The Green Mile (1999)

The Green Mile, nominated for Best Picture of 1999, requires patience. It's a very slow-moving film, clocking in at just a bit more than three hours long. It has very little in the way of action sequences, and it's really very confined, for the most part, to a single cell block in a Louisiana prison. In fact, it's almost an hour into the film before you even find out a central point, one that is the key to the entire film's plot. And yet this is a mesmerizing film. It's quite a presentation of the ideas of faith and goodness.

Tom Hanks plays Paul Edgecomb, a guard on Death Row who comes to realize that he is in the presence of a miracle after the arrival of a very large convict named John Coffey, played by Michael Clarke Duncan. Edgecomb and his fellow guards are, with one notable exception, all good-hearted men. They seem to want to treat the prisoners with respect and dignity, unless the prisoners fail to deserve such treatment. Only one, really, does that, and he's played by Sam Rockwell doing a rather bad Gary Oldman version of a crazy convict. I suppose Rockwell's "Wild Bill" Wharton is meant to show the contrast between good and evil, but he does go a bit over the top at times.

Duncan, a giant of a man, plays John Coffey very simply and effectively. He's a man who only wants to do what he thinks is good, and he seems to possess the ability to know when someone good is in need. He realizes that Edgecomb is suffering from a bladder infection and asks the guard to come to his cell to talk to him. He grabs Edgecomb's crotch until the prison's lights start to get brighter and then what appear to be insects fly out of his mouth. It's a pretty stunning sight the first time you witness it; actually, it's a pretty stunning sight each time. What to do with John Coffey becomes a discussion for all of the guards after he brings back to life a mouse that a fellow prisoner has befriended. How does one behave when confronted with a miracle?

You're going to have a couple of very uncomfortable moments watching this film, so be warned. Three people are executed by the electric chair; they are on death row, after all. The filmmakers present each of these executions in pretty explicit detail. You'll learn a great deal about how executions took place during the early part of the 20th Century whether you want to or not. The second one, in particular, involving Michael Jeter's Del, who speaks with such an indecipherable accent that I had to keep rewinding, is the most gruesome, thanks to the aforementioned "bad guard," the aptly named Percy Wetmore. He's one of the true villains of the piece, something that John Coffey notices almost immediately.

The members of the cast are well chosen. In addition to Hanks and Duncan, I'd single out David Morse as one of the other guards, Brutus Howell. His character is nicknamed "Brutal," but really he's just a quiet man who takes his job very seriously. Warm-hearted Bonnie Hunt plays Edgecomb's wife, James Cromwell offers some stoic support as the prison warden, and Patricia Clarkson makes a brief but illuminating appearance as the warden's cancer-stricken wife. Percy Wetmore is played by Doug Hutchison, and he's so very good at playing someone with a rotten core. I suppose one could say that the good characters are "too" good and the bad ones "too" bad, but the actors infuse their parts with a real sense of humanity.

I didn't particularly enjoy the frame narrative involving the now-elderly Edgecomb telling his story to another resident of the retirement home where he stays. It doesn't seem necessary, and I think it actually lessens the impact of the overall story somewhat. I suppose the filmmakers wanted to have some sort of "reason" to start and end the narrative, but I think what happens on the Green Mile (the nickname for death row because of its green floor) is intriguing enough. It doesn't need anything more to make it a compelling story.

I hope people don't watch The Green Mile thinking that it's some sort of parable about religious faith. I don't think it has anything to do with any specific religion, really. In fact, John Coffey says that he doesn't even want a minister when it's time for his execution. There's a lot of talk here about what constitutes heaven and what might or might not be a miracle, but this doesn't seem to be a movie obsessed with pushing a particular religious agenda. It's more about our personal faith, what we choose to believe in or not believe in, about how we decide to live our lives.

The Caine Mutiny (1954)

The Caine Mutiny was a nominee for Best Picture of 1954, and it's a very intriguing look at what constitutes leadership in times of crisis. It's the fictional story of a naval mine sweeper during World War II and what happens to its crew after the arrival of a new captain. A series of strange events leads several of the officers, in particular, to suspect that the captain is mentally unstable, a belief that leads to one of them taking command of the ship during a typhoon. The film ends with the court martial of that man, who is accused of mutiny by the captain.

Humphrey Bogart plays Captain Queeg, actually Lt. Commander Queeg, he of the infamous silver balls that he takes out of his pocket whenever he is under stress or must make a tough decision. (Could there be a more obvious symbol than a pair of balls that a man takes out of his pants pocket?) After taking the command of the Caine, Queeg attempts to impose some discipline on a crew that has become rather lax after years of being on the second-rate ship. He becomes obsessed with shirts being tucked in, for example, and he attempts to rewrite events so that he comes out looking guilt-free when he is to blame for a blunder. The most infamous event, of course, is the alleged theft of a quart of strawberries. So paranoid does Queeg become with finding the "guilty" party that every member of the crew has to surrender his keys to be checked. It's that sense of absurdity of behavior that leads his officers to question his reasoning ability.

The key moment, though, is during a storm when Queeg keeps giving out orders to the helmsman that could lead to the ship's destruction. Lt. Maryk (ably played by Van Johnson), fearing for the safety of the men on board, takes over command of the ship. Queeg charges Maryk with mutiny, and they both wind up at the proceedings of the court martial. It's during the court scenes that Bogart is at his best. He is pretty tame for much of the film, only showing a few moments of excitement, a flash here and there of emotion, but once he takes the stand, it becomes pretty clear very soon to everyone why Maryk reacted the way that he did.

There's a silly subplot involving a romance between one of the new ensigns and a nightclub singer, someone the ensign feels his mother might not approve of. There's also a rather condescending speech by Jose Ferrer's Lt. Greenwald that seems to support Queeg's position as captain. I found it rather insulting, frankly, to think that after the testimony in court, the lawyer who represented Maryk would still be so obviously opposed to his actions. I suspect it was a scene added to placate those who wanted to have some passing reference to respect of authority included.

I enjoyed the scenes on board the Caine. I can't vouch for their authenticity, of course, having never been in the Navy myself, but if they do approximate what life is like for the sailors, it's an interesting world out at sea. I think that's one of the appeals of this film. Its evocation of the ways that these men must live their lives, particularly when they are under the command of one person whose decisions must be followed and those decisions are questionable, is a key to the movie's overall success.

A Man for All Seasons (1966)

Winner of the Academy Award for Best Picture of 1966, A Man for All Seasons is the story of Sir Thomas More, the chancellor who resigned his post rather than support Henry VIII's attempts to divorce his first wife in order to marry Anne Boleyn. The first half of the film relates the tensions within the court over Henry's desires to circumvent the Catholic Church's ban on divorce, particularly for his marriage, which had resulted from a special dispensation from the Pope so that Henry could marry his brother's widow. The second half of the film follows More as the court and much of the country becomes more and more obsessed with issues of loyalty, particularly as they might be displayed by public statements or signatures.

This is an admirable film in many ways. It's beautifully photographed, and the acting is all strong. Paul Scofield as More won the Oscar for Best Actor that year, and he is ably supported by Wendy Hiller as his wife, Susannah York as his daughter, and dozens of other performers, including an incredibly young John Hurt. Almost the equal of Scofield is Robert Shaw, more famous now for his role in Jaws, but playing Henry VIII here as a petulant, infuriating monarch. Shaw only gets a few moments of screen time, but he certainly makes the most of them. The film also pays very close attention to period detail, with the sets and costumes all as lavish as you would expect among the royal court during the 16th Century.

However, despite all of these traits and despite the noble message of the film (to stand by one's principles even in the face of certain punishment, even death), I have to say that I think this is a pretty dull film overall. I can admire all of the work that went into the making of A Man for All Seasons, but as entertainment, I feel it falls a bit flat. This film is another in that tradition of costume dramas that were prevalent in the 1960s. I've already discussed a later film, Anne of the Thousand Days, which mines much of the same territory but with more of a sense of excitement. Perhaps it's the central hero that is the problem here. More is a solid man, a stable one, but he isn't a very passionate figure to deserve two hours of film for his story. I realize that Henry VIII cannot always be the center of a movie about this issue that England confronted, but he does seem to be a more compelling force than More does here.

Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)

Hannah and Her Sisters, nominated for Best Picture of 1986, takes place over the course of one year. In fact, it begins with one Thanksgiving celebration and ends with the following year's party. It's an examination of the relationships between three sisters, played by Mia Farrow, Dianne Wiest, and Barbara Hershey. Each has her own set of issues to deal with, but many of them relate, quite unsurprisingly, to their relationships with men. This film, like many others by writer-director Woody Allen after Annie Hall, is somewhat episodic in nature, with intertitles separating scenes from each other and indicating the passage of time. By turns funny and charming and melancholy, Hannah and Her Sisters is a strong film overall, primarily due to the large and talented cast.

