But there are several films worth revisiting that have gone largely unheralded. At a time when Reagan has earned high marks from historians and academics for his time in office, the caricature of him as just a B actor persists. But Reagan’s uncommon human touch and affable
personality are on full display in films that are worth revisiting.

Furthermore, his conversion from New Deal liberalism over to Goldwater conservatism is directly tied in with Reagan’s Hollywood years. And, as Gorbachev learned during their summit meetings, Reagan could be a tenacious, shrew negotiator; a skill that can be traced back to his time as head of the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) union.

The steel behind the congenial smile was forged during some of the more intense altercations with Hollywood communists intent on taking over the union and organizing the film industry. “Thugs” attached to the “red-dominated” Conference of Studio Unions were significant players here, Kengor informs readers in his book. They went after Reagan personally and even threatened to throw acid on his face. Reagan began to carry a gun for his own personal safety and did not give any quarter.

Another forgotten film that captures some of the toughness that later found expression in the political arena is “Storm Warning” (1951). Here, Reagan plays the part of a district attorney investigating a murder involving the Klu Klux Klan in a small southern town called Rockpoint. The film co-stars Ginger Rogers and Doris Day as sisters. When the Rodgers character arrives in town, she observes hooded Klansmen break into a jail to apprehend and murder a journalist who was framed on trumped up charges after exposing the activities in town.

Rodgers later recognizes her sister’s husband as one of the Klansman. She is pressured to remain silent and declines to tell full truth in court. Eventually Rodgers decides to come clean and confess to Burt Rainey, the DA played by Reagan.

Rodgers and Day are both kidnapped by the Klan. The film ends with Reagan’s DA and the police breaking up a KKK rally. The culprits are arrested, but Day’s character dies after she is shot by her husband.

The 1951 trailer captures the overall storyline including a clip with the skeptical, hard-nosed DA Reagan played as he squares off against the Klan in a bowling alley.

Once again, Reagan turns in a strong performance as a supporting character that emerges in the middle of action and assumes a greater importance as the film moves toward its climax.

Day and Reagan would co-star together again in “The Winning Team” (1952). Reagan played the part of Grover Cleveland Alexander, a hall of fame major league pitcher who struggled against alcoholism, epilepsy and myopia (double-vision). Alexander pitched for the
Philadelphia Phillies, the St. Louis Cardinals and the Chicago Cubs.

With the help and encouragement of his wife, played by Day, Reagan’s character perseveres through career setbacks and bouts of depression. There is a genuine chemistry between Reagan and Day on screen, and some important life lessons mixed in with the drama on the pitching mound.

The opening sequence of the film shows Reagan’s Alexander allowing his ambition for baseball to get the better of him when he had planned on meeting up with his future wife, Aimee. Despite their marital strains, Aimee develops an understanding for her husband’s condition and is instrumental in his recovery. In the end, Alexander leads the Cardinals to victory over the Yankees in the 1926 World Series.

Some of key themes explored in “The Winning Team” frequently find expression in the political arena. The most successful presidents are the ones who endured through great difficulty and absorbed political setbacks. The character’s namesake in the film, President Grover Cleveland Alexander is the only president who served two non-consecutive terms. Alexander lost his first re-election bid, despite winning the popular vote, but ran again and won.

Reagan lost the 1976 Republican nomination to incumbent President Gerald Ford, but came back four years later to the White House. Reagan also endured the “Iran-Contra” affair to bring closure to the Cold War. Like the pitcher he played on film, Reagan stepped out of public life in 1988 at the top his game. At the time he was first president since Dwight Eisenhower to successfully complete two terms.

The films provide insight into Reagan’s infectious personality that was key to his political success. They are worth revisiting as the Reagan Presidency passes into history with high marks from academics and scholars from across the political spectrum.

Some important Ronald Reagan links to consider his acting legacy:

Reagan’s Film Career

A Summary of his Finest Films

Reagan at PBS

Reagan and Hollywood

While it may be difficult to pinpoint a precise moment when Cold War tensions began to ease, it is evident that Gorbachev’s interest in Hollywood helped foster a human connection that advanced negotiations and solidified relations.

By all accounts, Reagan was proud of his Hollywood career, which began on April 20, 1937 the day he signed a contract with Warner Brothers. While political opponents and hostile media personalities have made a sport out of demeaning Reagan’s acting ability, he was actually quite accomplished in his own right and cultivated a strong following.

A good source here is Marc Eliot who authored “Reagan: The Hollywood Years,” a well-researched, highly readable yarn that highlights some of the former president’s best performances on screen and on television. Reagan co-starred alongside some of most talented stars of his era including Bette Davis, Ann Sheridan, Ginger Rogers, Humphrey Bogart and Errol Flynn.

