In my review of DisneyNature’s Tigers and Tigers on the Rise two years ago, I covered my past experiences with watching nature docs. I also noted:

After a long absence from the nature doc game, Disneynature was founded in 2008. Since then, their documentaries have been made by a variety of filmmakers, narrated by celebrity voices, and honored the True-Life Adventures tradition by assigning human names to animals.

Since then, DisneyNature released Sea Lions of the Galapagos, which I have not seen yet, but I’m glad that I was offered an advance screener for their latest, Orangutan, which begins with a very familiar song from Disney’s The Jungle Book (1967).

(Naturally, I won’t spoil it here, though I’m sorely tempted.)

Directed by Mark Linfield, an experienced filmmaker who also made Tiger, Elephant, and Penguins, among many other nature documentaries, Orangutan follows a family of animals in Southeast Asia as one of them leaves the nest for the first time. Obviously, we’re most interested in the titular creatures, but what I always love about these type of documentaries is that they observe the environment in which the orangutans live, and then follows as they scamper up and down trees, across trees — by flying — and then up, up, and away from danger.

After all, the orangutans are not predators, though the ants and other insects they eat may not agree! They are happy creatures who get along with the other animals, and work together (sometimes), with the goal of peaceful coexistence. Nonetheless, director Linfield does not hesitate to show that the animals do not always cooperate together; they are subject to human weaknesses, such as selfishness and a self-centered sense of being, that are challenging to overcome, to say the least.

Even so, it’s rather marvelous to sit back and watch the wondrous abilities of various creatures to make their way through the world without the interference of humans.

And if, like me, you’ve missed some of the past documentaries in the series, Disney Plus has collected them together into a special section on the streaming service, which is a mighty nice resource to tap into with your children. Or your child-friendly friends and family members.

Every scene change is an assault. When this movie cuts, it inflicts pain.

Point Blank (1967)

The film is now available on a smashing new 4K+Blu-ray two-disc edition from the Criterion Collection. The film is also available on Blu-ray.

Riding high after winning an Academy Award in 1966 for his comedy-Western Cat Ballou (1965), Lee Marvin had earned the right to “final cut,” as well as casting.

While filming his starring role in Robert Aldrich’s The Dirty Dozen, the actor met with director John Boorman, who had recently completed his first feature, known in the U.S. as Having a Wild Weekend, which was meant to launch the Dave Clark Five into the territory where The Beatles lived after Richard Lester’s A Hard Day’s Night. (It did not.)

Their meeting point was a script for MGM, based on The Hunter, an excellent crime novel by Donald E. Westlake, writing under his pen name Richard Stark. Major movie star Lee Marvin asked young British director John Boorman what he thought of the script. Boorman did not think the script was very good, but told Marvin that he very much liked the lead character. Marvin tossed his copy of the script into the garbage, and told Boorman that he agreed.

Thus, an unlikely partnership was formed. Marvin was so impressed by Boorman that he ceded his “final cut” and casting authoritty to the young director, giving him power that was unprecedented for such an inexperienced filmmaker.

John Boorman took full advantage of his newly-vested power, directing a stone-cold classic.

The story is simple. Lee Marvin stars as Walker -- renamed from Parker in the novel -- who escapes from Alcatraz with a single goal in mind: recover the $93,000 that his former friend and partner Mal Reese (Canadian actor John Vernon in his first screen role) stole from him. Oh, and perhaps exact some revenge for Mal stealing Walker’s wife and shooting him. (Or, perhaps Mal actually murdered Walker in the opening moments of the film, and the entire narrative takes place in the moments before he dies; that’s one interpretation that director Boorman never entirely dismissed.)

Walker marches from Los Angeles International Airport throughout Los Angeles in search of his $93,000. He makes his first stop at the apartment where his wife Lynne (Canadian actress Sharon Acker in her first screen appearance) has been shacking up with Mal Reese, but Mal is no longer there; he’s taken up with another woman and moved out. She gives Walker a clue.

Walker keeps looking for his money. He meets with Lynne’s dispirited sister Chris (Angie Dickinson), and starts working his way up a criminal food chain, dealing with car dealer Stegman (Michael Strong), then with Mal, then with Carter (Lloyd Bochner) and Brewster (Carroll O’Connor).

His relationship with Chris waxes and wanes. She hates him, she resists him, she lays down with him, she rejects him. Walker doesn’t seem to know or care about her.

He has continual encounters with the mysterious Yost (Keenan Wynn), or maybe he’s called Fairfax? It’s all a bit spatial and strange and suspicious.

Point Blank is strange and mysterious, layered and complicated and perplexing and transfixing. Lee Marvin is stoic, yet his eyes contain multitudes. Angie Dickinson is tired and fiery and alluring and frightening. Together they are a scary pair. Apart they are beautiful and dangerous.

In the audio commentary, director John Boorman notes that, since this was his first picture in color, he undertook a deep study of the subject, to understand the psychology of colors, and also how they affected the viewer.

Thus, he decided for a gradual shift in the colors from the beginning of the narrative to the end. He also decided to shoot each scene with a different primary color, which prompted one MGM studio person to call a scene planned with ‘seven men, all in green, in a green room’ untenable; it would be unreleasable.

Of course, from his study of the subject, Boorman knew that there are many shades of green -- some would read brown, and some would tend toward yellow -- and, thanks to Lee Marvin’s help, Boorman could ignore the concerns, since he had final cut.

On the 4K disc, the purity of celluloid in color is beautifully manifested. None of the colors really jump out, like some digital productions of recent vintage. Instead, the colors look burnished and deeply ingrained.

Where the 4K edition truly shines is in the booming sound, which makes the pounding, hammering sound of Lee Marvin walking down the Los Angeles Airport hallway thunderously loud and incredibly striking, like a sonic boom with each step. The details are finely rendered; it’s a great transfer.

The special features complement each other, digging far into how and why the film has affected filmmakers, film critics, and the general public alike.

First is the audio commentary, available both on the 4K disc and the Blu-ray, recorded in 2005 for a Warner Home Video release. It’s led by Steven Soderbergh, who has a number of questions that he puts to John Boorman throughout the movie. It’s not incessant chatter; it is, instead, a conversation between two filmmakers that is informative, friendly, respectful, and quite wonderful.

The other special features are only available on the Blu-ray. Film critic and historian Geoff Dyer visited Boorman in his country home in 2021 and talked with him for 41 minutes, mostly about Point Blank. Coming 16 years after the audio commentary, some of the same information is covered, but the two cover other points of abiding interest in the film, including a story that Boorman shares about Angie Dickinson’s relationship with Lee Marvin.

Author Mark Harris, who knows the late 60s era in Hollywood intimately, as evidenced by his outstandingly excellent book Pictures at a Revolution: Five Movies and the Birth of the New Hollywood, contributes an excellent 35-minute visual essay on the film, dissecting it from a critical and social viewpoint.

Filmmaker Jim Jarmusch talks about his love of crime films (?!), and spends 17 quite entertaining minutes narrating an essay about his special love for Point Blank -- and why.

Writer, television producer, and historian Alison Martino (Vintage Los Angeles) narrates a 9-minute tour of the locations used in the film, which is fabulous. Thanks to her, I realized that the Tiffany Theater, which is across the street from the apartment belonging to Lee Marvin’s ex in the first part of the film, is the same theater where I first saw Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity (!!!). Talk about film noir coincidences!

A two-part promo film, running about 16 minutes in total, was produced around the time of the theatrical release of Point Blank. Titled The Rock, it understandably focuses on Alcatraz, since Point Blank was the first film that was shot on location at the prison, which closed in 1963. With behind-the-scenes footage and brief interviews, it’s quite interesting, especially Part 2, which features an interview with a former inmate who was confined in the prison.

Some 22 minutes of The Dick Cavett Show, broadcast on American television in 1970, covers the interview portion with Lee Marvin. I was surprised by how awkward the normally very smooth Dick Cavett sounded as he tried to get a conversation going with Marvin, who goes against modern-day talk show rules by not being terribly chatty. It’s also surprising to see him chain-smoking (?!). Jeanne Moreau and Truman Capote are also show in the segment.

The film’s original trailer is included, which, again, is fascinating for the contrast with modern-day trailers.

The package include a printed booklet containing Geoff Dyer’s essay “A Dream of Full-Color Noit” that is expansive, critically incisive, and wonderfully written.

The handsome new cover is by Jay Shaw.

Point Blank is a great film that rewards multiple viewings. Criterion’s new 4K edition is a keeper that gives Lee Marvin, John Boorman, and Angie Dickinson their proper due.

(Originally published on ScreenAnarchy.com. Reproduced with permission.)

In Theaters: Finishing second among last weekend’s new releases, per Box Office Mojo, exceeding expectations, per The Numbers, Sony’s new animated comedy, GOAT, no doubt benefited especially from having Monday’s holiday included in its totals, with children attending along with their adult guardians, whose own interest may have been piqued by the NBA’s All-Star festivities this past Sunday, with a new format and new broadcast network, which combined to send the ratings soaring.

