom I liked very much in my youth are in this movie, notably Tommy Rettig and Hans Conried. Rettig was a very talented performer who never really got a chance to be anything more than a child actor. I remember Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healy from a television morning talk show that was broadcast in New York City in the 1950s. And the fabulous, flamboyant Conried - I just loved him. In this movie he gives an over-the-top performance which is fitting under the circumstances (he is imitating John Barrymore's way of speaking, a voice Conried used often, especially when doing cartoon characters). However, the character is rather nasty, and would probably be frightening to children, as every good villain should be. But look, folks, I'm sorry -- the homosexual inference of many of the characters is far from subtle, in fact I'd say it's inescapable, and the anti-gay bias of the authors of this film is unmistakable.

Reservations aside, I would say that this movie is worth a look, if only for the strangeness of it, and to see the remarkable performance of Hans Conried. Incidentally, I'd like to comment on another comment made about Tommy Rettig's lovely singing voice. I seriously doubt that a boy that age could sing like that. The voice has definite adult qualities - a boy soprano wouldn't have that kind of vibrato in his voice. I think if you listen more carefully, you will hear that the singer is a woman who has been dubbed in to sound like a little boy. Nevertheless, Rettig was such a natural performer that it does indeed seem as though he is the one singing.

I wasn't expecting much the first time I saw this made for TV film. Most were, and still are, unfortunately, pretty substandard in cinematic terms. Even in this one, the budget must have been very small, and it has low-budget, "make do" feel to it.

However, the performances are so first-rate that you quickly forget that this is a TV movie. The actors get so deeply into their characters that you can almost believe that you are watching a newsreel, rather than a fictionalized version of the Lizzie Borden story. Actually, the first time I saw this movie was on Spanish-language television,dubbed into Spanish, and although my Spanish language skills are far from perfect, the story and the performances transcended any language barriers, even those of having different actors provide the voices. I couldn't wait to see it in the original, and I wasn't disappointed. Elizabeth Montgomery is a pretty scary Lizzie Borden, and even though the evidence in the film points to her being guilty, you are still never sure that what you see in flashbacks is what really happened, or simply Lizzie's distorted fantasy of the events. This is a literate, well-executed and haunting film, one that I always mention as one of my favorites, and one I urge my friends to look for in re-broadcasts. It will have you discussing the case for weeks after you see it.

This Sturges film has some of his most sophisticated dialog, and who better to deliver it than Claudette Colbert? The handsome and self-effacing Joel McCrea, as her husband, and Rudy Vallee as her hilariously anal retentive intended target, are perfect foils. This is a wonderful combination of a screwball comedy and a sophisticated comedy of manners. The dialog is funny on its face, and very racy when you think about it. And that Toto - Eurotrash before the term was ever invented! Colbert was so wonderful at being as funny as could be while still maintaining her cool. The walls can tumble down around her, and she still looks like a member of whatever royal family you can name, waving to us, unruffled, from her balcony. I just love Joel McCrea - he was equally at home in white tie and tails, or in jeans and a ten-gallon hat. You just instinctively believe every word he uttered - a thoroughly natural performer. No wonder the Colbert character went back to him in the end. That ending/beginning, though, is very strange. What is that all about with the twins? It looks like the teaser for a sequel, or perhaps there was a prequel, that we never saw. Never mind - this one is a must-see.

Just saw The Lost Weekend again last night, and it doesn't lose any of its luster on repeated viewings. This film seems quite tame by today's 'reality show' standards, but it must have been thought a graphic shocker in 1945. At that time, alcoholism, indeed any sort of addiction problem, was simply not discussed, and there certainly weren't rehab centers on every block as there are now. For the hero to wind up in the drunk tank at Bellevue Hospital in New York would have been considered a terrible disgrace back then. If you had to be admitted to the alky ward or the psychiatric ward at Bellevue, you had hit rock bottom.

At this point in the history of this movie, it's no longer necessary to say how terrific every performance is, and how great is the direction. The use of the Theramin, still new at that time, is not overdone. It's entirely fitting that every time Don Birnam looks at a bottle, that eerie music plays in his head.

Of course, as most others who comment here have already noted, the "happy" ending is a cop-out, and not very satisfying in light of what has preceded it. Very few people, especially if they are in the state Don Birnam was in, could simply say "OK, I just won't drink any more." But, this was Hollywood, and happy endings were generally required, weren't they.