While Reagan may not have achieved lasting fame as a leading man, he did carve out a strong niche as a supporting actor in films that attracted critical attention, as Eliot explained in an interview with Reason TV. He was widely viewed as the reliable “best friend” standing behind
the big names of that time, Eliot notes.

Reagan was very mindful of how supporting roles could enhance and amplify the storyline behind each film. This was most certainly the case in “Knute Rockne, All American” where Reagan played the part of Notre Dame Football great George Gipp.

“Now the Gipper only occupied one reel of the picture, but from an actor’s point of view it was a near perfect part,” Reagan once observed. “A great entrance, action in the middle and a deathbed scene in the grand tradition of Hollywood.”

The phrase “Go out and win one for the Gipper” later figured into Reagan’s political campaigns and is at least partly responsible for the film’s lasting appeal. But there are other noteworthy supporting roles that continue to get overlooked by historians and biographers.

This would include “Dark Victory” (1939) co-starring Davis, Geraldine Fitzgerald, George Brent and Bogart. Here, Reagan was cast as an aloof, but likeable playboy named Alec Hamm who adds levity and cheer to a film that is heavy on drama. The Davis character is a terminally ill woman who decides to live out her few remaining months to the fullest. Reagan does not get the girl; she instead gravitates over to the Bogart character.

Davis was nominated for Best Actress and the film for Best Picture. Even as the top prizes ultimately went to “Gone with the Wind,” “Dark Victory” was widely recognized as a critical success. Reagan’s ability to connect with audiences and co-stars did not go unrecognized as he proceeded to land high-profile roles.

Off screen, Bogart and Reagan developed a lasting friendship. They were ardent patriots who became interested in the political scene.

This is where Hollywood and Cold War politics come full circle. In the immediate aftermath of World War II, Reagan and Bogart were both “committed liberals” susceptible to communist operatives, Paul Kengor, a political scientist and author, said in an interview.

Reagan was recruited for the speaking circuit by the “benignly named” American Veterans Committee (AVC), but came to see in his own words that he was “being steered more than a little bit” by a group with its own agenda. The AVC events included “hand-picked audiences and highly skewed speaking material,” Kengor said.

In retrospect, Gorbachev’s interest in Reagan’s films is more than a little ironic; it was the Hollywood experience that first opened Reagan’s eyes to the dangers of communism. Reagan eventually came to see that AVC was a front group for the communist cause as was another “innocent-sounding” organization called the Hollywood Independent Citizens Committee of the Arts, Sciences and Professions (HICCASP).

By 1946, Reagan was a popular after-dinner speaker in Hollywood circles who intermixed politics with entertainment. Reagan also openly confronted communist sympathizers at HICCASP meetings.

Kengor’s book entitled: “Dupes: How America’s Adversaries Have Manipulated Progressives for a Century” describes some of the heated exchanges between Reagan and other leading Hollywood figures who identified with Soviet Union. By this time, Bogart also saw fit to distance himself from any unsavory ties, although he did not move to the right as decisively as Reagan did, Kengor notes.

Before he landed the lead part in “King’s Row,” it appears Reagan was briefly considered for the role of “Rick” in “Casablanca,” which eventually went to Bogart. How serious of a contender Reagan was for Casablanca is not entirely clear, Kengor said. In the end, the final casting worked out for both actors. Reagan considered “Kings Row” to be his best film, as did many critics, and Casablanca helped make Bogart a household name.

“Reagan and Bogart liked each other and respected each other and got along very well,” Kengor said. “Reagan went to Bogart’s funeral and Bogart was also a member of Reagan’s fan club.”

It was common practice for the studios to organize fan clubs and Bogart was one of 15 honorary members of the Ronald Reagan fan club. Bette Davis was also a member of the club.

On Reagan’s Birthday, Let’s Remember the Gipper’s Film Career – Part 2: More meaty roles overlooked by Reagan biographers.

Our heroine is never named other than with the pronoun “I,” and is portrayed by the then somewhat-unknown Joan Fontaine (sister of Olivia De Havilland), who offers up one of history’s most impressive “arrivals” as a full-blown movie star. Our heroine is an innocent who’s terribly vulnerable and a newlywed very much in love with her husband, Maxim (Laurence Olivier), a deeply troubled man still working through the death of his first wife.

Swept off her feet, this orphan who made un undignified living as a paid companion and doormat to an insufferable woman, is suddenly thrust into a world she never knew existed. Maxim is incredibly wealthy and sole-owner of Manderley, a breathtakingly gothic estate populated with servants and also the intimidating and suffocating shadow of Rebecca, Maxim’s dead wife.