Speaking of a new format, GOAT was inspired by NBA star Stephen Curry; his production company closed a deal with Sony Pictures Entertainment and reportedly wanted to make something with an “underdog spirit,” and so the filmmakers came up with a narrative that mirrored Curry’s career as a relatively short player -- by modern NBA standards -- and the challenges and expectations he had to overcome.

Standing 6 feet and 2 inches, Curry is hardly short among non-professional athletes. Yet watching him in a game this season, it’s quite easy to lose track of him among all the other, taller players; what distinguishes him is his shooting ability and talent at elevating the play of his teammates by his passing and defense.

(Full disclosure: For what it’s worth, I skipped the early advance screening because I’m no longer obsessed by the modern NBA, and didn’t think I’d enjoy an animated movie about the sport. I attended an afternoon screening on Wednesday, and was the only person in attendance, so I’ll be interested in seeing if audiences will return this weekend.)

In any event, GOAT revolves around roarball and ROAR, not basketball and the NBA. Roarball is defined as “a high-intensity, co-ed, full-contact sport dominated by the fastest, fiercest animals in the world,” while, per the official site, “ROAR (Regionally Organized Animal Roarball) is a global league made of 6 teams that each represent a different biome. Each arena demands high-stakes play, with terrains and obstacles constantly evolving in-game, giving a whole new meaning to “homecourt advantage.”

As devoted sports fans know, GOAT is also an acronym for Greatest Of All Time. Director Tyree Dillihay and the film’s writers have fun with the acronym by making their protagonist a goat named Will (Caleb McLaughlin), with another character, a black leopard named Jett Fillmore (Gabrielle Union), as a candidate for the greatest player in league history, even though she has never won a league championship with her team, Vineland, which is also Will’s hometown.

Will has grown up idolizing the Vineland Thorns, especially Jett Fillmore, and dreams of becoming a professional player, but his size limitations meet with constant discouraging talk. His single mother, Louise Harris (Jennifer Hudson), always champions him, however, encouraging him in every way as a waitress in a diner, where she ekes out a living. Will’s fortunes have taken a tumble since he moved out on his own; his gerbil landlord (Wayne Knight) is chasing him for his rent due, since the landlord has (literally) hundreds of mouths to feed (his own family).

The Vineland team, owned by a warthog named Flo Everson (Jenifer Lewis), consists of just four players, besides Jett: Modo Olachenko (Nick Kroll), a komodo dragon; Olivia Burke (Nicola Coughlan), an ostrich; Lenny Williamson (Stephen Curry), a giraffe; and Archie Everhardt (David Harbour), a rhino. They are coached, nominally, by Dennis Cooper (Patton Oswalt). Knowing that her team is struggling and that her own career may be coming to an end after 20 years, Jett demands that owner Flo find her another player.

Flo settles upon Will, more as a publicity stunt than anything else, since Will is the first “small” animal to join the league. He came to her attention in a pickup game against two-time league champion horse Mane Attraction (Aaron Pierre); even though Will got dusted in the game, it brought him instant notoriety, thanks to social media.

Will’s new teammates do not take to him kindly, though, and he struggles to get any playing time. Until something happens, and everything changes.

From there, much of the narrative is consumed by the roarball games themselves, which are inherently less interesting to me; mostly, it’s a lot of noise and movement, which is custom fit for children whose attention span is limited.

For adults, the clever touches -- for example, Stephen Curry as the voice of a giraffe -- as well as the call-outs for devoted sports fans -- see the film’s general narrative, the ‘bigs’ vs ‘smalls’ argument, the attitude and actions of rich owners -- may be sufficient to maintain interest.

(Full disclosure: I dozed off once. I failed to order coffee with my meal, so my bad. But I don’t think I missed anything substantial.)

Even though I am not in the target audience for GOAT, I can certainly see the appeal, and found that watching it was a satisfying experience. Your mileage may vary.

Now Streaming: I didn’t grow up watching the Muppets.

Our family’s television antenna blew off the house, as I recall, and so we relied upon set-top antennas, which could not pull in the UHF frequencies of Channel 28, the local PBS station in Los Angeles. So, my introduction to Jim Henson’s characters came, not on Sesame Street, but on the first season of Saturday Night Live, on which the Muppets behaved for an adult audience as part of The Lord of Gorch skits.

Following that, The Muppet Show debuted in September 1976 in the UK, and spread outward from there, establishing itself as a variety show, with a different guest star in each episode. The shows’ success led to a series of films, beginning with The Muppet Movie (1979), which I remember seeing and enjoying during its initial theatrical release. I have also watched and enjoyed (most of) the films that followed in its wake.

Earlier this month, The Muppets Show debuted on Disney Plus as a one-time special. (To be honest, I thought it was the first episode of a series, so it did gain my immediate attention.) Watching the special now, with special guest star Sabrina Carpenter, who started as an actress in a Disney TV show and, more recently, has shown a knack for skit comedy on Saturday Night Live, and also featuring guest stars Seth Rogen, one of the executive producers, and Maya Rudolph, was a completely enjoyable experience, though not transcendent, as it may be for people who watched Jim Henson’s original series back in the day.

Yet it’s the kind of concept that would certainly be welcome as a weekly series. Staying (nearly entirely) within family-friendly boundaries, the show features many, many muppets in the variety show format, freshening it up with sharp writing and a willingness to poke gentle fun at the characters.

Until Disney decides to wise up and bring the Muppets back on a more regular basis, this will have to do. It’s certainly worth watching, even if you were not a Muppets kid. [Disney Plus]

Refreshingly modest, absent any intergenerational conflicts, parental discord, or youthful rebellion, and with nary a human in sight, Tafiti: Across is happily free to follow its titular protagonist as he makes an epic journey in search of salvation for a member of his family.

The oldest of three meerkat children, Tafiti (voiced by Cosima Henman) listens to his aged grandpapa tell him and his two younger siblings that ‘all animals are dangerous,’ except, of course, meerkats. It’s a common warning that is routinely given by human parents to their young children, and very sound in principal, especially, one imagines, for all meerkats living in the African Savannah, where mortal dangers abound.

Still, Tafiti is old enough to be allowed by his grandpapa to explore the territory nearby on his own, with a kind yet stern reminder to ‘always be on the watch.’ With this in mind, Tafiti heads out for a day’s exploring. Coming across a friendly bush-pig (red river hog) named Bristles (voiced by Steve Hudson), Tafiti is determined to heed his grandpapa’s advice, which comes true as Bristles is snatched by an eagle (Jeremiah Costello).

As a kind-hearted meerkat, though, Tafiti cannot help but come to Bristles’ aid, which leads to Bristles meeting Tafiti’s family, inadvertently putting them into danger from a snake that bites grandpapa with poisonous venom that will surely kill him, unless Tafiti can find a legendary blue flower that can only be found across the not-so-nearby desert.

Based on characters in a 23-book series by German author Julia Boehme, the screenplay is credited to Boehme and Nicholas Hause, who has considerable experience in writing for younger audiences. Their script dispenses with the necessary exposition early, focusing on Tafiti and Bristles’ journey, and situating them into a richly wonderful variety of locations -- not just the Savannah and the desert, although those locations play a prominent role, but also locales both wet and dry -- that enables a slew of animals and insects to figure into the action.

Thus, young audiences won’t get bored, since they will not just be watching two animals making an endless journey across endless sands, but instead meeting creatures of all types: creeping, crawling, leaping, walking, and flying. The only thing they have in common? They all talk.

The great variety of backgrounds are beautifully rendered and lovingly detailed, while the foreground animals are playfully animated. Without the juvenile snark commonly manifested by young characters in Hollywood studios, there is no need for ‘smackdowns’ and no room for insulting or belittling ‘jokes.’ Instead, these young animals show respect for each other, no matter their species, and -- shocker! -- respect for their elders.

And Tafiti: Across the Desert is not just for children; I found myself frequently smiling in amusement and occasionally laughing at loud. The film is filled with recognizable behavior that is a pleasure to behold, making it easy to recommend for all ages.

The film opens Friday, January 30, in select theaters nationwide, via Blue Fox Entertainment. Visit the official site for locations and showtimes.

All things considered, the 11 (?!) original theatrical trailers included in the “Bonus” section on the Blu-ray in Kino Lorber’s two-disc (4K/Blu-ray) special edition, all starring Clint Eastwood, from A Fistful of Dollars (1964) through The Eiger Sanction (1975), make an excellent prelude to watching Escape From Alcatraz (1979), especially if it’s your first viewing.

