Sydney Pollack - filmmaker, actor, a nice man

Good, gray Sydney Pollack is gone.

As one of Hollywood's most reliable mainstream filmmakers, Pollack made movies that the critics gently embraced - perhaps rarely with the enthusiasm they brought to, say, a Robert Altman film but also never with the rancor or sarcasm that greeted the efforts of Pollack's other peers.

He was respected and, more to the point, liked.

The difference between Pollack and other contemporary filmmakers - the secret of his shining success - had everything to do with Pollock's affable public persona both as an occasional film actor and as a ubiquitous representative of the industry he so clearly appreciated and loved.

Pollack was more than a filmmaker. For all intents and purposes, he operated as a one-man film advocacy program - directing films, producing and nurturing the work of other filmmakers, acting in movies and showing up at festivals and on TV specials to celebrate his medium.

Pollack was so smoothly good in his assorted movie performances (his most recent, and last, as Patrick Dempsey's father in "Made of Honor") that his absence was felt whenever his character wasn't on screen.

And on the small screen, he brought style - a mature, solid style - and a refreshing modesty to his appearances on any generic movie awards show (take your pick), that most obnoxious of modern movie accessories.

Meanwhile, in his role as executive producer, he supported the work of filmmakers as varied as Steven Soderbergh, Jez Butterworth, Peter Howitt, George Clooney, Steven Zaillian, Alan Rudolph, Kenneth Branagh, Ira Sachs, Philip Haas and, of course, the late Anthony Minghella, with whom he partnered in the Mirage film production company. Tellingly, Minghella preceded his friend in death just last March 18.

I trust that it's safe to say that Sydney Pollack had taste.

He flourished during the '70s Golden Age, a time when there was the Big Four - Altman, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen - and then ... everyone else, which included Hal Ashby, Paul Mazursky, Alan J. Pakula and his former partner, Robert Mulligan, Peter Bogdanovich and Pollack. Steven Spielberg and George Lucas seemed to be in a different arena altogether, sneakily plotting the return of The Big Studio Film, while former actors such as Clint Eastwood, Warren Beatty and Robert Redford were starting to make their marks as auteurs behind the camera.

As a filmmaker, Pollack specialized in prestige think films starring Hollywood's top icons. He churned out a dazzling array of them, eventually winning Oscars as director and producer in 1985 for the Redford-Meryl Streep epic romance, "Out of Africa." Even then, modesty prevailed. He continually downplayed his prowess as a filmmaker, aware that someone like Robert Altman was perhaps more adventurous.

If I were to put together my own mini-Sydney Pollack film festival, I'd have to include "This Property Is Condemned" (1966), "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?" (1969), "The Yakuza" (1974), "Absence of Malice" (1981), two of his comedies "The Electric Horseman" (1979) and "Tootsie" (1982) and at least two films in which he excelled as an actor - Woody Allen's harrowing "Husbands and Wives" (1992), which has the bonus of Judy Davis, and Stanley Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Shut" (1999).

Regarding his acting, Pollack was also memorable in roles on television - particularlty as Warren Feldman on "The Sopranos" and as George Truman, Will's father, on "Will and Grace." He was even better as himself when he hosted Turner Classics' "The Essentials."

Pollack's final films as a director were released back in 2005 - one which pretty much defined his artistic interests, the topical/melodramatic "The Interpreter," with Sean Penn and Nicol Kidman, and one that was unusual for him, the documentary, "Sketches of Frank Gehry."

Yes, he slowed down. Dave Kehr best explains this on his blog: "If his work declined in the 90s, it was because the pool of viable stars was beginning to dry up — imagine beginning your career with Lancaster and Mitchum, and finishing it with Cruise and Ford" (Ford being Harrison Ford).

That says it all.

As a producer, Pollack is currently represented by Jay Roach's film for HBO, "Recount." And at the time of his death, he was producing Stephen Daldry's "The Reader," adapted by David Hare from the Bernhard Schlink novel and starring Kate Winslet and Ralph Fiennes, and playwright Kenneth Lonergan's "Margaret," with Anna Paquin and Matt Damon.

Yes, I'll miss his films. But more than that, I'll miss the man, particulary his familiar, suede-smooth voice. I can see why so many actors shined under Pollack's direction and why so many wanted to work with him - in his role as either director or producer. He conveyed a quiet, reassuring, genuinely masculine strength. Working with him, an actor must have felt, well, safe. I know I always felt that way, whether watching one of his movies or simply listening to Sydney Pollack talk about them.