It’s within this shadow that the new mistress of the house, already a fragile flower, wilts even further. Rebecca’s hold on the living is supernatural and the primary keeper of that flame is housekeeper Miss Mrs. Danvers (an unforgettable Judith Anderson), who wields the memory of her former mistress like a psychological club to break down her “replacement.” Miss Danvers is destined to succeed until a shipwreck uncovers truths that will either result in the destruction of all involved or their salvation.

Thanks to my notoriously bad memory, I had almost completely forgotten the plot of the film and did forget the outcome of the mystery. And what a treat it was to rediscover this spellbinding two hours full of unexpected twists and the kind of suspense Hitchcock perfected, that which comes from a man who unknowingly puts the woman he loves in terrible danger and finds he can only save her by crossing an emotional Rubicon.

“Rebecca’s” show-stopper is the masterful scene in which Maxim finally tells his full story, when the pieces of all that came before are made to make sense and come together. This is a moment of flashback that isn’t a flashback and one that only an actor and director in full command of their powers and perfectly in tune with one another could pull off.

But the real star here is Fontaine, who would go on the following year to work again with Hitchcock in “Suspicion” and win the Oscar for Best Actress. Selznick, hoping to recreate the public relations boost his search for Scarlett O’Hara created, auditioned anyone and everyone, but most certainly made the perfect choice. Fontaine’s beauty takes your breath away, but there is no more difficult persona to pull off than that of an innocent, and this the actress does flawlessly.

One of the pitfalls for Fontaine in playing this nameless heroine was not only the risk of melodramatic, wide-eyed pathos, but in not taxing the patience of the audience with a one-note performance that drains our sympathy through the act of being a perpetual victim. Through the hard work of plotting and characterization, a fine script certainly does some of the heavy-lifting, but it’s the bottomless depth of Fontaine’s eyes that does the real storytelling and communicates that it’s worth hanging in there because there’s much to be discovered in this woman.

As is always the case with timeless films and most of what this Golden Age of Hollywood produced, the essential basics of storytelling are all in place. Though the run-time is 130 minutes, the pacing is perfect and the plot engrossing from beginning to end. And, of course, the black and white photography — that comes alive on Blu-ray — and production design are about as good as it gets.

The Selznick Empire might’ve burnt out quickly, but the style itself has been made immortal thanks to a producer obsessed with perfection and a remarkable eye for talent.

“Rebecca” is available at Amazon.

Set in the Depression-era South in 1936, our narrator (Kim Stanley) is Scout Finch (a remarkable Mary Badham), who tells the story as an adult looking back on three defining summers of her childhood as an impoverished tomboy who lives in a small town with her older brother Jem (Phillip Alford) and their father Atticus (Gregory Peck), a lawyer and widower in his middle age.

The story’s themes are as rich as they come. We see everything through the eyes of the children and though they don’t realize it at the time, this is when they lose their innocence — thanks to events that involve the very worst kind of bigotry, the kind that leads to death and murder. But they will also learn to overcome their own childish prejudices when, as children will, a man they turned into a boogeyman turns out to be just the opposite.

For his portrayal of the quietly heroic Finch, Peck would win one of the biggest no-brainer Oscars in Hollywood history. In the special features, Peck’s co-stars and others involved in the film’s production (he would remain friends with many of them, and Harper Lee, until his death in 2003) compliment the actor by saying he won an Oscar playing himself. That might well be the case, but possessing certain qualities and having the talent required to portray them on screen are two entirely different things. 

Peck’s is an iconic and career-defining performance that emanates from within and creates the unforgettable presence of a man burning with dignity, disappointment in himself, and the loneliness that comes with the unthinkable loss of a soul mate before the promise of growing old together can come true. What we remember about Atticus Finch is not what the man did or said. What we remember is how he made us feel, and that can only be the by-product of an actor in full command of his craft.

It is Peck’s performance and Peck’s performance alone that elevates “Mockingbird” above that very worst of self-involved, patronizing, and racist Hollywood genres: the white liberal savior who’s come to rescue all those poor, helpless black folks. “Miss Jean Louise, stand up. Your father’s passin’.” That might be one of the most memorable and touching moments in the film, but watch it again and you’ll see that Finch doesn’t even realize the gallery is standing in his honor. Through no fault of his own and not for lack of trying, he’s failed and that failure isn’t even complete. Atticus is no one’s savior, and without a word of exposition, Peck never lets us forget that.

