It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life is the granddaddy of all Christmas movies; although, it certainly didn't start out that way. The movie nearly flopped when it opened, and during its first theater run failed to earn back the money it took to make it. Still, this film has endured down through the decades to become one of the most beloved movies of all time. And it's not hard to see why. The film's got a lot of power in it. Filmed in 1946, a lot of the actors were still carrying raw memories of World War II. The strain of the war shows in their faces and in their voices. This was probably Jimmy Stewart's first really serious role, and he pulls a lot of emotion from his time in the war into his character. When he's praying in the bar scene, those tears on his face are real. When he kisses Donna Reed for the first time, that's real passion you're seeing. In fact, that scene had to be cut short, because it got a little too hot for the censors. So, yeah, this is a powerful movie. I thought so the very first time I saw it when I was about ten years old. I've thought so every time I've watched it since then. I still think so today. In my book, that's what makes a film a classic. It never gets old. It never runs out of gas. As they say, it's got legs.

Stewart plays George Bailey, a man who had big dreams when he was younger. Didn't we all? Well, he was gonna sail around the world, go to college, become an engineer, design dams and bridges and skyscrapers. He was gonna be somebody. People would remember his name. He'd leave his mark on the world. Remember when you were gonna do all of that? I do. But life got in George's way, like it does for a lot of us. When his father dies, George takes over the running of the savings and loan bank that his family owns. Why? Cuz if he doesn't, then the board of directors will sell out to the greedy Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), the richest man in town. If Potter gets a hold of the savings and loan, he'll foreclose on most of the people who have mortgages there. That's just the kind of sweet soul he is. So George takes over and he gives his college money to his younger brother Harry (Todd Karns). When Harry finishes college, he's supposed to come back and take over the savings and loan so that George can go to college too. But Harry meets and marries Ruth (Virginia Patton). Ruth's father owns a company and wants Harry to come to work for him. George is left to run the savings and loan. He marries Mary, and instead of going on a honeymoon George struggles to save the bank during the Great Depression. Time goes by. George and Mary have children. George starts designing houses and creates a new subdivision. When World War II comes, George is declared 4F and has to stay at home. Meanwhile, little brother Harry goes off and becomes a hero. Wins the medal of honor. On the day that Harry is set to come home, tragedy strikes.

Uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell), George's partner, loses $8,000 of the savings and loan's money, which conveniently ends up in old Mr. Potter's grasping hands. He neglects to tell George about his latest windfall. Instead, he threatens to call the police and have George arrested for embezzlement. To top things off, the bank examiner comes to town. Distraught, George leaves home and goes to a bar, where he offers his urgent prayer. Then, deciding that his life has been a complete failure, George decides to kill himself. This is where Clarence (Henry Travers) enters the picture. Clarence is an angel. He's been sent down to help George find his way back home. George tells Clarence that he wishes he'd never been born. Clarence grants him his wish. Suddenly, a thousand tiny - and not so tiny - changes take place in George's home town of Bedford Falls. George gets the opportunity to find out what the world would have been like if he had never been born. The savings and loan would have gone under when his father died, and old man Potter would have taken away the homes of a lot of people. What's worse, Potter would have gained control of the entire town and renamed it Potterville. It would have been a nasty place to live too. Mary would have been a spinster her whole life. George's children would have never been born. Hundreds of people that George helped over the years would have led much worse lives. Most importantly, Harry - whose life George saved when they were kids - would have died, and he wouldn't have been there during the war to save the lives of a lot of other soldiers. In the end, George realizes that during his insignificant life, he touched the lives of countless people, who in turn touched the lives of still others. George's goodness and generosity, his habit of putting other people's
needs ahead of his own, created a circle of goodness that spread outward over the passing years. With a little bit of heavenly intervention, George learns that he truly did have a wonderful life.

It's a Wonderful Life is definitely a feel good film, and if you don't feel good after watching it, then there's something wrong with you. It celebrates the contributions of the common man (and woman), the people who, in George's words, "do most of the working and and paying and living and dying" in this world. It tells us that each one of us, whether we realize it or not, whether we are important or rich or famous or not, touches on the lives of a lot of other people, sometimes for good, sometimes not. But we do, and when we do, we cause a ripple effect, just like the old rock and pond analogy. It's a Wonderful Life reminds us that this is so, that we really can't behave any old way we want with impunity, because our words and deeds will have an effect on those around us. And, as my mother used to say, eventually the chickens will come home to roost. We all get our payback in the end. For George, who always put others first, his payback is good. By the end of this movie, you'll be wondering what kind of a payback you're in store for. I know I wonder.

It's a Wonderful Life is rated G and is filmed in glorious black-and-white. It has a runtime of 130 minutes.