Hannah (Farrow) is divorced from Mickey (Allen) and now married to Elliot (Michael Caine). She's meant to be the stable one of the family, the one everyone else turns to in times of crisis, including their parents (the amazing Lloyd Nolan and Maureen O'Sullivan, Farrow's real-life mother). Wiest's Holly seems to be on a losing streak of late, having little success in her acting career and opening a catering business with a friend who turns out to be a rival for the affections of an architect. She has dated Mickey in the past, but a chance encounter later in the film starts them on a fresh relationship. Lee (Hershey) is happy, at least on the surface, in her relationship with an artist, Frederick (played by Max von Sydow), but once Elliot admits that he is attracted to her, Lee begins a clandestine relationship with her sister's husband.

Even in that brief summary, I've managed to leave out some remarkable moments, like the audition that Holly and her friend April, played with gusto by Carrie Fisher, attend. It's a disaster, by the way. There's also Daniel Stern's brief role as a potential purchaser of Frederick's art (so long as it's the right size for his big blank walls and matches the color of the furniture). The film also features several moments at Mickey's job, where he works with Julie Kavner and a series of other bright talents. The number of great performances in the movie is pretty staggering to contemplate, actually.

In the midst of all of this coupling and uncoupling and other activity, you have grand discussions of art and theater and television and numerous other "serious" topics. You also have an interesting series of vignettes involving Allen's Mickey going to doctor after doctor trying to determine if he has a tumor. It's overall a rather serious film by Allen, one that manages to blend comedic moments into realistic day-to-day events, the little moments that seem to become magnified when reconsidered. I know I've concentrated perhaps too much on the funnier aspects of Hannah and Her Sisters, but the overall emotional impact of the film is not primarily due to the bits that make you laugh. Instead, it's the warmth of the human interaction, the real feelings that are expressed--sometimes painfully--by these people. It's a well-written movie, of course, and worthy of its reputation as one of Allen's best.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)

The Shawshank Redemption was nominated for Best Picture of 1994. I've managed through the years to avoid this movie, thinking it would be a dull study of prison life. I just wasn't looking forward to it. Instead, I've realized that it's an intriguing look at the slow development of a friendship between two unlikely people: "Red," a long-time convict, and Andy Dufresne, a newly arrived prisoner. Over the course of nineteen years in the same prison, they come to know and respect and like each other. It's a testament to this movie that you don't find the tedium of day-to-day existence in prison to be tedious at all. What you concentrate upon are the different characters and the ways that they interact.

The film begins with Andy's arrival at Shawshank as those already in prison take wagers as to which of the "fresh fish" will cry. How that turns out is pretty gruesome, as are several other scenes in the film. However, this is not a violent movie overall. It instead takes its time to develop the individual characters in a way so that you can see their distinctions and their commonalities. It requires some patience on the part of viewers, but that patience is amply rewarded by the knowledge that we gain about these men.

Red is the prisoner who seems to be able to get his hands on just about anything from the outside that someone wants. Andy initially asks for a simple item, a tool used for shaping small rocks. He later asks for Rita Hayworth after he and the other prisoners watch Gilda one night. What he gets instead is a poster of Hayworth in her most famous pose. Those two items play a significant role in the film, but it's a testament to the skill of the filmmakers that you aren't made to feel this in any obvious way. In fact, much of this movie is incredibly subtle and low-key.

The performances by the two leads are top-notch. Morgan Freeman plays Red, and he's wonderful here, as he always is. His argument against having hope when you've been in prison so long is pretty remarkable. Tim Robbins plays Andy, and his part is less showy perhaps, but he is equal to Freeman's talent in this film. Robbins has to be the quieter of the two men, the one with greater patience and a stronger sense of hope. Overall, I guess this movie is about the depth of one's sense of hope, and the ending provides viewers with a clear sense of which side the creators of this fine film have taken in that debate.

Wings (1927-28)

In 2003, on the afternoon of the 75th Academy Awards, I went to the Silent Movie Theatre on Fairfax Avenue to see the film that is usually credited with winning the first Best Picture honors, Wings. In truth, you know that there were really two winners that first year of 1927-1928, and Wings was the one chosen for Outstanding Picture. I was thrilled to watch the movie for the first time back in 2003, and I can certainly see why it was a winner. It's got almost all of the elements that the Academy tends to love: epic in size and scope, action sequences that are relevant to the plot, somber dramatic moments and lighthearted sequences to balance the emotions, and even a romance or two thrown in for good measure. After watching several Best Picture winners, I can assure you that the formula seems to have been set from that very first year.

The plot begins in 1917 just before America’s entry into what we now call World War I. Two young men from the same town—one wealthy, the other middle class—are in love with the same woman and both join the military to fight in the war. Through a couple of misunderstandings, each young man thinks that he is the one that the girl truly loves. They become top fighter pilots during the war, and the film follows their adventures in France and their battles in the air. They also become friends…or perhaps more than that.

Jack Powell, played by boyishly handsome Buddy Rogers, carries as his good luck charm a locket with a picture of Sylvia (Jobyna Ralston). He never sees the inscription on the back of the photograph, which is written for David Armstrong, played by Richard Arlen. To further complicate matters, Jack's next-door neighbor Mary, played by Clara Bow, is in love with him and even follows him to Europe by becoming a driver for the Women's Motor Corps. Her attempts to make him fall in love with her are no more successful in Europe than they have been in the United States, sadly.

To be honest, though, the focus of the movie isn't about the romances. It's about the men's relationship with each other. This is a rather homoerotic film in many ways. Jack and David become good friends and seem to share in almost everything that happens after they leave their homes and the women. During basic training, these two are boxing and wrestling with each other, and their actions move quickly from one of jealousy to one of affection for each other. Jack even says, “Boy, you’re game!” to David after they've wrestled for a while; his statement is accompanied by a large grin and a hug. It becomes apparent that they develop a love for one another, and any subsequent "fighting" over Sylvia is merely an excuse for them to become and stay closer to each other. Just watch the many ways that David tries to return to Jack after he is shot down on the wrong side of the fighting, for example, and now how Jack becomes increasingly more reckless in his attempts to avenge David’s “death.” That would be strange behavior for someone who is allegedly your rival.

I know I may be about to spoil a key point in the plot here, but the movie is more than eighty years old, so here goes: When David lies dying in the remains of a house near the film’s end, Jack acts more like a grieving lover than he does a friend. Watch the way the two men hold each other and stroke each other's hair and face, and then tell me they're just good friends. If it weren’t a death scene, you’d easily note just how it’s shot in the same way that love scenes typically are done. They’re almost close enough to kiss each other at several moments during this last scene together. Well, they actually do kiss, but not on the mouth… but very close…

Eve Sedgwick, years ago, theorized that many of literature's great love triangles are really about the feelings that the two men in such a triangle have for each other. Wings is pretty clearly an example of that, but I'm sure that many people never quite realize it. It doesn't hurt my theory that Rogers was one of the most beautiful men in silent film. Arlen is handsome as well, but it's Rogers' Jack who must slowly help Arlen's David become more at ease, more comfortable with his "new life." David had always been somewhat sheltered by his parents; his good luck charm is a small teddy bear that his mother gave him, and he speaks of her several times while they are in Europe. There's a lot of antiquated beliefs here about masculinity, certainly, but they don't necessarily deflect attention from Jack and David's feelings for each other.

Of course, you don't have to accept my premise to find this film enjoyable (but I don't think it hurts either). The flying sequences are pretty spectacular for the time period. Some of the shots during battle must have taken a remarkable amount of planning to be executed so precisely. The mid-air collisions and the plane crashes are as thrilling as the dogfights between the Germans and the Americans. Even the sequences involving trench warfare and the bombing of a French village are very realistic. One of the most intriguing aspects of Wings is how the pilots are shot in close-up while they are flying. We get to see their faces when they feel victorious, and we even watch some of them die when their planes (and they) get shot. It makes their demise even more moving to watch it happen in close-up.

Wings was also the recipient of the first Oscar for visual effects, called Best Engineering Effects at the time, most likely for its battle scenes. However, even in smaller moments, the visual effects are exceptional. For example, while on leave in Paris, Jack becomes quite inebriated and thinks he sees champagne bubbles emerging from everywhere. In an extended sequence, bubbles come out of musical instruments and other random objects, even from Bow’s sparkly dress. (He’s too drunk and obsessed with bubbles to make love to Bow’s Mary. Make of that what you will.) It might not seem as impressive as realistically depicting the destruction of a French village or a mid-air collision between two planes, but it makes for a quite charming few moments on film and is another sign of the attention to detail that the filmmakers had.