Now, my main comment here is about Frank Faylen. His role as the creepy male nurse at Bellevue is one of the most underrated performances in cinema. After having seen him in countless films and TV shows as the gruff, but kind-hearted working man, it was a revelation to me the first time I saw him in The Lost Weekend. He is the soul of unsavoriness in this movie. The implicit homosexuality, sadism and threatening nature of the character are subtly and masterfully portrayed by Faylen. In fact, in his white nurse's uniform, he looks like he's wearing evening clothes, which is altogether fitting, since he takes such obvious pleasure in the misery of his alcoholic patients. It's a night's entertainment for him. For me, Faylen's brief time on camera is the coup de grace of this film. This is not to denigrate any other performance - Ray Milland is wonderful, and his Oscar was well-deserved. In 1945, this would have been a very risky role for a major star to take on - to play an alcoholic, to be willing to look less than glamorous on camera. And he does it most impressively. But it's Frank Faylen, best know as the exasperated father of TV's Dobie Gillis, who wins my personal best actor award. A true tour de force.

I can't really remember the details of the show, since I was just a little girl (sirens wailing; people being lowered down mountain cliffs on stretchers), but I do remember watching it faithfully. I believe that shows like Rescue 8 and Emergency! were instrumental in building public interest for the emergency rescue systems we now take for granted, but which were new at the time these programs aired.

My fondest memory of the show is the wonderful Jim Davis. I well recall his dry, drawling, understated, but pleasant speaking voice, and his authoritative and easy way of moving around as he rescued those in trouble. He was the kind of actor who made you feel safe as you watched him. He was, and remains, my idea of a man.

First of all, bear in mind that this movie was made in 1932, not 2002. Then, do a little research into the popular media of the day, and you'll get the jokes a lot better. This is one of the funniest movies ever, and it is lightyears ahead of its time. The non-sequiturs (that means lines that don't make sense), the quick cuts, the topical humor - I just love it. What can you say about a country where all the men are named George, and all the women are named Angela? Why? Why not?? Let's take a few examples: do we all understand that it's the Fuller Brush Company that's being kidded in the first scene? Do you know about the terrorists of the day - the 'anarchists' - who were generally portrayed in black capes and hats, carrying daggers and pistols and those old fashioned bombs that look like cannon balls with fuses in them? Do you get the joke - Mata Machree? The image of the femme fatale Mata Hari, coupled with an old Irish song about Mom called "Mother Machree". Do we get that Lyda Roberti (who was Polish) is supposed to be Swedish, since Greta Garbo was the biggest star of the day? And the 'old Klopstockian Love Song' is sung to the tune of "One Hour with You," which was not only a popular film with, I believe, Maurice Chevalier, but was the theme song of the Eddie Cantor radio show, the most popular show of 1932? Movie audiences of the day would have gotten it.

Jack Oakie is perfect as the fast-talking brush salesman who saves Klopstockia. He is definitely a forerunner in style of not only Bob Hope, but of Robin Williams. Fields is hilarious, but so is everyone in this movie. Susan Fleming wasn't much of an actress, but she was beautiful. I just love Roberti, who came from a famous acting clan in Poland, and who died tragically young. She was a hoot, and could have had a memorable career. My favorite line of hers, when she does her hootchie kootchie dance to try to inspire Hugh Herbert to greater feats of strength: "I been done all I can do - in public." There are so many other quotable lines in this movie - it's the kind of movie you watch and recite along with the actors.

It helps to understand this movie to know a little something about what was 'in' in 1932, but it isn't absolutely necessary. The movie has enough funny lines and slapstick even by today's standards. It's also valuable as an example of the kind of editing we now take for granted. The kind of quick cutting and blackouts that we would see in, for example "Laugh-In," was rare in 1932. This was probably the first really screwball comedy, and it's the screwiest one of all.

This is a very interesting, if imperfect, movie. Monroe plays a disturbed young woman who suffers a nervous breakdown while babysitting at a hotel (it appears the character was already in the throes of a breakdown before she arrived at the hotel). Her unstable state is exploited by Widmark's character, who is angry at being dumped by his girl (Anne Bancroft in her first screen role), and "punishes" her by making a play for Monroe. Well, of course the great debate still rages on: could Monroe really act? I'd say definitely, based upon this early work, and of course Bus Stop, along with her performances in Asphalt Jungle and the unjustly overlooked Clash By Night. She isn't great, but she is good, and moving and, in the end, pathetic, as the character should be. Maybe with stronger direction she would have been truly great in this part - it has that potential.

