REDBELT — David Mamet is a brilliant playwright, but a spotty filmmaker. I don’t think he’s ever topped his debut movie, House of Games, which I recently revisited; it’s just as mesmerizing as it was when I first saw it twenty-one years ago. In that film, as in his latest, Redbelt, Mamet creates a unique environment onscreen. The characters of Redbelt ostensibly live in Los Angeles, yet it doesn’t seem like any L.A. you’ve ever encountered before.

The gifted Chiwetel Ejiofor stars as a jiu-jitsu instructor who works with all kinds of students—including cops—to teach them not just the right moves, but the right attitude. For him, the martial arts are pure; he won’t engage in fights, even though it would help him pay the rent. In this densely plotted story he encounters a variety of characters who would corrupt his sense of honor, including gamblers, promoters, dealmakers, and even a movie star (nicely played by Tim Allen, in a rare dramatic turn)...but he remains true to himself.

Redbelt doesn’t spell everything out, and some aspects of its story might have benefited from more elaboration, but I found myself swept into Mamet’s world. It doesn’t look or feel like any other movie I’ve seen lately, and that’s one reason I found it so fascinating. Ejiofor is surrounded by first-rate actors including Emily Mortimer, Alice Braga, and such Mamet regulars as Joe Mantegna, Ricky Jay, David Paymer, and many real-life denizens of the fight world who add immeasurably to the movie’s tangible atmosphere.

SON OF RAMBOW — If you’re wondering what could possibly put a fresh spin on a coming-of-age story, I encourage you to see Son of Rambow, a disarming new British import written and directed by Garth Jennings. Set in the early 1980s, it details the highly unlikely friendship of two lonely, fatherless boys: Lee (Will Poulter), whose mother has all but abandoned him, leaving only an emotionally absent older brother—and turning him into a bully, the other an innocent named Will (Bill Milner) whose upbringing in a strict religious sect has apparently promoted an overactive imagination.

This particular bully has borrowed his brother’s VHS video camera, and is determined to make his own action-packed version of the Hollywood movie First Blood, and recruits (or rather, shanghais) his newest patsy into becoming an action star. In fact, the boy becomes enchanted with moviemaking, which allows him to take the ideas he’s always fantasized about, or drawn on paper, and make them come to life on camera.

Son of Rambow is a quirky, charming film that respects its characters, and takes the emotions of childhood seriously; that’s why it’s so good.

THEN SHE FOUND ME — Helen Hunt hasn’t been highly visible on screen in the past few years; it turns out that she’s devoted much of her time and energy to making her feature-film directing debut. She also stars in Then She Found Me, and helped to adapt Elinor Lipman’s novel. In my opinion she’s hit a bull’s eye in every department.

The protagonist of the story is a woman whose biological clock is ticking loudly. In the midst of marital turmoil, and recovering from the death of her adoptive mother, she receives a message from a woman claiming to be her birth mother---a garrulous TV talk show host played by Bette Midler.

I resent the term “chick flick” because it implies that men have no interest in stories about women’s feelings…but if that’s a shorthand way to interest people in seeing this movie, so be it. Hunt not only gives an excellent and empathetic performance, but orchestrates the actors around her with great skill. This is the best role Midler has had in years, and while her character is brash she’s entirely believable, and her exuberance never becomes outlandish. Colin Firth gives a deft performance as a single parent who becomes involved with Hunt, a caring schoolteacher, and Matthew Broderick strikes just the right note as Hunt’s feckless husband. There’s also amusing bit of casting in the person of author Salman Rushdie as Hunt’s ob-gyn.

The movie was shot in and around New York City, and takes a straightforward, no-frills approach to its material, letting the performances, and the dramatic turns of the story, dominate the proceedings, as they should. I’m not sure why Then She Found Me isn’t a major studio release; it’s a mainstream story with recognizable stars. Whatever the case, I hope audiences will seek out this entertaining and satisfying film.

FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL — It’s taken me a little while to come around to what I’ll call the new vulgarity in movies. This current strain bears little relation to the gross-out antics of the past few decades, thanks in large part to the smarts of writer-director-producer Judd Apatow. In films like The 40 Year Old Virgin and Superbad he’s discovered a way to combine heartfelt emotion with crass language and a candid approach to sex. He’s also created intelligent female characters (especially in Knocked Up) who are in on the fun, instead of standing on the sidelines or serving as sexual props.

Clearly, actor Jason Segel has paid attention. (He currently appears on the TV series How I Met Your Mother, but first met Apatow on the short-lived but well-regarded Freaks and Geeks.) Segel wrote the screenplay of Forgetting Sarah Marshall for producer Apatow, creating a first-rate vehicle for himself that doesn’t hew to any particular formula. The story’s surprising twists and turns make it feel fresh even though the setup is fairly simple. Segel plays a low-level composer of music for television who lives like a slob in his cocoon of a house, secure in his relationship with glamorous blond TV star Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell). When she suddenly dumps him, he is both clueless and inconsolable. His best friend encourages him to take a vacation, and he goes to a beautiful resort in Hawaii—only to find his ex also staying there with her new boyfriend, a seemingly foggy but self-aware British rocker (played with gusto by newcomer Russell Brand, a British stand-up comic and talk show host). He’s immediately attracted to a hotel concierge (the very appealing Mila Kunis) but can’t get over Sarah.

The movie is peppered with supporting and incidental parts played by a likable ensemble of skilled comedic actors, from Jonah Hill and Paul Rudd to some newcomers as members of the hotel staff. Apparently, Segel isn’t afraid to let other performers get laughs and let him be the straight-man; good for him.

But if you’re of a certain age, your eyebrows may hike upward from time to time. I’m not referring to the much-discussed full frontal male nudity in the film—it’s about time Hollywood stopped endorsing a double standard where the human body is concerned—but frank sexual talk and candid (if non-exploitive) shots of couples in bed still manage to push the envelope. Young people of both sexes seem to have no trouble with this, from my random observations; my wife and I are still acclimating.

Still, funny is funny, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, piloted by first-time feature-filmmaker Nicholas Stoller, is undeniably that. If I have to adjust my sensibilities to suit the times, I’d rather do it in smart movies than in stupid ones.

PRICELESS — The recent crop of Hollywood romantic comedies is a sorry lot indeed. If one were to offer advice to anyone aspiring to make that kind of film, I would say, “Take a look at Priceless and see how it’s done right.” Director and co-writer Pierre Salvadori never seems to break a sweat in executing this bauble of a film set in the south of France. Audrey Tautou plays an unabashed gold- digger who mistakenly thinks a hotel worker (played by Gad Elmaleh, star of Francis Veber’s The Valet) for a multimillionaire. When she learns the truth, she dumps him without a second thought, but he’s not willing to give up on her so easily. The story then takes interesting and unexpected turns which I don’t want to reveal. Suffice it to say that this is pure entertainment, with an appealing layer of wish- fulfillment folded in, as we get to vicariously experience the lifestyle of the super-rich who holiday in Biarritz. This is high-quality escapism that’s well worth seeing on a theater screen.

PENELOPE — Christina Ricci is a talented and likeable actress; she manages to embody a wide variety of characters with a minimum of fuss. That’s why she’s so well cast in Penelope, as a wealthy girl who has fallen prey to an ancient family curse and been born with a snout instead of a nose. This modern day fairy tale doesn’t offer any profound life lessons, but it’s sweet, funny, and entertaining, thanks to Ricci and the immensely likeable James McAvoy, not to mention Catherine O’Hara (as Ricci’s spectacularly selfish mother), Richard E. Grant, Peter Dinklage, and the film’s producer, Reese Witherspoon, in a small but colorful role. It’s perfect entertainment for young people, but if you’re young at heart I think you’ll enjoy it, too.

THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL — King Henry VIII of England is usually portrayed in larger-than-life fashion, as exemplified by Charles Laughton in his unforgettable Oscar-winning 1933 performance. That said, I quite like the intimate, understated approach taken by Eric Bana in this film; his Henry is brooding, capricious, and unexpectedly tender. The Boleyn sisters are played quite well by Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman in Peter Morgan’s streamlined adaptation of the best-selling historical novel by Philippa Gregory (which apparently plays fast and loose with the truth).

Director Justin Chadwick, who made a strong impression with his Bleak House miniseries, does a serviceable job here, though production economies are all too apparent. Perhaps it’s that lack of scale and scope that left me slightly wanting, even though I enjoyed the film and appreciated the actors’ work. Or perhaps in simplifying Gregory’s novel Morgan lost some of the supplementary material that gave the story more resonance. I would still recommend The Other Boleyn Girl if only to enjoy the three lead performances, which are uniformly excellent. Note, too, how great actresses can do a great deal with very little screen time: Ana Torent as Queen Katherine of Aragon and Kristin Scott Thomas as Anne and Mary Boleyn’s long-suffering mother.