Rogers and Arlen are both solid in their roles although Rogers is a bit more energetic than Arlen, who’s a bit less emotional. Bow is quite stunning to watch, and you can’t help but realize that she was very underrated as an actress. It also doesn’t hurt that she’s quite breathtakingly beautiful, and she makes a military uniform look sexier than it has a right to look. Even Gary Cooper, in the tiniest of roles as a doomed pilot, is eye-catching. He's so tall and thin and, really, beautiful. I think his character's death after only seconds on the screen is meant to show us just how precious our time with other people can be. El Brendel provides some great comic relief as Herman Schwimpf, a Danish draftee who has an American flag tattooed on his bicep. He takes great joy in showing others how he can make it “wave.” (However, even he realizes how much Jack misses David when everyone thinks David has died at the hands of the Germans.) One other notable performer is Julia Swayne Gordon as David’s mother, someone who clearly belongs to the “grand dame” school of acting. She’s emoting for those in the back of the theater even though she’s on camera. Some, like Rogers and Bow, were better suited for film acting while others, like Gordon, were still quite stage-bound in their acting.

All in all, this is solid entertainment and a good example of what the movie studios were capable of producing at the end of the silent era. The war scenes can be quite brutal; there are lots of deaths onscreen. The notion that all war films, by showing what wars are like, are by their very nature anti-war applies to Wings. The film’s director, William A. “Wild Bill” Wellman, even goes so far as to depict the German dead sympathetically. That had to be quite radical for a film released just a decade after the events that it depicts. It was also just one risk that the film took. Wellman and his crew mastered some amazing visual effects and corralled tons of extras to make an engrossing war movie.

Oscar Wins: Outstanding Picture and Best Engineering Effects

An Unmarried Woman (1978)

An Unmarried Woman was nominated for Best Picture of 1978, and I think it's one of the great forgotten movies of that decade. It's the story of a woman named Erica whose husband leaves her for a younger woman, someone he met while shopping. She learns to adjust--slowly--to single life as the film progresses, even taking a chance on love again, if a bit tentatively at first. This is a beautiful film filled with a true sense of what life for a divorced woman was like in New York at the time.

The heart of this film is the staggering performance of Jill Clayburgh as Erica. She's a remarkable presence here, always fascinating to watch. I'd never seen this film before, but I have seen Clayburgh in other roles. Nothing can quite prepare you, however, for the depth of her characterization in An Unmarried Woman. She makes you feel each emotion she goes through during the course of the movie. Clayburgh didn't win the Oscar that year for Best Actress, but I can't quite see how anyone else did a more powerful job. She's amazing, a complex and real person on the screen with all of her human traits, good and bad.

There are some moments that really stand out for me. I was stunned--as I'm sure most viewers of this film are--that Erica's husband dumps her in public. Michael Murphy as her husband Martin could have easily chosen to portray his character as a cad, but you do get a sense of his own frustrations in scenes like this. Cliff Gorman, channeling a very different energy from his role in The Boys in the Band, plays an artist who has been hitting on Erica for some time, sort of typical male chauvinist. Their night of passion is, by turns, funny and touching and quite sexy.

However, my favorite parts of the movie are those involving Erica's "club." It's really four friends who get together regularly to talk about their lives. Their affection for each other is always obvious, particularly in the scene where the four of them are sitting in a bed talking about their lives and loves. This movie shows a tremendous bond between women, no doubt a tribute to the consciousness raising groups that were available during that time period. Pat Quinn, Kelly Bishop, and Linda Miller play the three friends, and they're all good, each one representing a different personality type, yet all of them fully supportive even in times of disagreement.

This is a modern-day "women's picture." It's about finding someone to love, certainly, but it's more about loving one's own self. I know that sounds pretty selfish or self-centered, but you can appreciate that Erica isn't looking to have another man in her life to serve as the center of her universe. Although Alan Bates as a painter who becomes her lover is certainly a good choice for the job, she needs some sense of her own identity. That's a strong feminist statement, one that doesn't get made very often these days.

I won't spoil the ending for you, but I have to say that one of the true joys of watching this movie is seeing Clayburgh walking down the streets of New York City with an enormous painting. It's a thrilling sequence, one that I think perfectly captures the right mood at the end of the film.

Oliver! (1968)

I've seen Oliver! several times in my life. Oliver Twist, the novel by Charles Dickens, is one of my favorite books; I've read it numerous times and have even taught it a couple of times. However, as much as I enjoy film musicals in general and this particular film musical version of a cherished favorite, I am still surprised this was chosen as the Best Picture of 1968.

You're probably familiar with the story already. A young orphan, Oliver Twist, leaves the workhouse to face an uncertain life in the funeral trade. After facing abuse at the hands of the funeral director's family and employees, he runs off to London. There he meets the Artful Dodger, who introduces him to Fagin and his gang of boy thieves. They are all, in turn, under the command of the evil Bill Sikes. Bill himself is cared for and loved by Nancy, who also befriends Oliver and tries to ensure that he is unharmed.

While all of this dark stuff is going on, there's singing, lots of singing. And the score is quite beautiful, good songs all around: "Consider Yourself," "It's a Fine Life," "I'd Do Anything," "Who Will Buy?" A real standout, though, is "As Long as He Needs Me," one of the oddest paeans to co-dependency you're likely ever to hear. There's dancing too, particularly well executed by the boys in such numbers as "You've Got to Pick a Pocket or Two." These numbers do indeed enliven the film.

I like several of the performers too. Shani Wallis is great as Nancy; she has a beautiful voice and a real sense of vitality. Ron Moody is a delight as Fagin, particularly his ability to switch emotions in a second. I've always liked Oliver Reed's performance as Bill Sikes, a thoroughly despicable character in many ways but who comes across as oddly sexy in this film. Yeah, I know. What can I say? Mark Lester, playing Oliver, doesn't make much of an impression, but then again, the character himself doesn't make that much of an impression in the book, does he? It's really more about the people around him than it is about Oliver himself.

The real star, though, is Jack Wild as the Artful Dodger. Wild was a talented singer and dancer, and he certainly knows how to draw attention to himself. You're always looking for him in the midst of the scenes at Fagin's hideout. Even among a gang of singing and dancing boys, you can't help but focus on him. He was about 16 years old at the time this film was made, but he seems so much younger in appearance and so much older in his wisdom and experience. I first knew Wild from his performances on the Saturday morning kids' show H.R. Pufnstuf; I loved that show and own the DVD of the complete series. What a shame to see him already gone at such a young age and under such tragic circumstances.

I know I've been saying good things about this movie, and you're probably puzzling over why I don't think it deserved to win Best Picture. As entertaining as Oliver! (you have to have the exclamation point, don't you?) is, it's just a bit too frivolous even as a movie musical to be the best film of the year. The Academy also nominated Romeo and Juliet that year, a gorgeous film that still is one of the best adaptations of Shakespeare ever. There was also The Lion in Winter, a great period piece featuring some staggering performances from the likes of Katherine Hepburn and Peter O'Toole and a young Anthony Hopkins. (I won't speak much now of the other two, lesser nominees: Funny Girl and Rachel, Rachel.) The single best film of 1968 wasn't even nominated that year: 2001: A Space Odyssey. How can anyone think that Oliver! was the best film of the year when Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece isn't even in the running?

So enjoy Oliver! for what it is: expensive, splashy musical entertainment. Admire the work of young Jack Wild and the other talented performers in the film. Sing along to the songs you remember. Just don't think that this is the Best Picture of 1968.

Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing (1955)

Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing, nominated for Best Picture of 1955, is really a rather silly movie. It's a sentimental romance about two very unlikely lovers in Hong Kong. Now, I have nothing against sentiment or romance. Likewise, I'm not opposed to intercultural relationships in film; such pairings often make for very exciting movies. However, in this example, there seems to be so little point in having the characters be from different backgrounds. In fact, much of this film seems to be pointless.

The woman in this couple is played by Jennifer Jones. She's a widowed doctor working at a hospital in Hong Kong. She's incredibly talented and popular as a doctor, apparently, and rather ambitious. After the loss of her husband, she's decided to forgo romance and concentrate instead upon her profession. The man is played by William Holden. He's a married newspaper correspondent who keeps getting sent to exotic locations throughout Asia. He wants to divorce his wife, but she is unwilling to set him free.