Note in Passing: Turner Classics will devote the evening of Monday, June 2nd to a mini-Sydney Pollack Movie Marathon, screening his first feature, "The Slender Thread" at 8 p.m. (est), followed by "THree Days of the Condor" at 10 p.m. and "Jeremiah Johnson" at 2 a.m. At midnight, Turner will present Pollack's final interview, conducted by former movie critic Elvis Mitchell.

(Artwork: Sydney Pollack as I will always remember him - smiling and accessible)

"The Notorious Landlady" Surfaces!

That's Jack Lemmon jumping for joy. Actually, it's a shot from the climatic (and hilarious) foot chase from Richard Quine's long-missing 1962 comic gem, "The Notorious Landlady."

But I'd like to think Jack is jumping for joy over that fact that Turner Classics has come to the film's rescue, scheduling it for a 2 p.m. showing (est) on Tuesday, August 12th, as part of an all-day Kim Novak marathon.

A second lost Lemmon-Quine comedy, 1957's "Operation Mad Ball," had previously been scheduled by Turner for a showing on Saturday, July 19th at 8 a.m. (est). Neither title has ever been released on home entertainment in any form.

I was alerted to the "Landlady" broadcast by a fellow fan of the film, named John, who's from Ohio and who wrote in:

"I share your love of 'The Notorious Landlady.' I saw this film at the Valley Drive-In theatre in Newark, Ohio. It was the first feature of a four-film 'Dusk to Dawn' showcase. We stayed through all four films. Following 'The Notorious Landlady' was 'Ride the High Country' with Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott, 'Claudelle Inglish' with Diane McBain and Arthur Kennedy and 'Satan Never Sleeps' with William Holden and Clifton Webb. I can't wait to see it again."

Wow. "Claudelle Inglish" with Diane McBain. Another lost title.

John went on to share drive-in memories that made me particularly nostalgic:

"I saved all of the old flyers that our two local drive-ins issued. I have most of them from 1962 up until they stopped printing them around 1971 or so. I'm able to look through them and remember what films I saw.

"We went to two other 'Dusk to Dawn' specials around that time. The first was 'Spencer's Mountain' with Henry Fonda and Maureen O' Hara, 'The Thrill of It All' with Doris Day and James Garner, Alfred Hitchcock's 'The Birds' and 'Gidget Goes to Rome.'

"The final one we went to was made up of 'Days of Wine and Roses' with Jack Lemmon and Lee Remick, 'Captain Newman M.D.' with Gregory Peck and Tony Curtis, 'A Gathering of Eagles' with Rock Hudson and Rod Taylor and '40 Pounds of Trouble' with Tony Curtis and Suzanne Pleshette. That's a lot of movies for one admission price."

Who says movies are better than ever? Those marathons sound like heaven to me, especially at a drive-in venue. Drive-ins were great for families, who could make all the noise they wanted without disturbing anyone; for young couples who wanted a little privacy and for movie buffs who wanted to discuss the film while it was in progress (again, without disturbing anyone else).

But back to "The Notorious Landlady," a tight and tidy mix of Hitchcock hommage and comic sophistication, boasting a particularly literate script co-written by Blake Edwards and Larry Gelbart ("A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum" and TV's "M*A*S*H"), based on a short story by Britain's Margery Sharp that originally appeared in Collier's magazine (under the title "The Notorious Tenant"), the February 3rd, 1956 issue.

Aside from Lemmon and Novak, the top-flight cast includes Fred Astaire, Lionel Jeffries, Estelle Winwood, Maxwell Reed and Phileppa Bevans. George Duning handled the score which makes good use of George and Ira Gershwin's "A Foggy Day" (fitting for the London settng) and strains from Gilbert and Sullivan's "The Pirates of Penzance" for the chase finale.

BTW, the day that Turner has set aside for Novak drives home the point that she has a most interesting filmography. Also screening on August 12th are George Sidney's "The Eddie Duchin Story" and "Jeanne Eagles," Mark Robson's "Phffft!" (also with Lemmon), Billy Wilder's "Kiss Me, Stupid," Delbert Mann's "Middle of the Night," Robert Aldrich's camp classic, "The Legend of Lylah Clare," Quine's "Strangers When We Meet" and "Pushover," Phil Karlson's "Five Agaist the House," Ken Hughes' "Of Human Bondage" and Alfred Hitchcock's "Vertigo," natch.

All that's missing are Quine's "Bell, Book and Candle," Sidney's "Pal Joey," Otto Preminger's "The Man with the Golden Arm" and Joshua Logan's "Picnic."

Novak is long overdue for a tribute, preferrably at Lincoln Center. She worked with a lot of great filmmakers and must have tons of stories.

As for "The Notorious Landlady," hopefully, it's next stop will be on DVD.