The progression of trailers begins with a trailer that doesn’t even mention Clint Eastwood’s name to a stream of trailers that are built around his name and persona, which reminds me that I first became aware of Eastwood via The ABC Sunday Night Movie and its pan-and-scanned, edited for broadcast television, ad-supported presentations of Eastwood-starring films. After I graduated from high school and started seeing movies on my own, I remember being distinctly unimpressed with Every Which Way But Loose, though I loved seeing San Fernando Valley locations, where I lived at the time, on the big screen.

Released six months later, in June 1979, Escape From Alcatraz was a different story.

(For one thing, seeing Clint Eastwood’s naked backside shocked made me feel like an adult, no matter how brief the sighting. The movie was rated PG, which is a reminder that the PG rating was much looser in the 1970s than it is today.)

In May 2020, I revisited the film for the first time in years, during the early months of the global pandemic. Here’s what I wrote for Screen Anarchy:

Maybe it’s the pandemic, maybe it’s just me, but I empathized more than ever with a convicted criminal, locked up in an impregnable prison facility.

What timing! Recently, I revisited John Sturges’ The Great Escape, which pits good vs. evil in a grand, military adventure. Based on a true story, producer/director Sturges’ film follows heroic Allied soldiers as they strike back against evil Nazi forces.

For a change, please, consider producer/director Don Siegel’s muscular drama. Based on a true story, it follows convicted criminals as they endeavor to escape from the fabled Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary, located on an island a mile away from San Francisco, California.

Released in June 1979, the film featured the final teaming of Siegel with Clint Eastwood, a partnership that began in 1968’s Coogan’s Bluff, right after the actor scored worldwide box office hits, thanks to his partnership with filmmaker Sergio Leone. As I’ve written before, “Siegel’s riveting, mid-tempo style of action suited Eastwood well,” and they then made the off-beat, unpredictable Two Mules for Sister Sara (1970) and The Beguiled (1971), before capturing the cultural zeitgeist in Dirty Harry (1971).

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That same year, Eastwood directed his first film, Play Misty For Me, and became a bigger cinematic presence than ever before as an actor and director. Siegel, meanwhile, helmed the fabulous thieving adventure Charley Varrick (1973), starring Walter Matthau; the very enjoyable thriller The Black Windmill, starring Michael Caine; the forlorn Western The Shootist (1976), starring John Wayne; and the spy thriller Telefon (1977), starring Charles Bronson.

For Eastwood, Escape From Alcatraz was sandwiched by populist comedies Every Which Way But Loose (1978) and Bronco Billy (1980). As it happens, the former was the first Clint Eastwood film I’d seen in a theater, and so the prospect of seeing him in a drama was very appealing in the summer of 1979.

Revisiting Escape From Alcatraz, which recently became available on Amazon Prime Video, was a complete pleasure, though I’d forgotten how much of the film unfolds with very little action, per se.

The prison, operated from 1934 until 1963, was known as a maximum-security facility where troublemakers were held (shades of The Great Escape). Unlike John Sturges’ film, however, the protagonist here, Frank Morris (Eastwood), is no hero.

Instead, he’s a career criminal who has escaped from other prisons before, which is why he was transferred to Alcatraz. The steely-eyed, stiff-jawed warden (Patrick Magee, also in Siegel’s Telefon) lays down the law to Morris, who steals a fingernail-clipper right off the warden’s desk during their brief meeting.

Clearly, Morris has an instinctual desire to escape. The film supports that notion, showing guards who are not entirely monstrous and featuring fellow prisoners who are sympathetic and supportive. Naturally, the warden is evil -- Magee makes for a smug, villainous figure -- as well as some of the guards and a few fellow prisoners.

For the most part, though, it feels like the prison is pulling for Morris to defy all the odds and escape with his life. Those empathetic chords reach out and embrace the viewer; we know that Frank Morris is a criminal, but it’s Clint Eastwood, really, and we pulled for him in the 1970s.

Displaying his subtle, supreme mastery of the craft of filmmaking, director Don Siegel employs superb control of the frame, constantly inviting the viewer into the action, even when that action is expressed entirely on Eastwood’s face.

Kino Lorber’s 4K looks superb, especially in the many shadowy scenes that predominate the early scenes, as well as the escape sequence itself. According to the packaging: “The HDR/Dolby Vision Master was remastered by Paramount Pictures -- from a 4K scan of the original camera negative.”

The special features on Kino Lorber’s edition are composed of an excellent audio commentary by film historians Steve Mitchell and Nathaniel Thompson, the latter of whom owns the outstanding review site Mondo Digital. Two interviews, which were also included on the 2022 home video release, are included here as well.

Their content is complementary: the first with screenwriter Richard Tuggle, who talks about how he came across J. Campbell Bruce’s book, first published in 1962, prompting him to write his first screenplay. The second features actor Larry Hankin, who plays a character who was directly involved in the escape attempt, and is quite amusing as he talks about how he was cast and tells stories from the location shooting.

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In movie theaters right now, Disney’s Zootopia 2 rules, having earned more than $1.4 billion (?!) dollars since its November 2025 release. This month, however, the new years brings two less-heralded animated adventures to movie theaters.

First up from Viva Pictures on January 16, Charlie the Wonderdog stars Owen Wilson in an urban tale. Officially: “When Danny’s best friend is mysteriously abducted by aliens, Charlie returns home with incredible abilities and a mission to protect the people he loves. But when the world needs him most, Charlie learns that true heroism isn’t about strength… it’s about courage, kindness, and believing in yourself.”

The trailer features plenty of animal action, as well as a smattering of the expected human behavior.

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Set for release by Blue Fox Entertainment in Canada and the U.S. on January 30, Tafiti: Across the Desert is based on a popular German children’s book series. Per the official synopsis: “Young Tafiti embarks on a desert quest to find a magical blue flower that can save his grandfather, with an unlikely companion—Bristles the bush pig—who shows him that adventures are better when shared.”

Have a look at the trailer below, where much of the action is set in the beautiful outdoors, and nary a human is glimpsed.

I’m hoping to have coverage of both films later this month. Make your plans now!

Thanks to a recent Barnes & Noble sale, film noir once again has invaded my safe and secure home in Dallas, Texas, where our criminals have the decency to speak slowly and always wipe the blood off their boots.

A scalding pot of coffee makes the acquaintance of a beautiful woman’s face in the most notorious scene in The Big Heat. It’s so notorious that it’s the one scene mentioned in four of the six special features on Criterion’s 4K + Blu-ray edition, released on July 1, 2025. Even after watching the scene seven times this week, it retains its power, and I flinched every time. (Full disclosure: I am sipping hot coffee as I write this. Evidently, I am a masochist.)

From previous viewings on television, I was familiar with the film’s power. Paying closer attention, thanks for the gorgeous black and white imagery render in 4K resolution, allowed me to savor the lighting and the shadows, the way that director Fritz Lang composed his shots, how the camera moved only as needed during each scene for the maximum dramatic impact, and how Glenn Ford’s face steadily tightened as the narrative progressed.

A wonderful 30-minute video essay by Farran Smith Nehme made me aware, too, of how the women in the film are treated differently than the men, how each actress brought something different to their role to make their characters come alive, and even how Gloria Grahame’s body language changed from the beginning of the film, through the ‘coffee burning’ scene,’ to the end, when it changed again.

The superb audio commentary by film noir experts Alain Silver and James Ursini skillfully wove together insights into the film business at the time with analysis of Fritz Lang’s shot selection and experience with past films in his long career, as well as identifying and placing into context the actors used in various roles, including Lee Marvin, who truly broke out in a monstrously evil role as the coffee scalder.

Criterion’s package is irresistible. It also includes two audio interviews with Fritz Lang conducted in the 1960s with (separately) film historian Gideon Bachmann and filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich; two videos from 2009, in which directors Martin Scorsese and Michael Mann speak warmly about the film and the vivid impression it left on them; and a lovely fold-out essay by novelist Jonathan Lethem.

Produced during March and April 1953, the film was released in November 1953. In Britain, it received an ‘X’ rating, and even today, it definitely is not a movie for children, though I imagine that mature teenagers may be able to handle the often-brutal violence.

The Big Heat is a chilling experience that is disquieting in its depiction of violence and how it can tear families apart. And how women usually get the raw end of the deal. [Available from Criterion.]

Instead, she constantly fights with her younger brother, Elliot (Elias Janssen), who, frankly, is annoying, and her parents (Simu Liu and Cristin Milioti), who have problems of their own. Mom has been offered the prospect of a job, but it’s in another state. Dad fights this idea, but he’s not been able to provide materially for the family.

Against this strained backdrop, Stevie wishes for her family to return to how she remembered it: calm, peaceful, and loving. Of course, memories are never 100% accurate, but it’s what Stevie wants, and she dreams about a happier life. What is that could come true, though? And what about this legendary Sandman, who is reportedly — according to People Who Know These Things — able to make one’s dreams come true.