You may be asking yourself at this point how these two very American performers somehow represent a cross-cultural romance. Here's the kicker: Jones is playing a Eurasian woman. Tough to believe, I know; even tougher to accept. The supporting cast of fellow doctors in the hospital and friends in Hong Kong and even family members in China is full of Asian or Asian American actors, yet Jones is meant to somehow represent the blending of two cultures, the Chinese and the English. I only point this out because it's supposed to be a significant plot point, their cultural differences. However, I just don't sense this is a point of tension between them. If Holden's character could just get a divorce from his wife, then he and Jones' doctor could be wed. What does being Eurasian or not Eurasian have to do with that? A few characters mention from time to time how much difficulty these two might face as a couple, but really, the main issue keeping them apart is not their different cultures, despite what any of the characters say.

The film was shot on location in Hong Kong, and the photography is really stunning. This is a gorgeous film, and you can't help but be dazzled at times by the scenery. However, you will have to endure the rather intrusive theme song, which pops up with alarming frequency when Jones and Holden are on screen together. It's almost as if the purpose of the movie is to get that song stuck in your head; maybe it was an early marketing gimmick, one of the first examples of synergy. I have to say that I'm not overly fond of the song myself, but I suppose it is at times used to good effect.

I wouldn't want to suggest that this film isn't enjoyable. As a rather traditional romance set in a beautiful location, Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing has its creaky, old-fashioned charms. The leads are certainly appealing enough together even if Jones is miscast in her role here. I just can't see this film as being one of the best of 1955 or any other year. Undoubtedly, this is an example of the Academy saving a spot on its list for a huge moneymaker of a film. It doesn't stand out to me as particularly memorable or deserving of recognition for its overall quality.

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)

The Bridge on the River Kwai, winner of the Oscar for Best Picture of 1957, is a film about willpower. A group of British soldiers are taken to a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp and forced to build a bridge to help the Japanese cause during World War II. An English colonel, played brilliantly by Alec Guinness, must clash repeatedly with the POW camp commander, played by Sessue Hayakawa. They differ greatly over the application of the Geneva Convention rules to the camp, and Hayakawa's Col. Saito tries any number of ways to break the spirit of Guinness' Col. Nicholson. He fails, of course, in this class of wills and then finds himself in the position of having Nicholson take charge of the bridge's construction. (Nicholson wants to prove the superiority of the British soldiers in completing a task.)

The other major plotline involves an American soldier, Commander Shears, played by William Holden, who escapes from the camp only to be "forced" into returning to help destroy the bridge that Nicholson and his men have built. Shears is a reluctant warrior, to say the least, particularly after spending time in the military hospital and being treated as a dignitary. However, he too must force himself to see the project through to the end. And there are numerous scenes of the shirtless Holden throughout the movie. I'm starting to wonder if Hollywood cast him on his chest alone rather than his considerable acting talent.

There's much to be admired in The Bridge on the River Kwai. The acting is all first-rate; each member of the cast is well-suited to his or her role. The location shooting in Sri Lanka captures the teeming, humid jungle that is the locale for the action, and the sequence involving the explosion of the bridge just as a train crosses it is justifiably a highlight. The screenplay itself, originally credited to novelist Pierre Boulle but really written by blacklisted authors Michael Wilson and Carl Foreman, is sharp in its insights into the men and the military structures that they represent. Among the actors, Guinness stands out for the cleverness with which his Col. Nicholson takes over control of the camp from Col. Saito, and Holden is able to bring his usual level of charm to the role of the American who would much rather lie on the beach with a beautiful nurse.

The Bridge on the River Kwai was directed by David Lean, and it's really a masterpiece. His ability to control massive numbers of actors is unparalleled. You sometimes have to remind yourself that this film uses no computer-generated imagery. Those are real mean standing in formation each day. Lean's movies tend to be large-scale films, movies about historical events with personal stories embedded within the larger framework.

I like the tension of this film. Col. Saito has a deadline of May 12 to complete the bridge and please his superiors, and he's willing to do almost anything to ensure its completion. Hayakawa portrays Saito's monomaniacal nature well; he was a very deserving nominee for Best Supporting Actor that year (ironically, the only Oscar the film lost out of eight nominations overall). He's particularly good when he tries to bribe Guinness' Nicholson with food after placing the Englishman in "the box" for several days in tropical heat. You sense that he knows he's going to lose to Nicholson all along.

This film is a good example of how the Academy does, sometimes, get it right. The Bridge on the River Kwai won seven awards in 1957, and it deserves its standing as a classic film. It's less a film about war than an examination of the different motivations that people have, about what makes them "tick." As such, it provides some keen psychological insight that is just as potent today as it was more than fifty years ago. It also has one of the greatest ending sequences in the history of film. If you've never experienced it yourself, you'll relish it upon your first viewing.

Shanghai Express (1931-1932)

The primary appeal of Shanghai Express, nominated for Best Picture of 1931-1932, is Marlene Dietrich, of course. Was there ever a more glamorous actress than Dietrich? Here, as the notorious Shanghai Lily, she wears some of the most fabulous gowns ever captured on film. It's tough to take your eyes off her when she boards the train in a gown capped by long black feathers. Later she's a vision in fur. It's really quite astonishing to think any woman would have gone to such lengths to dress this way for a train ride, even in the 1930s, but who cares so long as it adds to the Dietrich legend?

The story is simple, really. Passengers board a train in Peking during a civil war in China. Among the passengers is an Army doctor, played by the suave Clive Brook, who last saw Lily about five years earlier, when she was known as Magdalen. As she puts it, however, "It took more than one man to change my name to Shanghai Lily." Great line. The rest of the passengers debate the merits of having such a woman on board--well, such women, since Anna May Wong is along for the ride as Hui Fei, another woman of questionable morals.

The train is stopped first by government troops, who take a rebel spy off the train. Then it is stopped again, this time by rebels, who force each of the passengers (the main ones, anyway) to undergo questioning. These rebels are led by one of the men who has been on the train all along, Henry Chang, played by the Swedish Warner Oland several years before he gained greater fame as the movies' Charlie Chan. Brook's Doc Harvey is taken hostage, and Shanghai Lily makes a deal to save him that causes her to lose Harvey's trust.

This is a tightly paced film; it moves as swiftly as the train itself does at times. It's beautifully photographed, certainly deserving of its Oscar for Best Cinematography. It's an early classic of the sound era, with some memorable supporting characters and clever wordplay. However, it's Dietrich who will have your attention from the moment that she appears on the screen. Watch and be amazed.

King Solomon's Mines (1950)

I don't recall exactly the first time I saw King Solomon's Mines, a nominee for Best Picture of 1950. I must have been a boy. However, I've seen it several times in my life and always enjoyed it. The beauty of Africa is captured so magnificently on film here. This is one of the most gloriously photographed movies of the last century and deservedly won the Oscar for Best Cinematography.

Stewart Granger plays Allan Quatermain, one of those Great White Hunter types in Africa during the latter part of the 19th century. He is enlisted by an Englishwoman, Elizabeth Curtis (played by Deborah Kerr), to search for her husband, who has gone in search of the legendary diamond mines of King Solomon. Along for the trip is her brother, John Goode, played by the always reliable Richard Carlson (one of the best things about The Creature from the Black Lagoon, just as an aside). There are also several African tribesmen who help (initially) in the journey into territory that has not yet been explored by whites. Quatermain takes the job because of the amount of money he's offered, but he also seems to want to bolster his ego by being the first white man to make his way through the middle part of the continent.

Along the way, the various travelers encounter a variety of animals: elephants and giraffes and lions and crocodiles and...well, you name it. I suspect many of the animals in the film are not actually native to the specific region of Africa in which the film is set, but no matter. It's a thrill to see them all and to watch Kerr's reaction to them. She seems to be a magnet for wild animals. The cheetah that strolls into camp late at night attacks only her tent. The giant snake (a constrictor?) also attacks only her. Even a giant spider finds only Kerr appealing enough to attach itself to her clothing. As the party makes it way through several of the different terrains of Africa, they keep encountering an ever-widening variety of animals.

There is, of course, a growing sexual tension between Quatermaine and Elizabeth as they get closer to finding out what happened to her husband (and deeper into the heart of Africa). What was it about traveling through Africa that made white people so horny in those days? I suppose it's about returning to a more allegedly primitive land, where people act more on instinct than intellect. Nevertheless, Granger and Kerr are a very appealing and attractive couple, and you'll see his interest in her long before she does.

There's a subplot involving an African prince who is returning to claim his throne from an usurping relative. He joins the party and leads them to his village. It's there that the film reaches its climactic moments, and we find out the fate of Mr. Curtis (you won't be that surprised, will you?) and we see how the battle for leadership of the tribe plays itself out. If I have any quibbles with the film, it would be the very short amount of time devoted to this portion of the plot. I do understand that overall this movie is more of a travelogue than an action adventure film (although it does offer lots of action and adventure), but I was curious to see more about how these African villagers lived.