White Christmas (1954)

Yet another Christmas movie that starts in World War II, Michael Curtiz's White Christmas was the top grossing movie for 1954 and an instant holiday classic. A sort of a remake of Holiday Inn, it was supposed to reunite Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, but Astaire turned down the part saying he had retired. The screenplay was then rewritten for Donald O'Conner, but when he dropped out, Danny Kaye was tapped for the film. The rest, as they say all too often, was movie history. The film follows the adventures of Bob Wallace (Crosby) and Phil Davis (Kaye), two song and dance men who hook up during the dark days of WWII and go on to become famous as directors and producers of their own variety show. After closing down their show for the Christmas holiday, Bob and Phil go to see a potential act for their show, the Haynes sisters, Betty (Rosemary Clooney) and her younger sister Judy (Vera-Ellen). Phil and Judy hit it off right from the start, but Bob and Betty need a little encouragement, so Phil wrangles Bob into joining the girls in Vermont, where they're performing at the Columbia Inn. When they arrive at the inn, Bob and Phil discover that it's owned by their old commanding officer, General Tom Waverly (Dean Jagger). The boys are delighted to see him, until they find out from the receptionist, Emma (Mary Wickes), that the inn is losing money. See, it's not snowing. In Vermont. During ski season.

Well, Bob and Phil can't let an old pal from the army down, so they bring all of the cast and crew from their show to Vermont to rehearse over Christmas. But there are bigger problems brewing. General Waverly is feeling forgotten. After all, he's a general, one of the men who won the greatest war of all, an important leader, and he's stuck running a failing hotel and nightclub. So Bob and Phil come up with another great idea - they'll get as many men as they can find from the general's old division to come up to Vermont to show the general that he's not been forgotten. In the process of arranging all of this, though, Betty thinks Bob is going to use the general's hard-luck story to make a fortune for himself. Which he'd never do. But she won't listen to reason. After much misunderstanding and several testy moments, everybody gathers onstage to praise General Waverly. And as Bob and Betty and Phil and Judy sing "White Christmas," it starts to snow outside. The general is happy, the inn is saved, our two happy couples are headed for marital bliss, and everyone lives happily ever after, which is how a Christmas movie should end. Well, shouldn't it?

White Christmas holds a special place in my heart. I first saw the movie in December 1970, just a few months after my grandmother had died, and the film reminded me of her in some strange way. Maybe it was the set design, maybe it was the music by Irving Berlin, maybe it was the presence of actors who hailed from my grandmother's day. Whatever it was, this film became part of my mental backdrop against which my life has played out. That's what great films do. They seep inside of you and form a part of your subconscious metaphor of the world, the archetype against which you measure everything else in your life. I could have picked a lot worse movies to do this with. I mean, imagine if it had been Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space! But White Christmas is a fun, happy, carefree movie, another of those films that would be better termed a "holiday movie" than a "Christmas movie." It really has nothing to do with Christmas other than the time of year during which it is set. But who really cares about that. There's singing and dancing and beautiful sets and gorgeous costumes and wonderful music by Irving Berlin and its all wrapped up in a luscious widescreen technicolor package (called VistaVision) that will knock your socks off.

White Christmas is filmed in VistaVision and it has a runtime of 120 minutes.

Christmas in Connecticut (1945)

Elizabeth Lane (Barbara Stanwyck) is a food writer for a best-selling women's magazine. In her articles, she provides fantastic recipes and waxes poetic about the joys of living on her Connecticut farm and taking care of her husband and baby. When the magazine's owner, Alexander Yardley (Sidney Greenstreet), decides that a Elizabeth should host a real-life war hero at her farm for Christmas, the trouble begins. You see, Elizabeth doesn't really live on a farm in Connecticut, she isn't married, she doesn't have a baby, and - worst of all - she can't even cook. For years, she's been getting all of her recipes from her old friend Felix (S. Z. "Cuddles" Sakall - how can you not love someone named Cuddles?). Felix is a refugee from Czechoslovakia, who set up a restaurant in New York City with help from Elizabeth. Now, Felix cooks meals for her so she won't starve and provides her with her award-winning recipes. She bases all the stuff about the farm on one owned by her friend and would-be suitor John Sloan (Reginald Gardner). When Sloan hears about her predicament, he sees a way to finally coerce Elizabeth to the alter. He'll let her use his farm to entertain Yardley and the war hero if she'll agree to marry him. Felix and her editor, Dudley Beecham (Robert Shayne), try their best to dissuade Elizabeth - after all, she doesn't love Sloan - but she feels she has no other choice. It's take Sloan up on his offer or lose her job.

The real fun begins when the war hero, Jefferson Jones (Dennis Morgan), shows up at the farm house. Elizabeth is instantly smitten. Yup! It's love at first sight. Only problem is that Elizabeth is supposedly already married to Sloan, and she supposedly has a baby. Jones caring for her baby and later singing to her clinches the deal. What's a girl to do? Well, keep putting off the ever-persistent Sloan while flirting shamelessly with Jefferson Jones. The animals help her out quite a bit with this. A cow that wanders into the kitchen one evening provides an excuse for her and Jones to walk that cow back to the barn and be alone together. This leads to them canoodling in a snow bank. Go figure. Later, when they decide to sit in a one-horse open sleigh, the horse wanders off with them in tow, giving our love-struck couple yet another opportunity for some serious flirtation. Yardley sees them together, and he's furious. He fires Elizabeth, but Felix changes his mind by bribing him with food. Smart man, Felix is.