Widmark was always good in everything he did, and could play noble, evil or, as here, a bit amoral, and still be sympathetic. It's painfully obvious that this studio didn't know how to cast Bancroft, who is wasted in her part.

Then there is the wonderful Elisha Cook as Monroe's uncle, harried, nervous and ultimately overwhelmed by her mental illness. It still remains shocking when she physically attacks him. The suspense is handled quite well, and you suffer over the fate of the poor little girl Monroe is caring for, while you worry about Monroe as well. The woman's not right in the head, and it's not her fault.

The last scenes in the movie, when the police are waiting to take Monroe away, and Widmark and Bancroft are trying to help her, are actually quite moving, and Monroe's final line will break your heart.

Forget it's Monroe, and think of the character as just a pretty girl, who has had a rough time and is being badly used because of her beauty. It happens all the time - it's not so hard to believe. Monroe makes it real.

Once you know about this film, it's a given that the plot is intricate, involving and ultimately satisfying. When you see it for the second time, pay attention to John Farrow's direction - it's wonderful. I love the look of this film: huge sets that seem to dwarf the players, and the use of what looks like natural light in the early scenes, which devolves into stark, frightening black and white contrasts as the story progresses. In effect, the story becomes more noir as it goes along. Farrow also uses many long tracking shots, and photographs his actors from a distance, even indoors, to emphasize how the events of the plot will overwhelm them. This is a beautiful movie.

The excellence of the actors only adds to the overall enjoyment of the film. Charles Laughton gives one of his usual eccentric but entirely true readings as the compulsive-obsessive, dictatorial Earl Janoth. Ray Milland is terrific as the smooth and not completely upright protagonist. All the others are spot-on in their interpretations. For me, the real standouts are the supporting players, especially Harry Morgan, every 1950s TV sitcom's favorite neighbor, in an uncharacteristic role as the boss' hatchet-man. He suggests so much danger with just a sidelong glance, but never utters a word throughout the film. And of course, Elsa Lanchester. Has she ever gotten anything wrong? She is so funny and yet so completely in control of her character. A truly underrated actress.

The best sci/fi movie of the 50s. It's different from most others in that it has a theme; it's not just a series of scary and threatening events. The smaller Scott Carey gets, the braver and more resourceful he becomes. As he shrinks, he reaches a kind of spiritual enlightenment.

The only sour note (besides the special effects, which may seem primitive by today's digital standards, but which I, as an 8-year-old in 1957, seeing this for the first time, thought were astounding) is the scene with the Little People. The metaphor of "you are as big as you feel" is laid on pretty thick, and that particular set of special effects (especially that big coffee cup Clarice drinks out of) didn't fool me, even as an 8-year-old. Incidentally, up until recently, TV showings of this movie usually cut that scene out, although the names of the actors who played the Little People were left in the end of movie credits.

However, the point is well taken, and Scott realizes that as his physical size decreases, his mental and spiritual powers are increasing. The final scenes are a testament to Transcendentalism. For example, Scott says in the narration that he no longer hates the spider who has been threatening him during his imprisonment in the cellar. He understands that it has as much right to survive as he has. In Transcendental terms, he is saying that existence is neither good nor evil, it simply "is." (Do people in California really have tarantulas in their cellars?) The wonderful last scene, where Scott (the absolutely gorgeous Grant Williams), bruised, battered, exhausted, looks up at the heavens and is no longer afraid, is one of the most empowering scenes in all cinema. This man has been so beaten down by fate that he is literally disappearing, and yet he affirms existence, and resolutely continues to move forward to whatever that next plane of existence may be. This ending is a far cry from the usual finales of sci/fi films of the 50s, where destruction is generally the resolution of the crisis. Here, there is no destruction, only transcendence. I never get tired of this film.

An amazing movie. The first time I saw it, I couldn't believe what I was watching -- it's so old-fashioned, so racist, so antifeminist, so melodramatic, and yet, it's wonderfully gripping. Here is a story full of clichés about the East, and about the decadence of Shanghai in particular. Part of the fun of watching this film is trying to guess what was left out. There was a Broadway version of Shanghai Gesture in the 1920s, and the protagonist's name in the play, "Mother Goddamn," is so wonderfully evocative of her character. The film's "Mother Gin Sling" doesn't tell her backstory in the same way.

