I remember in the early 90s when Single White Female and Indecent Proposal came out, it kind of felt like crazy murderous chicks were a fresh film idea. But Leave Her to Heaven had about a fifty year head start on the concept. Ellen Berent is so pretty and so devoted to Cornel Wilde's character Richard, that some early red flags are missed, like her saying crazy stuff about him looking like her father, or the fact that she could probably kill someone with her cheekbones alone. The more Ellen feels other people impinge on her relationship with Richard, the more crazy murderous she gets. There is one scene where Ellen willfully watches someone dear to her husband die, in a manner so coldblooded and disturbing that I wonder how it got by the censors at the time - I mean, this movie is from 1945. Later Ellen thinks she can repair things with husband Richard by having a baby, but then loses interest in the idea, upon coming to the conclusion that the pregnancy itself is a threat to their relationship. Ellen then dolls up in what I will call her special baby killing lipstick and special baby killing heels and takes some measures to alter her family way.

After that, when things have shockingly not improved with her hubby, she gets truly creative with her next murderous impulse. This time, she chooses to eliminate someone you will not expect, and to craftily frame her cousin for the death, because she jealously suspects said cousin and her hubby of having an affair. Her cousin, played by Jeanne Crain, also has remarkable cheekbones, and though she is less crazy or evil, she's the one now facing a murder trial. (I have discovered that many of these older dramas feature courtroom showdowns, often wherein people have to admit secret love tearfully on the stand. You can look for such a moment in this film. And, while you're at it, check out Vincent Price playing a lawyer.)

I know I have already given away some big plot points, but I am going to try to avoid spoiling the end. Let's just say, I think we're supposed to think this movie has a happy ending, for a few of the characters at least. But I actually wind up thinking that maybe twisted Ellen was right about a thing or two. Not about all the murdering, of course, but if you watch it, you might see what I mean. And whether or not you come to the same conclusion, you'll be treated to a surprisingly creepy Technicolor treat.

The truth is, when I initially encountered the title Peyton Place on a list of movies that I had to do some work on, I couldn't have been less interested. It sounded to me like some saccharin fifties era bundle of lies about American life, and I made no plans to watch it. (Especially not when we have like, what, half a dozen Alien Nation movies I need to catch up on? I mean, come on, I have priorities.) But my preconception was all wrong. There's a lot more than meets the eye to Peyton Place, and that, in itself, is exactly what this movie is all about. Allison MacKenzie, the protagonist, puts a point on it, saying that "Everybody in this town hides behind plain wrappers." Because, behind the cute outfits and Labor Day parades and tidy clapboard houses, some real shit goes down in Peyton Place.

Let me give you a little more info. The story centers around the graduating high school class of 1941 in a quaint New England town. The young adults struggle (particularly with their parents) to grow up and find their way, while the adults of the town have some problems and secrets of their own. There is a pervasive social pressure to keep up appearances, but in reality, things are not what they seem. I'm not gonna tell you who does what, but let's just say that within this seemingly ideal little town, people gossip, lie, drink, fight, get laid, and slap their children. There's a suicide, a rape and a murder. And in addition to all that, you can count on World War II to come along and complicate things. The story is carefully constructed and compelling, each character has something to do, each scene serves a purpose. It is long, but hey, it's in Cinemascope and Lana Turner looks hot in lots of different outfits. The movie really captures a sense of time and place different from our own, which is something I love in a film. But, at the same time, the central idea of the film still seems fresh 50 years later.

Now, make no mistake: all my praises aside, there is some big time melodrama in Peyton Place. Particularly when it comes to the romance between Mrs. MacKenzie - Lana Turner's emotionally stiffened character - and Mr. Rossi, the impressive stranger who comes into town and tries to unlock her heart. There's one emotional confrontation between them that's almost laugh out loud funny. Never in reality does someone just blow into your life and start yelling at you about how you handle your emotions. But that is why we have melodrama (and bad action movies), so we can have characters distill one another's inner lives into over simplified dialogue. And man do I love it.