Christmas in Connecticut is a funny movie, in more ways than one. Yeah, it has a lot of funny moments and funny lines, like when Felix, upon seeing Elizabeth's new mink coat, comments that, "Nobody needs a mink coat but the mink." But this movie is funny in other ways too. Yes, it's a Christmas movie (or maybe I should say a holiday movie) but the opening scene is of a German u-boat sinking an American destroyer. And the first 20 minutes of the film revolve around the survivors of that attack - Jones and Seaman Sinkewicz (Frank Jenks). And while Jefferson and Elizabeth never get around to actually kissing, this was still heady stuff for 1945. Jones doesn't know that Elizabeth isn't married, so this is about as close as you can get to adultery in 1945 without actually committing it. The film also explores some real gender-bender issues like the career woman who can't cook or care for children, and the men who can obviously do both. But all in all, this is a great little movie that's really a lot of fun. Stanwyck is utterly radiant as Elizabeth Lane, and Sydney Greenstreet - always a favorite of mine - is great as her bellicose boss. Cuddles Sakall is charming as the wise and kindly Felix, who feeds people's hearts as well as their stomachs.

Christmas in Connecticut was directed by Peter Godfrey, and it's rated G. It's filmed in glorious black-and-white and has a runtime of 102 minutes.

To Have and Have Not (1944)

Howard Hawks' To Have and Have Not spawned one of the greatest Hollywood romances of all times as well as one of the greatest lines ever uttered on screen. Adapted from Ernest Hemingway's novel of the same title, the film stars Humphrey Bogart as Harry "Steve" Morgan, a charter fishing boat captain. Based in Martinique, and so under the authority of the Vichy government in occupied France, Steve and his sidekick Eddie (Walter Brennan) try to eek out a living while dealing with crooked customers, avoiding the local authorities and dodging gun battles between resistance fighters and government agents. When his most recent customer dies before paying Steve, he's forced to take work transporting resistant fighters to the island. Into this mix of bullets and intrigue steps Marie "Slim" Browning (Lauren Bacall), a down-on-her-luck cabaret singer who's just trying to earn enough money to get back home to America. This was the first on-screen pairing of Bogart and Bacall and the electricity between them is palpable. Steve is loner and a tough guy, but Slim may be tougher than him. She casts her line and reels him in by simply telling him he can have her. "You don't have to say anything," she says, "and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow." And hence history was made. But things don't go all that easily for Steve and Slim. The French Resistance fighter that Steve is transporting panics when he should keep his cool and gets himself all shot up. Then Steve has to operate on the guy and remove the lead from him. Meanwhile, the authorities are circling in for the kill. They try to get information out of Eddie by plying him with booze, but Eddie's a lifelong drunk and he can take a lot of booze. Finally, in true Bogart fashion, the evil Vichy agents are defeated and Steve, Slim and Eddie escape on Steve's boat, bound for Florida and happily ever after.


Apparently, Hemingway had bet Hawks that Hawks could never make a film of To Have and Have Not. Hawks rose to the challenge and did so, but only by cutting out most of the novel and substantially rewriting the rest. He focused on a single incident at the book's beginning, expanding and embellishing it to get a full-length movie. The setting was moved from Cuba to Martinique, and the time was moved to after the war had started. In the book, Steve hauls illegal immigrants to Florida, while in the movie he's hauling resistance fighters. He's also a much nicer guy in the movie. This film also has the distinction of being the only movie to have been co-written by two Nobel-prize winning authors: Ernest Hemingway wrote the novel on which it was based, and William Faulkner wrote the screenplay. In spite of this high literary pedigree, it turns out - according to the IMDB - that most of the dialogue was actually improvised by the actors on camera. That's okay, though. It all works out great. As does the presence of the great Hoagy Carmichael as Cricket, the pianist at the local bar. In fact, this film was my introduction to Carmichael at the ripe young age of twelve, and I have been a fan of his music ever since. And all of this is wrapped up in a cracking good yarn with bad guys you can hate and good guys you can sympathize with. You can't do better than that.

To Have and Have Not is rated G and is filmed in glorious black and white. It has a runtime of 100 minutes.