It's obvious that Victor Mature's character is giving Gene Tierney's character more than sex and booze. He is one of those doctors who is an easy source of drugs to the idle rich. Although I think Mature is somewhat miscast as the insidious Persian physician (too robust; too American), he does well, and those supercilious, smoldering looks he gives are entirely appropriate to the situation. Gene Tierney gives a no-holds-barred performance as the girl gone wrong: a spoiled, rude, petulant baby who is in sharp contrast to the so-called "floozy" of the story, who is by far her superior in every way, except economically.

Ona Munson is wonderful as the amoral Mother Gin Sling. Actually, the first time I saw the film I missed the beginning, and I thought the character was being played by Gloria Swanson. I suppose Swanson could have done it equally as well, but probably would have turned down such an unsavory role.

My favorite character is Mike Mazurki as Mother Gin Sling's strongman. Mazurki was a sometime wrestler/actor, who usually played big dumb gangsters, or big dumb policemen. He is very good here as the menacing presence, and looks strong and manly without a shirt, and no doubt without Pilates.

A totally involving window onto how people thought about each other in the past.

This is a very sweet film, with wonderful performances. It tells a simple story of the GIs returning from WWII, eager to marry, start families, and "make something of themselves." Aside from being very entertaining, this film is a useful as an indication of the American mindset after that war. Working class men were given the opportunity to attend college for free on the GI Bill of Rights, and their wives also wanted to benefit from the educational experience they probably could not have even dreamed of having only five years earlier. The film tosses off messages of freedom, equality and democracy almost casually in the discussions the characters have among themselves. My favorite scenes are first, in the laundromat, where a painting of women at the riverside beating their clothing on rocks is prominently displayed; and then the first session of the wives' informal philosophy class, wherein the women get so excited to be exchanging ideas about the world's great thinkers and, ultimately, come up with some great ideas of their own. In its own small way, this is a groundbreaking film.

Like all of Michael Powell's films, Black Narcissus has an element of unreality, always reminding us that we are watching a film, and that films are the product of the maker's imagination. This is my favorite of all of Powell's films; every frame is a work of art. It is difficult to believe that this movie was not really filmed in the Himalayas. The juxtapositioning of the closed, inner-directed world of the convent with the sweeping panorama of the world's highest mountains is the point of the film: we are simultaneously within the vast universe and within the confines of ourselves. Black Narcissus has another special thing to recommend it - a suitable role for the woefully under-appreciated Sabu. He was the most natural of performers, with a wonderful screen presence. The way he is shot by Jack Cardiff shows just what a handsome and regal presence he had. I have read that the story's author, Rumer Godden, was unhappy with the casting of Sabu for the part of the Young General, and said some very unpleasant things about him. She was wrong. If Sabu were around today, he would be a major international star. Most of the studios he worked for simply didn't know what to do with him - the times just weren't right. We are fortunate to be able to see him in this excellent movie.

I really liked this movie, and I think those of us old enough to remember the awful sci-fi films shown on TV on the weekends (in the afternoons and, especially, late at night, when the TV stations figured no one sane or sober was watching) can really appreciate the satire. Dialog isn't the only thing that is parodied, although the purposely stilted, strained dialog here is very funny. I also enjoy the clunky editing - the long close-ups, the awkward reaction shots - as well as the claustrophobic scenery and the props that look like whatever happened to be in someone's garage at the time. The people who made this film have apparently seen and studied many of these old sci-fi/horror films, and have made an affectionate and accurate send-up of the genre. Lack of subtlety was a hallmark of such films, and the makers here get it just right.

This version is much better than the English-language version: brisker pacing (although very, very slow by modern standards), generally better performances, and even Eugene O'Neill's somewhat ponderous dialog is rendered more believable in the subtitles. While Marie Dressler's performance in the English version is fabulous, Salka Viertel's in the German version is also very, very good, just different. Garbo seems more natural in the German version, perhaps because she was at that time more comfortable speaking German than speaking English. Garbo's acting style may have been a bit old-fashioned, but she was never dull in any film. A true star.

My favorite Tracy/Hepburn film, and that's saying a lot - I love them all. Interesting plot, highly literate and witty dialog, wonderful performances from all concerned. There is indeed love over 50, and this film accurately reflects those aspects a younger relationship probably wouldn't involve -- the hesitation, the unwillingness to change, the jockeying for dominance. The depiction of office politics is also very accurate. The Christmas party scene (and don't we all wish we could have Christmas parties like that one) contains the most romantic line of dialog a man ever spoke to an intelligent woman. See if you can recognize it.