Peyton Place was nominated for 9 Oscars in 1958, acclaim I think it wholly deserves. But it was totally shut out! I wonder how the studio and the creators felt about that. (Interestingly, that's the same year Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison  was in the running! I am turning into a 50s movie junkie.) Luckily for us, even if it wasn't recognized by the Academy, we can still appreciate and enjoy it today. So file this one on the growing list of movies from the fifties that surprise and impress me. Because Peyton Place holds up to the test of time, and totally exceeds expectations.

I didn't watch Mother, Jugs & Speed for months because I was superlatively turned off by the title. Specifically the word Jugs in the title, unsurprisingly. But I wound up watching it on the recommendation of my boss, which was way fortunate because it's so good. (Plus now I get the title. Which I could explain to you, but I won't, and instead just leave the mystery hanging out there as another impetus for you to watch the movie.)

Mother, Jugs & Speed is about a lawless Los Angeles ambulance crew and the many situations - ranging from misadventures to disasters - that the drivers encounter and alternately create.

Something awesome happened in American cinema in the 70s. Filmmakers started making movies about real people, real behavior, real life crazy shit. Like sex, drugs, death, drugs, indifference and more drugs. And they dared to be irreverent in their treatment of these things. Like M*A*S*H, the classic of the genre (if you want to call it a genre), this movie is brilliantly irreverent, delicately dancing between black and poignant and hilarious. Unlike M*A*S*H, Mother, Jugs & Speed has a well-constructed story, with characters that develop and storylines that pay off. Even the jokes have legs. But this smartly dovetailing plot is really just a backdrop to the performances, the comedy, the irreverence and the heart. M, J and S even manages to answer the question of what a human life is worth, and it does so within a minute or so of the movie's start.

Each one is worth $42.50. Plus mileage.

Ed Avery, played by James Mason, gets some weird disease that causes him a lot of pain, and that will kill him if he doesn't take a magic pill that is fortunately available to him. But he starts taking it too much, and consequently he starts BUGGING OUT. His wife, son and close family friend played by Walter Matthau grapple helplessly with his escalating mental illness. Though Ed denies any ill effects from the magic pill, his doctor warns that "Sometimes we see it produce some pretty queer mental effects." Queer, like, say, very enthusiastically buying your wife dresses you can't afford? Abusing your son with vigorous football practice followed by vigorous math problem sets? Berating the milkman about how much the milk bottles jingle and jangle? Ed's madness is at times comic; his family's paralysis at dealing with it is horrific.

I suspect that a contemporary review of Bigger Than Life wouldn't look at the flaws of the domestic situation of post-war America as one of the core motifs of the movie, but it's inescapable in a modern viewing. It's the heart of the problem depicted. The sort of Feminine Mystique, institutionalized craziness of being a housewife that dictated that you defer to your man in all ways is really pushed to its warped limits when your guy becomes a LOONY who refuses to let your son eat and accuses you of getting it on with Walter Matthau and yet YOU STILL DO WHAT HE SAYS. The movie spotlights how these suffocating artificial constructs about the way relationships and finances and appearances were supposed to be effectively made it impossible for this family to cope with something as demanding as insanity. Either Barbara Rush's character's behavior is really representative of how a wife would've tried to deal with a nutjob husband back in the day, or she's just a major sap. I wonder.

Like Ray's more well known Rebel Without a Cause, in scene after scene of Bigger Than Life you can see the careful thought that went into staging the actors and placing the camera. Lights and shadows and camera angles are all very deliberately used. No detail or symbol is overlooked, from the broken bathroom mirror to the delightful choice that circus music blare from the TV at the height of Ed's psychosis, to an ominous red light at the hospital. We may as well just call it the crazy light. So if you're in the mood for some crazy (either of the pill popping or domestic oppression variety), or of you want to know whether the crazy light is on or off by the end of this tale, take a break from your own day to catch Bigger Than Life.