Still, this remains one of my favorite movies from the 1950s. It's often forgotten, probably because we've had so many films set in Africa since then, but this was one of the first actually to be shot on location. There probably wasn't much chance of this film winning Best Picture of 1950--it was up against All about Eve and Sunset Boulevard, after all--but it certainly deserves its spot among the top five.

Mutiny on the Bounty (1935)

Mutiny on the Bounty was chosen as the Best Picture of 1935. It's Hollywood filmmaking from the 1930s at its best. It's the story of a revolt by many of the men aboard the HMS Bounty, whose Captain Bligh uses punishment and intimidation to keep his men in line. After witnessing numerous incidents of Bligh's petty and tyrannical ways, Fletcher Christian leads a revolt and seizes the ship in the South Seas. Bligh, through a remarkable series of events, makes it to safety and devotes himself to seeking out the men responsible for the mutiny in order to see them punished.

Everyone in the cast is first rate. In fact, three of the leads were nominated for Best Actor: Charles Laughton as the spiteful and jealous Bligh, one of his signature roles in a long career; Clark Gable as Christian, a man who never lets his sense of decency be overwhelmed by Bligh's bad behavior; and Franchot Tone as the naive Byam, who is new to his position as a midshipman and is learning just how bad conditions can be. Oddly enough, all three of them lost to Victor McLaglen in The Informer; he was the only other nominee, by the way. My guess is that Academy members had a difficult time discerning which of the three men in Mutiny on the Bounty gave the better performance; they are uniformly excellent here, each one intriguing to watch.

The scenes aboard the ship are particularly interesting for their depictions of the day-to-day existence of sailors. These men would sign on or be forced to sign on for voyages that would take them away from their families and lives back in England for as long as two years. You get a real sense of the drudgery of their lives on board, and you'll feel the desperation they have to return to their homeland. When you add the nastiness of a Captain Bligh, who was apparently a remarkable navigator but an incredibly unpleasant human being, you begin to understand the unrest that develops.

My favorite sequences involve the ship's landing in Tahiti. Charged with obtaining 100 breadfruit plants, the crew soon fall in love with the island and its people. Christian and Byam, in particular, seem to relish their days in the sun with two of the beautiful Tahitian women. After such an idyllic time, why wouldn't Christian be more inclined to object to the harsh conditions aboard the Bounty? And it's hardly surprising that after the mutiny, he would take the ship back to the island to enjoy more of the beauty that he found there. Those scenes in Tahiti certainly must have served to increase tourism.

I wouldn't watch Mutiny on the Bounty to learn the truth about what happened on the ship. Movies aren't really history lessons anyway. But if you want a sense of adventure and some thrills and if you'd like to see some dynamic interaction between talented actors, this movie has it all. It's a good example of the old cliche that "they don't make them like that any more."

The Queen (2006)

Anyone who has seen The Queen, nominated for Best Picture of 2006, is going to be a fan of Helen Mirren's performance as the title character. Mirren won every award in sight that year for this portrayal, and she deserved every one of the honors. She's a master of the subtle facial expressions, of the archly turned phrases, even of the physical movements of Queen Elizabeth II. This is a towering achievement, one that will be studied for years to come. Just watch the moments when Mirren's Queen is watching the news to see how conflicted are the emotions that she is feeling. Here is a woman who sees the world around her changing so fast that she doesn't know if she can respond or adjust in time. it's breathtaking work.

However, as much as this film has been heralded for Mirren's performance, it is also a remarkable achievement on its own terms. It takes a recent historical event, the death of Princess Diana, and shows us--through some interesting speculation on the part of the screenwriter, Peter Morgan--how England and its people dealt with her death. Using actual footage from the time period throughout the fictional story, The Queen manages to bring back to the surface all of those feelings that the British people (indeed, the people of the world) had at the time. Part of that is, of course, due to the events themselves, but showing us documentary footage alone does not always work to raise emotions. The direction and editing of this film also contribute to its impact.

There are also other great performances here. Michael Sheen's portrayal of Tony Blair captures the freshness with which the Prime Minister assumed office and how often he had to change his perspective on the Queen herself during his early days of interacting with her. You sense a growing complexity of understanding on his part of why Elizabeth II reacts to the world the way she does. I also admired James Cromwell's performance as Prince Philip, but I will admit that if Philip is even half as mean-spirited or evil-hearted as portrayed here, he is truly a villain. Helen McCrory provides able support at Cherie Blair, and Sylvia Syms is quite funny (perhaps unintentionally so at times) as the Queen Mother.

I can still recall clearly Diana's death. My partner at the time was English, and I remember his sister calling to tell us to watch the news. For the next few days, we spent a lot of time watching BBC America and going online to find out more information. So I was quite familiar with the events that occurred after Diana's passing, including the reaction of the British people to the Queen's seeming indifference. I think it's a testament to the strength of The Queen that even though someone like myself is aware of the "public" events that it depicts, this film still manages to intrigue us by showing us the "private" aspect of them as well. That's a mark of an outstanding film.

Since You Went Away (1944)

Since You Went Away, which was nominated for Best Picture of 1944, is a war movie that is set on the homefront. It's about what happens to the people who are left behind during wartime, the family members who have to learn to cope without always knowing where their loved ones are. This is an epic film in many ways, covering several years during World War II and several generations of one family. Since You Went Away was pretty unusual for its time, a film that showed that everyone, whether fighting directly in battle or not, must face sacrifices during wartime, and as such, it is a worthy addition to the list of Oscar-nominated films from the era.

The film begins as Anne Hilton (Claudette Colbert) returns from seeing her husband Tim leave for the war. She and her two daughters, Jane (Jennifer Jones) and Bridget (Shirley Temple), began to adjust to life without him by taking in a boarder and cutting corners wherever possible, including finding other employment for their maid Fidelia (Hattie McDaniel). Anne spends some time with a friend of the family who is in the Navy, Tony (Joseph Cotton), and Jane, after initially thinking that she loves Tony, meets and falls in love with a young soldier, Bill (Robert Walker), who is trying to prove to his grandfather that he is worthy of the family name. The grandfather, Colonel Smollett (Monty Woolley), is quite conveniently the boarder in the Hilton home.

You'll see from those names in parenthesis above that this film has an all-star cast, and they are all excellent here. Colbert is a warm presence, a woman who tries to keep her family together despite the enormity of the sadness she feels when her husband is gone. Jones is very charming as a beautiful young girl who has to grow into a woman during the course of the film. She faces a series of devastating events for someone so young, and Jones is particularly good at depicting the quickness with which young women can change emotions. Walker is very funny as the overly polite young man who wants so desperately to get approval from his only remaining family member. His scenes at the train station with Jones are some of the best of the film. I know that the scene involving the train's departure has been parodied numerous times over the years, but it still feels fresh here, thanks to Jones and Walker.

There are some interesting cameos here. Guy Madison, surely one of the most handsome men ever to be in the movies, plays a sailor on his last night in town who befriends Jones and Walker's characters. The legendary Alla Nazimova, the silent screen star whose life was as flamboyant as her film roles, has a bit part as a European refugee who works beside Anne at a factory. And, even though it isn't a cameo, I have to mention my beloved Agnes Moorehead, who plays a wealthy divorcee who wears out her welcome very quickly with the Hilton family.

Since You Went Away may seem overly sentimental nowadays, and certainly no one would make a film like this today without some sense of irony or sarcasm. Yet I think it earns its emotions honestly. So many mothers and children and other family members in real life endured what the Hiltons endure in this movie. When Anne says she wants to do more to support the war effort, you understand the source of her desires clearly. She is like so many women during World War II, who although still in the United States, felt a strong connection to their husbands fighting in far-flung parts of the world. So many young women like Jane fell in love with soldiers during a time of great emotional upheaval, and their love was real and honest. What this film manages to capture is the "other half" of a time period that has been so thoroughly discussed in terms of the battles and lives of soldiers. It's a tender, sweet film that very rarely rings false.

Babe (1995)

You'd have to be a rather hard-hearted person not to fall in love with Babe, a nominee for Best Picture of 1995. This is a magical film, one that astounds you with its technical achievements, certainly, but also with its ability to earn each of its heartfelt emotional turns. It's one of the few children's movies ever to be nominated for Best Picture, but it certainly deserves its place on the list.

The plot itself is pretty fanciful. A young pig, after watching his mother leave for what he thinks is some sort of "pig's paradise" (she's really going to slaughter), becomes the prize in a contest at a local fair. He's won by Farmer Hoggett (the great James Cromwell), who starts to notice some interesting "talents" in his new farm animal. It isn't long before the farmer begins training the pig to herd sheep. He even takes the extraordinary step of entering the pig in a sheep dog competition.