IN BRUGES — Given that this is normally a fallow, if not downright discouraging, time of year for new movies, it’s nice to be able to recommend a film as entertaining and original as this one. Writer-director Martin McDonagh apparently used his Oscar-winning short subject, Six Shooter, as a calling card to get to make his first feature, and it’s a good one. Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson have played Irish thugs before, but the hit-men they portray here aren’t out of a cookie-cutter. Gleeson is a gentle soul, while Farrell is hot-headed and impatient—yet both of them are individuals, with a variety of personal quirks and unexpected characteristics. They have been temporarily exiled to the Belgian tourist town of Bruges after Farrell has bungled a job at home. When their enforced vacation turns sour, for a variety of reasons I shouldn’t reveal, their impatient and mercurial boss (Ralph Fiennes) is forced to come after them. Fiennes and Gleeson turn out to have at least one thing in common: a highly individual code of honor.

We’ve all seen a lot of crime capers in recent years, from the post-Pulp Fiction American brand to the Guy Ritchie school out of the U.K., but In Bruges carves its own niche. I’ll be curious to see what McDonagh cooks up next.

MAD MONEY — I have the sense that Mad Money isn’t going to win many critical plaudits, and I confess some of us in the field have a tendency to disparage almost any movie that opens in January. But having seen this comedy with an audience, I feel confident in voicing my opinion that it’s genuinely funny. A clever heist story played with equal doses of verisimilitude and farce, Mad Money gets the very best of out of its stars. Diane Keaton is in rare comic form as a spoiled suburban housewife who is forced to readjust to life in debt and takes a job as janitor at the Federal Reserve Bank in Kansas City. There, she hatches a scheme to steal money that’s about to be destroyed, and enlists the help of two coworkers: single mother and solid citizen Queen Latifah, who only wants the best for her children, and flaky Katie Holmes, who lives with her boyfriend in a motor home. It’s no secret that Latifah has developed a warm and winning screen presence, but this film provides a wonderful comedy showcase for Holmes, who is tremendously likable and appealing. The ensemble is enhanced by Ted Danson, as Keaton’s smart, sardonic but unemployed husband, and Stephen Root as the officious security manager at the bank. Glenn Gers has nimbly adapted the original screenplay for a 2001 British TV movie called Hot Money, and longtime screenwriter Callie Khouri has directed with flair.

When it comes to comedy, it’s always a matter of personal taste. All I can tell you is, this movie made me laugh.

PERSEPOLIS — Persepolis is one of the most remarkable animated feature-films ever made, because it’s one of the most personal. Marjane Satrapi used the comic-book form to publish her child’s-eye view of growing up in Iran in a highly-praised graphic novel. When the opportunity arose to transform her book into a film, she asked her longtime artist friend Vincent Parronoud to collaborate, and together they ventured into unknown territory. Perhaps not knowing what they couldn’t or shouldn’t do freed them as first-time filmmakers. Whatever the reason, the result is a stylish, visually striking, and emotionally resonant movie.

Satrapi has said that she doesn’t pretend to be a historian or a sociologist. She is simply recounting what happened during her childhood and adolescence, growing up with a loving family under the regime of the Shah and then seeing their lives turned inside out, first by domination, then by revolution. But Persepolis is never didactic; it’s warmly personal and disarmingly funny, as individual as Satrapi herself, who as an only child had an iconoclastic streak and a gift for observation.

The legendary French star Danielle Darrieux brings great warmth to her performance as Marjane’s wise and worldly grandmother, and Catherine Deneuve is also quite good as her mom. (Deneuve’s real-life daughter, Chiara Mastroianni, plays Marjane as a teenager and a young woman.)

Persepolis offers a unique moviegoing experience, not to be missed.

STARTING OUT IN THE EVENING — This was the first film I saw at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, and it was the best of the nine features I took in: what an intelligent, nuanced, adult story, beautifully told. Frank Langella gives a meticulous performance as an aging literary lion whose best years are behind him. Into his life comes an eager grad student (Lauren Ambrose) who’s writing a thesis about him; he’s polite to her but makes it clear that he doesn’t intend to “open up” about himself. Nevertheless, she insinuates herself into his life and he begins to thaw. Meanwhile, his daughter (Lily Taylor) is facing a midlife crisis of her own, never having defined her own existence—and living in the shadow of a famous and somewhat fearsome father.

Andrew Wagner has only directed one film before this, the offbeat but well-received The Talent Given Us. Nothing could have prepared me for this wonderfully detailed and observant film. (It captures Manhattan apartment life so vividly I could almost smell the aroma of those old upper West Side buildings.) Langella is brilliant in a part that calls for the subtlest of shadings from scene to scene, and his female costars complement him perfectly.

When Starting Out in the Evening wasn’t immediately scooped up by a distributor at Sundance I saw the handwriting on the wall: this understated film didn’t have “indie franchise” potential. That doesn’t mean it isn’t one of the best pictures of the year. I’m so glad Roadside Attractions took it on, and I hope audiences have a chance to discover it.

THE SAVAGES — When great writing and great acting combine, the result is a marvel to behold. The Savages is still going to be a “tough sell” because it’s about two siblings having to care for an aged parent. Please don’t let that put you off from seeing Tamara Jenkins’ pertinent and perceptive film—her first since Slums of Beverly Hills nine years ago.

It’s a must-see if only to savor the performances of three great American actors: Laura Linney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Philip Bosco. Linney plays a 40-something New Yorker who works at a temp job and aspires to write plays. Her emotionally distant brother (Hoffman), lives in Buffalo, New York where he teaches playwriting. They were never close while growing up, and are only brought together now because their long-estranged father is on his own and in need of full-time care. Despite their failings, they know it’s up to them to take responsibility.

Every scene, every line in the film has the ring of truth, and who better to realize a script like that than these exceptional performers? Bosco doesn’t have a great deal of screen time, but he makes every moment count. Linney and Hoffman are superb, bringing a range of colors to these socially awkward characters and making them both sympathetic and real.

JUNO — Juno comes as a breath of fresh air. It’s one of the most original and enjoyable films of the season, and a welcome break from all the somberness of year-end entertainment. Jason Reitman, who showed such promise in his first feature Thank You For Smoking, has hit a home run with this sophomore effort, in collaboration with first-time screenwriter Cody Diablo (heretofore best known for her book Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper). Everything about this film is fresh, from the song score to the clever animated title sequence, but the happiest surprise is the leading performance by Ellen Page, who plays the smart, self-possessed title character, a 16-year-old girl who thinks she knows it all until she wakes up one day to find herself pregnant. How she deals with that issue is what makes the story so unusual. First, her parents are not stereotypical movie lunkheads; they’re as lovable and eccentric in their own way as Juno herself. It doesn’t hurt that they’re played by two of the best actors around, Allison Janney and J. K. Simmons.

With its light touch, you might think that Juno is simply a comedy, but in fact, it touches on serious issues of adolescence, responsibility, commitment, and the pressure to conform. Yet all of its characters are individuals—and individualists—and that’s what I find so endearing. I was put off at first, because in the early scenes, Juno and the other characters we meet are so self-consciously hip they’re almost off-putting. Fortunately, Juno warms up as we get to know its precocious protagonist and the people around her. It may not be the weightiest or most ambitious film of the season, but it may well be the most satisfying, and that’s saying a lot.

THE DRAGON PAINTER (Milestone) — This striking and unusual silent film from 1919 serves as a testament to the remarkable Hollywood career of Sessue Hayakawa and the surprising diversity that characterized silent films during that decade, before Hollywood’s product became more mechanized—and homogenized. Following his sensational success in Cecil B. DeMille’s The Cheat (1915), Hayakawa formed his own production company, Haworth Pictures, to create films that reflected Japanese culture, as opposed to American interpretations of that culture. The Dragon Painter certainly achieves that goal, as it tells the story of an artist who lives in the wild, in mad pursuit of an ancient goddess. When he is taken in and “civilized” by an elderly artist who sees in him a potential protégé, he becomes smitten with the man’s daughter and convinces himself that she is, in fact, that goddess. Having finally seen her in person, he loses the will to create.

The Dragon Painter is a modest but lyrical film which tells its story in a simple, straightforward manner. Hayakawa’s charisma is undeniable; it’s easy to see why he was so popular. (Incidentally, his wife, Tsuru Aoki, costars in the film.) Mark Izu’s new music score complements the film perfectly, and the 35mm source print from George Eastman House, with its original tints, is impressive indeed.