What Atticus is, though, is the perfect hero for his time, a man who sees the raging injustice around him and fights against it, but who also understands that in order to be effective, in order to kick the ball down the field, he can only fight so much — and this is where the disappointment with himself comes from. He’s also the perfect father who teaches his children through words backed by action. Most of all, he teaches them humility. Atticus doesn’t see himself as a hero, because trying to do the right thing doesn’t make you a hero. You’re supposed to do the right thing.

Finch is also a man who makes mistakes. When a rabid dog threatens his home, he’s quick to come home and put bullet in its brain. But when a rabid dog in the form of a man threatens him and his family, his pacifism goes too far and almost costs him his children.

Screenwriter Horton Foote would win an Oscar for a masterful adaptation that perfectly captures the atmosphere, mood, and tone of Harper’s work (Foote won a second Oscar writing again for Boo Radley (Robert Duvall), with 1983’s “Tender Mercies“). Elmer Bernstein, a composer not known for subtlety, put his famous largesse into the emotion of a perfectly minimalist score. Director Mulligan and cinematographer Russell Harlan were both nominated, and with the help of Oscar-winning art direction, create an incomparable look and feel that evokes all that is perfect about childhood in an imperfect world.

When you’re dealing with this kind of photography, Blu-ray is a must. The knotty trees, the front porches in need of paint, the dried-out lawns , tire swings, and worn-out clothing are characters every bit as important as the main players, and to see them with such clarity adds so much to the experience.  

“To Kill a Mockingbird” is a grand piece of storytelling that not only represents the art of the motion picture at its most poetic, but also gives proper due to the humble, quiet, workaday heroism of everyday Americans who fill the bucket of a better future, one day, one selfless act, one drop at a time.

 ’To Kill a Mockingbird” is available at Amazon.

Something you almost never hear from me, though,  is “my top 5″  or “my top 10″ or “my top 25.” That description is used for all-time favorites, and represents a pool of about 50 steady titles that, over the years, have fallen in and out of one of those categories. So when I tell you that Alfred Hitchcock’s 1946 romantic-thriller “Notorious”  has been a perennial top 5 of mine for over two decades now, you understand what this film means to me.

There is no other movie that makes me feel as much as this one does. Thanks to the extraordinary performances of two of the most beautiful people ever to stand before a camera, Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergmann, “Notorious” throws me on an emotional roller coaster of suspense, exhilaration and, most of all, heartache, for the full 101 minutes. And the reasons are many.

No matter how many times I’ve seen this pulse-pounding story of an American girl with a sordid past who, on behalf of her country, agrees to pretend she’s in love with a man aligned with a group of dangerous post-war Nazis in South America, within the first few minutes I fall deeply in love with Bergman’s Alicia. But that’s the least of it. The thing that wrecks me, thanks to Grant giving one of the greatest performances ever put on film (and again I’m choosing my words carefully), is the emotional grinder Alicia is put through.

Usually, when a love story keeps its lovers apart based on something that remains unspoken between them, the conceit is lazy and maddening to watch. But Ben Hecht’s script is so brilliantly crafted and Grant’s Devlin is so obviously tortured by his own pride (and things we’re never told about but see in his tormented eyes), that we buy into it; which makes for a deliciously agonizing road to a climax so satisfying repeat viewings never diminish the impact.

Alicia’s father is an American traitor, a Nazi sympathizer, sentence to 20 years in prison. Alicia herself is a party girl, a full-blown alcoholic who likes to take men to bed. It’s at one of her many parties where she meets Devlin, a quiet, handsome man she intends to seduce. Only instead of waking up like she usually does, nude, hung-over, and alone, she’s hung-over, dressed, and offered the opportunity to do something for her country.

Alicia tells Devlin she doesn’t give a damn about patriotism, as a response he plays a secret recording of a conversation she had with her father. The truth is that she loves her country, quite a bit in fact, and while she could never turn her father in, it’s clear that nothing will ever convince her to betray America.

The people Devlin works for have been monitoring her and now need her for some kind of top secret mission in Rio de Janeiro. Though Devlin doesn’t know what the mission is, she agrees and during the week they spend waiting for instructions, the two of them fall in love.

It’s obvious Devlin doesn’t want to fall for her, not for someone so striking and vulnerable. This isn’t the kind of woman you have a fling with. This is the kind of woman you either win for life or long for for life. Though not a word of exposition is used to tell us this, Grant’s performance is so pure, we know she terrifies him, and that her past — the drinking and the men — rips him apart inside. As a consequence, he tears away at her. The fact that she loves him, gives him this power, and with an emotional paper cut here and there, he throws her past in her face at every opportunity.

But passion eventually overcomes all until the details of the mission are revealed.  A number of well-connected Nazis have fled to Brazil after the war. One of them, Alexander Sebastian (Claude Rains), used to be in love with Alicia. Using her father’s reputation as cover, the plan is for her to reconnect with him in the hopes she can find out what they’re up to.  

