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I have an ongoing love affair with New York, the city that formed me. I was born here, and though I’ve left occasionally, it was never for very long. The pace, color, and excitement of this amazing town always drew me back like a magnet, and holds me still. No surprise then that I love experiencing the potent nostalgia of great films that recall the New York City of my early years.

I will always remember the pure exhilaration I felt watching Quentin Tarantino’s “Pulp Fiction” for the first time in a theater thirty years ago. The memory is so clear of first realizing that I was experiencing an extraordinary piece of filmmaking, deliriously entertaining but also completely fresh and unique. What made “Pulp” so exciting and distinctive?

It’s nearly impossible to discuss a truly great movie without mentioning its musical score. Can you  honestly ponder the Spielberg classic “Jaws” (1975) without hearing those relentless, alternating two notes (played on a tuba!) that announce the killer shark’s arrival? Or think of “Rocky” (1976) without remembering how Bill Conti’s soaring trumpet theme made your heart race? 

If you’re like me, a handful of movies are lodged in your memory that strike a special cord. These are the titles that made a big impact early on and never left you. Among my own short list of prized cinematic gems is Jacques Demy’s musical romance, “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg” (1964). My family was still living in Paris when it was shot, and over half a century later, I can still remember the cover of the soundtrack album, which we played endlessly.

She was born Ruth Elizabeth Davis in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1908, and was, by her own admission, a Yankee.

Keep all those “Zoolander” jokes to yourself, because being a model in a movie doesn’t necessarily mean a pretty face (or body) catwalking across the screen for mere amusement or titillation, or because the director needed a hot date for the Screen Actors Guild awards. Underneath the high cheekbones and sculpted abs often lie the makings of a great actor. Here are some of the folks who made astonishingly smooth moves from still photography to motion pictures.

Lauren Bacall will be remembered as a larger than life Hollywood figure, but film lovers might be surprised to learn that she appeared in less than 50 features. In a business where one dreads being forgotten, Bacall took her time when it came to taking roles, confident that the public would still be there when she returned. During her heyday, Bacall rarely worked more than once a year. Later, she was known to take long breaks in between projects, something few actresses did in those days. The result is a filmography that is more tastefully cultivated than most, with very few bombs or stinkers. Even a movie like “The Fan” (1981), a gaudy thriller which some felt was beneath her, has endured as a kind of cult object. When that one wrapped, Bacall did another of her disappearing acts, this time for seven years. Of course, the dismantling of the old studio system may have had something to do with her dwindling appearances; she always preferred that more orderly way of making pictures.