The Chinese have isolated a magic enzyme that allows them to grow wheat in the jungle and pineapple in the snow. This empowers Mao-dictated red China with the ability to strong arm the rest of the hungry world, but luckily we in the Western world have our own super weapon: Gregory Peck (of course). This time he happens to be a genius chemist, so America (with a little participation from Britain and the Soviet Union) sends him in to try to lift the magically delicious formula with some crafty, enzyme mapping, ping pong diplomacy.

What's changed in the fifteen years since Night People - notably - is that maybe, just maybe, America isn't quite as purely righteous. Or right. This interesting shift is demonstrated in that now instead of just relying on the true patriotism and natural heroism of GP, he gets sent in with a transmitter implanted in his head, so that all of his conversations can be monitored and his every move tracked. And nothing keeps a thriller riveting like some good old, dated technology. There's a whole room of military scientists devoted to listening to his activities and monitoring his vitals with dials and tickers and the like, which is particularly entertaining when the Reds try to compel Gregory Peck to be entertained by a bright young naked thing by the name of Ting Ling. And though Gregory Peck doesn't know it, beyond just their power of omnipresent observation, maybe the guys running this operation can detonate the little transmitter in his brain and blow him to pieces if he gets out of line. The American military man who is controlling this operation wears glasses with one tinted eye, so we know for sure that this situation is dubious.

Even armed as he is with his patented manliness, knowledge of Chinese, and a mastery of chemistry that turns out to have more than one application in these spy games, can Gregory Peck get the job done and overcome the Red Terror all around him? And what about the danger that may be in his own head, courtesy of the U. S. of A.? Can America be trusted anymore than China with the magic enzyme? This movie asks that question, and thereby presents an uncertain picture of America and of the security of our world. But one thing still remains true: we can always count on Gregory Peck.

I initially watched Night People because the title is so good. It's set in occupied Berlin in the 50s, and the military political situation is super tense. Gregory Peck plays Colonel Van Dyke, a soldier diplomat who talks fast and sure and intimidates and impresses people with his fast sure talking. He sometimes has to sleep in because all this tricky international business keeps him up late at night (thus the film's title). Like when a young American soldier gets abducted by the Ruskies, who may in fact be some holdover bad Germans. To complicate things, the abducted kid's Dad blows into Berlin - from Toledo, no less - and demands "Action." Dad, quite nicely played by Broderick Crawford, is used to being the fastest surest talker in town - but he's out of his league in divided Berlin. And certainly no match for Gregory Peck.

The situation is a hot mess, but GP, being the able fast-talking protector of our way of life that he is, navigates the whole murderous, double-crossing, poison-laced jumble and probably still makes it to his 1 AM poker game. And I think he's doing his secretary. It's implied, although ambiguous, since he's always bossing her around - or was that supposed to be normal? He also repeatedly calls a nurse "Nursey." And at one point, while talking about this hottie German Frau who negotiates some of this international intrigue as his agent (and who he also has a history of doing), he proclaims that "If that dame's banging away at the absinthe tonight I'll shoot her straight through the head so help me." In other words, he was the man. And America was lucky to have him.

The lesson of this movie is that if Gregory Peck takes you in his arms and says, "It's alright baby," and he says it fast and sure, it is. You can believe him. That is, of course, unless you're a two-timing, double agent, identity thieving, absinthe-banging Nazi spy. In that case he'll knock you out cold and ship your Kraut carcass off to the Russians. Because Gregory Peck kicks ass for America, so the rest of us can sleep soundly.

THE MOVIE: Moving Violations

THE FURRY: A Duck (extra special bonus points for it not even being a mammal)

THE SITUATION: The duck is getting arrested! And I don't know why! All I know is, this is Furry situational gold. To top things off, the duck is getting pulled out of a paddy wagon that appears to be loaded with other handcuffed Furries. You can see a leopard or something in the background of this picture.