(Artwork: Lemmon in the climatic chase scene in Quine's long-missing "The Notorious Landlady"; Lemmon between takes with Novak, and Lemmon and Novak in a publicity shot for the film)

seductions in the dark: Claude Lelouch's “Roman de gare": A seductive, compulsively watchable cat-and-mouse game

You're in for a treat.

Claude Lelouch, arguably France's most playful filmmaker (even at age 70), has rebounded from his "La Comédie Humaine" trilogy, an aborted but honorable failure, with a nifty cat-and-mouse game called "Roman de gare" ("Crossed Tracks"). His accomplice here is the great French icon Fanny Ardant who plays Judith Ralitzer, a novelist who writes insanely popular whodunits and seems to be every bit as disreputable as the lethal con men populating her books. There’s every likelihood that her books are actually ghost written by a notorious serial killer, The Magician, called that because he regales his victims with magic tricks before dispatching them. Meanwhile, there’s a suspicious character, Louis (the deadpan and delightful Dominique Pinon), who has just picked up a stranded woman named Huguette (Audrey Dana) whom he entertains with … magic tricks. Is Louis The Magician or is he Ralitzer’s secretary, as he claims? Whatever, he comes in handy. Huguette is en route to visit her parents, see, specifically to introduce them to her new boyfriend Paul. But she just broke up with him on the road. That’s why she’s stranded.

So, she enlists Louis to impersonate Paul.

Lelouch directs with much confidence here, taking a seemingly slim story and convoluting it into an enteraining confusion, and Ardant abets him as the imperious superstar novelist. As for her latest story, she could be either writing it, appropriating it or living it - or possibly all three.

Spoken in French with English subtitles, naturelment.

(Artwork: The French poster for Lelouch's “Roman de gare"/“Crossed Tracks”; and the filmmaker himself)

Killing the Souls of Movie Critics

A lot has been written recently about movie critics who are dropping like flies - and, by extention, the demise of film criticism in general, which is the much bigger issue.

Variety's Anne Thompson has written most eloquently on the subject, devoting pieces to critics in general and to Premiere.Com's Glenn Kenny in particular

And, back in April, the Salt Lake Tribune's movie critic, Sean P. Means, compiled a list of 28 movie critics bought out or fired this year (including Newsweek's David Ansen) in a piece cleverly titled The Departed

What hasn't been noted is that movie critics have been dying a slow death for a couple decades now, thanks to Hollywood's shrewd penchant for making movies that are viritually unreviewable (not to say, unwatchable) and the news media's insistance on fluff-and-commerce pieces that, frankly, are soul-killers for critics.

I, for one, think that movie reviewers should review movies, period. There are certainly enough films being churned out today to keep critics busy. Critic-curator-multimedia artist Daryl Chin recently wrote to
Flickgrrl, the movie blog of Philadelphia Inquirer movie critic Carrie Rickey, offering this jaw-dropping tally: in excess of 650 films opened in New York city in 2007. "That said," Chin adds, "only about one-fifth of those movies will make it out of the big-city indie spots."

Yes, your average movie critic can be kept quite busy these days reviewing films exclusively.

What your average movie critic shouldn't be doing are those soul-killing chores that any features intern can knock out - namely inane lists ("The Top Ten Biblical Epics of all Time!"), seasonal previews ("New 'Indiana Jones' Is the One to Watch This Summer!"), pieces on how much the latest joyless blockbuster has taken in ("'Fill in the Blank)' Joins the Billion-Dollar Club!"), Oscar predictions - does any self-respecting movie critic really care who or what wins an Oscar? - and, yes, even Ten Best Lists.

Those lists are especially annoying because they are delivered at the year-end, a particularly busy time for movie critics - and on deadline, no less - with the top ten often, and understandably, selected in haste.

Speaking from experience, a month after every Ten Best list that I've ever written, I was always disappointed, regretting my picks and wishing I could go back to make upward or downward adjutments.

It's a nonsensical exercise and it prevents critics from doing the necessary - namely, taking time to just think.

One other thing: I'm not sure it's completely healthy for movie critics to do interviews - to get cozy with people they are paid to critique. Actually, it's dangerous. Trust me, jawing with a star or a filmmaker can be very seductive - self-aggrandizing for the critic.

So it's no surprise that I alienated more than one editor on more than one occasion with my rigid views on what a movie critic should do (review only) and shouldn't do (frankly, nothing else).

Which brings me to Andy and Larry Wachowski's "Speed Racer," a film that fails in such an elemental way that it boggles the mind. Here is a movie worthy of genuinely serious criticism, which your average newspaper editor definitely would not want. A serious analysis of "Speed Racer"? I mean, it's a cartoon, right? A live-action animé.