What follows is one of the most gut-wrenching scenes ever put on film. Just an hour prior,  Alicia and Devlin had been blissfully happy in the glow of young, new love. Now they’re alone on the romantic, outdoor terrace of what was going to be their love nest. Devlin explains the mission to her, and they both know what it means; that taking the assignment means she will have to become Sebastian’s lover. Alicia is desperate for Devlin to tell her not to accept. Devlin is just as desperate for her to refuse.

Because this scene is so perfectly crafted, we know that Alicia agrees to the mission because she loves Devlin. More importantly, we know Devlin knows this and yet he still resents her for it.  And what will follow is the fullest expression of human anguish you will ever experience through the medium of the motion picture.

Forget the classic elegance of Hitchcock’s shooting style and even the impossibly suspenseful sequence that involves the key to a wine cellar. All of that is wonderful, classic moviemaking to be sure, but nothing compares to the closing sequence, when every bit of emotional and storytelling track that’s been laid, pays off with unparalleled precision. The hero saves the girl. The hero saves himself. The hero gets the girl. The hero redeems himself. The hero defeats the bad guy.

And those of us watching are left breathless.

“Notorious” is not only Hitchcock’s masterpiece, it is Hollywood’s masterpiece. It is as though the movie gods poured everything that made the Golden Era the Golden Era into a bottle, shook it up, distilled it over a flame, and found the essence, the formula … the perfection. 

“Notorious” is available at Amazon.com.

The English Patient (1996)

Director Anthony Minghella’s sweeping WWII romance ranked as #24 in my countdown of the greatest left-wing films of all time:

Filled with poetic dialogue, lush cinematography, some truly extraordinary scenes — such as the sandstorm sequence where Katharine and Laszlo fall in love — and  a charming subplot involving the short-lived but sincere romance between Binoche’s Canadian nurse and Kip (“Lost’s” Naveen Andrews), a brave Indian who defuses bombs, you almost will yourself  not to notice the film’s depraved and shockingly selfish philosophy. The film is seductive, though, and you want to give into it, but in the end the only moral outcome would be to have the cast of “Inglorious Basterds” storm in and beat Laszlo to death with a baseball bat.

If you don’t mind being manipulated by an ingeniously crafted and immoral piece of propaganda (and I don’t), another bonus is the look of the film (the cinematography won an Oscar), which is a jaw-dropper on Blu-ray.

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Shakespeare in Love (1998)

Many will never forgive the fact that director John Madden’s fictionalized account of a passionate but ill-fated love affair between a young, struggling William Shakespeare (Joseph Fiennes)  and the beautiful young woman (Gwyneth Paltrow) who inspires some of his greatest work, beat out Steven Spielberg’s “Saving Private Ryan” for that year’s top Oscar prize.

This might be heresy, but I think the best film won.

Thanks to one of the best screenplays ever written, “Shakespeare In Love” is also one of the most original films to come out of the 1990s. Paltrow is luminous, and the supporting cast — which includes Tom Wilkinson, Geoffrey Rush, Judi Dench (who along with Paltrow would win an Oscar for her work here), Simon Callow, and Ben Affleck — are all outstanding, thanks to their own talents and how well each character is individually defined. Some of story’s best moments come from the development of the Wilkinson and Affleck characters as Shakespeare’s talent and art overcomes their own personal agendas.

The story is at its most effective, though, in pushing the buttons a romance is supposed to push. You want this young couple to find a way be together, and you’re a little heartsick when you think about the possibility of them not making it.

Acted with great energy and humor and photographed in vibrant colors, this is an intelligent crowd-pleaser that looks gorgeous in high definition.

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Chicago (2002)

Director Rob Marshall pretty much revived (for a while, anyway) the musical genre with this age-old tale of murder and fame set in 1920s Chicago. Rene Zellweger might be the film’s star, but she’s completely blown off the screen by Catherine Zeta-Jones (who won a supporting Oscar) and a surprisingly game Richard Gere (who should’ve won a supporting Oscar).

The musical numbers are a little too choppy for my taste, and every one of them is staged as though it’s a finale, but the story is engaging and a few of the numbers are legitimate show-stoppers. Everyone’s obviously having a good time, and it’s more than a little infectious.

—–

Crash (2004)

There are all kinds of movies I dislike, ignore, dismiss and am even disgusted by. This is one of the rare titles I absolutely loath. This overwrought, melodramatic, piece of pretentious crap reeks of a left-wing superiority that emanates from the Hollywood Hills and looks down its oh-so-superior nose on the “little people” of Los Angeles. Sanctimony is its theme, superiority its muse, and smearing its goal. It’s an abomination of a film that reveals nothing about the good people of the Southland, who live and work and worship together in complete harmony, and everything about the self-serving elites who created and championed it.