As a bonus, Milestone includes another film from the Eastman House collection, The Wrath of the Gods (1914), an interesting potboiler written and produced by Thomas H. Ince, also starring Hayakawa and Aoki. This involves a simple Japanese fisherman who renounces his Buddhist religion at a moment of emotional crisis and then suffers the wrath of the gods—namely the eruption of a volcano. It’s well-made and well-told, especially for such an early feature. For kicks, Milestone includes a bonus feature that shows you how you can replicate the volcano at home.

Kudos to Milestone for bringing another important silent film to the widest possible audience.

DIVA DOLOROSA (Zeitgeist Video) — Filmmaker Peter Delpeut has developed a fascination with the leading ladies of early Italian cinema. Like his previous work, Lyrical Nitrate, Diva Dolorosa is a compilation of sequences from rarely-seen silent films in which themes and storylines overlap. The heroines are overtly sexual creatures who inevitably pay a heavy toll for their liberated behavior. This movement, which was apparently prevalent in Italian cinema as well as opera, is known as Black Romanticism. Delpeut says, “In their films divas like Lyda Borelli, Pina Menichelli, and Francesca Bertini perform the lives of their protagonists as a spectacle of the body. This simultaneously indicates their strength as well as their tragedy. They carouse with an unsurpassed sexual independence, but the price they have to pay is that they are doomed to hysteria. I feel a great compassion for the divas: as actresses and as women.”

Excerpts from such films as La donna nuda (1914), Sangue bleu (1914), Tigre reale (1916), and Rapsodia satanica (1917) are woven together in chapters with titles like “The Liberated Diva,” “Stirring Appetites,” “Shattered and Defeated,” and “The Veil of Death.” Although the material grows familiar after a certain point, it is undeniably interesting to watch, especially in the beautifully tinted prints used here, with appropriate music provided by composer Loek Dikker. I would encourage any true silent film buff to give this a try.

WARNER BROS. HOME ENTERTAINMENT ACADEMY AWARDS ANIMATION COLLECTION (Warner Home Video) — Only Warner Home Video, with its vast and varied library, could assemble an ambitious collection like this, with 15 Oscar-winning cartoons and 26 nominees from the Warner Bros., Max Fleischer and MGM Studios. Even though many of these shorts are available in other compilations, this collection easily justifies itself by including such relatively uncommon goodies as Chuck Jones’ The Dot and the Line, From A to Z-Z-Z-Z, and Now Hear This, Hugh Harman’s Peace On Earth, and Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera’s CinemaScope remake, Good Will to Men. What’s more, many of the cartoons are accompanied by commentaries by such animation experts as Jerry Beck, Eric Goldberg, Mark Kausler, Greg Ford, and Amid Amidi.

The bill of fare includes the breathtaking new restoration of Popeye the Sailor Meets Sinbad the Sailor, Max and Dave Fleischer’s initial Superman cartoon, such Tom and Jerry favorites as Mouse Trouble, The Cat Concerto, and The Two Mouseketeers (all uncut and uncensored, I’m happy to report), notable Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies like Tweety Pie, For Scent-imental Reasons, Rhapsody in Rivets and Swooner Crooner. They’ve even included So Much for So Little, the Oscar-winning short Chuck Jones and Friz Freleng made for the U.S. Health Service in 1949. An hour-long documentary traces the history of animation at the Oscars, but it’s the cartoons themselves that speak most eloquently in this three-disc package.

IMITATION OF LIFE: TWO DISC SPECIAL EDITION (Universal) — Bravo to Universal for not only releasing these two worthy films together but accompanying them with commentaries and a thoughtful documentary featurette. A number of critics and commentators make excellent points about the differences between the 1934 version of Fannie Hurst’s enduring soap opera and its glossy 1959 remake. One major difference is that the daughter who passes for white in the 1934 version is actually played by a light-skinned black, the talented Fredi Washington, while the same role is played (quite well) by a white Susan Kohner in the latter version. The emotional impact is roughly the same because the dramatic conflict is unchanged, but there is a difference in the way the audience perceives the character.

My only quibble is with critic and historian Foster Hirsch, who appears on camera and also provides a commentary for the 1959 film. He’s a card-carrying auteurist and waves the flag for director Douglas Sirk. Without diminishing Sirk’s skillful handling of the material, or his distinctive visual touches, he was part of a well-oiled machine at Universal that included Ross Hunter, cinematographer Russell Metty, and screenwriters Eleanore Griffin and Allan Scott. I even heard the director remark, at a 1970s tribute, that in his mind “the studio was the auteur.” (The very articulate Avery Clayton, who also appears on-camera in the documentary featurette, offers a full-length commentary on the 1934 film.)

Whatever your feelings on that issue, there is no question that both John M. Stahl’s straightforward production (with a screenplay credited to William Hurlbut) and Sirk’s slick but gut-wrenching remake offer many layers of content and food for thought. As simultaneous fodder for film study and social study, they are almost without peer.

SAVED FROM THE FLAMES (Flicker Alley) — Serge Bromberg is a unique figure He is a popular television personality in France, the director of the prestigious Annecy Animation Festival, and a world-class film scholar and archivist. It is safe to say that he has no equivalent. For many years he has presented a series of programs in theaters throughout France called Retour de Flamme or Saved from the Flames, in which he introduces rare 35mm films that have only recently been unearthed. He even accompanies these long-buried treasures on the piano! Having finally seen one of his presentations at 2007’s San Francisco Silent Film Festival, I can understand why his shows are so popular.

Now, for the first time, Serge has teamed with his friend, film archivist extraordinaire David Shepard, to offer a program of diverse rarities for the American audience. This three-disk set contains an unpredictable potpourri of material which wouldn’t easily find a home on DVD (or an audience) if not for this kind of umbrella. Bromberg & Shepard have divided the films into categories: New Beginnings (early and experimental films, including a color, sound version of Cyrano De Bergerac from 1900!), Magical Movies (trick films from Georges Méliès and others, many of them hand-colored), Seeing the World (actuality films from around the globe), Persuade Me (promotional and propaganda films, including theatrical commercials from France with Michel Simon and Jacques Tati and one of the notorious MGM-produced “newsreels” from 1934 designed to defeat gubernatorial candidate Upton Sinclair), and Grace Notes (musical films including an especially rare piece of footage from 1938 featuring the great Django Reinhardt with Stephane Grappelli and the Quintet of the Hot Club of France).

Some of the films are extraordinarily rare, even unique. I would be hard pressed to find another short subject quite like the 1912 French comedy Arthème Swallows His Clarinet, newsreel footage of The Seine Flood from 1910, or a Ford Motor Company travelogue called A Visit to Los Angeles made in 1916. Each film is preceded by a written introduction which explains its significance and often cites the origin of the print. Charlie Chaplin’s landmark Kid Auto Races at Venice is included, for instance, because it comes from a recently-discovered 35mm nitrate negative that enables us to watch it with unprecedented clarity. The 1936 Max Fleischer cartoon Play Safe comes from an original 35mm Technicolor nitrate print.

I could quibble with a handful of inclusions, like Mack Sennett’s Lizzies of the Field or Duke Ellington’s Black and Tan, which are pretty widely available elsewhere, but I don’t want to carp too much about such a generous and eye-opening array of goodies. I hope a second volume is in the works.

Visit the Flicker Alley website for information on how to purchase this title and browse through their other DVDs that are "Bringing Film History to New Audiences."

THE STANLEY KRAMER COLLECTION, VOL. 1 (Sony Home Entertainment) —Stanley Kramer is best remembered as the producer-director of such significant films as The Defiant Ones, Judgment at Nuremberg, It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, but I must confess I have a special fondness for the films he produced early in his career. It was then that he established his reputation as a man of uncommon taste and daring in his choice of material. Three important early Kramer productions appear in this boxed set, produced and introduced by his widow, former actress Karen Sharpe Kramer: The Member of the Wedding (1952), The Wild One (1953) and The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. (1953). While the lion’s share of attention is given to Ship of Fools and especially Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (which includes an extra disc of features relating to that film in particular and Kramer’s career in general), I’m happy to report that there are many worthwhile “extras” that go along with these early titles as well.

For The Member of the Wedding, Fred Zinnemann’s skillful translation of the Broadway play featuring its original stars (Julie Harris, Ethel Waters, and Brandon de Wilde), the principal voice is that of eminent Carson McCullers scholar Virginia Spencer Carr, who appears on camera and does a commentary track. (Kevin Spacey also speaks quite well about the delicacy of translating a play to film.)

For The Wild One there are two interesting featurettes: one about the real-life motorcycle gangs whose exploits in sleepy Hollister, California inspired sensationalized stories and fiction that led to this movie; and a concise piece about the impact of Marlon Brando’s iconic biker character, with eloquent testimony from filmmaker Taylor Hackford and Easy Rider’s Dennis Hopper, among others. Film scholar Jeanine Basinger provides a commentary track that underscores its impact at the time of its release, acknowledging that many modern-day viewers find it quaint and/or unrealistic without seeing it in its proper framework.