What you quickly learn as you watch Babe is that this little pig is so naive about the world. He faces every situation and every person or animal with an openness that is charming and sweet. He becomes Everypig in a way. We would all want to go through life with as generous a spirit as Babe has. He can befriend a duck or some dogs or an ailing sheep; you name it, Babe can find some way to get along with it. He even wants to be close to Dutchess, as mean-spirited a cat as you'll ever find in the movies.

I know people are fond of saying that this is a children's movie that isn't just for children. That is, at times, such a cliche these days. But I don't think this film is condescending in order to appeal to adults. It tackles some of the grim aspects of farm life, like the slaughter of animals for food and the attacks by outsiders like wolves, without flinching. I also don't think that it is written at such a level that adults can't appreciate how glorious Babe's worldview is; to borrow a line from another Oscar-nominated movie of a couple of years later, Babe makes us want to be better people. Or better pigs? Whichever. Just watch it and enjoy. Allow yourself to be swept away in the world that the filmmakers have created. As Hoggett puts it, "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

The Ox-Bow Incident (1943)

Many, many years ago, when I was an undergraduate majoring in journalism, I decided to enroll in an elective class entitled "Film and Literature" offered by the English Department. It turned out to be one of the most demanding and most rewarding classes I ever took at the university level. I learned so much about how to understand and interpret a film from that class, and I looked forward each Wednesday night to the screenings we had in the School of Architecture's auditorium. This was a bit before the days of videotape being so widespread, so we were watching 35mm prints of most of the films. For three of the movies, we also read the books, A Clockwork Orange, A Passage to India, and The Ox-Bow Incident.

I had read Walter Van Tilburg Clark's novel of The Ox-Bow Incident, based upon a series of true events, before we watched the film. As powerful as the book is--and it is a gripping story--the movie was a more powerfully emotional experience. It begins with Henry Fonda and Harry Morgan's characters riding into town (after a dog crosses their path) and ends with them riding out of town (with the dog crossing the road after they leave). Between those parallel moments, the plot moves very precisely as a posse, acting upon a report of a rancher's death, goes in search of his murderers. When they find three men outside of town with cattle bearing the rancher's brand, the posse decides to hang the three rather than take them back and let the "slow" court system convict them.

There are only seven men in the large posse who attempt to keep the mob from carrying out its plans, but they are all quickly dismissed by the overwhelming sentiment of majority rule. Harry Davenport as Arthur Davies is the chief spokesman for this side; Davenport played supporting parts in dozens of films, but he was never better than he is here as a man who knows he cannot save three men from a brutal hanging, who tries everything he can to see that justice is actually meted out fairly. Fonda is great as Gil Carter too; he was always at his best when portraying a man with a strong moral center, a man with a clear sense of right and wrong. He and Morgan's Art Croft have some great scenes together, and their interplay shows a strong sense of friendship.

Two of the "convicted" men are also familiar faces. A young (and quite beautiful) Anthony Quinn plays Juan, a man whose past seems to have caught up with him at last. You might take note of the looks Quinn's Juan gives Major Tetley's son; either he's making fun of the younger Tetley for his decidedly unmasculine ways, or there is some sexual tension between them (I prefer to think the latter). The "leader" of the three men who are captured, Donald Martin, is played by Dana Andrews. I met Andrews while I was still a student in Mississippi. He had come to the campus to take part in a film festival in his honor; he was born in Mississippi, after all. I got a chance to interview him for an article, and I watched a series of his movies, including The Ox-Bow Incident for a second time. He was always a reliable actor, especially in roles like this or in The Best Years of Our Lives, roles that gave him a chance to show a range of emotions.

This film is obviously about our concepts of justice, about vigilantism, about the will of the majority. It's also a very intriguing examination of masculinity. I've already mentioned Major Tetley's son, who is forced into participating in the posse's actions by his father, a monomaniacal former Army officer. He tells his son at one point, "I'll not have no female boys bearing my name." He seems to think that the traits of violence and brutality are keys to being a man, yet the way he is depicted in the film clearly suggest that he is no role model for appropriate masculine behavior. There are other characters who state what they think men are expected to do in a situation like this, and some who question whether the choices they are making are appropriate for men to make. Oddly enough, Jane Darwell's Jenny Grier, the only woman to join the posse and a rather "butch" one at that, has to take the whip used to drive the horses away from the hanged men after all of the others refuse. I find it particularly odd that this film was released in 1943, in the middle of America's involvement in World War II, yet it doesn't take a typically macho posture to what a man should do. In fact, if anything, it raises more questions about men's roles than it settles.

I still think this was one of the best westerns ever made by Hollywood. Although it uses many of the generic conventions associated with those movies, it frequently calls them into question as well. And Fonda's reading of the letter Martin writes to his wife is one of the most heartbreaking sequences in film; the other men, all toughened by the life on the frontier, can barely hold their heads up while he reads. This certainly seems a very downbeat choice for one of the Best Picture nominees of 1943, but enough members of the Academy recognized the quality of this film. Surprisingly, Best Picture was the only nomination for an Oscar that the film received that year.

Judgment at Nuremberg (1961)

Judgment at Nuremberg, one of the nominees for Best Picture of 1961, is really two movies (and it's about as long as two movies as well). In part, it is a courtroom drama, as three American judges attempt in the aftermath of World War II to determine the guilt or innocence of four German judges who used Nazi policies to imprison and sterilize people during the years that Hitler was in power. The film is also about one of the American judges, Dan Haywood (played by Spencer Tracy), and his struggles to make sense of the war and the German people's reactions to it. I have to say that it is somewhat difficult to watch this film at times, given how very differently these two plotlines are presented. If it were strictly a courtroom drama, I think there would probably be a greater sense of tension built through the testimony of various people, played by such notables as Montgomery Clift (who looks so tragic here, so marred was his beauty by a traffic accident years before) and Judy Garland (who takes a couple of small scenes and makes them very memorable).

As it stands, Judgment at Nuremberg tries to show the complexities of German society during and after the war. It raises important questions, particularly ones about the culpability of "ordinary" citizens whose government has take a country down a path of certain destruction. This isn't a particularly comfortable film to watch at times, especially given the graphic nature of some of the testimony. I'm not sure how revelatory some of the points made would have been in 1961, but they must have been shocking to those in Nuremberg and the rest of the world so soon after the war had ended. Even if the imagery of the concentration camps that is used as an exhibit at one point in the film is more familiar to us now, it still has the power to overwhelm us emotionally.

There are many fine performances here. Tracy is good, solid as always. I've already mentioned Clift and Garland, but I would also single out Burt Lancaster. He is exceptional as Ernst Janning, and the testimony he gives is some of the most powerful of the movie. Here is a man who knows what he has done and must now learn to deal with the aftermath of his actions; you can sense just how conflicted he is. Marlene Dietrich, still so beautiful at the age of 60, almost steals the movie in her scenes with Tracy's judge. She is, at turns, tender and seductive and ferocious; her discussion of how much she and people like her hated Hitler is one of the high points of the film. Richard Widmark plays the prosecutor, and his single-mindedness is sharp and intense; it's a pretty devastating moment when you learn why he is so tenacious in his attempts to bring these men to justice.

If you pay attention, you'll also admire a young William Shatner, years before Star Trek and before he became a bit of a parody of himself on Boston Legal. And you'll also see Werner Klemperer as one of the defendants, in a performance that is radically different from his role on Hogan's Heroes. The couple who play Haywood's housekeeper and butler, Virginia Christine and Ben Wright, while he is in Germany are also exceptional actors in small, significant parts. Tracy's questioning of them one night in the kitchen allows them to reveal the depth of conflicting emotions they still feel about the Nazi era. It's a small but emotionally resonant scene.

I have to say that I am surprised after watching the film that Maximilian Schell won the Oscar for Best Actor for his role as Janning's attorney, Hans Rolfe. It isn't that he isn't good in the part--he certainly is--but aside from one showy moment where he asks how widespread the blame for what happened during World War II should be, he doesn't get to do very much with this role. He mostly just stands and asks questions, something that Widmark manages to do with a greater sense of fire than Schell does much of the time (although Widmark wasn't nominated for his role). It's a key moment in the film when Schell's Rolfe puts the question of justice on trial, certainly, but nothing to compare with what Lancaster gets (and Lancaster wasn't nominated that year either). To watch Lancaster's "defense" is to watch a masterful actor at his peak.