Now streaming on Netflix, In Your Dreams purports to answer that question by sending Stevie and Elliot on a wild journey through their own individual dreams. Directed by Alexander Woo and co-directed by Erik Benson, the film is based on their original screenplay, which makes it stand out amidst all the IP adaptations that float the worldwide animation boat.

The dreams of children are fertile territory for imagination, and the film is replete with wild, implausible ideas that are conjured up by the children. Initially, they keep scaring one another with bad dreams, nightmare visions that prompt them to wake up instantly, for fear that they might die in real life in they dream it so. Of course, that’s nonsense, and the children soon realize that, and try their best to move forward on their goal of making their dreams come true.

Never fear: the children will get to where they want to go, but first they must learn some important Life Lessons — oh, and learn to appreciate their parents and each other much more than they do. The lessons are taught with a kind and gentle tone, which makes it easy to absorb, both for children and adults.

As an adult without children, In Your Dreams is pleasantly filled with dreamy visuals and near constant action, which makes for a satisfying watch and an easy recommendation.

Now Streaming: As an adult without children, I have skipped watching any of the films and TV shows that comprise the Lego Star Wars franchise, which includes "over 928 Lego building toy sets, 1389 Lego minifigures,^[2] an eponymous video game series containing six games, and multiple animated short films and television series," according to Wikipedia.

Since one of the purposes of this newsletter is to investigate such shows on behalf of readers, however, I accepted the offer of advance screeners to watch all four episodes of Lego Star Wars: Rebuild the Galaxy - Piece of the Past and was, frankly, shocked that I enjoyed it so much.

In my childhood, I cannot recall ever having Lego building blocks to play with; I believe they were out of my family's price range. In any event, I have always been familiar with the idea that Lego could enable children to build whatever crazy buildings or vehicles or people their little hearts desired. Lego movies and television shows that I have watched take some of that inherent wonder away because they are themed to whatever licensed property they can exploit; they represent the licensed characters and worlds in familiar ways -- only with Lego building blocks.

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Thus, the success of an individual movie or television show depends upon the imagination of the writers, directors, and all the below-the-lines talent -- much like any live-action or original animated production. And in this, Lego Star Wars: Rebuild the Galaxy - Piece of the Past succeeds, thanks to the lead taken by writers Dan Hernandez and Benji Samit, and director Chris Buckley.

The show takes place in an identifiable Star Wars world, following brothers Sig and Dev Greebling as they deal with a new threat in the galaxy. What makes the show wildly funny is not the specifics of the plot or how the brothers vanquish the threat. Instead, true joy emerges from the show's underlying strength as an action adventure that is constantly in motion throughout its four episodes, none longer than 25 minutes.

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Even though the show is broken into four episodes, it's very easy to binge all four episodes and watch it as a feature-length motion picture. Beyond its strong narrative, the show continually interjects humor into the dialogue, much of it filled with gentle mocking of Star Wars conventions; they make fun, but never derisively. The humor is more along the lines of 'we all know that is silly, yet we very much enjoy it anyway.'

In a very favorable manner, the show reminded me of the classic Looney Tunes cartoons, in that they are made to be enjoyed by children, while also including material and references designed for adults. So it's very easy for me to recommend the show to adults of all ages. [Now Streaming on Disney Plus.]

After acting together in 1962's War Hunt -- a quite decent anti-war drama that touched on mental health issues during the Korean War -- Robert Redford and Sydney Pollack collaborated on This Property Is Condemned, an adaptation of a one-act stage play by Tennessee Williams that starred Natalie Wood. Playing her romantic interest, Redford was second-billed and acquitted himself satisfactorily, without rising above what became a so-so romantic melodrama. (Francis Ford Coppola, who made an unbilled appearance as a truck driver in War Hunt, is one of three credited screenwriters.)

Emerging actor Redford became a bonafide star in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), and played a charming skier in Michael Ritchie's Downhill Racer (1969). He also appeared in Tell Them Willie Boy Is Here (1969) and Little Faus and Big Halsy (1970) before reuniting with Pollack in late 1970 to make a wilderness adventure, their second (of seven) film collaborations.

On the wonderful Warner Archive Blu-ray, which looks splendid, Sydney Pollack provides an informative audio commentary; Robert Redford provides comments on the opening and closing scenes, while writer John Milius occasion supplies occasional asides, not hesitating to point out the film's highlights and also question why some of his pages were either not filmed or didn't make the final cut (?!) The comments by Redford and Milius sound like they were recorded separately and then spliced into Pollack's commentary.

Right off the bat, I was surprised that the film begins with an orchestral overture, which I'd never seen or heard before. The film also includes an intermission at the 65-minute mark, as well as exit music. Pollack explains in the commentary that the overture, intermission, and exit music were added at the studio's request when it was decided to prepare one 70mm print, which only had an extremely limited release, perhaps at the time of the film's general release in December 1970.

Inspired by the true stories of mountain men, John Milius, then 25 or so, worked from his own extensive research to craft his screenplay, developing a style of dialogue that was not entirely authentic but sounded distinctively different. Sydney Pollack quite liked the flavor of the dialogue and Milius' writing; in the commentary, he notes that he was concerned about the dialogue and whether it could be dubbed or subtitled properly for foreign release, leading to a phone conversation with Stanley Kubrick (?!), and the beginning of a long friendship, during which they never met in person until filming Eyes Wide Shut (1999).

Robert Redford steps off a boat in the opening scene and begins his life as a mountain man, a refugee from the East who must learn how to survive in the rugged conditions of the Old West. Filming began in the winter at locations near where Redford would later buy a house and property, and near to where the Sundance Film Festival has been held for many years.

Watching the film in the wake of Robert Redford's death at the age of 89 reawakened memories of seeing him in a string of films from the late 60s through the early 80s, aka my first period of movie love. I didn't see Jeremiah Johnson until the 80s, I believe, probably on broadcast television, with advertising breaks, which undercut the rugged effectiveness of the film. My chief memory was seeing Redford trudging through the snow, and the appearance of Will Geer as a cheerful, older mountain man.

Thus, watching it on Blu-ray, it felt like a brand-new experience, which I won't spoil for anyone else by recapping the plot, which is available at a number of sites on the internet, if you're so inclined. What struck me was Redford's subtle grace in his performance, the way that he leans into the solitude that Jeremiah Johnson sought by retreating into the woods, and then how he adjusts to changing circumstances.

It's quite an arc, as they say -- including Sydney Pollack on the audio commentary -- and felt like a fitting tribute to an actor, activist, director, producer and family man who made a remarkably number of good or, at minimum, entertaining movies over his long career.

The film received a GP rating -- the successor to the M rating introduced in 1968, and one that only lasted from 1970 to 1972, before being adjusted to the much more familiar PG rating -- and makes good viewing for older children, teenagers, and adults.

The film was released in December 1972, nearly two years after production began. In the interim, Redford saw the theatrical release of crime caper The Hot Rock and the candid political drama The Candidate. Redford and Pollack next worked together on the romantic period drama The Way We Were, opposite Barbra Streisand, followed by a reunion with Paul Newman and director George Roy Hill on The Sting.

Fleeting personal encounter: The only time I saw Robert Redford in person was in the hallway of the Arclight Theaters in Hollywood after his son James Redford's directorial debut, Spin, screened at AFI Fest in November 2003. I was a seasonal worker at the fest that year; he was gathered, quietly, with his family.

We made eye contact for one or two seconds. It was electrifying (for me).

Now Streaming: In 1977, the idea of a body-swap comedy sounded fresh and new. 

It's true that Disney's first film adaptation of Mary Rodgers' novel, itself first published in 1972, was very much a product of its time, both in the broader cultural sense and also in its sensibility as a Disney live-action family-friendly movie. It may not have been the first body-swap movie -- that honor probably applies to the 1916 British silent fantasy Vice Versa -- but the winning performances by Barbara Harris and, especially, emerging star Jodie Foster helped to make it a modestly charming comedy that remains quite enjoyable. 

The following years were awash in body-swap movies, though, so by the new century, they seemed like an old hat: familiar and worn, yet comfortable and somehow reassuring. We knew what to expect, the basic trajectory of the narrative, and the (quite likely) happy ending. Perhaps because of that predictability, I skipped seeing a new version of Freaky Friday, released in 2003. 

The 2003 version was directed by Mark Waters, who made a splashy debut with his indie comedy The House of Yes in 1997 and followed that up with romantic comedy Head Over Heels (2001) and Warning: Parental Authority (2002), which he made for VH1 and was based on a true story. Adapted by Heather Hach and Leslie Dixon, the script was smartly updated for the 21st century. 

Dr. Tess Coleman (Curtis), a psychiatrist, has been raising her two children alone since her husband died. Teenage Anna (Lohan) is a singer in a garage rock band, and younger brother Harry is simply irritating. 