My suggestion is that while you’re enjoying the other four Blu-rays, you use this one as a coaster for your Pabst Blue Ribbon.

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No Country For Old Men (2007)

An excerpt from my 2007 review, which, unfortunately, is no longer online:

The “country” in “No Country For Old Men” is a bleak, sun-bleached West Texas, not far from the Rio Grande circa 1980. Why 1980, is never explained. Maybe to get away with Chigurh’s haircut, a villain soon to become as iconic as Hannibal Lecter. But the barren landscapes, flares of dry lightning, and burgeoning towns just a few years away from being Applebee’d, perfectly symbolize a flat, hopeless, forbidding vastness offering nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from that thing that’s so spooked our Sheriff Bell.

The first one hundred minutes of “Old Men” are dynamite. The story is simply set up in act one with act two being its own symphony of unnerving tension as Chigurh and Moss play out their respective roles of unrelenting cat and crafty mouse. Nothing’s contrived to bring these two together and no superhuman acts are performed by either. All the action and suspense comes from entirely believable situations, which only adds to the unyielding tension as it becomes more and more clear Moss will never escape.

The only super power on display is that of the Coen brothers’ direction, the actors’ performances, the cinematography and editing. Each scene is ingenious in how it creates its own suspense, but also in how it builds on the knot tightening in your gut. The camera’s always in the right place, revealing a precise piece of information; even the removal of a pair of socks lifts your antennae. The editing is a work of art that utilizes timing, camera angles, and individual shots for maximum unease.

To the film’s further credit, just as no absurd coincidences or super human feats are contrived to move the plot, nobody does anything unrealistically stupid, either. It’s fascinating to watch the minds of Chigurh and Moss at work as each tries to get a step ahead of the other using whatever’s available to them. These aren’t MacGyvers turning paperclips into getaway cars; these are intelligent, very determined men thinking things through in a way we can relate to in their use of duct tape, wire hangers, phone bills, and compressed air to get what they want. …

The acting is first-rate, and in an era where lazy stars are continually caught coasting with lazy accents, everyone in “Old Men” hits it perfect. As I mentioned in my “Gone Baby Gone” review (another film with well-done accents), the key isn’t so much getting the accent perfect, the key is creating a believable accent that — and this is most important — the audience doesn’t notice. Even Scottish Kelly McDonald manages to convince and Woody Harrelson to not annoy. No small thing. One fine bit of casting is Tess Harper as Sheriff Bell’s wife. Her role here bookends beautifully with her memorable turn as Robert Duvall’s calming influence in “Tender Mercies.”

I close that review unsure about the film’s ending. At the time, I was dissatisfied that so much had been put into building up to a confrontation that never arrived.

In the five years since, that’s no longer a problem. This is one of the best films of the decade by a wide margin,, and repeated viewings only confirm that. The depth of the themes at work here make return visits even more satisfying, and the high-definition transfer of the landscapes, towns, light and shadow that the Coens shot so meticulously really come to life, as does a sound design that helps to immerse you into the landscape and feel every round fired.

There are some great films in this collection, but only one bona fide cinematic masterpiece, and this is it.

‘5 Bext Picture Collection’ is available today at Amazon.com.

As chance would have it, less than 12 hours ago,  I watched a documentary looking back on the “Dirty Harry” films where Carnahan said, and I am paraphrasing, “I’m liberal on a lot of things but very much a law and order right-winger.”

That’s all well and good, but I doubt present-day Hollywood has the maturity to tell this story with the same courage of conviction we saw in director Michael Winner’s 1974 genre-masterpiece. For starters, Paul Kersey’s (The Mighty Charles Bronson) vigilantism is shown to work and is portrayed as a solution to a serious crime problem the ineffectual police and liberal courts can’t solve. For emphasis, there’s a wonderful scene where we see how Kersey’s actions inspire everyday people to finally fight back.

Secondly, the Kersey character (a conscientious objector during the Korean War) is made to see up close and personal the cost of his limousine liberalism and haughty pacifism. Intolerant Hollywood giving a character that kind of arc today is inconceivable. In films like the superb 2007 remake of “The Hills Have Eyes,” we’ve seen it. But if you listen to the director’s DVD commentary, you learn it was by accident.

Finally, this first entry in what would become a fantastic five film franchise isn’t like its sequels. Here, Kersey isn’t exacting revenge on the same punks who blew a hole in his family. He’s simply working through his grief and refusing to be a victim through the awesome act of cleaning up the streets and, in the end, he is not at all repentant for his actions.