Ivanhoe (1952)

Ivanhoe, nominated for Best Picture of 1952, is the kind of old-fashioned entertainment that the studio system turned out with regularity. This film adaptation of Sir Walter Scott's novel is very handsomely produced, with all kinds of lavish costumes and sets; it's from MGM, after all, and they certainly knew how to spend money at that studio. It has a pretty sold cast , with such stars as Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor (obviously, no relation), Joan Fontaine, and George Sanders. Unfortunately, it all adds up to pretty mediocre work. Aside from the obvious attention to detail in the production and some energetic battle sequences, there's little to recommend this film as one of the best of the era.

Robert Taylor plays Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, returning from the Crusades where he fought with King Richard the Lionhearted. He finds England under the control of the evil Prince John, who refuses to help raise the ransom needed to free his brother from prison in Austria. Ivanhoe joins up with Robin Hood and his men, and they attempt to collect enough money to get the rightful ruler of England returned to his throne. While this is all going on, there are subplots involving Ivanhoe's emotional tug-of-war between the Lady Rowena (Fontaine, who was apparently trying to capture some of her sister Olivia de Havilland's glory from the days of The Adventures of Robin Hood) and the beautiful Rebecca (Elizabeth Taylor, in one of her early starring roles as an adult), a Jewish woman who is forbidden by her father from falling in love with a non-Jew.

I enjoyed the scenes at the tournaments, where the knights jousted. Those are pretty thrilling to watch, and there's a true sense of excitement at watching Ivanhoe take on all of Prince John's knights in the tournament. There's also an extended siege at a castle where the Lady Rowena and Rebecca and her father and Ivanhoe and assorted other people are held hostage by Sanders' emotionally complex Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert. Robin's men arrive to help rescue everyone, so there are many arrows flying and lots of armor clanging and drawbridges and a fire and, well, a lot of fun for the viewers.

I was never that much of a fan of Scott's novel, and this movie does suffer a bit from having that melodramatic book as its source material. I can certainly understand how this film would have been successful during its time period. A lavish costume drama with state of the art battle sequences would be tough to resist. It just doesn't seem to rise to the level of one of Best Picture. Good fun, certainly, but not great.

Platoon (1986)

Platoon, the Oscar winner for Best Picture of 1986, is Oliver Stone's examination of the nature of humanity. Through the eyes of a newly arrived soldier, a "grunt" played by Charlie Sheen, Stone's film attempts to show the two paths that Private Chris Taylor could take during the Vietnam War. He could turn out to be so hardened by the war that killing and destruction seem almost second nature to him, as in the case of Sergeant Barnes, played by Tom Berenger. Or he could become a man who has not yet lost his sensitivity, who still seems to harbor some sort of concern for his fellow human beings, as in the case of Sergeant Elias, played by Willem Defoe.

This morality tale plays itself out in the jungles of Vietnam, as a troop of soldiers makes its way along the border with Cambodia. There are several skirmishes with the Vietnamese soldiers and their allies. Many American soldiers are killed or wounded. Many villagers are harassed and beaten and killed in graphic, brutal fashion during the course of the movie as well. Platoon has numerous scenes that are incredibly uncomfortable to watch. Unlike several of Stone's other films, the narrative is relatively straightforward and easy to follow. As with all good war movies, this film suggests that the emotional and physical and psychological cost of war is just too great. It is, unsurprisingly, an anti-war film (as most of the good ones are).

There is perhaps a bit too obvious a choice that Stone makes in the fight for Taylor's soul between the two sergeants. One of them is quite clearly depicted as a Christ figure at one point. And the other has a series of jagged scars running down his face as if to suggest that he is torn on the inside as well, that he is "not whole." However, even if the choice is obvious, that doesn't mean that the struggle between the two men is any less realistic. This film features some harrowing scenes involving the two sergeants, and their conflict is what drives much of the dramatic tension throughout the movie.

A lot of people who would become famous later on in their careers appear in this film: Johnny Depp, Forest Whitaker, John McGinley, Kevin Dillon. They're all good here, as are the three lead actors. This is an ensemble film, despite what the billing might suggest. Stone himself even makes a cameo appearance. (What he does to his own character is somewhat ironic, I think.)

If you haven't experienced or studied what the Vietnam era was like, this film can at least give you some perspective of how and why soldiers returned from the war changed. You can't go through what these men saw and did without being different from the way you arrived. Sheen's voice-over narration attempts to capture this sentiment, but I think that's the weakest part of the film. You don't really need words to tell you how much he sees and what he's thinking as the movie progresses. It's pretty obvious and clear.

Jerry Maguire (1996)

It's a testament to the script by Cameron Crowe that Jerry Maguire, nominated for Best Picture of 1996, is still so memorable. Think of some of the more famous phrases from this movie: "Show me the money." "You complete me." "You had me at hello." "Did you know the human head weighs eight pounds?" Well, perhaps not the last one so much, but I bet even it brought a smile to some people's faces. Crowe manages in Jerry Maguire to make a movie about the redemption of a man's soul that avoids most of the cliches that are often associated with such subject matter. I hadn't watched this movie in at least a decade because it has gotten a bit fashionable to claim that it really isn't as good as we remember. But it is, actually, well-acted, well-written, well-directed, all high quality.

Maguire, played by Tom Cruise (who is perfect for this part), is one of the most successful sports agents around when he has a crisis of conscience and writes a late-night mission statement that suggests that his firm become more focused on the individual players rather than the money. Naturally, he is fired from his job almost immediately for saying something so heretical in the hardcore capitalist world of sports agency. He decides to form his own company with one employee, an accountant from his old firm, played by Renee Zellweger (a few years before she became so self-important and transformed herself into The Zellweger, as friends and I refer to her). He also has only one client, a football player with enormous talent and an ego to match (played with enormous vigor by Cuba Gooding Jr.). Jerry marries Zellweger's Dorothy, at first because he enjoys her company and loves her son, the adorable Jonathan Lipnicki, but soon he begins spending more time with Gooding's Rod Tidwell at his football games than with his family. He is forced, through a series of events, to confront his weaknesses, leading to one of the more romantic scenes in films from the last quarter century.

I expect many people have seen this film and remember its basic plot. You probably also recall how good the three lead players are. What you may have forgotten is the stellar work done by Bonnie Hunt as Laurel, Dorothy's sister. Hunt has always been the kind of actress who enlivens whatever movie (or television show) she's in, and she's great here. She has a deadpan delivery of some great funny lines. My favorite is the advice that she gives Dorothy before the first true date with Jerry: "Don't cry at the beginning of a date. Cry at the end, like I do." Priceless.

This is one of the best performances that Cruise has given in his up-and-down (in terms of quality, that is) career. He's not always my favorite performer--go back and watch The Last Samurai, for example--but this part seems to fit his personality well. Zellweger is also charming here, a trait she would carry on to her work in Nurse Betty but lose by the time she co-starred in Chicago. Gooding won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for this film and gave one of the most exuberant acceptance speeches ever in this history of the awards; see if you can find it online and watch the pure joy that he feels at winning. I'd also single out Regina King, who is excellent as Rod's wife; she almost stole the show again in Ray, the film biography of Ray Charles, as one of Charles' back-up singers and spurned love interests. She has an intensity as an actress that is mesmerizing.

If there is any part of the movie that falls short of the standard set by the cast and the rest of the script, it's the periodic interruption of the story so that Jerry's mentor in the sports agent business can give some more of his patented advice. Much of what he says sounds like so many cliches. For example, near the end of the film, Dicky Fox says, "Hey, I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I failed as much as I succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you my kind of success." Really, Dicky? Thanks. I know these moments are a commentary on the moments of the story involving Jerry, but I do think the film could have done without them and been just as successful.

The Talk of the Town (1942)

The Talk of the Town was nominated for Best Picture of 1942. That was one of the years with 10 films making the final cut, and I'm glad that this film was included because it is very enjoyable. This is a funny movie that takes on the serious topic of how the law is applied differently for people of different backgrounds and social classes. That may seem like an odd combination of tone and topic, but in the hands of Cary Grant and Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman as the lead performers, it's all done with a delicate touch.

Grant plays Leopold Dilg, who is in hiding from the police because he has been charged with arson and murder in the burning of the mill in town; of course, he's really been jailed because his political beliefs clash with those of the mill owner, one of the most powerful men in town. He winds up in the home of a childhood sweetheart of his, Nora Shelley (Arthur). Unfortunately, on the night that he arrives, so does the law professor who has rented Nora's home so that he can finish work on a book. The professor, Michael Lightcap (Colman), wants solitude from the outside world, yet Leopold's case keeps interfering, particularly after Leopold starts to pass himself off as the gardener Joseph and starts having conversations with Lightcap about the nature of the law. (Watching Leopold and Nora try to keep Lightcap from discovering Leopold's true identity is one of the funniest recurring gags in the film.)