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Tess is preparing to marry fiancee Ryan (Mark Harmon); Anna is delighted when her band is offered a chance to audition that may advance the band's career. The initial conflict is that the audition is scheduled at the same time as Tess and Ryan's pre-wedding celebration, which the entire family is expected to attend. 

The night before, Tess and Anna argue at a Chinese restaurant, prompting the restaurant manager's mother to work some "Asian voodoo" (?!) and give the twosome fortune cookies that cause them to switch bodies the next day. Hence, it will be a "freaky Friday." 

Jamie Lee Curtis showcased wonderful aptitude as a comic actress, adroitly handling physical comedy, as an older woman in a teen's body, and adjusting her delivery of dialogue to sound like an adult trapped with her daughter's voice. 

Lindsay Lohan is stiff in playing her own mother, but that fits the character! It's exactly how a younger person would imagine an older person talking. By aging the daughter up, from 13 to 17, more comic possibilities were opened up, and the film took full advantage of them. Lohan also showed surprising tenderness in her dramatic scenes.

For director Mark Waters, this was the first of a terrific one-two punch: he next helmed Mean Girls, which was released the following year, and has become a reliable director, mostly of comedies, but all skillfully woven. 

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For Jamie Lee Curtis, the film was another high point in her career. She downshifted to supporting roles for some years, until the new version of Halloween (2018) renewed the industry's interest in her, leading to her Academy Award-winning performance in Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022). 

For Lindsay Lohan, she starred in Mark Waters' Mean Girls, which continued her winning streak. All streaks come to an end, however, and for Lohan, the disappointing returns on Just My Luck (2006) pointed her to supporting roles, independent films, and then the wonderful world of television. In turn, that eventually led to a deal with Netflix and starring roles in Falling for Christmas (2022) and Irish Wish (2024). 

Watching Freaky Friday for the first time this week, I was pleasantly surprised to be thoroughly charmed and entertained, Perhaps it was my non-existent expectations. Or perhaps it's just that it's a good movie? [Disney Plus] 

Now Streaming: First published in 1972, Mary Rodgers' novel Freaky Friday pioneered the 'body swap' comedy, following a 13-year-old girl and her mother, who swapped bodies and came to a greater understanding of each other's lives. 

Intended for younger audiences, the book taught lessons about empathy that made it an ideal choice for a live-action film adaption by Disney. Rodgers adapted her own book for the screen; Gary Nelson, an experienced director of episodic series and television movies, was chosen to direct. 

Young Jodie Foster, a Disney veteran who'd made a tart contribution in Martin Scorsese's Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore and then opened eyes wide in a very adult role as a prostitute in the director's Taxi Driver, was at a head-spinning point in her career. Around this same time, she was also The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane, and also starred in Alan Parker's musical Bugsy Malone. 

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In many ways, Jodie Foster appeared to be an adult in a young girl's body; it was easy to think of her as 'old beyond her years,' which made her the perfect choice to play a 13-year-old girl who swaps bodies with her mother when they both happen to express the identical wish at the same moment. No other reason or explanation is given, and, really, any reason or explanation would get in the way of the story. 

Much of the film's 98-minute running time is spent, very pleasantly, in the company of Foster enacting her mother inhabiting her early teen body, trying to imitate her manner of speaking and acting and reacting. She is, very literally, 'old for her years,' and she's entirely empathetic as she develops empathy for all the things that a housewife was still expected to do, even if much of her behavior is tied to what might be expected in the 1950s. (Which, after all, still points to how far the general culture needed to progress in the 1970s. Or, at least at Disney, which never ever led the culture. Instead, it has always seemed to lag about 20 years behind.) 

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Even though this was my first time watching the movie, I fully expected Jodie Foster to be as good as she is, simply because I've seen so many other films she made in the 1970s. What surprised me more was the fine comic performance by Barbara Harris, a graceful and elegant actress who pretends to be ungainly and awkward, without overdoing it.

It's a briskly-paced movie that is filled with moments that made me giggle and laugh. When certain 70s-specific moments arrived, nothing struck me as overtly offensive or insensitive, other than the eye-opening depictions of a housewife who has hired contractors to do every manner of housework. Otherwise, this is a bright and silly movie that remains highly enjoyable. [Disney Plus]

Now Streaming: First published in 2015, Aaron Blabey's Australian graphic novel The Bad Guys has spawned 19 further episodes over nine years. Intended for junior readers, Blabey's books have spent some 120 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. 

DreamWorks Animation purchased the film rights in 2017. Etan Coen, who co-wrote the live-action comedies Idiocracy (2006) and Tropic Thunder (2008) before co-writing the animated family films Escape From Madagascar 3: Back to Africa (2008), wrote the screenplay for The Bad Guys. 

In the years between writing animated family films, Coen scripted Men in Black 3, then followed that by writing and directing the semi-crime comedy Get Hard (2015) , which starred Will Farrell, grossed more than $100 million worldwide, and yet is nearly entirely forgettable, as well as and Holmes and Watson (2018), a more assured mystery comedy that I found more enjoyable, yet it grossed just $40 million worldwide.

In adapting Aaron Blabey's book for the big screen, Coen created an effective framework, efficiently introducing the handful of criminals who make up the titular gang -- voiced by Sam Rockwell, Marc Maron, Awkwafina, Craig Robinson, and Anthony Ramos -- as well as several key supporting characters, voiced by Richard Ayoade, Zazie Beetz, Alex Borstein, and Lily Singh. His dialogue is efficient and sometimes witty. 

Pierre Perifel made his directorial debut, after spending years at DreamWorks Animation working on a variety of films in a variety of capacities. On the audio commentary, available on the Blu-ray and DVD editions of the movie, and featuring multiple BTS talent, the point is made that the film is an homage to classic crime films, not a parody or a spoof. The director and other key talents isolated and identified specific moments and scenes that are tributes to special crime films, which makes for a fascinating listen, even as seems every sequence is somebody's "favorite"! 

The plot follows the veteran, larcenous gang as they are caught after their latest elaborate heist, promise to "go good" and become The Good Guys so they can be absolved of guilt, freeing them to complete their interrupted heist again, and then must prove themselves and their true intentions when yet another criminal is framing them so he/she can get away with the crime. 

The film was released in movie theaters in April 2022, during the global pandemic, and I did not see it until distributor Universal Studios sent out the Blu-ray/DVD package later in their as part of their FYC (For Your Consideration) awards campaign. I watched in and enjoyed to some degree, though I didn't feel like it rose too far above the average. 

Watching it again, I appreciated the film's style more. It's in a much more illustrative style, as the filmmakers talk about on the commentary, and is meant to be more in the style of classic film noir, only in color and suitable for family audiences, so, overall, it's much brighter and takes place more often than not in outdoor locations. 

Still, there are certain sequences that are animated with more contrast and more shadows than is normal. The film is set in and around modern-day Los Angeles, and, as a native Angeleno, I could better appreciate the animated version of real-life locations, especially during an opening chase sequence. (Yes, Los Angeles has hills! Many, many hills!) Watching it again also increased my appreciation for the extremely clever heist scenes, which, yes, are intentionally reminiscent of any number of live-action crime caper movies. 

Perhaps because my expectations were lowered, I enjoyed The Bad Guys more on a second viewing than I did on my first, which makes me more eager to see The Bad Guys 2. [Now streaming on Peacock TV.]

"Splendid, splendid, splendid." I kept repeating that word to myself as I watched Richard Lester's highly-spirited adventure, which felt like it was made to me when I first saw the two films during their original U.S. theatrical release in March 1974 and February 1975, respectively. 

In between the theatrical releases, I bought a paperback edition of Alexandre Dumas' first novel, published first in 1844, and advertised on the front cover with the words: “See the Major Motion Picture!” Perhaps I was eager to know how the story ended on page 608 (?!).

Full confession: I have never read the book, and now find that the type is quite tiny for my dimming vision. Nonetheless, I know that it's a beloved historical romance. 

After the theatrical releases, I saw the films again multiple times, and even bought a previous edition on DVD, which I watched two or three times. Revisiting the films again in a new 4K edition from The Criterion Collection, I was once again delighted with the general thrust of the story, the enduring characters, and the swashbuckling action. 

The 4K edition is not transformative, which is par for the course as far as films from the 1970s are concerned. What is comforting is to see a 35mm film restored to its initial theatrical release glory, without a speck of dirt, and with sound that is enveloping. 

Watching the 4K editions made me feel like I was back in the nostalgic Los Angeles of my youth, where I saw some great films in less-than-optimal conditions. Indeed, I would not be eager to return to the box theaters,with aging seats and threadbare carpet, which were common in the San Fernando Valley, where I lived. If I could, I was always much happier to venture into Hollywood or Westwood and their bigger, better-maintained theaters. 

Michael York makes for a suitably dashing D'Artagnan, though I forgot how much he cats around on his supposed beloved, ready and eager to hop into bed with any willing maiden. It's all played for laughs, which fit the relaxed mores of the early 1970s, but watching it now, it surprised me with his randiness. 

