"it-happened-one-night"

The movie industry’s triumph in the 1930s lay in giving the public what it wanted to see. Its product was therapeutic diversion for millions of Americans who needed to get away from their troubles. By providing this crucial relief, American film reached a pinnacle of influence, at a time when most other industries were suffering severely.

Here are ten key movies that revive the old-fashioned concept of romantic love — the only thing, as another bard put it, that there’s just too little of...

The movies' portrayal of women over time reflects the evolving social dynamic of the past century, revealing much about what has and hasn't changed. As certain special movies demonstrate, feminists were staking their territory long before there was a name for them.

Here’s a bold statement: Giving your children the chance to watch classic films can be just as vital as anything they learn in school. 

News flash: Adam Sandler’s new movie reveals something dire lurking under Hollywood   I want to admit something to you – I don’t enjoy Jimmy Fallon. It always seems that he is having a much better time than his audience. That is not to say that I don’t think he is a talented guy or that I disagree with the idea that performers should have fun, but gradually it becomes apparent that his fun is at our expense. He cavorts, introduces inside jokes, winks, and generally plays out personal interactions based on what is amusing to him (rather than what might be amusing to an audience). Worst of all... God help us, he just can’t stop smirking. It’s like he’s secretly watching a loop of Moe poking Curly in the liver over and over inside his cerebellum. It’s distracting and makes him seem disingenuous.  This is also the reason I dislike the set of Adam Sandler movies. The majority of his films, particularly some of his most recent offerings, appear to be an excuse to get his buddies together, like some kind of extremely well-funded camp reunion, with the film as by-product. Their antics are then edited into an embarrassing reel of sad sack races and volleyballs-in-the-nuts bloopers – “Ow, my groin” – hilarious every time.

After the particularly painful song of ice and snow that was Winter 2013-14, I’m happy to say that the robin in yonder dell is finally chirping “Spring! Spring! Spring!” Yes, the world is puddle-wonderful again and that means that, like any other hibernating animal, I feel an urge to shake off the cold, stretch my legs, and participate in some old-fashioned migration. So windows are rolled down, sleeves are rolled up – it’s time for a good long drive to greener horizons, or most anywhere from here. I raise my face to the sun, and movie fanatic that I am, hear Groucho’s voice ringing in my ears: “Sing ho! For the open highway! Sing ho! For the open road!” (Anyone remember the movie?) Or maybe the strains of Bob Hope – “We’re off on the Road to Morocco!” (Bob – it’s better off-season.)

You may not remember their names, but you will certainly remember their faces, their voices, and the characters they played.

Over the decades, our biggest stars and their agents have been forced to navigate yet another fascinating and frustrating aspect of the movie business: which parts to choose.

While the name recognition of female star Claudette Colbert has not held up to the same degree as her contemporary Bette Davis, she was just as talented, and at her peak in the ‘30s, almost as big a star.