Lifeboat (1944)

World War II. Battle for the Atlantic. A ship is torpedoed. Eight people scramble aboard a damaged lifeboat. They're a cross-section of American society, from a common sailor to a tycoon. Seven white, one black. One of the women - a bit unhinged from the London Blitz - jumps overboard after her baby dies and drowns herself. That leaves seven souls. This in itself would be a pretty gripping story. Seven people in one small boat pitted against the entire North Atlantic. Will they survive? Will they reach the safety of America? Or will they succumb to their baser natures, tear each other to bits, resort to cannibalism when they get too hungry? Most other directors would have taken that route. But not Alfred Hitchcock. A bunch of people in a lifeboat adrift on an angry sea wasn't enough for him. He throws in a little something extra, just to spice up the mixture a bit. He adds the enemy to the pot.

Lifeboat begins in media res. We don't meet the people in a cute little montage as they are boarding the ship that will carry them into the war. The ship's funnel is slipping under the water as the credits end. The camera pans across the sea, and we see the ejected detritus of human lives - books, crates, food, clothing, playing cards. Then we see the lifeboat, damaged but still afloat. In it sits Connie Parker (Tallulah Bankhead), completely incongruous in her mink and her perfectly coiffed hair, filming the spectacle with her hand-held camera. Soon she is joined by John Kovac (John Hodiak), a rough-and-tumble seaman. Others come soon. Stanley (Hume Cronyn), the radio operator; Gus (William Bendix), a stoker; Alice (Mary Anderson), a nurse; Charles S. Rittenhouse (Henry Hull), the tycoon; Joe (Canada Lee), a steward; and Mrs. Higgins (Heather Angel), the young mother who takes her own life after having survived the shipwreck. These people don't exactly like each other. They come from various socio-economic backgrounds, and they have been thrown together by the war. If they are to survive, they must learn to work together. And they might just do that. But then Willy (Walter Slezak) arrives. Willy came from the German u-boat that sunk their ship. Now he claims a place on their lifeboat. He says he's just a common seaman, but can they trust him? After all, he is a German and this is war. Willy soon proves his usefulness when he successfully amputates Gus' gangrenous leg, saving his life. After this, the others pretty much accept him as one of their own. After Willy saves every one's lives during a storm, they pretty much let him run the show. Eventually, though, Willy's true colors show through. He pushes the ailing Gus overboard and calmly watches as he drowns. When the others realize what he's done, they turn on Willy en masse and kill him. Not long after, they encounter a German supply ship. Just as they resign themselves to being captured, an American ship arrives and sinks the German ship. While waiting for the Americans to arrive and rescue them, another German climbs aboard their lifeboat and pulls a gun on them. He's quickly disarmed. He asks if they're going to kill him. "What are you gonna do with people like that?" Stanley asks. No one has an answer for him.

The lack of answers is one of the reasons that Lifeboat is the least known of all of Hitchcock's films, and it's one of the things that - to me - make it one of his best. There are no real answers to questions about hatred, intolerance, thuggery, genocide and the rest of the host of problems that beset the modern world. What are you gonna do with people who kill indiscriminately and - seemingly - for the fun of it? What are you gonna do with people who would rather hate than love, would rather look for the negative than the positive? What are you gonna do with war criminals? Can they be rehabilitated? Or will they always carry their hatred with them? Hitchcock doesn't provide us with any answers to these questions. He just shoves seven people into a leaky boat lets them go at each other. And the forces of democracy don't make a very good showing for themselves. First, they're too busy fighting amongst themselves. Then they abdicate all authority to their enemy, because he's strong and willing to take charge. Finally, when the leader's mask slips off and they see him for who he really is, they turn on him and slaughter him with a vengeance. This is a fairly accurate analogy for America's involvement in World War II. You could also say that it's a pretty good analogy for every dictatorship that has ever existed, from Julius Caesar right on down to Muammar Gaddafi. Dictators take advantage of fractions and infighting to assume control. Everyone sees them as strong, take-charge leaders and cedes authority to the dictator. Eventually, the dictator's actions grow so audacious that those who allowed him into power turn on him and destroy him. So, in Lifeboat, Hitchcock gives us a primer - and a warning - about dictatorship. And he wraps the entire thing up in an extremely engrossing film that takes place entirely within the confines of a single lifeboat.

Lifeboat is rated G and is filmed in glorious black and white. Running time is 97 minutes.

Tomorrow Is Forever (1946)

The year is 1917. America has finally entered WWI. Young John McDonald (Orson Welles) signs up to do his patriotic duty. His pregnant wife, Elizabeth (Claudette Colbert) isn't so sure that this is such a good idea. He tells her not to worry, that the war will be over in no time and he'll be back home with her. She's not so sure. Maybe she has a premonition. John walks out the door, never to walk back into it. Fast-forward twenty four years. America is on the verge of another world war. Elizabeth has been happily married to Lawrence Hamilton (George Brent) since John disappeared. She has two sons: Drew (Richard Long) and Brian (Sonny Howe). Brian is Lawrence's son; Drew is John's. Lawrence has raised him as his own son, however, so he doesn't know that he's not. One day, a man comes into Lawrence's factory to look for a job. His name is Erik Kessler. He's a chemist. He fled Germany with his young daughter Margaret (Natalie Wood). Lawrence hires Kessler. What nobody knows is that Erik Kessler is John McDonald. He was severely injured during WWI, his body crippled, his face disfigured. Instead of going home, he stayed in Germany. He didn't want to burden his young wife with a crippled husband. Better, he decides, if she thinks he's dead. He became a chemist, lived his life. Margaret was the daughter of John/Erik's best friend, Dr. Ludwig (John Wengraf), the surgeon who saved his life. When the doctor was killed by the Nazis, John/Erik adopted Margaret.