Moving Violations is about a madcap group of traffic violators and the uptight cops who make their lives miserable. It's from 1985, so I figured I would watch it, thinking there might be a high likelihood of my being amused. But then I wound up getting distracted by work, and not fully watching it. Not that it requires a great deal of attention. The bad drivers want their driving privileges restored, a few romances brew, the cops have really uptight sex, and there is some girl with some strange hypochondria. Towards the end of the movie everyone starts running (because they can't drive?) in some sort of climatic rush to a government office, the cops (one in leather shorts - watch to learn more) chasing the driving students, a mass of people rushing the building, and that's when I first saw the handcuffed duck, who's swept up in this mess. And I was very pleased.

I don't know what the duck did to get arrested. The logical assumption might be that the duck committed some sort of moving violation. But what if it was embezzlement? Armed robbery? Solicitation? My mind wanders. I could just watch it more carefully to find out. Or you could watch it and solve the mystery for yourself.

Let us start with impossible love as a good movie device. It's really at the core of so many movies. Impossible as in I am a dainty, classically trained ballet dancer from a privileged background, and you are a thuggy inner city street dancing janitor. Impossible like I am a manly, good looking flannel wearing cowboy and you are a manly, good looking, flannel wearing cowboy. Impossible like that - only in this case, even more so. Because I'm a killing machine Marine and you're a devoted-to-God nun. And we're trapped on an island together, relying on each other for survival, surrounded by the falling bombs of the Pacific theater of World War II. All we have is each other and our fear, and yet we can't get together. And that sure makes it complicated.

There is a reality to this situation which makes everything these characters endure so critical - the stake of real violence. This isn't a freaky Green Goblin ruining a parade. Not some made up aliens or zombies or cars that have transformed into giant humanoid machines in order to carry out an intergalactic fight on our planet. This is mother f-ing World War II, and there are people, lots of real people with real guns, who really want to kill our nun and our Marine. And still, they can't get together. . .

Now I told you straight up that I was going to be a sap with this one. It's a love story more than a war story, and it just punches my secret romantic right in the stomach. Being marooned on an island in the midst of a brutal war forces this unlikely pair into a necessary intimacy. But then the fact that they can't get together is perfectly agonizing, and excruciatingly punctuated by all the moments they share. If you are at all looking for a romantic fix, this is it. Plus Robert Mitchum is all hot and hunky - tough yet vulnerable, brutal yet heroic, doltish in ways but perceptive in others. And also adorable. I would be willing to be stuck on an island with him. But that would be a different story entirely.

2. See Kenny Rogers fall - in head-to-toe matching denim - out of an outhouse window onto a pile of tires. (Okay, so I like watching Kenny Rogers fall. I don't have anything against him, I just find it to be pretty entertaining.)

3. Because while you watch, you can imagine how this movie came to be:
     "Kenny Rogers is a huge star - let's get him into a movie!"
     "Yes! But what would the story be?"
     "Well, naturally we could team him up with a pack of wily, thieving-but-lovable young orphans."
     "The orphans could steal car parts and be excellent mechanics!"
     "And Kenny Rogers could be a NASCAR driver! That way we could fill lots of time with car races and keep the orphans involved."
     "And we can cast a gorgeous woman to costar - got to get some of those soft Kenny Rogers kisses on screen."
     "The orphans and Kenny Rogers won't get along in the beginning, but later, because everyone is so inherently lovable, they will realize they need each other!"
     "This movie's gonna be the best."
     "It'll be gold."
   I like to think it might've happened something like that. You can make up your own scenario though- it's fun.

4. Because this movie teems with unexpected talent. See very early screen performances from a young Diane Lane and a young Anthony Michael Hall as they tear it up as part of the Six Pack. Imagine- more than 25 years later and they still have careers. You might also recognize Kenny Rogers' lady love, Erin Gray, as the mom from Silver Spoons and Colonel Deering from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. And Kenny's big bad racing nemesis? Though it might take you a moment to recognize him playing a living person, this is none other than Terry Kiser, the infamous Bernie of Weekend At Bernie's. Also, there is a back country high speed chase scene between an RV and a box truck. (Okay, so that's actually more than one reason that I squeezed into one point. This movie is overflowing with entertainment, what else could I do?)