Best of all, there is a stunning new transfer of Kramer’s Technicolor musical fantasy, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, written by Theodore Geisel aka Dr. Seuss. In one featurette, dancer George Chakiris shares clear-eyed memories of working on the set of this highly stylized film, and Cathy Lind Hayes, daughter of the film’s co-stars Mary Healy and Peter Lind Hayes, recalls their involvement in the picture and her reaction to it as a child. In a separate documentary, the musical score (by Dr. Seuss and Frederick Hollander) is astutely analyzed by Michael Feinstein, who has many interesting observations. My only regret is that while several participants, including Karen Kramer, talk about the producer’s disappointment at what might have been, no one actually explains how and why the film was scaled back and didn’t become the masterpiece it might have been.

AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER – 50th ANNIVERSARY EDITION (20th Century Fox) — Everyone remembers the best qualities of this movie, to the exclusion of its many faults. That’s understandable, because the first portion of the film, a shipboard romance between Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, is superb. One couldn’t ask for a more elegant, witty, or stylish pair of stars, or better material for them to work with. Like the original 1939 Leo McCarey film Love Affair (with Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne) the story turns serious, as the would-be lovers’ agreement to meet in six months at the top of the Empire State Building goes awry. The problem is not the shift of tone, but the fact that the movie turns downright treacly. If we’re forgiving, it’s because we like the actors so much and root for their characters.

An Affair to Remember got a tremendous boost on the pop-culture radar when it became the subtext for Nora Ephron’s Sleepless in Seattle in 1993. Who can forget Rita Wilson’s tearful recitation of the storyline? I just wish the film were as good as her memory of it…and I wish people would seek out the 1939 original.

That said, the features on the bonus disk of this 2 DVD collection are certainly welcome. Cary Grant’s widow, the former Barbara Harris, shares her warm memories of the man so many of us admired from afar. (Interestingly enough, when she met him she didn’t really know his movie work at all.) Deborah Kerr’s husband, screenwriter Peter Viertel, provides an equally moving interview about the love of his life and the difficulties they had clearing the path to a happy marriage. (Viertel passed away on November 4, 2007, which isn’t indicated on this DVD.) A profile of producer Jerry Wald is also quite interesting, as we meet his widow, brother, and son and get a real sense of this well-liked Hollywood workaholic.

Only the feature on director Leo McCarey is mildly disappointing, because there are so few excerpts of his work, and the film scholars who are interviewed can only provide so much satisfaction without illustrations to accompany their remarks. Fortunately, Peter Bogdanovich is on hand to add personal insights, as he knew McCarey toward the end of his life and interviewed him about his career.

I’m glad Fox is devoting this kind of attention to the filmmakers behind An Affair to Remember, and in spite of my quibbles, I hope they continue to do so for future releases of vintage films from their vault.

HARRY LANGDON, LOST AND FOUND (All Day Video/Facets Video) — Silent comedy enthusiasts should find much to celebrate in this collection, including twenty complete Langdon shorts from the silent era, a handful of talkies, promotional films, and even home movies. What’s more, producer and archivist David Kalat has attempted to piece together the Langdon feature, His First Flame (filmed in 1924, but not released until 1927), falling just seven minutes short of a complete restoration.

Print quality varies sharply from one subject to the next. Most of the material comes from private collections rather than museums and archives, so the viewer must be tolerant. The commentary tracks also vary in quality, although one cannot fault the participants for lack of enthusiasm; they are all comedy buffs of the highest order. In the same vein, a documentary about Langdon’s star-crossed career is somewhat amateurish, and insists on debunking Frank Capra’s long-accepted view of the comedian’s rise and fall, when the films tend to support Capra’s claims that he got the best out of the comic.

I’ve always liked Harry Langdon, but I’ve attended showings where you could hear crickets chirping in the audience. He is definitely an acquired taste, and while it’s true that his early Sennett shorts lack coherency, as well as nuance, they’re still pretty funny, whereas some of Langdon’s later, more ambitious films simply fall flat. But if he appeals to you at all, you’ll find much to enjoy and discover here.

FORD AT FOX (20th Century Fox) — This is the DVD event of the year for any serious movie lover. Fox has made an extraordinary commitment by gathering 24 films directed by the great American master John Ford from 1920-1952 and presenting them in an elaborate package. In addition to the films themselves, there is a beautiful oversized hardcover book featuring rare behind-the-scenes photos of Ford at work, a fine new documentary by Nick Redman and Jamie Willett called Becoming John Ford, and on that same disk, three of the filmmaker’s legendary wartime documentaries (December 7th, The Battle of Midway—with additional footage—and Torpedo Squadron).

The stylish documentary draws on the words of Ford himself (spoken by Walter Hill) and his long-time producer/collaborator, studio chief Darryl F. Zanuck (spoken by Ron Shelton), some unusual home movie footage of both men, and the thoughts of such eloquent Ford scholars as Joseph McBride, Janet Bergstrom, Rudy Behlmer, and James D’arc. An added treat is the presence of Peter Fonda, who has vivid memories of his father’s relationship with Ford (and one particular conversation he had with John Wayne, with Fonda delivers in a Wayne voice). As a Ford aficionado, I never tire of listening to stories about the director or gaining new insights into his extraordinary body of work.

As to the films: the talented Christopher Caliendo has composed and conducted brand new scores for five silent films in the collection. It’s a shame that such landmark films as The Iron Horse and Three Bad Men don’t survive in better copies, but given the fact that so many Fox silent films have vanished, I suppose we should be grateful to have them at all. Interestingly, The Iron Horse survives in two versions: one released domestically; the other overseas.

It was in the early 1970s that a surviving print of the 1933 drama Pilgrimage was unearthed and presented for the first time by historian and scholar William K. Everson. It made a deep impression on me then, and Joe McBride cites it as perhaps the major rediscovery of this collection.... but each viewer will make individual discoveries among these twenty-four features, whether it be the prison comedy Up the River or the late-silent tearjerker Four Sons, the Will Rogers trilogy or the Technicolor saga Drums Along the Mohawk.

I’m also happy to report that Fox is making mini-collections available for those who find the price tag of this gift set too hefty: John Ford’s American Comedies, John Ford’s Silent Epics, and The Essential John Ford, each retailing at $49.99. You can also buy the new documentary on a separate disc. What’s more, if you order the set from Turner Classic Movies’ website you’ll a bonus disk of F.W. Murnau’s masterpiece Sunrise, which exerted such influence on Ford at a crucial moment in his career. (I’m obliged to add that you can even download most of the films via Amazon.com, or even rent a download from them!)

There is only one thing left to say to the people at 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment: Bravo!

NOSFERATU (Kino) — I never dreamed I would ever see F.W. Murnau’s vampire classic looking as magnificent as it does in the restoration presented here by Kino. Using the latest in digital technology, German archivists have eliminated scratches and imperfections, steadied the image, and added appropriate color tints. A surviving 35mm nitrate print (held by the Cinematheque Française) was compared to several other vintage copies to create a definitive version of this silent gem. Even the original orchestral music score, composed by Hans Erdmann, has been recreated on the soundtrack.

A 52-minute documentary traces the production of Nosferatu, explaining producer and art director Albin Grau’s great interest in the occult (which is reflected in many ways during the course of the movie), visiting various locations to show how they look today, and revealing some of the inspirations for Murnau’s striking visuals.

Other bonus features include a brief survey of the restoration process, excerpts from Murnau’s other German silent films, and on a separate disc, a duplicate copy of the film with its original German intertitles (along with English subtitles) for those who want the purest experience of watching Nosferatu as it was first seen in 1922.

GOLDEN BOY (Sony) — For some time now, Sony, which owns the Columbia Pictures library, has been largely indifferent to the desires of film buffs. Many good and even great films have yet to be released, while others have gone to DVD without significant bells and whistles. I’m happy to say the situation is changing, thanks in large part to input from film buff Michael Schlesinger. To celebrate the centennial year of Barbara Stanwyck, for instance, he persuaded Sony to release Golden Boy (1939) in an exquisite new transfer, accompanied by a program of selected short subjects from the period.

I’ve always written off Golden Boy because of Lee J. Cobb’s flamboyant performance as William Holden’s Italian-American father; when I first saw it I thought he was imitating comic actor Henry Armetta. Watching it again, I found myself more forgiving and willing to take the film on its own terms. It’s still not great, or what it might have been had it hewed more closely to Clifford Odets’ play, but it is well worth seeing. Stanwyck, of course, is wonderful, bringing her trademark sincerity and dynamism to what could have been an ordinary part as fight promoter Adolphe Menjou’s girlfriend. It’s hard to believe that this was Holden’s debut film; he seems completely self assured, though the truth was quite the opposite.