When Elizabeth first meets John/Erik, she finds him oddly familiar, but she can't place where she's seen him before. Besides, she has other problems. Her son Drew wants to enlist in the war. Elizabeth fears a repetition of the tragedy with John and refuses to let him. One rainy night, when Lawrence is out of town, Drew runs away with some of his buddies to enlist. Not able to reach Lawrence, Elizabeth turns to John/Erik for help. He goes out into the stormy night and catches up with Drew at the train station. He tries to convince the boy to wait until he has finished school before enlisting. After some serious arm twisting, Drew finally agrees and accompanies John/Erik home, still not knowing that the man in the cab with him is his true father. Later, John/Erik takes ill from being out in the storm. To his dying breath, he insists that he is Erik Kessler, even though Elizabeth knows that he is really her long, lost husband, John McDonald. Referring to Lawrence, John/Erik tells Elizabeth, "Here is the one you wait for. No other man is your husband." After John/Erik dies, Elizabeth and Lawrence adopt Margaret.

Irving Pichel's Tomorrow Is Forever is one of the finest films that Orson Welles ever made. Sure, he's great in Citizen Kane and Touch of Evil, but he's never played a more tender role than that of Erik Kessler. He is simply fantastic. His character is a broken, sad man, and the depth of passion that Welles is able to evoke with just the slightest movement of his sad eyes is unbelievable. And Claudette Colbert is fantastic as Elizabeth, the woman whose dead husband walks back through her front door one day. As the film progresses, and you watch Elizabeth slowly figuring out who Kessler is, your heart aches for these two souls, but mostly for John/Erik. And that's due entirely to the strength of Welles' performance. George Brent puts in a strong performance as Lawrence Hamilton, the man whose entire world stands on the brink of destruction, and Richard Long is great as the hot-headed Drew, the young man who wants so badly to get into the war, not understanding - as his parents do - just how destructive war can really be. Natalie Wood (this was her 3rd film) is charming as little Margaret, who knows far more about the destruction of war than Drew does. And therein lies the message of this film and the reason that it still works so well today. Tomorrow Is Forever was made just as America was emerging from its second world war in less than three decades. Americans knew well then what Americans are just finding out again - war destroys lives.

Tomorrow Is Forever is rated G. It is filmed in glorious black and white and has a running time of 105 minutes.

Ninotchka (1939)

France, prior to World War II. Three Russian bureaucrats - Iranoff (Sig Ruman), Buljanoff (Felix Bressart) and Kopalski (Alexander Granach) - arrive in Paris. Their mission? To raise money for the Soviet Union by selling jewelry confiscated during the revolution. Only one problem. The original owner of the jewels - the Countess Swana (Ina Claire) - is in Paris also. And she's not happy about the Soviet Union selling what used to be hers. She sends her friend Leon (Melvyn Douglass) to stop them. So he does. With a law suit. While they wait for the legal process to run its course, Leon introduces Iranoff, Buljanoff and Kopalski to Parisian food, Parisian women and Parisian joi de vie. They're more than happy to wait on the Parisian legal system. But their boss, the cold and calculating Razinin (Bela Lugosi) is not so happy to wait. He sends Ninotchka (Greta Garbo), his best operative, to hurry the situation along. And here's where the movie really gets going. Ninotchka meets Leon by chance on the street. He becomes infatuated with her at once. "A Russian!" he says. "I love Russians." He follows her to the top of the Eiffel tower. There he suggests they return to his apartment. They make love - 1930s style - they talk, they embrace, the camera fades, you fill in the blanks. Then she discovers that he's the one who brought the law suit against the selling of the jewels. She quickly leaves. But Leon is not discouraged. He continues to pursue her. One day, he follows her to a little restaurant, where he attempts to amuse her. She's remains as stone faced as ever. Without any warning, his chair tips over and he crashes to the floor. Then the unthinkable happens - Garbo laughs.

