"the-wages-of-fear"

I've always loved France, and most everything French. One key reason is the French people's enviable reputation for knowing how to live well. They seem to possess the perspective and confidence to savor all the good things of life: food, wine, romance, and leisure.

Whether or not you love to get behind the wheel yourself, the very act of looking at cars in movies is just plain fun. Of course, they always signal the era in which the movie was made (or set). But more than that, the car to modern film is what the horse is to the Western — the all-important means of shifting to a different sequence, and moving the action forward.

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.)

Back in 1988, The Film Society of Lincoln Center held a gala tribute for Yves Montand, one of France’s biggest movie stars, whose own story would rival any of his films for interest and color.