Maybe it’s the boomer in me. Or perhaps, it has something to do with the fact that I’m the product of a dad who once was an usher at the local movie house I literally grew up in. The celluloid son-of-a-lovin’ father who used to let my mom sneak in the side door of the theatre during the Saturday afternoon matinee just so they could be together. Even when I was born, he asked his best friend and fellow usher at the Coolidge Theatre, Mikey Citino, to be my godfather when I was baptized. Who knows? Whatever it is or was, I don’t care.  I love movies.

As a kid, for me, goin’ to the movies was like goin’ to church. It was something special. I remember my older cousin, Eddie Cassassa, taking me to the show, when I was about 4 or 5. I’ll never forget him sitting me in the front row, to watch Boris Karloff  in “Frankenstein,” one fine Saturday afternoon. I was scared stiff and loved every minute.

A few years later, it was the same cousin Eddie who got us thrown out of the theatre during a matinee of “The Devil at 4 O ‘Clock” starring Frank Sinatra and Spencer Tracy. He laughed his ass off as the usher escorted us to the exit door, while I was just humiliated. Like gettin’ thrown outta church! (more…)

Late last spring, through the auspices of a mutual friend, I spent an afternoon visiting with eighty-nine-year-old author Ray Bradbury. Walking upstairs to his den, I found the genial (and, for the record, fairly conservative) writer dressed in a rumpled shirt and boxer shorts, surrounded by a sea of awards and papers and memorabilia of every description, and happily watching Turner Classic Movies on a big-screen TV. “Isn’t this channel great?” he enthused, telling me how excited he had been to guest host there a year earlier. We spent the next hour talking about films — his early days as a local boy visiting the studios on roller skates and asking stars for autographs, his long friendship with special effects maven Ray Harryhausen, his experience writing the screenplay to Moby Dick (1956) for director John Huston.

And all the while TCM played in the background, like an old friend.

I’ve since reflected on how Turner Classic Movies has grown over the years into one of the most universally admired cultural forums in America. It’s a familiar presence in households of all political persuasions. If you like old movies, you like TCM, period.

That’s why the mini-uproar here at Big Hollywood last week was so disheartening. For those of you who missed it: during an on-air introduction to the 1957 movie A Face in the Crowd, TCM host Ben Mankiewicz gave legions of conservative viewers a collective poke in the eye, by way of a not-so-veiled sneer at talk-show host Glenn Beck. You can see the sad spectacle for yourself by clicking over to the TCM website, but here are the money quotes: (more…)

What makes Turner Classic Movies uniquely special? In order of importance, here are the three main reasons: 1. TCM is a politics-free zone; 2. The presentation; 3. The films.

You would think the films would rank number one, but that’s simply not the case. Now and again, TCM might screen something not available on Netflix or elsewhere, but for the most part what makes the fifteen year-old network so addictive and such a unique pleasure for movie lovers is the infectious enthusiasm for great (and sometimes not-so-great) cinema, legendary movie stars and Hollywood lore that envelopes every aspect of my #2 — the presentation.

The Mighty Robert Osborne simply is TCM. His class, deep well of knowledge, and abiding passion for all things classic Hollywood is contagious. Even if you happen to own the DVD of that particular film, Osborne makes you want to watch whatever it is on TCM just to enjoy his informative and affectionate bookends.

But nothing is more important to the success of the network than the fact that up till now it has remained a rare refuge from the partisan politics that today seem to have infested everything from our White House Christmas tree to “Sesame Street.” TCM is first, last and always a place for movie lovers of all political stripes. Under the soft plasma glow of TCM we are united members of one political party: Cinema Enthusiasts. (more…)