Kids today might think this is no big deal. But in 1939? This was something to talk about. Garbo didn't laugh. She might smile. She might giggle - slightly. But she didn't laugh. Garbo was something that we simply do not have today. She was a screen presence. She was something ethereal, a person who didn't exist in the real world where mortals dwelt. She lived only on the silver screen in the darkened theater. She had a quality about her that is hard to define. It had always been there. She was already a legend when she made her fist talking movie, Anna Christie, in 1930. She remained a legend - and a mystery - until her death in 1990. She had many lovers, but never married. She was beloved by millions. When she died, France gave her a state funeral. On screen, she was matchless. She could show a panoply of emotions with the arch of one eye brow. Ninotchka was her first, and only, comedy. It was also her penultimate film. She was brilliant and funny, playing the foil for Melvyn Douglas, who was as humorous in his suave way as ever. Few actors have the ability to make you laugh just by standing there in a tuxedo. Douglas could. His face was so expressive that he could set an audience roaring with the twitch of his mouth. Of course, today we just don't get it. I guess we're too sophisticated. Now we have to have bathroom humor shoved into our faces in order to laugh. But 1939 was a simpler time.

Ninotchka was one of director Ernst Lubitcsh's three favorite movies. It's easy to see why. The film has a warmth to it, a kind of joy in it that doesn't appear often in movies. Every actor in the film is perfectly cast in their parts. The sets are gorgeous, the dialogue quick and witty, the screenplay brilliantly funny. Leon eventually wins the heart of Ninotchka. Then the jewels are sold, and Nonitchka, Iranoff, Buljanoff and Kopalski are sent back to Moscow. Leon's plan to get Ninotchka back is both clever and hilarious. Hollywood was very good at turning out "screwball comedies" back in the 1930s and 40s. Somewhere along the way, they lost their touch. We are less fortunate today for that loss. But we still have the classics to fall back on. Ninotchka is one of the best.

Ninotchka is rated G and is filmed in glorious black and white.

A Soldier's Story (1984)

Louisiana. 1942. Pearl Harbor has been attacked. American is at war. And on a lonely stretch of country road, a black man has been murdered. Shot. Problem is - he's a sergeant at the local Army post. This one won't get swept under the rug. The Army wants it investigated. They send down a new young lawyer, Captain Davenport (Howard E. Rollins, Jr.) from the JAG. He's black too. No one's ever met a black officer before. As you can imagine, this ruffles a few feathers, especially in Louisiana during the Jim Crow days. Trouble starts immediately. Captain Davenport isn't housed with the other officers. Instead, he's billeted in a deserted barracks on the other side of the base. The first of many insults. But Davenport keeps his cool. He needs to. He has a job to do...well, two jobs really. The first is to find out who murdered Sergeant Waters (Adolph Caeser), and the second is to be an example to everyone, proof that black people can be officers and gentlemen. Rollins is both. Most people think that Waters was killed by one of the local white people, but Davenport has other ideas. He doesn't question the townsfolk; he questions Waters' own men instead. As the film progresses, a portrait of Waters emerges and it ain't a pretty one. Waters was a bitter man, and man driven mad by prejudice and discrimination, a smart man constantly told that he wasn't good enough to go any higher, an Army sergeant constantly referred to as "boy." Slowly his resentment grew over the years, but that resentment wasn't directed at the white people who discriminated against him. Rather, Waters directs it towards his own race, especially towards those blacks that he feels make his race look bad, those who act subservient, those who step-n-fetch, those who lack the degree of gravitas which he feels he possesses. And so, he drives his men. And he torments those he feels aren't doing good enough, torments Private Smalls (David Harris) until he takes his own life. This makes another soldier, Private First Class Peterson (Denzel Washington), very angry. Angry enough to kill.

Based on the Pullitzer Prize winning play by Charles Fuller, Norman Jewison's A Soldier's Story is one of the best movies about racism and its effects that I have ever seen. It portrays racism within the same race, something that results when one race is perpetually discriminated against by another. Blacks began thinking that if they could just be more "white," then whites would stop discriminating against them. This philosophy led some blacks who attempted to "assimilate" to start looking down on those who didn't. They saw them as weak and inferior. Saw them as holding back the race. Nonsense too, since the only ones holding blacks back were whites. But such is the power of racism. It twists the world into a new reality that in turn twists minds into something altogether new as well. And Sergeant Waters was one twisted man indeed, as he relates how he and his comrades once slit the throat of another black soldier who they felt had shamed their race. Waters felt that Private Smalls shamed his race too. Private Peterson feels that Waters isn't good enough to be black. Captain Davenport wonders who gave these two the right to decide who is and isn't good enough to be black. Smalls and Waters will be laid to rest in the Louisiana soil, but the effects of racism, the effects of slavery, will take a lot longer to lay to rest. But A Soldier's Story seems to hint that it will happen...some day, when the fighting is all over.

A Soldier's Story is rated PG.

