When director George Stevens decided to film Shane in the early fifties, it was a momentous decision on a number of levels.

Born in 1904, he was the product of a family of actors, and grew up in San Francisco helping his parents learn lines, doing backstage work, and even acting when the occasion demanded. “I was fascinated by all of it,” Stevens said. “The sounds of the theater and the audience, their rapture when a play took over and moved them and held them quietly. . . When the audience was truly moved, it was absolutely quiet. They were in a communion because they were learning the truth about themselves.”

In 1921 his parents moved the family to Los Angeles to find work in the silent movie industry, and for Stevens it was a wonderful change. He leveraged a job his cousin had at Hal Roach studios to begin visiting the lot.

“I was really a kid at the time,” Stevens said, “and I had been interested in photography as a kid, as a hobby. . . I was on a picture for four or five days, had an opportunity to be on a set, and the assistant cameraman kept showing me things. One day I climbed the fence, knowing they needed an assistant cameraman. A couple of days later I was one. The first day or two it was pretty disastrous, but I knew something about photography, and I caught on quick.” (more…)

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…)

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As with everything they touch, Turner Classic Movies handles their yearly tribute with extraordinary class and delivers something subtle, lovely and touching; something always so much better than whatever the Oscars cook up that year.  (more…)

9am PST - Boomerang (1947) – A prosecutor fights to prove the defendant in a scandalous murder case is innocent. Cast: Dana Andrews, Jane Wyatt, Lee J. Cobb, Cara Williams Dir: Elia Kazan BW-88 mins, TV-PG

Here’s a treat for you. Elia Kazan directs this tough, little tightly-paced (88 mins!) hickory knot of a docu-drama starring The Mighty Dana Andrews and just as Mighty Arthur Kennedy. No time is wasted in getting to it. The story opens in broad daylight on a busy street and before you can say, “What a lovely little town,” a Priest has his brains blown out and the manhunt is on. Kennedy, at his sneering, contemptuous best, confesses and is prosecuted by State’s Attorney Henry Harvey (Andrews), but something’s amiss and soon, all instincts for what’s good for him to the contrary, Harvey finds himself in the awkward position of having to prove the man’s innocence. (more…)