Oliver Reed stands out among the three musketeers as Athos, who has a tragic backstory of sorts that only gets more fully developed in The Four Musketeers. Frank Finlay is lovely as Porthos, as much as anything because of the actor's debonair delivery of his dialogue. Richard Chamberlain doesn't have as much to do as Aramis, which also surprised, because I remembered his role as more than a supporting character. 

Speaking of supporting characters, I found Charlton Heston to be quite effective as Cardinal Richelieu, who is a commanding Evil Incarnate. Likewise, Christopher Lee is amazingly good as Rochefort, who must submit himself to the Cardinal -- another aspect I'd forgotten -- which might help explain why he's so quick to violence in order to express his inner anguish (that's entirely my own personal reading on what I suppose to be his inner anguish.) 

I wish Raquel Welch had not been the object of so much bosom humor, but she rose above the material and supplied very decent comic relief as the female counterpart to Michael York. Faye Dunaway was on such an incredible run of performances that she just relaxes into her Milady character and is easily, charmingly evil. 

Watching the two films, I fell back into pleasant memories of watching them over the years.I also enjoyed watching the entire collection of special features, some from past editions, which take their time in explaining how the films came together, were split apart, and then put back together. This package is highly recommended. [The Criterion Collection]

Here's a breakdown of what's where. 

• The Three  Musketeers 

  • 23:03 - d. David Gregory; The Saga of the Musketeers, Part One (2002, Blue Underground)

  • 29:54 - Two for One: Part One - p, David Cairns - preproduction 

  • 43:03 - Two for One: Part Two - physical production, part one

  • 6:50 - The Making of ‘The Three Musketeers’ - BTS

  • 3:01 - Trailer

• The Four Musketeers 

  • 24:53 - d. David Gregory; The Saga of the Musketeers, Part Two

  • 42:07 - Two for One: Part Three - p, David Cairns - physical production, part two

  • 26:06 -  Two for One: Part Four - post production (2025)

  • 2:51 - Trailer

"You'll believe a man can fly." 

Belief was a big deal for movies and me in late 1977. Sure, Star Wars rebooted space opera, but that was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Close Encounters of the Third Kind was set in the present day and made alien contact look cool, but if you know how that movie ends, you know it was shrouded in secrecy. 

Somewhere around that time, I saw the teaser for Superman, and was not convinced it was for me. I read comic books as a kid; Spider-Man was my favorite, both for his jokes and for his alter-ego sharing a first name with me. Superman, though, and his many spin-offs -- Supergirl, Superboy, Superdog (?!) -- always seemed too straight and stiff for me, and re-runs of the 1950s TV show Adventures of Superman (with George Reeves) that I'd seen never caught my interest. I'd watched Lee Majors in The Six Million Dollar Man and Lindsay Wanger as The Bionic Woman on TV from time to time, and Superman struck me as being more of the same: silly, not believable, not relevant.

So when Superman was released on December 15, 1978, I didn't rush out to see it. By that point, I was paying more attention to current events. The previous month, news broke that Jim Jones and his cult had committed mass suicide in Guyana, leaving more than 900 dead. Barely a week later, San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and City Supervisor Harvey Milk were killed in cold blood by former Supervisor Dan White. In a world of such tragedies, what relevance could a man of steel, born from the pages of a comic book, possibly have?

The idea to make a movie out of Superman is credited to Ilya Salkind, who secured the film rights from DC Comics in 1974 and produced the film along with his father Alexander Salkind and Pierre Spengler. Making a deal with Warner Bros. for distribution, the Salkinds and Spengler set to work to raise financing by recruiting big-name stars and a known commodity as screenwriter.

Marlon Brando was hired at the then-exorbitant fee of $3.7 million for two weeks of work. Gene Hackman came aboard shortly thereafter. With Mario Puzo (The Godfather) also enlisted to write a screenplay, the project was able to move forward. The Salkinds, who'd recently split The Three Musketeers into two movies to good financial success, decided to make two Superman movies at the same time. 

Robert Benton and David Newman (Bonnie and Clyde) and later Leslie Newman rewrote Puzo's massive, 500-page script for both movies into something described as more campy, a parody. Guy Hamilton (three recent James Bond pictures) had been hired to direct, but when production moved from Italy to England in order to save money, he dropped out and Richard Donner (The Omen) happily accepted $1 million to direct both movies (his asking price at the time was $100,000), with Nick Nolte penciled in to play Superman. Donner didn't like the tone of the script, so he promptly brought Tom Mankiewicz on to rewrite it. (Mankiewicz had worked on the same James Bond pictures as Hamilton.)

Mankiewicz conceived of a story and style of dialogue that would change tone markedly, beginning with a Biblical approach on Krypton, then a bucolic Andrew Wyeth approach in Smallville, then a comic book approach in Metropolis. Meanwhile, Donner pushed for an unknown to star; he felt that seeing an A-lister "flying" would distract from the story. 

My impressions of the film back in 1978 were favorable, though not ecstatic. It felt slow and stiff and proper, with a sunny optimism that felt a bit alien to my more pessimistic, rebellious attitude of the time. On the other hand, that sunny optimism of the film feels absolutely sincere, and John Williams' theme music, especially, sounded pretty darn triumphant and infectious. 

What really stood out to me were those flying scenes -- not the ones where Superman is flying against rear-projected images, or the "romantic" extended sequence where the caped hero flies with Lois Lane -- but the ones in which he takes off and lands. How did they do that? It looked magical to me, and made me, an increasingly cynical youth, believe in the magic of the movies all over again.

Watching the movie again in 2013, specifically, the 2001 restored version supervised by Donner that's available on Blu-ray, did not make me fall in love again -- Superman II is still the better film in my eyes, especially Donner's cut -- but I did appreciate the film's virtues anew. The opening 25-minute section on Krypton still feels painfully slow, yet the Smallville scenes, filmed in Alberta, Canada, are spellbinding in their beauty, as photographed by the great Geoffrey Unsworth, and make the Krypton scenes feel especially superfluous. 

The shift in tone once "Clark Kent" moves to Metropolis is still jarring, and all the wit in the world doesn't keep the film from spinning into a very silly realm of comedy. As good as Christopher Reeve is as Superman, he's equally ineffective as Clark Kent, and that goes for Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor and Ned Beatty as Otis, too. Their scenes may provoke laughter, and probably secured the film's huge box office success, but they wink at the audience too broadly, as if to say, 'The first hour of the movie, where we took the story and ourselves seriously? Yeah, forget that. We just want you to like us.'

For the era in which the film was released, however, Superman played just right for audiences. It paved the way for other superhero movies to come, eventually. And it made me believe, even if just for a little while, that a man could fly.

Originally published by Screen Anarchy in June 2013. Reprinted with permission. The film is now streaming on HBO Max. 

In the late 70s, I began working at an insurance company as a Payment Analyst Trainee. 

Fresh out of high school, the title sounded quite good, and only required that the applicant be able to type and operate a calculator, two of the very few skills that I possessed. The prospect of college or any other type of higher education didn't appeal to me; I wanted to forge a career as a writer, and I thought the $600 monthly salary would help me. 

Instead, I quickly grew bored with processing payments in the Group Insurance Department and wondered how the men (and a few women) were able to move up and get their own private office and tell people what to do all day. Or so I fantasized, which explains why I thought Billy Wilder's The Apartment (1960) was fantastically aspirational, if unlikely, since I was still living at home and didn't have an a apartment which my bosses could "borrow" for their extramarital assignations. 

After I changed jobs and moved to New York, I saw Robert Wise's Executive Suite (1954), which instantly brought back memories of working at the insurance company in Los Angeles. It's a far different setup, naturally, but all the office politics felt familiar and sounded familiar in a strange sort of way, even though I never got close to the insurance company's executive suite during my three-year tenure. (I had some sort of a breakdown there near the end, where everything my boss said made me laugh and I was nearly fired before quitting.) 

Scripted by the great Ernest Lehman early in his Hollywood career, adapting Cameron Hawley's novel, first published in 1952, Executive Suite begins with the first-person point of view of a businessman as he departs his office in New York City one Friday afternoon before dropping dead -- of a stroke! (which makes me glad I survived my stroke) -- on the street. His wallet is picked up by a stranger and tossed in the trash, so no one knows his identity. 

Except, that is, for Louis Calhern as George Casswell, who just happens to be looking out the window at the moment that the anonymous man drops dead. It's a stroke of luck that Casswell recognizes the man as his own boss, Avery Bullard, the head of Tredway Corporation, a furniture manufacturer. Gambling that his boss is dead, Casswell quickly places an order to profit in the stock market from his unforeseen "tip," knowing the likelihood that no one else will benefit from his insider trading. All he has to do is wait until Monday morning, and then cash in.  