The Enchanted Cottage (1945)

Is love blind? John Cromwell's romantic fantasy The Enchanted Cottage assures us that it is. Narrator Herbert Marshall, playing the blind pianist Major John Hillgrove, tells the touching story of a homely young woman and a battle scarred pilot, who find that love can blind us to anothers' physical - and emotional - imperfections. Laura Pennington (Dorothy McGuire) is a homely girl who comes to work as a house cleaner for Mrs. Minnett (Mildred Natwick), who owns a honeymoon cottage that she rents out from time to time. One day, Oliver Bradford (Robert Young), hidden in the recesses of his overcoat, hat pulled down low, arrives at the house, and goes straight up to his room. A fighter pilot, he was shot down and severely injured. He's lost the use of his right arm, and his face is hideously scarred. His soul is too. He lashes out at people, taking his anger and frustration out on them. His family is sympathetic. Too sympathetic. They overlook his injuries to the point that it becomes obvious that they're trying to overlook them. His fiance' insists she still loves him, but she can't look him in the face when she says it. The truth is all too obvious.

After several weeks at the cottage, Oliver begins to let down his guard. He befriends Major Hillgrove, who can't see his injuries and so doesn't try to ignore them, and Hillgrove's nephew Danny (Alec Englander) who's too young to know that he's supposed to be shocked by them. He also befriends Laura, whose homeliness makes her an outcast in the village. Slowly, their love for each other unfolds, and they begin to see each other through the eyes of love, they begin to see each other's souls, and they are beautiful to each other. Thinking the cottage has worked some kind of magic on them and removed their deformities, they invite Oliver's parents to come and visit them. But they see only the scarred cripple and the homely girl. As Laura and John see the disappointment in his parents' eyes, they realize that they haven't truly changed after all. But love triumphs in this little movie, and Oliver and Laura choose Love's illusion over life's harsh realities.

The Enchanted Cottage is another of those quirky little films that I love. The story is simple and predictable; still, it's a comforting predictability, the kind you get from a favorite old flannel shirt and a cup of hot chocolate. The story is helped by great sets and understated lighting that lend a wonderfully magical atmosphere to the film. If you're looking for a slightly corny feel-good movie, then pop some corn, whip up some hot cocoa, and settle in with The Enchanted Cottage.

The Enchanted Cottage is rated G and is available in velvety black and white.

Between Two Worlds (1944)

London, during the German Blitz. A group of passengers is waiting to board a liner to America and away from the horrors of Total War. Tom (John Garfield), a jaded reporter; Maxine (Faye Emerson), Tom's former girlfriend; Mr. Lingley (George Coulouris), a greedy tycoon; Pete (George Tobias), a sailor on his way home to see his new son for the first time; Mrs. Midget (Sara Allgood), a poor Irish woman; Reverend Duke (Denis King), a meek man of the cloth; Mrs. Cliveden-Banks (Isobel Elsom), a class-conscious social climber; and Mr. Cliveden-Banks (Gilbert Emery), her long-suffering husband. As they are heading to the dock, their car is struck by a bomb , and they are all killed. Later, though, they find themselves on a luxury liner, unaware that they are dead. The only other people on the ship are the steward, Scrubby (Edmund Gwenn) and a couple who committed suicide together - Henry and Ann Bergner (Paul Henreid and Eleanor Parker). As the ship sails on and the passengers attempt to amuse themselves, the characters' lives unfold as we expect they will - after all, they are all stereotypes, albeit comfortable ones. One by one, they become aware of their state, and fear and denial are replaced by resignation as the ship nears its final destination and the passengers prepare to meet the Examiner (Sydney Greenstreet). Each will be judged for how they lived their lives and assigned their just deserts, all of which are imaginative and satisfying.

I first saw Between Two Worlds when I was a kid, and it has stuck with me down through the years. I love everything about this film, with the possible exception of the denouement, which I have always felt robbed the story of its impact. But the rest of the film is wonderfully moving - at times funny, at other times poignant, as the characters come to terms with the fact that their mortal lives have ended. I especially enjoy the eternal reward granted to the snooty Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, and the frank dismissal of the grasping, evil Mr. Lingley. If you're feeling the need to be reassured that the wicked are ultimately punished for their crimes, then Between Two Worlds is the feel-good film for you.

Between Two Worlds is rated G and is available in glorious black and white.

Everything Is Illuminated (2005)

I recommended Liev Schreiber's Everything Is Illuminated to two friends. After watching it, one said it was the best movie she'd ever seen, and the other said, "What the hell is wrong with you?" There you go! You'll either love this movie or you'll hate it - there's very little middle ground where this film's concerned. Elijah Wood plays Jonathan Safran Foer, a young Jewish man whose grandparents emigrated from the Ukraine during WWII. Jonathan is a collector. He collects family items - pictures, bits of clothing, keys, false teeth, eyeglasses, whatever - seals them in zip lock bags and staples them to the wall of his room. When he discovers a ring and an old photograph of his grandfather standing with his arm around a woman known only as Augustina, Jonathan travels to the Ukraine to find out who she is. In Odessa, Jonathan is met by his guides, the hip-hop wannabe Alex (Eugene Hultz), Alex's grumpy grandfather (Stephen Samudovsky), and the grandfather's "seeing eye bitch" Sammy Davis, Jr., Jr. The four embark on a road trip across the Ukraine - and back through time - searching for Augustina. Eventually they discover another collector - an old woman who has been gathering up the scattered belongings of the citizens of the village she once lived in, a village that the Nazis wiped off the map during the Holocaust. Does she know Augustina? She does indeed, and the truths hidden in her collection reveal profound secrets that will change the lives of all of the characters. Everything Is Illuminated is a bittersweet film that delves into one of the most painful chapters in the world's history. At first I laughed until I cried; slowly my tears of laughter turned to sorrow. But tears have a cathartic effect, and I felt better afterwards. You may too. Or, you just may wonder what the hell is wrong with me!