In some ways, The Talk of the Town is a movie about a romantic triangle. Both Lightcap and Leopold vie for the attentions of Nora, a schoolteacher who is, thankfully, free during the summers to act as a go-between for the two men. This isn't quite a true screwball comedy, however, especially given the darkness of the subject matter at times. Yet Grant, in particular, is adept at both his physical comedy moments and the serious legal discussions with Colman's professor. I know that Jean Arthur is usually credited as being one of the greatest comic actresses in the movie, but she doesn't seem to be quite as talented as, say, Irene Dunne might have been in the part. Still, she brings a delightful sense of bouyancy to the role. And Colman, saddled with what must necessarily be the most serious role, handles the task with a delicate touch, earning his character's laughs through some careful phrasing and subtle gestures.

Arthur's Nora must choose one of the men by the end of the picture, and I won't spoil it by telling you who it is. One of the great pleasures of watching this film is seeing her go back and forth between the two men in terms of which holds her attention more. I'm not sure you'd necessarily be able to guess her final choice based upon what happens throughout the film; it's that carefully balanced.

Babel (2006)

If I had been allowed to pick the Best Picture of 2006 from the list of nominees, I think I would have probably picked Babel. This is an impressive film in many ways, not the least of which is the scale of the story. A small incident of a woman being accidentally shot in Morocco sets off a series of interconnected events throughout the world. You have to admire the talents of the screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga and director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu for achieving such a vision as this. I do understand that many people felt that Babel covered much of the same territory as Crash, the winner of the Oscar for Best Picture the previous year, particularly the idea that our lives are all in some way connected. However, Babel is a substantially greater film than Crash.

I'll try to make the links briefly between the various stories that unfurl in this movie. The American couple in Morocco (played by Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett) spend some harrowing times in a small village after she is shot and they are both abandoned by the rest of their tour bus. The shooters, two young boys who live with their family isolated among the desert, face the consequences of their actions. The housekeeper charged with the care of the American couple's children decides to take the children with her to Mexico to attend her son's wedding. And a hearing-impaired Japanese girl, still trying to cope with her mother's suicide, misunderstands the intentions of the police who want to question her father, a former owner of the gun that was used in the shooting.

This is very emotional material, and each of the stories is grim and tragic. The performers are all first rate, worthy of the challenges the script confronts them with. I'd single out Adriana Barraza as Amelia, the housekeeper whose life seems to spiral out of control as the film progresses. One horrible accident of fate after another befalls her. Her interrogation scene is one of the most heartwrenching moments in this movie. She is ably supported in most of her scenes by Gael Garcia Bernal as her nephew. The actress who plays the Japanese daughter is Rinko Kikuchi, and she is amazing in a non-speaking part here. There are several moments in the film where you are allowed to experience events the way that she does, particularly her entrance to a nightclub. It's a trick by the filmmakers that could have failed in the wrong hands, but Kikuchi's expressive face draws viewers in. The actor Koji Yakusho plays her father with such a degree of honesty; you can sense how much he too has lost with his wife's death and how little he seems to understand his daughter.

Of course, a complex film like this does require one's attention, and the ability to handle multiple plot lines, especially when they are not all resolved in some sort of happy way, seems to be lost among most moviegoers today. Yet if you watch this film and pay attention, if you are willing to invest the time, you are substantially rewarded. We can't expect a film to teach us all we need to know about people of different cultures or how we are linked to each other in ways we could not have contemplated, but a pat resolution shouldn't be the goal of every movie. That's what makes Babel stand out and above most of the films being made these days.

The King and I (1956)

I have always loved The King and I, which was nominated for Best Picture of 1956. It's one of the greatest of the film musicals, in my opinion, and I've always managed to stay completely engrossed each time I watch it (even though I know how it's going to turn out). This is an almost perfect film, from the performances to the production and costume design to the glorious music. To see it again it is one of the highlights of this project.

An English widow travels with young son in tow to Siam to become the teacher of the King's many children. She, of course, must learn to adjust to the very different way of life in Siam (what is now called Thailand), but she also manages to help the king and others in Siam adjust gradually to the ways of the English and "the West" as well. The King (played to the hilt by Yul Brynner after several years in the role on Broadway) always seems to understand just a bit more than he ever reveals to Anna; the grin on his face shows how pleased he is with his cleverness.

Deborah Kerr has a part that allows her to shine here. She is at turns funny, warm, gentle, and then firm, dogmatic, demanding. Yet she always is generous as a performer, interacting with her fellow actors in such a collegial way. Watching her with the King's children, in particular, is such a delight. Their performance of "Getting to Know You" is almost everyone's favorite scene. Kerr was good in almost every role she played, and it's in this film that you see how gifted she was at what is on the surface a "lighter" part.

There is an intriguing subplot involving Tuptim, a newly arrived slave from Burma who is expected to become another of the King's wives. She is in love with someone from her native country and manages on several occasions to express her outrage at the treatment of women and others who are enslaved in Siam. The most vivid expression of her outrage, of course, is her adaptation of Uncle Tom's Cabin to a Siamese setting. I doubt that the film (or the musical upon which it is based) is all that faithful to Siamese culture, but it is a dazzling centerpiece of the film anyway. And Tuptim is played by the amazing Rita Moreno, a multi-talented performer who had not yet managed to be recognized for the star quality that she exhibits even in this small part.

The songs are amazing, some of the best Rodgers and Hammerstein work ever. My particular favorites are "Hello, Young Lovers" (especially the great Mabel Mercer's later version of it) and "We Kiss in a Shadow" and "Something Wonderful." However, few musical sequences on film are as grand as watching Brynner and Kerr performing (well, Kerr dancing, but Marni Nixon singing) "Shall We Dance?" When the King takes Anna's hand for the part of this scene where they are not singing but only dancing, well, you can't do much better than that.

Do make sure that you see this film in its widescreen version. A pan-and-scan version of the film cuts off so much that you don't want to miss. I think that pan-and-scan versions should be banned, but I suppose too many people don't realize just how much of a movie they are sometimes missing when the sides are chopped off of a widescreen film like The King and I.

L.A. Confidential (1997)

L.A. Confidential, a nominee for Best Picture of 1997, is somewhat of an homage to those classic films of the 1970s like Chinatown. If it isn't quite up to the standard of that much more heralded earlier film, that doesn't mean that L.A. Confidential isn't without its own qualities that recommend it. I can still recall walking out of the theater that year talking about how much I had enjoyed this film; it was one of my favorites that year. Too bad it was up against the monster that was Titanic.

I'm not sure that a film like this can be summarized easily. It's about police corruption and the mob and the ways that money can influence those in power. It's about the attempts by two young police officers (both played by Australians, Russell Crowe and Guy Pearce) to maintain a sense of integrity in the face of overwhelming pressure. It links murders and call girls and freeway development projects. On that level, it is almost as complex a movie as Chinatown. (Okay, I suppose such comparisons are inevitable since both films are set in the earlier glory days of Los Angeles, so I'll try to stop now.)

The cast is great overall. Crowe and Pearce were making their first appearances in a major American film. Crowe has, of course, gone on to much success here in the U.S., and you can see why in the tenacity and stoicism that he brings to his character of Bud White. Pearce has a tougher role; his Ed Exley must serve as a moral compass for the filmgoer. We expect Exley to do what is right at all times, and when he fails us, it is as disheartening a moment as you are likely to find in a movie where corruption is a standard for one's behavior. This is the same actor who played a drag queen so effectively in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but he's reconstituted himself in this part to demonstrate almost the opposite end of the feminine-masculine scale.

There are other great performers here as well. Kevin Spacey plays a cop who has fallen a bit too in love with his celebrity status. Danny DeVito is perfectly cast as the sleazy journalist who finds a great deal of pleasure (and profit) in exposing or even creating scandals involving Hollywood stars. James Cromwell is quite stern as the police captain who is willing to use brutality against organized crime just as long as he doesn't necessarily have to get his hands dirty himself. And Kim Basinger is good here as a woman made to look like Veronica Lake as a part of a call girl ring that fulfills men's fantasies to sleep with a star (or, perhaps, someone who just looks like a star). I still think Gloria Stuart should have won Best Supporting Actress for her role in Titanic (or perhaps Julianne Moore, who was terrific in Boogie Nights, or Joan Cusack, so funny in In & Out) that year, but Basinger is well cast and shows a depth to her performance that she had not demonstrated before.

The key to the movie's overall success is, of course, the award-winning script by Brian Helgeland and Curtis Hanson, using a James Ellroy novel as source material. It has a structure that weaves together multiple layers and dozens of characters, yet it always manages to maintain its tension and intrigue. I still am not sure that I completely accept the very last scene of the film--you'll know what I mean when you watch it yourself--but the rest stands with some of the best work put on film in the past quarter of a century.