It’s very hard for me to see today’s immature industry allowing the very thematic elements that made the original (and its sequels) so satisfying to shine through again. My guess is that Carnahan goes back to the original novel, which portrays vigilantism as a more serious problem than the crime it’s meant to solve. That will give all involved the cover necessary to completely screw the remake up.

If you want to see an unapologetic “remake” of “Death Wish,” check out The Mighty Michael Caine’s almost-as-good but just as satisfying “Harry Brown.”

Note to leftists: In real life, I obviously oppose vigilantism. But this is a movie were talking about, and what I am not opposed to is wish-fulfillment or being manipulated by a crowd pleaser.

Yes, the tagline for director Arthur Hiller’s “Love Story” is unforgivably stupid, no question. Almost as bad is Ali McGraw’s performance as the gorgeous but doomed Jennifer. My wife hates this film and MacGraw’s performance so much that she only agreed to screen the Blu-ray with me so that she could delight in Jennifer’s cancerous demise. My wife’s tagline for the film is, “Marrying the studio head means never having to take an acting class.”

So what was it about this fairly mediocre 1970 tear-jerker that made it, not only the highest-grossing film of the year, but also the 6th highest grossing film of all time — the “Titanic” of its day?

Believe it or not, I saw this “chick flick” classic for the first time ever when the Blu-ray screener arrived last week, and thankfully I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit that the story got to me. You can’t disagree with the film’s critics and their many criticisms, but in the end I’m not completely ashamed to admit that Jennifer’s death choked me up and that I found the third act a little gut-wrenching as that reality became increasingly inevitable.

For everything the story does wrong, it does two key things so right that those moments help to overcome the rest. When, in the middle of a perfect day, Jennifer tells her husband, Oliver (Ryan O’Neal), that she has to go to the hospital, it’s a real kick to the gut. Laugh all you want, but just thinking about it gets to me. And then there’s how we learn that she’s died. (No spoiler warning necessary. We’re told Jennifer will die in the opening scene.)

Those were the exact right moments for the story to avoid melodrama and those moments all but redeem the entire production. “Love Story” isn’t a great film, but it’s a good one that manipulates you just enough that it stays with you for a little while, and that’s a pretty rare accomplishment. There’s also something charming about Jennifer that grows on you over time. At first she’s haughty and obnoxious, but there was something that eventually won me over. By the time she and Oliver are sitting alone in the dark in that chair together coming to terms with the news, the story owned me. MacGraw is no actress, but she has an undeniable quality that helps to overcome that.

Another of the movie’s saving graces is that most of the production was filmed on-location, which looks marvelous in high-definition. The disc also offers feature-length commentary from the director as well as an above-average behind-the-scenes documentary.

You know what really does mean never having to say you’re sorry?  Making a cheesy tearkerker that pushed my buttons.

“Love Story” hits shelves Feb. 7 and is available for pre-order at Amazon.com.

The Mighty Jack Lemmon is C.C. Baxter, a worker-drone in the Kafkaesque office located on the 17th floor of a Manhattan skyscraper that’s home base for the insurance company Baxter works for and is desperate to get ahead in. With thousands of employees competing for a very few executive positions, Baxter decides to stand out by joining the good-ole-boys club. The awful men who can help to promote Baxter are a gaggle of adulterers in need of a place for their trysts. Believing the inconvenience is worth the eventual payoff, Baxter lends out the key to his bachelor pad a few nights a week.

As smitten as he is with the idea of becoming an executive, Baxter also has his head turned by one of the building’s many elevator operators, Fran Kubelik (a delightful Shirley MacLaine), who on the outside stands out as a confident, composed, and charming young woman who has it all together. The opposite, unfortunately, is true, but by the time Baxter figures this out he’s already in love with her.

The key to Baxter’s executive dreams is held by the company’s powerful personnel director, Jeff Sheldrake (a superb Fred MacMurray), and Baxter’s cynical plans all appear to come together when Sheldrake agrees to his promotion… in exchange for the key to Baxter’s apartment. It seems the very-married Sheldrake is just another good ole boy, but that’s no skin off Baxter’s nose, until the perfect moment I mentioned above arrives.

You see, it’s Fran Kubelik Mr. Sheldrake is trysting with, and it’s at the company’s wild Christmas party (a clothed Roman orgy) where Fran finally learns she’s being used — that she’s not the first subordinate Sheldrake’s conned into bed with the promise of a future together. This is also where Baxter learns the truth about Fran.

At this point the story has all been fun and games, not unlike those delightful Doris Day sex comedies always based on comic misunderstandings. But it’s at this moment you know Wilder is about to steer two characters you’re already very much invested in into some very dark and murky waters — something Wilder does as expertly as any director ever has.