Everything is Illuminated is rated PG-13.

Casablanca (1942)

Casablanca. It's hard to know exactly what to say about what is arguably the greatest movie ever produced. It's right up there with Citizen Kane. I mean, they don't come any better than this. Casablanca. Even the title conjures up images in our minds - the hot sun, the stuccoed buildings, the lazily-turning ceiling fan, the crowded market place, the furtive glances, the shadowy figure standing just out of sight, the blood running between the cobblestones in the street. And yet, most people I know have never even seen the movie. And then there's that quote. You know the one. Most people get it wrong. Still, it's part of American culture.

Casablanca follows the adventures of American ex-pat Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart), his one-time love Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) and her husband Victor Laszlo (Paul Henreid). Blaine is an idealist who fought for the Loyalists in the Spanish Civil War, ran guns for the Ethiopians, and edits a newspaper in Paris, where he meets and falls in love with Ilsa. When the Nazis invade Paris, Ilsa and Rick decide to escape on the last train out, but Ilsa never shows up. Standing on the platform in the pouring rain, Rick reads Ilsa'a "Dear John" letter. As the rain washes her words off the paper, Rick's piano-playing friend Sam (Dooley Wilson) drags him onto the train. The embittered Rick ends up in Casablanca, in French Morocco, where he opens Rick's Café Américaine, a bar where all of the hapless foreigners show up to gamble, to plot their escape, to steal or simply to drink their troubles away.

All of this is shown in a superb flashback that occurs about a third of the way through the movie. When Ilsa shows up at Rick's with Laszlo - one of the heroes of the French underground - we don't know why Rick looks like he's about to toss his breakfast, but Sam does. Laszlo needs to get to America or England. The Nazis want to stop him. The French Chief of Police, Louis Renault (Claude Reins), worries that his corrupt, albeit comfortable, life is about to be seriously disrupted. Rick has letters of transit that will get two people out of Casablanca, but he refuses to sell them to Laszlo. Rick wants to hurt Ilsa as much as she hurt him, not seeing - at least not at first - that she's already hurting just as badly. She's married to Laszlo, who loves her dearly, but she's in love with Rick, who loves her even more. The final scene at the airport is one of the greatest in all of motion picture history.

Director Michael Curtiz makes the most of Julius and Philip Epstein's screenplay, and the score by Max Steiner is one of the best ever produced. Notice how he weaves the pop standard "As Time Goes By" and "La Marseillaise" throughout the score. If you've never watched Casablanca, rent it soon. Find out what all the fuss is about. Discover for yourself why Rick wants Sam to play it again. My guess is you'll want to do the same.

Casablanca is rated G and is available in glorious black and white.

The White Countess (2005)

The White Countess of Merchant-Ivory's film The White Countess is a nightclub. It is also a woman. Both are located in Shanghai int he days just prior to the Japanese invasion, and both are the obsession of Todd Jackson - a former U.S. diplomat who was blinded in a terrorist bombing. Jackson (as played by Ralph Fiennes) dreams of owning the perfect bar, a place where he can escape from the violence and chaos raging in the world. The Countess Sofia Belinskaya (Natasha Richardson) has no more dreams. What she has is her work as a taxi dancer, her daughter, and her egregiously ungrateful in-laws. When Jackson meets the countess, all of the pieces of his dream fall into place, and he creates The White Countess - the perfect bar - with the Countess Belinskaya as its centerpiece. Within this exotic - dare I say romantic - mise en scéne, the film follows these two damaged, world-weary souls as they stumble warily towards each other. Unfortunately, the film stumbles a bit too. Looking a little like Casablanca, Empire of the Sun and Doctor Zhivago all rolled into one, The White Countess can't quite seem to find its footing. Is it a love story set against the backdrop of war with undercurrents of political intrigue? Or is it a war movie set against a backdrop of political intrigue with a love story subplot? Or...well, you get the picture. Don't get me wrong - the film is a visual feast. After all, it is Merchant-Ivory. The acting is superb all around, and the soundtrack is real Oscar-nomination stuff. It's just that all of those wonderful pieces don't quite come together this time. If you're a Merchant-Ivory fan, rent this film, watch it, soak in the images and sounds, drool over Fiennes and Richardson, but try not to pay too much attention to the movie stumbling around behind it all.

The White Countess is rated PG-13.