The prize among the bonus shorts is a 1930 episode of Screen Snapshots, the long running Columbia series. It’s exceedingly difficult to find these behind-the-scenes one-reelers, so seeing a beautiful copy of an early talkie episode is exciting indeed. Barbara Stanwyck appears briefly in a staged bit on a golf course with Ricardo Cortez; other stars such as Pola Negri, Bebe Daniels, Mitzi Green, Polly Moran, Mack Sennett and Marjorie Beebe (all in Palm Springs), Neil Hamilton (playing polo), George Bancroft, William Wellman (at Santa Monica beach), Laura La Plante, June Clyde, James Hall, Merna Kennedy, Harold Lloyd, Jack Holt (observing a bathing beauty contest), Joe E. Brown and the Warner Bros. baseball team, are also glimpsed. More, please!

Stanwyck also appears as a marshal’s wife in peril, in a 1956 half-hour episode of Ford Television Theater with Jeff Morrow called “Sudden Silence.”

Pursuing the boxing theme of Golden Boy, there is a 1939 Columbia color cartoon called The Kangaroo Kid and an entry in the studio’s Glove Slingers two-reel comedy series, Pleased to Mitt You, directed by Jules White and starring Shemp Howard and Guinn “Big Boy” Williams. I wish these were better shorts, but they are rare and do carry out the ‘night at the movies’ concept. Finally, there is an excellent coming attractions preview for Golden Boy. Here’s hoping that Sony continues on this path and continues to dig into its vaults.

HELP! (Apple Corps/Capitol Records) — I still find it difficult to think of a 1965 film as being “old,” measured against the silent films of John Ford or golden-era picture like Golden Boy, but it’s been more than a generation since The Beatles made their second feature film, the infectiously wacky comedy Help! Fortunately, director Richard Lester and some of his colleagues are still here to tell the tale, and appear on this welcome DVD. A thirty-minute documentary traces the film’s production history and features generous reminiscences from Lester, co-star Eleanor Bron, cinematographer David Watkin, and several others, interspersed with newsreels and behind-the-scenes footage, plus audio clips of The Beatles talking about the film when it was new. A follow-up featurette offers more anecdotes from the interviewees, while a separate mini-documentary chronicles the daunting task of restoring this color film. (After forty years, even the original splices had to be redone!) Finally, there is an interesting segment about a scene featuring British comedian Frankie Howerd that was deleted from the film,

The DVD package includes a soundtrack CD featuring the seven songs especially composed for Help! A deluxe set (which sells for $139.95) includes a facsimile copy of Richard Lester’s shooting script and reproductions of the original eight lobby cards. What fun to revisit this entertaining movie—and how sobering to realize that forty-two years have gone by.

THE DOLL/ERNST LUBITSCH IN BERLIN (Kino) — Earlier this year, Kino released newly-restored copies of rare German silent films direct by the great Ernst Lubitsch. Now that series is capped off by a new DVD featuring another rarity: his 1919 comedy The Doll and a brand-new documentary.

The Doll is short and sweet, a stylized fantasy about an inventor who creates a life-sized doll in the image of his daughter. A young man who needs to get married in order to please his uncle (and collect an inheritance) tries to fool the old man by marrying the doll, little dreaming that it’s the inventor’s daughter posing as a mannequin. Lubitsch appears at the beginning of the film, setting the stage, quite literally, by putting the set pieces in place.

The documentary Ernst Lubitsch in Berlin features several German film scholars and, best of all, Lubitsch’s American daughter Nicola, who traveled to Munich for his centennial celebration and saw many of his European films for the first time on that visit. It is also heartening to hear from such contemporary filmmakers as Ton Tykwer (Run, Lola, Run) and Wolfgang Becker (Goodbye Lenin), who express great knowledge of, and admiration for, Lubitsch’s work. I recommend this interesting and informative film to anyone who reveres the great director. (Incidentally, Kino now offers a seven-film five- DVD boxed set called Lubitsch in Berlin which incorporates the disc described above, plus The Oyster Princess, I Don’t Want to Be a Man, Anna Boleyn, Sumurun, and Wildcat. It retails for $79.95.)

MAURICE JARRE: A TRIBUTE TO DAVID LEAN (Milan Concerts) — As someone who considers Lawrence of Arabia to be one of the all-time great movies, and Maurice Jarre’s music for that film to be one of the all-time great scores, I reveled in this concert presentation, recorded in 1992. Jarre conducts the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in suites from the four films he scored for David Lean: Lawrence of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, Ryan’s Daughter, and A Passage to India, as well as a short piece he wrote on the occasion of Lean’s marriage. Images from the films are integrated into the performance to remind us of the visuals that inspired the composer. (The DVD offers something the original televised concert could not: a running commentary by Jarre.)

Jarre also gives a lively interview about his work with Lean, conducted in French, which provides many interesting and amusing nuggets. (For instance, the credits for Lawrence of Arabia credit Sir Adrian Bolt with having conducted the score, because producer Sam Spiegel needed a British name on the credits to receive a subsidy from the government there. In fact, Bolt never conducted any of the recording sessions. The duplicity was hiding in plain sight, because Jarre was permitted to take his own credit on the soundtrack album.)

A Salute to David Lean provides a pleasurable experience for anyone who admires this notable collaboration between filmmaker and composer.

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR (20th Century Fox) — There is no reason to expect anything more (or less) than a pleasant time watching a Technicolor Fox musical from 1953 starring June Haver and Dan Dailey. But The Girl Next Door offers a number of pleasant surprises.

For one thing, the look of the picture: the color is dazzling, and so is the lighting by master cinematographer Leon Shamroy, beginning with the pre-title shot of a chorus line sashaying off-stage into the wings of a theater.

Then there are the sets, notably the ultramodern home (supposedly in Scarsdale, N.Y.) that June Haver moves into after too much time on the road. Aficionados of what is now called Mid-century Modern design should consider this movie a must-see. Decorated to a fare-thee-well with everything from Eames chairs to a Calder-esque mobile, it’s a prime example of how Hollywood followed current trends while broadening their reach to a mass audience. (Art direction is credited to Lyle Wheeler and Joseph C. Wright, set decoration Thomas Little and Claude Carpenter.)

For novelty value, producer Robert Bassler hired the UPA Studio to provide several cartoon sequences, designed and rendered in their distinctive modern style. One of them is a dream sequence in which Dailey’s son (Billy Gray) envisions a fishing trip with his Dad being interrupted by the father’s new love interest—June Haver as a witch on a broomstick. Later, the apologetic son tries to show his Dad that he understands the natural order of life by drawing images of Noah gathering animals two by two for his Ark.

The songs, by Mack Gordon and Josef Myrow, are pleasant and functional (if unmemorable), yet they suit the cheerful nature of the movie to a T. What’s more, the opening sequence of the film manages to compress Haver’s backstory—from chorus girl to overnight sensation to weary world traveler—in a matter of minutes, using Gordon’s pithy, conversational lyrics.

Film noir fans will want to see one of the most striking musical numbers of its time, a tough-guy/tough-girl ballet set to a lament by Haver (in a sexy red dress) over her “nowhere guy.” This isn’t a parody, like the “Girl Hunt Ballet” in that same year’s The Band Wagon, but a mood piece that’s unlike anything Fox’s blonde-next-door ever attempted before. Again, the set design and lightning help make this number standout, even though it doesn’t make a lot of sense, and has nothing to do with the surrounding picture!

That brings us to the stars: Haver never had a better vehicle than this, which ironically was her last before retiring to a happy home life as wife and mother. She’s no longer a teenager and is well suited to the role of a mature young woman ready to find a mate. Dan Dailey reminds us how utterly natural he was on screen, whether acting, dancing or singing.

The Girl Next Door was choreographed by Richard Barstow, who brings a fresh approach to every musical number. Dailey and Billy Gray perform a high-spirited number called “I’d Rather Have a Pal Than a Gal---Anytime” while washing, drying—and tossing—the dinner dishes. It’s a clever number that looks absolutely effortless. Dailey and Haver might have seemed like a Mutt-and-Jeff pairing but they dance together quite well and emit genuine chemistry as a couple. They’re supported by Dennis Day, who plays Haver’s business manager and gets in a couple of pleasant ballads, and Cara Williams, as June’s wisecracking pal from the chorus (and Day’s unlikely love interest).

The only misstep is a second ballet sequence that comes late in the film. It’s inspired by another dream in which Dailey has to choose between his son and his lady love. Since we already understand that conflict, and want to see it resolved by now, the number is redundant and heavy-handed, but you still have to give the movie credit for trying something different.