5. Because when else can you watch an entire movie starring one of country music's finest without any sequins or any excruciating country music performances? (Then again, if you're into that kind of thing, consider checking out the Fox Movie Channel classic, Rhinestone.) Come on now: that's a strong selling point.

6. Because, seriously, when was the last time you spent a little quality time with Kenny Rogers?

I am always pleased when the people who stay alive in the face of cataclysmic movie disasters are capable survivors and give mankind a fighting chance. Seriously, if the world is threatened by hostile CGI aliens or hostile CGI zombies, who better to provide humanity's last stand than Will Smith? Like with this family: lucky for them that the dad is super chilled out and level-headed and virtually immune to stress, and the brother is some sort of physics wunderkind. If everyone was wiped out and only my brother and I remained, we'd be awesome at saving the world, if it depended on our ability to do crossword puzzles and watch Star Trek reruns. Not so sure we'd do that well with operating guns and fixing cars and makeshift medicine. This family, on the other hand, knows how to do everything from testing for radiation to fighting wild dogs.

Father, daughter and son head off to Malibu, hoping to be reunited with their beloved wife and mother. Along the way they encounter widespread sugar, a few other random survivors, and quite a few problems. I get really easily turned off by CGI and almost always prefer practical effects, so I found the sugar kind of charming, and it can even be freaky if you let go and let yourself believe. Or you can think it's totally stupid, in which case it is still amusing. Turns out Malibu is a nice place to go even when everyone is dead. (And imagine how fast you could drive on the freeway with no one else around! It would be sweet.) There is still more trouble ahead for the family, but then the movie kind of peters out and ends on an almost inappropriately upbeat note. Maybe if this movie wasn't made for TV they could've gotten a bit more brutal with it and seen it through to some sort of conclusion, which I would've liked. Then again, the fact that it's really low budget is a big part of its charm. It's a lot more original and engaging than your average made-for-TV movie, and it leaves you wanting more. Check it out next time you need a sugar fix.

Picture me in a yellow shirt and black eye makeup, nursing a beer in a dark North Shore Massachusetts bar. Some older guy is chatting me up, but he leaves for a moment. And in that moment, his friend and loyal wingman steps in to advocate for his buddy: "You know Daniel Day Lewis' Indian brother in Last of the Mohicans? That's how I feel about that guy."

It just so happens I do know about Daniel Day Lewis' Indian brother in Last of the Mohicans. (One of my college friends used to refer to him as Daniel Day Lewis' Hot Indian Brother, which is a bit more exact.) I know all about him, and all about every other character and relationship and plot turn in that movie. I have seen Last of the Mohicans about 8 billion times, and that started long before I worked here. It's one of my favorite movies.

Last of the Mohicans is an epic romance set against a backdrop of brutal violence. The cinematography is stunning, and the score is romantic and stirring and always works to elevate the action. The relationships are complicated and compelling, and the plotting is careful and yet driven. I'm an American history junkie and I just eat it up. The moment when they get together: a perfect 10 out of 10. Plus there's plenty of slow motion running and head bashing to keep the romance in its place - just how I like it. And in an environment that asks the characters to contend with too much, to overcome too much, to watch too many loved ones fall off mountains and die, the hope of the power of a new relationship carries the heroes through in the end. And then I cry. Unless I'm at work. I try not to be too weepy at work.

So what a lucky coincidence for that guy, right? That he chose to illustrate his bro love and try to elevate my esteem of his pal with a reference to one of my all time favorite movies. Well, I was certainly a bit amused that this movie - of all movies - could spawn some sort of wingman shorthand for "You should do my friend." But as amused as I was, his friend wasn't that lucky.
 
He was no Hot Indian Brother.