I absolutely ADORE Jack Lemmon, and because his marvelous career extended into the first three-quarters of my life, I mourn his loss like no other movie star (Paul Newman, for the same reason, is a close second). It’s a cliché and it’s repeated whenever one speaks of Lemmon, but he is an Everyman. The reason he is, though, is because Lemmon was a brilliant actor capable of plumbing the endless depths of his famous persona like only a real movie star can.

When we meet Baxter, he’s nothing but a pimp, a man enriching himself by providing the means for scumbags to cheat on their wives. It’s indefensible behavior, and what the movie’s really about is his moral awakening to this fact. Wilder puts Baxter through emotional hell and screams “see what you’re enabling!” at him. In one of the making-of extras, a number of film experts go on and on about how Wilder pushed the boundaries of the Production Code (as though removing the limits that make art art is some sort of virtue) with “The Apartment,” and yet they all seem to miss completely how, in a word, MORAL this story is.

Adultery and those who aid and abet it are either portrayed as the lowest scum on earth or are forced, like Fran and Baxter, to pay a breathtakingly high price for their role in it. That’s what “The Apartment” is about. It’s also about chivalry. The heart of the story comes from witnessing the terrible blame Baxter volunteers to take on in order to protect Fran’s honor.

MacLaine is a real standout here. My goodness, she’s fetching — pretty, sexy, funny, and smart. But the mindblower is MacMurray, who plays the sleaze of all sleazes. Paul Douglas was the director’s first choice, but the actor died before production began. I don’t mean to sound cold, but things did work out for the best. Wilder knew there was a dark side to MacMurray and had brought it out magnificently before in 1944’s “Double Indemnity.” 16 years later, the depravity of Sheldrake’s selfish indifference hits even harder coming from the kindly face of the MacMurray who would go one next to star in all those Disney films.

In high-def the black and white, widescreen photography is nothing short of stunning. The detail of the production design, especially Baxter’s apartment and the vast office we meet him in, is a feast for the eyes. The disc also includes two documentaries, one about the making of the film and another about The Mighty Jack Lemmon’s career and technique.

“The Apartment” is available at Target.com.

Told with a scattershot timeline (that somehow works) and through an endless number of short scenes that could stand on their own as insightful, amusing, and romantic skits, “Annie Hall” is a story told to us in the first-person by Alvy, a famous New York comedian. His story isn’t so much about his romance with Annie; it’s more about what he’s learned from the experience — not only about himself but human nature in general. And if you judge the film by its touching closing scene (as I do), you can count this among Allen’s rare optimistic offerings.

Keaton’s performance is a wonder to behold. When you compare the “la-dee-da” Annie Alvy first meets to the more worldly and composed Annie she eventually becomes (much of it due to Alvy pushing her in that direction), Keaton’s Oscar win is a no-brainer.  Right along with Alvy, we fall in love with Annie at first sight and, in the end, long for the innocence she loses. And this, of course, is also why the film is so bittersweet. With the best of intentions (mostly), Alvy helps Annie grow up, and she ends up outgrowing him.

What “Annie Hall” really is, though, is hilarious. The hit-to-miss ratio for jokes that fly at you about every 15 seconds is somewhere around 98%, something that even the Marx Brothers never achieved. Like “Manhattan,” none of the humor is contrived or driven by the need for a punchline. It all emanates from that most perfect of places, and that’s characters created with genius precision. For that reason, the humor of “Annie Hall” never grows stale, and thanks to depth of Allen’s themes and ideas, there’s always something new to discover in subsequent viewings.

In 93  perfectly paced minutes, Allen not only gives us a full tour of the human condition of his two protagonists but one of the most penetrating and hilarious skewerings of Hollywood you’ll ever see. And, as always, liberal intellectuals are hit hardest.

“Annie Hall” is a flawless film, and thanks to a structure impossible to recreate, it’s also a one-of-a-kind storytelling experience. Unfortunately, this new Blu-ray release is as bare bones as the DVD release. The notoriously private Allen — because he wisely wants his films to stand on their own and not be interpreted by anyone, including him — just doesn’t do behind-the scenes extras or commentary.

For those of you as in love with the pre-Disneyfied New York of the 1970s as I am, that alone makes the upgrade to Blu-ray worthwhile. Almost every shot in “Annie Hall” is iconic, and Allen taking us on an affectionate tour of a small part of that small island he loves so much is just one of the many pleasures waiting to be discovered in one of the best films produced during a decade with all kinds of impressive competition.

“Annie Hall” is available at Amazon.com.