When all is said and done, The Girl Next Door, scripted by Isobel Lennart from a story by Lesley Bush-Fekete and Mary Helen Fay, couldn’t properly be called a great movie musical. Its parts are greater than the whole, but its good cheer and clever ideas tip the scales in its favor.

Better news still: the beautiful new DVD from Fox includes enjoyable and informative features about Dan Dailey (including an interview with his surviving sister), Billy Gray, and the film itself.

LOONEY TUNES – THE GOLDEN COLLECTION, VOL . 5 (Warner Home Video) — You might think that people who have been putting together special features for this outstanding series would have run dry by now… but you’d be wrong. Admittedly, most of the great Warner Bros. cartoons have been parceled out in previous volumes, but the studio was so prolific over such a long period of time that there are always more goodies to revisit and even discover. As for those bonus features, there are some beauties on this set: a tribute to animator-turned director Robert McKimson, a survey of the wartime Private Snafu series that Warners created for the U.S. Army (and although the Hook cartoons they made for the Navy aren’t mentioned there, three of them do turn up on the disk), a survey of leading animation experts about the studio’s one-shot cartoons, and much, much more.

The PBS American Masters special, Chuck Jones, A Life in Extremes and In-betweens, is a valuable addition to any animation library, and there is a wonderful bonus feature called A Chuck Jones Tutorial that serves as a mini master course on tricks of the animators’ trade. (Full disclosure notice: I’m in this, but I had nothing to do with its production). You’ll also find audio-only items like a Milt Franklyn scoring session comprised of variations on the Merrie Melodies theme, “The Merry-go-Round Broke Down,” and commentary tracks from the Usual Suspects, including recordings of Bob Clampett made by historian Mike Barrier many years ago.

To sum it up, even if you don’t find the contents of this four-disk set to be that special, you will get your money’s worth from all of the extras.

THE LADY VANISHES (The Criterion Collection) — It’s high time we had a definitive version of this Alfred Hitchcock gem on DVD , and Criterion has supplied just that. The transfer of the film itself is superb, as you’d expect, and there are some choice extras: a commentary track by the knowledgeable Bruce Eder, a video essay by Hitchcock scholar Leonard Leff, a 1941 British feature called Crook’s Tour featuring Naunton Wayne and Basil Radford in the roles they created so memorably in The Lady Vanishes, and something I never thought I’d hear: an excerpt of Francois Truffaut’s celebrated 1962 interview with Alfred Hitchcock, the basis for a book that has become essential reading for every film buff and student. True, Crook’s Tour is a mere trifle, but it’s nice to see—at least once—and sure to please Anglophiles and Completists. Several newly-written essays round out the booklet that accompanies this delightful film.

THE DARK PAGE: BOOKS THAT INSPIRED AMERICAN FILM NOIR, 1940-1949 — by Kevin Johnson (Oak Knoll Press) — If you love film noir, and you also happen to love books, as I do, you’ll find this handsome and informative new tome right up your dark alley. Film buff and rare-book dealer Kevin Johnson has accumulated a formidable collection of first editions of the novels that inspired some of the most famous film noirs of the 1940s, from Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon to Dorothy Hughes’ Ride the Pink Horse. Seeing their original dust jackets beautifully reproduced in color and reading about the original novels and their authors only enhances one’s appreciation for the dark, hard-boiled melodramas we all know and love.

But wait–-there’s more. Filmmaker Paul Schrader, who wrote a seminal essay called “Notes on Film Noir” way back in 1971, contributes an interesting and informative foreword. As he cogently explains, “American crime fiction of the 1930s and 40s was plot-driven, steeped in atmosphere and foreboding—ideal ‘underlying materials’ for movies. The great American novels of this period were diminished by adaptation to the screen. Film could not, for financial reasons as well as aesthetic, capture the complexities of novels like For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Grapes of Wrath, or The Fountainhead. With crime fiction it was just the opposite. Woolrich and Goodis were made for the screen. Their novels became richer and more complex with addition of lighting, music, acting, set design, and film editing.”

Author Kevin Johnson then sets the stage by providing definitions and guidelines to this collection. Rare-book collecting has become a fashionable pursuit for many successful Hollywoodites, but if you can’t afford today’s prices for vintage editions of Cornell Woolrich or James M. Cain, having this lavishly illustrated volume is the next best thing. It’s well worth the $95 price.

You can purchase the book from www.royalbooks.com and also browse their current catalog.

I THOUGHT WE WERE MAKING MOVIES, NOT HISTORY by Walter Mirisch ( University of Wisconsin Press) — I love learning things I didn’t know about the movie business. That’s why I enjoyed Walter Mirisch’s memoir so much; it’s full of insights and revelations drawn from his long and storied career.

For starters, there aren’t many people who can speak firsthand about the production of B movies in the 1940s and early 1950s. Mirisch details the working operation of Monogram Pictures and provides interesting sidelights that help us understand how a movie factory like that stayed in business. He is blessed with an exceptionally good memory, and talks as easily about the creation of Bomba, the Jungle Boy and his relationship with Joel McCrea on a series of medium-budget Westerns as he does about his later triumphs with Billy Wilder on films like Some Like It Hot and The Apartment.

A man with a college degree in history as well as a business background, Mirisch was the kind of producer who initiated projects, found story material, hired directors, and made tough decisions regarding budgets. He gives us case histories of such movies as Moby Dick, Friendly Persuasion, West Side Story, The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, In the Heat of the Night and many others. He is candid about his failures and while he calls a spade a spade, he doesn’t indulge in idle gossip. He is philosophical about most of his flops, though like anyone, he retains a certain fondness for movies that never found their audience.

It’s clear that when he had real admiration for a filmmaker (such as Billy Wilder, William Wyler and Norman Jewison) he was more than tolerant of whims and errors in judgment. (He regrets that Wilder cast Judi West instead of a better-known actress in The Fortune Cookie, which he feels hurt the film’s box office, and while he despaired over Wilder’s selection of two non-stars to topline The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, he is forgiving because, after all, it was Billy Wilder.)

Mirisch also talks about his long tenure as a governor, and later President, of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. It was on his watch that the Academy moved to its current location on Wilshire Boulevard. (Did you know that the land was purchased from Alice Faye? Neither did I.)

Here’s how Mirisch sums up his work: “Producing films is a chancy business. To produce a really fine film requires the confluence of a large number of elements, all combined in the exactly correct proportions. It’s very difficult, and that’s why it happens so infrequently. It takes great attention to detail, the right instincts, the right combination of talents, and the heavens deciding to smile down on the enterprise. Timing is often critical. Where is the country’s or the world’s interest at a particular time? What is the audience looking for? Asking them won’t help, because they themselves don’t know what they’re looking for. They don’t know what it is until they’ve seen it. All the right elements must come together at exactly the right time. So, to say one embarks with great certainty on such an endeavor is an exaggeration. We did have confidence in ourselves. We felt that given our experience, taste, and expertise, we could come up with a good program of films, movies that we could be proud of. But you can’t tell if the success is going to be the first film, the second, the third, or the fifth.”

I Thought We Were Making Movies, Not History is a panoramic look at the film industry from the 1940s to the 1990s, with all its highs and lows. I would call it a must-read.

JOAN BLONDELL: A LIFE BETWEEN TAKES by Matthew Kennedy (University Press of Mississippi) — I wouldn’t have thought it possible for anyone to produce a genuinely personal book about this popular actress so many years after her death, but Matthew Kennedy has done just that. With the full cooperation of Blondell’s children, grandchildren and other family members, as well as various colleagues, he has written a warm, appreciative, and amazingly intimate biography of a woman who brought pleasure to everyone around her (as well as her many fans), but found happiness elusive in her own life.

From a hardscrabble childhood traveling with her parents in vaudeville through an early career on stage, from a horrifying rape through three marriages and beyond, Blondell learned to persevere. She was the ultimate survivor, both on and off screen, and while we learn many intimate details (especially regarding her marriages, to cinematographer George Barnes, movie star Dick Powell, and hotshot producer Mike Todd), the book is never cheap or salacious. What’s more, Kennedy is a genuinely good writer who knows the language as well as he does vintage Hollywood movies. This book gets my highest recommendation.

THE GOLDEN AGE OF CINEMA: HOLLYWOOD 1929-1945 by Richard B. Jewell (Blackwell Publishing) — Rick Jewell has been teaching a course on classical Hollywood moviemaking at USC for some years but has never found a textbook that suited his needs. As a result he has written one, and it’s excellent. Jewell has taken on the daunting task of surveying the social history of the period, the business side of Hollywood , changes and advancement in technology, censorship, narrative and style, genres, and the star system. Whew! I can’t imagine a better introduction to this subject matter. The book is scrupulously well organized and uses specific examples whenever possible instead of dealing in generalities. (Having written and researched The RKO Story, Jewell cites interesting statistics about the cost and revenue of King Kong versus other studio films released the same year, for instance. In the “Narrative and Style” section, there is a detailed analysis of John Ford’s Stagecoach.)