(I've always loved Louis Calhern, who, sadly, died just two years later at the age of 61.) 

The story moves to eastern Pennsylvania, where the Tredway Corporation and its furniture factory is headquartered. Before his death, Bullard called for a meeting of the board of directors, and so we are introduced to the gang of Vice Presidents: idealistic manufacturing man William Holden, numbers-obsessed finance guy Fredric March, gregarious salesman Paul Douglas, and the aforementioned slimy Louis Calhern, as well as the aging Walter Pidgeon and Dean Jagger. Because Bullard failed to name a successor, leadership of the company is up for grabs. Let the squabbling begin! 

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In addition to the men, we also see a few women: Bullard's efficient secretary Nina Foch, William Holden's loyal wife June Allyson, Paul Douglas' long-suffering mistress Shelley Winters, and the founder's daughter Barbara Stanwyck, who also had some kind of relationship with Avery Bullard and really wants nothing more to do with men, their toys, or the company, in which she is a major shareholder. 

Because this was an MGM production in 1952, there is no diversity amongst the cast; it's nearly all white men in business suits, arguing and cajoling and disagreeing and sometimes getting high-faluting. Since I am 50% Caucasian, I had no problems with that aspect, since it represents how things were in 1952 America. 

The women play to different expectations, and each fills a specific role assigned to women in 1952 America: Nina Foch -- nominated for an Academy Award for her performance -- as an uncomplaining underling who 'knows her place' as an uncomplaining underling; June Allyson as a dutiful and loyal housewife who must apologize when she does something that may hurt her husband's chances at ascension; Shelley Winters as an unhappy woman who nags her still-married lover; Barbara Stanwyck as a woman who clearly is suffering from mental health issues and clearly contemplates suicide. 

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Watching the men tussle, all without throwing a punch, is what fascinates me. Ernest Lehman's script is a model of efficiency and is filled with clever lines of dialogue, rising to a crescendo with William Holden's magnificent closing speech, suitable for any ambitious politician or commanding officer in the heat of battle. What's wonderful is that Holden builds his character organically throughout the movie, as he gradually comes to realize that he is best suited for the company's leadership position, and then, having convinced himself, must convince everyone else. 

It's the kind of speech that is written for a movie star to deliver, and Holden sinks his teeth into the material and gives a sterling performance that only gets better every time I watch it. After my first viewing of the movie, sometime in the late 1980s on videotape, I've seen it several times since on Turner Classic Movies. 

John Houseman produced the picture, which has no musical accompaniment. Newly released on Blu-ray as part of the Warner Archive Collection, the black and white photography by George Folsey, nominated for an Academy Award, looks great. With the higher definition, I was better able to appreciate the splendid production design by art directors Edward Carfagno and Cedric Gibbons -- both nominated for Academy Awards -- and the dresses designed by Helen Rose, also nominated for an Academy Award. I loved the awesome business suits, which look fantastic on the Blu-ray.  

The new Blu-ray also carries over the the special features included on the DVD release in 2007; most notably a commentary by Oliver Stone, who says he saw the film as a young person, and acknowledges it as one of the influences on his own Wall Street; the other special features are a Tom and Jerry cartoon, Hic-Cup Pup, and a Pete Smith novelty, Do Someone a Favor, as well as the original theatrical trailer. 

Something essential in the movie still speaks to me. Maybe you need to have worked in an office for years to understand its enduring appeal. 

Now Streaming: This past weekend, Elio crashed and burned, box-office wise. This coming weekend, F1 The Movie hopes not to do the same. So let's revisit an animated adventure that could be considered the spiritual father of both films: Cars, released in June 2006. 

The seventh and final film independently produced by Pixar, which was purchased by Disney in January 2006, Cars was directed by company head John Lasseter, with Joe Ranft credited as co-director, his only such credit before his untimely death the year before. Sandwiched between Brad Bird's superb one-two punch of The Incredibles and Ratatouille, it must be admitted that Cars suffers by comparison. 

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Still, even if it falls down narratively, Cars stands out for its dazzling animation, as well as a story featuring original characters and stories, as opposed to the sequels that would beset Disney Pixar in the subsequent 20 years, dominating its release schedule to the point that originals like last year's Elemental and this month's Elio feels like outliers, rather than what's to be expected from the hybrid studio. 

Frankly, Cars did not appeal to me at the time of its original release, which, as a confirmed fan of movies that feature car chases and/or automobile racing, I can only blame on my own snobbish tendencies. I did rent it on home video; unfortunately, I never truly synched with the anthropomorphic cars. 

Putting all that aside, I wanted to revisit the film to see if nearly 20 years had changed my perspective, especially after watching Elio and F1 The Movie last week, and now that Cars is  available to stream in 4K on Disney Plus. And I was surprised to realize that the film shares certain similarities with F1 The Movie. 

(First, though, let's get this out of the way: since I can't get it out of my head) 

Back to Pixar's Cars. 

The animation looks super awesome! It shares that with F1 The Movie: both are superb to gaze upon, especially during the racing sequences, which are entirely enthralling. Both also share a story in which a rookie race car driver seeking his first win ends up with a reluctant, aging mentor, who is a past champion race car driver. Lessons will be taught, resisted, and ultimately accepted, leading to eventual triumph. 

As the story develops, however, Cars becomes more of an ensemble piece, with Larry the Cable's Mater, a tow truck, eating up much more screen time than I remembered. (His Southern redneck character and humor do not age well). The same goes with other citizens of Radiator Springs, the fictional desert town where the speedy Lightning McQueen ends up spending a few days, against his will. 

I wish there had been more time spent between McQueen and Newman, perhaps because I'm aware that this was Newman's final voice performance in a fictional feature. (Indeed, the film feels haunted by death, starting with Joe Ranft's death in an automobile accident during production.) 

This might have saved the film from the awkward courtship between cars -- in this case, Lightning McQueen and Bonnie Hunt as a blue Porsche named Sally. Not to be indelicate in discussing a family film, but how exactly do cars have a happy marriage or, er, produce children? Perhaps best not to ask. (Talk about factory rejects.) 

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Where the film does ring true is in its commentary on the real-life Route 66 towns that were bypassed by the national interstate system of soulless highways. Changing times and all that, but Cars truly seems to understand the sad song of towns that (mostly) withered up and died, all in favor of speeding through the endless expanse that sows the country together. 

At the box office, Cars grossed some $60 million on its opening weekend, on its way to $244 million in the U.S. and nearly $462 million worldwide. It also spawned two sequels, two spin-offs, and two television series. [Disney Plus] 

Now Streaming: Nine years old and intimately acquainted with all kinds of saints, Damian (Alex Etel) moves with his older brother Anthony (Lewis Owen McGibbon) and their father (James Nesbitt) into a newly-built neighborhood. 

Their new home is lovely, and spacious enough that each brother gets their own room for the first time, but the community is sparsely-populated, and Damian finds greater kinship with the imaginary company of Catholic saints who keep appearing to him than with any human. Coupled with his keenly-felt grief over the death of his mother, the lad feels quite lonely. 

One day, a big sack of money arrives, flying through the air and destroying the cardboard house he's assembled by the railroad track that runs through their neighborhood. Damian thinks it's a gift from heaven and sets about distributing it to the poor. 

At least, that's his initial intention, which keeps getting sidetracked by Anthony and everyone else who gets a whiff of the hundreds thousands millions of pounds -- the exact amount doesn't matter, it's a lot -- in the big sack. England will soon be converting to the Euro, and pounds in cash will be worthless, which adds a welcome degree of urgency to the entire affair.

As laid out in the charming original screenplay by Frank Cottrell Boyce, Damian is a pure child: sweet, innocent, guileless, and wide-eyed, he's always smiling and always thinking of others before himself. His dead mother is constantly on his mind; he asks every saint who appears to him about her -- have you seen her yet? -- and he has not yet been corrupted by the world. 

Older brother Anthony may not have been thoroughly corrupted by the world, but he's a few years old and far more worldly-wise than the well-meaning Damian, who is ripe to be ripped off by the world and all its less savory citizens. Their father is always working and never around, it seems, so it's up to Anthony to look out for Damian. But he can't follow him everywhere, and so Damian keeps trying to give the money away, as he uses his limited knowledge of the world to give money to people he thinks are "poor" and probably deserving of a little cash. 

I first saw the movie on videotape around the time of its initial release in the U.S. in April 2005, though I remember it was either under consideration or actually screened at AFI Fest in 2004, during my two-year stint as a festival screener there. It lodged in my mind as an enjoyable film, though at the time I had not yet seen all of Danny Boyle's films up to that point, which included Shallow Grave (1994), Trainspotting (1995), A Life Less Ordinary (1999), and The Beach (2000). \

Indeed, Boyle's previous film was 28 Days Later (2002), which is being revived this week with the release of his sequel 28 Years Later. Boyle's next film after Millions was the decidedly-for-adults Sunshine (2007), and he's continued in the 'decidedly-for-adults' vein with nearly every film thereafter, with the exception of the soft-tempered Only Yesterday (2019). 