The Golden Age of Cinema isn’t meant for the average film buff or movie lover, but I found it very readable and learned a great deal I didn’t already know. I’m sure it will serve students who are exploring this rich period extremely well.

DISNEY’S LOST CHORDS: HIDDEN TREASURES FROM THE WALT DISNEY MUSIC LIBRARY ARCHIVES by Russell Schroeder (Voigt Publications) — Disney fans and enthusiasts are in Russell Schroeder’s debt, as he has spent years researching—and unearthing—songs that were written for Disney films that didn’t get used. Having recently heard some of them performed, I can attest to the quality and charm of many selections here; these are no mere castoffs, but well-crafted songs intended to serve specific story and character functions in such films as Bambi, Song of the South, So Dear to My Heart, Ichabod and Mr. Toad, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, and many others. There are even songs for such aborted projects as Rainbow Road to Oz, Chantecler, and Hansel and Gretel. They were written by such stalwarts as Larry Morey, Frank Churchill, Oliver Wallace, Ted Sears, Charles Wolcott, Ray Gilbert, Ned Washington, Leigh Harline, Sam Coslow, Arthur Johnston, Mel Leven, George Bruns, Tom Adair, Sidney Miller, Buddy Baker, and of course Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman. Among my favorites: “Riding on the Old 99” from So Dear to My Heart, “Four O’Clock Tea” from Mr. Toad, and “The Chimpanzoo,” a song so great it’s hard to believe it was dropped from Mary Poppins. (Walt liked it fine, but at the last minute he told the Shermans , “We don’t need it.” He was right, of course, but it’s still a shame.)

Better still, Schroeder provides background stories about the development of these films and their scores, and illustrates his essays with beautiful concept art, story sketches and paintings by some of Disney’s finest artists.

Just when you think you’ve read everything there is to know about Walt Disney’s career, along comes a book like this that’s full of surprises and delights. The press run is limited to one thousand copies, so don’t miss out.

DRESSED: A CENTURY OF HOLLYWOOD COSTUME DESIGN by Deborah Nadoolman Landis (Collins Design/HarperCollins) — This magnificent book pays tribute to the creators of memorable movie costumes from the silent era to the present day. Landis has been on a one-woman campaign to raise awareness of costume designers’ efforts—and their impact on films—for some time now, and this enormous coffee-table book is her chef d’oeuvre.

She has combed the archives of the world to find original sketches and designs, from Douglas Fairbanks’ signature costume from The Thief of Bagdad (1924), designed by future director Mitchell Leisen, to the everyday clothing worn by the principals in Little Miss Sunshine (2006), created by Nancy Steiner. What’s so special about those garments? That’s one of Landis’ key points: what may seem ordinary was specifically chosen—or created from scratch—to reflect each character’s personality. This isn’t accidental; it’s a major contribution, both to the actor’s development of his performance and our understanding of that character in the finished film. (Meryl Streep, who often works with designer Ann Roth, says that when they first meet in a fitting room they wait for a third person to arrive—the character.)

Landis’ introductory essay ought to be required reading for every film buff—and critic. Her ongoing surveys of every decade put the development of costume design into the larger context of changes in Hollywood and the world at large.

However, the bulk of the book is devoted to beautiful photographs and artwork, accompanied by quotes—from the designers, actors, filmmakers, and a variety of observers. Dressed is a feast for the eyes, and an important contribution to our understanding of costume design.

THE MICKEY MOUSE TREASURES by Robert Tieman (Disney Editions) — I can’t imagine a Disney fan who wouldn’t delight in poring over Robert Tieman’s latest collection of Disneyana. Formatted like his earlier slip-cased volumes, The Disney Treasures and The Disney Keepsakes, this time around the subject is Mickey Mouse, in all his many incarnations. As both Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse seem to be inexhaustible subjects for writers, researchers—and even official Studio Archives Manager Tieman—there are many unfamiliar drawings, photos, and ephemera to enjoy here. (I don’t think anyone has ever explored the Fanchon and Marco stage show called the Mickey Mouse Idea before.) Among the removable facsimiles you’ll find a 1928 Hollywood Amusement Directory citing every Los Angeles theater showing Steamboat Willie, a Magic Movie Palette, story drawings, model sheets, post cards, a letter from Eleanor Roosevelt to Walt, and my favorite item, an employee identification card from 1936. Tieman’s text is lively and, of course, well-informed. Mark this down as a winner.

FREEZE FRAME: 5 DECADES, 400 PHOTOGRAPHS by Douglas Kirkland (Glitterati, Inc.) — Douglas Kirkland calls himself “a dreamer with a camera.” For nearly fifty years he has been capturing intimate snapshots of stars and filmmakers, on and off the set. His latest compilation, beautifully designed and printed in a compact horizontal format, emphasizes casual photos rather than formal studies, and they are utterly compelling…from Charlie Chaplin striking a pose for Sophia Loren on the set of A Countess from Hong Kong to James Cameron directing his Titanic stars while up to his neck in water. The cast of characters includes Sidney Poitier, Francois Truffaut, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Elizabeth Taylor, Julie Christie, John Lennon, Brigitte Bardot, Mary Pickford, Jack Nicholson, Jean Renoir, and Judy Garland, to name just a few. Kirkland’s anecdotes, though spare, are almost as much fun as his photographs, and in her Afterword, his wife Francoise affirms what the pictures seem to say: he has never lost his enthusiasm.

THE HANNA-BARBERA TREASURY by Jerry Beck (Insight Editions) — If you grew up on Hanna-Barbera cartoons (Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear, Quick Draw McGraw, The Flintstones, The Jetsons, etc.), you’ll have fun going through this colorful volume. Animation expert Jerry Beck provides background information on all the key H-B series of the 1950s, 60s, 70s and beyond (although I’d bet someone in the legal department prevented him from citing The Honeymooners as the source for The Flintstones, Sergeant Bilko as the inspiration for Top Cat, or any of the famous entertainers like Jimmy Durante and Bert Lahr, whose voices were imitated so blatantly in the early series.)

But this colorful volume is as much about images as words, and it is jam-packed with animation drawings and sketches, as well as hundreds of photographs of Hanna-Barbera merchandise, from a Ruff and Reddy film script to a Fred Flintstone camera. In the style of The Mickey Mouse Treasures (see above), there are also facsimile inserts of model sheets, storyboards, and even miniature comic books, though the Hanna-Barbera archive isn’t nearly as rich as Disney’s. Still, I’m sure that browsing through this oversized volume will bring a smile to any baby boomer’s face.

SITCOMS: THE 101 GREATEST TV COMEDIES OF ALL TIME by Ken Bloom and Frank Vlastnik (Black Dog & Leventhal) — When Sitcoms arrived I started thumbing through it, intending to put it aside to read some other time. What a mistake! If you grew up glued to a TV set, as I did, you won’t be able to put this book down. Bloom and Vlastnik have done their homework well, providing not just facts and figures but anecdotes and lore about television’s most enduring half-hour comedies, from The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet to Will & Grace. What’s more, they have unearthed the most extraordinary photos imaginable, including a wealth of color shots of people we only knew in black & white (Ralph Kramden, Our Miss Brooks, Andy and Opie, et al.) Sitcoms certainly has reference value, but I think that is eclipsed by the sheer fun it provides.

THE STAR MACHINE by Jeanine Basinger (Alfred A. Knopf) — I read this book with joy and delight, as it covers my favorite period in filmmaking with fresh new insights on almost every page. Basinger casts a loving but critical eye on the studio “machine” that created movie stars as part of its business plan, in collusion with the public. She explores prime examples and celebrates the flukes, oddballs and mistakes, as well.

For instance, here’s what she has to say about Marlene Dietrich: “After Marlene Dietrich became ‘Marlene Dietrich’—the exotic, the androgynous, the foreign—and was understood as such, no lengthy explanations about her characters were needed to bog down her plots. When she first appears in Manpower, fresh out of prison and ready to fall in love with George Raft but marrying Edward R. Robinson (his fate was always to marry them when they loved someone else), it is understood that she will behave selfishly (marry Robinson), sin (go for Raft), redeem herself (try to be honest, go away, and leave the poor man alone), and earn the right to live happily ever after (having sex with Raft). The audience expects this, wants it, waits for it, and goes home satisfied they’ve seen a Dietrich movie. Furthermore, because Dietrich is familiar, there is no explanation offered as to why she has a German accent. Hollywood , having developed her, did not need to explain her. Of course, she has a German accent—she’s Dietrich!! She’s German! Everyone knew.”