His films are not always jammed with piercing violence, horrific violence, zombie violence, and arm-separating violence, of course; it's just that he has invariably been drawn to adult themes handled without compromise. Even Millions takes a brief, dark turn in its third act, and it surprised me -- as it was undoubtedly meant to do -- because it felt genuinely scary and made me fear for the character in danger, especially after the bulk of the film is told as a lighthearted saint-minded fable.

Millions may be an anomaly in Boyle's career, but you wouldn't know it from watching the film today. It's made with care, precision, and Boyle's usual upending of narrative conventions, in part through his constantly varied choice of perspectives and framing, which keeps the manner of storytelling from ever diving into tried and true 'family film' waters. 

As a consequence, Millions feels unlike nearly every other family film of its time. It's sweet and inviting. Damian is such a wonderful kid that you can't help but root for him and worry about him and his family. As things turned out, neither Alex Etel nor Lewis Owen McGibbon continued acting for very long, which means that Millions remains a repository for two extraordinary performances by young actors who are entirely endearing and feel authentically juvenile. 

James Nesbitt remains active, giving lovely, measured performances, mostly in British television shows for the past decade. Boyce and Boyle remain active, with their last collaboration coming at the London 2012 Olympics opening ceremony. 

Those who love horror and zombies will undoubtedly be eager to hear about 28 Years Later, which is press screening locally tonight ahead of its world premiere in London tomorrow and its wide theatrical release on Friday. For the rest of us, we'll always have Millions. [Disney Plus]

Arriving in 2009, near the midpoint of director Wes Anderson's career to date, his animated adaptation of Roald Dahl's book caught many of us by surprise. With his new film, The Phoenician Scheme, arriving in area theaters this week (after landing in New York and Los Angeles this past Friday), I decided to prepare by revisiting Fantastic Mr. Fox. 

His first animated film was also his first PG-rated film and also his first based on a book by Roald Dahl. He would make another animated movie nine years later (Isle of Dogs, 2018), other films rated PG-13 (Moonrise Kingdom, 2012; Isle of Dogs, 2018; Asteroid City, 2023; The Phoenician Scheme, 2025), and four short films based on Roald Dah's stories (The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar and Three More, 2024), all of which were rated PG. 

At the time, I'd seen four of Anderson's previous live-action movies -- though it took me a while to catch up with Bottle Rocket -- and was growing tired of them, because, frankly, his precise designs and emotional approach felt too precious for my taste, and I felt I'd see what he had to offer after watching Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and The Darjeeling Limited. I concluded that, perhaps, he simply wasn't for me. 

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The opening scenes in Fantastic Mr. Fox turned me around, however, and I've been a steady follower of his subsequent six films, if not an uncritical devotee. I believe Fantastic Mr. Fox is the first of his film that I've rewatched in full and, again, the opening scenes, which feature multiple LOL moments, are what got me back on board.

Somehow, the film feels like a Wes Anderson film and, simultaneously, a parody of a Wes Anderson film -- not unlike the Saturday Night Live short broadcast in 2013 -- as well as a juvenile version of a Wes Anderson film, complete with "cuss" and its variations in the dialogue, in place of adult profanities. 

I have very pleasant memories of watching it in a movie theater during an advance press screening, prompting the following review, published in November 2009 by Screen Anarchy, and reprinted with permission below: 

Wes Anderson's funny, fabulous Fantastic Mr. Fox feels like a book that's been missing from his library, an all-ages comedy with tender life lessons gently imparted by lovable characters. For all I know, Roald Dahl is spinning in his grave, but the British author's book has provided Anderson with a badly-needed spark that reignites his creative juices. 

Not that Anderson's post-Owen Wilson collaborations with Noah Baumbach have been complete disasters. Somewhere alone the line, though, perhaps midway through The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and all the way through The Darjeeling Limited, it felt like Anderson's playfully twee tone wore thin. His characters, who have always teetered on the brink between self-absorbed and self-pitying, fell hard toward the irredeemably murky end of a perpetual personality crisis. 

It made you downright concerned that somebody might really kill themselves.

All such thoughts are happily banished in Fantastic Mr. Fox. Reformed chicken thief Foxy (voiced by George Clooney) is contently entwined with his beloved wife (voiced by Meryl Streep). Twelve years ago he gave up his wild animal lifestyle when Mrs. Fox got pregnant. Their son Ash (Jason Schwartzman) is "different" -- not "different" like his athletic father, still wildly imaginative and popular, but "different" as in confusingly weird. In reality, he's the fox equivalent of an adolescent boy entering puberty and dealing with all the associated issues: What kind of fox will I be when I grow up? 

Ash's desire to follow in his father's footsteps are hampered by the arrival of cousin Kristofferson (Eric Anderson), the kind of young fox who can make a perfect high dive into a tub of water while barely making a splash or mussing his hair. Mr. Fox treats Kristofferson like the long-lost son he never had, which definitely makes Ash feel threatened. Furthermore, Kristofferson also threatens to lure away Agnes (Juman Malouf), a fetching young classmate who Ash fancies.

Mr. Fox is dealing with his own life crisis. After 12 years of living in a hole with his family and working as a reporter for the local newspaper, he's hearing the call of the wild. Against the advice of Badger (Bill Murray), his lawyer, he buys a treehouse in sight of three huge farms belonging to the evil Bean (Michael Gambon), Boggis (Robin Hurlstone) and Bunch (Hugo Guiness). Mr. Fox cannot resist temptation and recruits his friend Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) in a caper that eventually endangers not only himself and his family, but the entire local animal kingdom.

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This is very much a Wes Anderson picture, self-aware, somewhat self-conscious, the characters' neuroses, nervous mannerisms, and unexplained tics all fully on display, along with the director's predilection for sequences driven by grandiose classic rock and pop music (this time including a guest appearance by Jarvis Crocker, formerly of Pulp, as a musician named Petey). Yet everything is in service of the story, which makes for a glorious melding of sensibilities as twee meets Gee! Or, in the parlance of the movie, "What the cuss are you talking about?"

And it's the funniest flick that Anderson has made, with absolutely stellar work by the crew members who brought to life Anderson's very different vision of what stop-motion animation could be. Even though there are moments that are clearly computer-driven, everything else feels very handmade, which helps make the characters more endearing, more vulnerable to the vicissitudes of life.

Smart, energizing, and never condescending to its characters or the audience, Fantastic Mr. Fox is a complete delight. 

The film is now streaming on Disney Plus and also on Hulu.

Now Streaming: Springing from the mind of animator Chris Sanders in 1985, Stitch is roughly analogous to a baby from outer space.

In Lilo & Stitch, released in 2002, co-writers and co-directors Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois introduce a diminutive monster on another planet, so scary and frightening to its inhabitants that it's sent into exile, with the hope that it will perish when it overcomes its captors and lands on a planet that is covered (nearly) entirely with water, where the creature has no hope of survival. 

Of course, the alien crash-lands on a tiny island, compelling Grand Councilwoman (Zoe Caldwell) to send the creature's creator, mad scientist Jumpa (David Ogden Stiers) to retrieve it, accompanied by the meek, ill-suited, and entirely disposable Pleakley (Kevin McDonald). 

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On the island where the creature lands, young Lilo (Daveigh Chase) lives with her older sister Nani (Tia Carrere), who is struggling to care for Lilo as her legal guardian. The sisters are grieving the death of their beloved parents. Lilo is acting out, aggressively, while Nani threatens to kill her -- not really -- as she is overwhelmed by a full-time job and a young girl who is out of control. 

On a visit to an animal shelter, Lilo encounters the creature and instantly falls in love with the batty little thing, renaming it Stitch. The collision between Lilo and Stitch is a marriage of opportunity: Lilo needs a best friend and companion, and Stitch needs somewhere to hide out from Jumpa and Pleakley. 

Delightful and charming, the story unfolds along traditional narrative lines, and is told in an unhurried yet steady pace. The characters are enjoyable, the relationships are relatable, and the jokes are funny. The 2D animation looks gorgeous, and holds up well after more than 20 years, which is true of the film as a whole, which I watched last week. 

It was the second of three films made primarily at Disney's animation studio in Florida -- the first was Mulan (1998), the third was Brother Bear (2003) -- the film earned more than $273 million worldwide (on a reported $80 million budget), earned an Academy Award nomination, and spawned three movie sequels and three spin-off series, which are all streaming on Disney Plus. 

The film holds up well as family entertainment that is sufficiently charming to entertain adults too, single or otherwise, more so than the new live-action version, which chugs along gamely but falls short of the original's charm. If the advertising for the new film has caught your attention, however, now is a good time to revisit the original. [Disney Plus]