And here is her summation of Deanna Durbin, who walked away not just from a career, but from Hollywood and the United States altogether, “There was an honest quality about her, and audiences felt it. Whatever motivated her to leave the business—the desire to have a real life and a life that made sense—was the truth that audiences felt in her on-screen presence. Durbin connected right to audiences. She seemed to be one of them. The amazing thing bout her was that it turned out to be true. She came down off the screen and proved it by rejoining them. Her defection wasn’t a ploy and was never rescinded.”

Basinger’s enthusiasm suffuses every page. She’s a diehard fan, but she calls a spade a spade, and happily points out absurdities that people accepted in the 1930s and 40s but stand out like neon today. I especially treasure this book because it pays tribute to individuals and films that no one else of import is championing these days, like the exotic Maria Montez and her Technicolor adventures of the 1940s, or character-actor-turned-star Clifton Webb. Basinger has the academic credentials and the knowledge to back this up, but her most important attribute is her love of movies and moviegoing.

THE CULTURE BROKER by Margaret Leslie Davis (University of California Press) — Although this book has nothing to do with movies, I still think it is essential reading for anyone who wants to understand what makes modern Los Angeles tick. Davis has previously written outstanding biographies of such historical West Coast figures as Edward L. Doheny and William Mulholland, but this is a more contemporary tale about a man who did most of his work behind the scenes and therefore may not be as recognizable a name.

Franklin Murphy came to the City of Angels in 1960 from Kansas. His timing couldn’t have been better: the would-be metropolis was still considered a hick town by New York sophisticates, and was just on the verge of building the kind of world-class institutions that might change that image. Murphy, hired as Chancellor of UCLA, quickly ingratiated himself with the city’s most powerful movers and shakers, and became a central figure in the shaping of those cultural institutions, from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art to the Getty Center to the expansion of UCLA itself. An art lover and bibliophile, he also became a masterful manipulator, gaining the confidence of wealthy, powerful people and persuading them to do good works for the benefit of the community (and the buttressing of their egos).

Later, in his roles as the Chairman of the National Gallery of Art and Chairman of the Los Angeles Times, he extended his reach even further. This is a compelling, detailed, and personal portrait of a man and his times. There is scarcely a person of prominence who doesn’t enter the story at some point, or an L.A. icon that didn’t benefit in some way from Murphy’s sophisticated back-room tactics.

Her earlier books made me a Davis fan, and I eagerly gobbled up every word of this lively and enlightening volume.

HIGH NOON: Music Composed and Directed by Dimitri Tiomkin (Screen Archives Entertainment) — Although it boasts one of the most famous theme songs in movie history, the entire music score for High Noon has never been released on disc until now. Producers Ray Faiola and Craig Spaulding obtained composer Dimitri Tiomkin’s original acetate recordings from his widow and treated them with tender loving care. Given that the famous ballad, “Do Not Foresake Me,” dominates the film, the balance of the score is surprisingly listenable, with a variety of instrumentation from one cue to the next. Of course, many scenes involve tension and conflict, but Tiomkin never overplays his hand.

The recurring use of the Tex Ritter vocal is especially effective on this CD, as the producers only used those reprises that Tiomkin had intended, and left out some additional fragments that were added to the movie soundtrack at the last minute. (They also remastered the music for the finale to reflect the composer’s original plan.)

There is an endearing moment at the end of the finale—never heard on the movie, but audible on the original session recording—when Tiomkin happily exclaims, “Wonderful! Wonderful!” to his musicians. Two additional tracks allow us to eavesdrop on Tex Ritter rehearsing his ballad, and then recording a demo version.

As with most of Screen Archives Entertainment’s releases, this one comes with a beautifully designed booklet featuring rare behind-the-scenes photos and a superbly detailed essay on the genesis and production of the film by Rudy Behlmer. It’s taken more than half a century, but this score was well worth waiting for.

ECTOPLASM: THE RAYMOND SCOTT QUINTET 1948-1949 (Basta) — I’ll admit that the film connection for this CD is tenuous, but like many other people I first became aware of Raymond Scott’s music through its constant use in Warner Bros. cartoons and fell in love with it, long before I knew the name of the composer. Several music mavens, notably Irwin Chusid, have broadened my appreciation of Scott’s work through their exhaustive research and the release of CDs like this featuring his original recordings.

Scott was a tireless experimenter who combined elements of jazz and popular music in his offbeat, highly structured compositions and cleverly syncopated arrangements of familiar songs. (Apparently, musicians didn’t enjoy working for him in his small groups because he was a taskmaster who allowed no freedom in the interpretation of his writing...but then, these precision-like performances are a wonder to behold.)

This new compilation of late 1940s material includes distinctive arrangements of such standards as “Blue Skies” and “Moonlight on the Ganges,” as well as a number of Scott originals with typically eccentric titles like “Bird Life in the Bronx.” Although they were created 10-15 years after musical works we’re more familiar with, like “Powerhouse,” they are definitely cut from the same cloth and I found them delightful to listen to. The CD comes with a generous booklet full of interesting observations and minutiae from producer Chusid, lovingly designed by another Scott aficionado, the Beau Hunks’ Piet Schreuders.

THE LETTER (Brigham Young University Film Music Archives/Screen Archives Entertainment) — Once again BYU Film Music Archives has done a superlative job with a vintage movie soundtrack. This might seem like old news by now, but when such an endeavor incorporates not just great music but a world-class booklet compiled and written by producer Ray Faiola, archivist James D’Arc, and film historian Rudy Behlmer the results are hard to beat. D’Arc, who oversees the film archive at Brigham Young University which includes the Max Steiner Collection, offers an overview of Steiner’s career and his work at Warner Bros. Because he has access to the maestro’s handwritten manuscripts, he can even let us in on asides and notations that Steiner left for his orchestrator, Hugo Friedhofer (“Hugo—should not sound too ‘kosher’/She’s lying like hell!”). Behlmer then picks up the baton to tell us the story of the film’s production, beginning with the fact that it was based on a juicy true story that W. Somerset Maugham heard while traveling in the Malay states in the early 1920s. As usual, Rudy’s research is exhaustive and his essay is very entertaining. Finally, there is the music itself, a delight to listen to whether you are intimately acquainted with the film or not.

Steiner is pooh-poohed in some film music circles by fans who consider him a bit of a square compared to such innovators as Korngold and Herrmann. I find this ludicrous, given the breadth and depth of the man’s career. Listening to just a few tracks from this disc should reveal exactly why Steiner was lionized during his lifetime. He understands the emotional value of every scene he scores.

The people behind this release have set an enviable standard of excellence. I can’t wait for their next release.

TOM AND JERRY AND TEX AVERY TOO! Volume 1 – The 1950s (Film Score Golden Age Classics) — Virtually ignored during his lifetime, Carl Stalling has been celebrated—indeed, lionized—during the past twenty years for his amazing output as musical director of the Warner Bros. cartoons. Scott Bradley, his counterpart at the MGM cartoon department, hasn’t enjoyed the same degree of attention, but he was certainly Stalling’s equal when it came to creating inventive, musically diverse soundtracks on a deadline. This welcome compilation is one building block toward a fuller appreciation of his work.

Daniel Goldmark, the erudite author of Toons for Tunes, co-produced the disc with Film Score Monthly’s stalwart Lukas Kendall, and provides knowledgeable liner notes in a handsome booklet filled with rare illustrations and ephemera.

Kendall and Goldmark decided to begin their exploration of Bradley’s twenty-year career at MGM with its final phase because surviving source material for the 1950s is so superior. These scores, especially nine selections taken from three-track 35mm magnetic film, sound absolutely magnificent.

As to the music itself, the frenetic chase music and gag-related effects—including piano and xylophone runs, violin plunks and drum breaks—naturally evoke memories of the Tom & Jerry and Tex Avery cartoons they accompanied so well. They also attest to Bradley’s versatility as he tackles everything from trad jazz for Dixieland Droopy to Italian melodies (complete with concertina) for Neapolitan Mouse. One also comes away with great regard for the MGM studio musicians who executed this challenging, lightning-paced music with such precision and aplomb.

You can purchase this CD at the Film Score Monthly website....and I for one can’t wait for Volume Two.

LET’S FACE THE MUSIC AND DANCE (Swing Out Records) — Banu Gibson is a talented New Orleans-based singer and bandleader with a thousand-watt personality. She has great taste in music and musicians; the members of her working band, The Hot Jazz, are first-class all the way, with special kudos going to protean pianist and arranger David Boeddinghaus. Gibson’s latest album is a labor of love saluting the songs of the Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers musicals of the 1930s. One might be forgiven for expecting a pleasant retread