And so, it's tempting for even a good critic to go on automatic pilot for something like the Wachowski film, writing a disposable review of a depressingly disposable movie, often for purpose of self-preservation.

Soul-killing.

Note in Passing: Come June 29th, it will be a year since Joel Siegel died, and by all appearances, "Good Morning, America," the ABC show for which he reviewed movies, has made no effort to replace him. Oddly enough, I've a hunch that Siegel would liked "Speed Racer."

(Artwork: Emile Hirsh in Andy and Larry Wachowski's "Speed Racer")

cinema obscura: Two with Jennifer Jones

The achingly beautiful Jennifer Jones was an enticing combination of the enigmatic and the sensual.

Typically, Hollywood really didn't know what to do with someone whose appeal was starkly natural - who didn't seem manufactured along the lines of Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn and Joan Crawford (and I say that as someone with an unbound admiration for all three actresses, particuarly the much-maligned Crawford).

And so it is no surprise that during her all-too-brief, 30-year screen career, Jones performed in the shadows of Davis, Hepburn and Crawford - both as an actress and a media darling. She made three films as Phylis Isley before breaking through as Jennifer Jones in the title role in her beloved Henry King's 1943 "The Song of Bernadette."

Jones retired in 1974, after appearing in John Guillermin's swanky disaster epic, "The Towering Inferno." She's the exact kind of neglected icon to which this site is dedicated. Frankly, I've grown weary of the decades of buzz (sustained over the years by critics and historians who should know better) about David, Hepburn and Crawford.

Correcting this oversight is ever-resourceful Film Society of Lincoln Center which, beginning May 16th and continuing through May 24th, will screen a program at the Walter Reade Theater (65th Street at Amsterdam) titled "Saints and Sinner: The Tempestuous Career of Jennifer Jones," featuring twelve of her films, both the hits and the criminally neglected.

It's the latter that interests me, two titles in particular, both from Fox - neither of which is available on home entertainment.

There will be two screenings of Henry Koster's "Good Morning, Miss Dove" (1955), a sentimental, inspirational fable, a la "Goodbye, Mr. Chips," that was an audience favorite in the '50s. Like "Chips," Koster's film is about a dedicated teacher (Jones in the title role) whose precision and perfectionism are mistaken for rigidity and coldness.

Jones takes the character from youth to old age and few scenes are as memorable as the ones detailing Miss Dove's retirement or the emblematic, heart-stopping moment when two of her former students, now adults, gallantly carry Miss Dove in a way that pays tribute to her regal bearing. Most touching. "Good Morning, Miss Dove," being screened May 18th at 4:30 p.m. and again on May 23rd at 6 p.m., softly delineates how emotional attachments aren't always played out in the same way.

Henry King, as stated, oversaw Jones in her first major film role in "The Song of Bernadette," directed her in one of phenomenally popular films, "Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing," with William Holden, and in a movie that was to be his last - the 1962 adapation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "Tender Is the Night," filmed with much fidelity to the book.

Jones, with her penchant for conveying uncontrolled, tempestuous passion, was born to play Nicole Diver, who meets her better half, Dick (Jason Robards, Jr., in one of his first screen roles), in a sanitarium.

This role and this story, which spans decades, cannot be played small, and Jones doesn't even try, using her actorly mannerisms to perfection. The supporting cast - and what a cast - includes Tom Ewell, Joan Fontaine and Jill St. John, and Bernard Hermann contributed another one of his great scores.

"Tender Is the Night," which runs 146 minutes, screens on May 22nd only, at 8 p.m.

The Film Society's Jones program will overlap with one dedicated to the singular Charles Boyer, the rare Frenchman who made an effortless and successful transition into American films. Ernst Lubitsch's divine "Cluny Brown" (1946), which of course co-stars Jones and Boyer, will be screened at 6:15 p.m. on May 16th and at 4:40 p.m. on May 24th.

Critics Molly Haskell and Andrew Sarris will introduce the film at the May 16th screening. The Boyer program runs from May 2rd to May 27th, also at the Walter Reade.

Cinema Obscura is a recurring feature of The Passionate Moviegoer, devoted to those films that have been largely forgotten. Suggestions welcome.

(Artwork: Jennifer Jones in one of her more popular roles - with William Holden in Henry King's "Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing" - in CinemaScope; teaching students in Henry Koster's "Good Morning, Miss Dove" and sharing a scene, a memorable one, with Robert Stack and Biff Elliot in the same film; Jones with Jason Robards in King's "Tender Is the Night," and Robards with Jill St.John in the same film)

How "Home Entertainment" Ruined Movies

Not too long ago, I was having lunch with my friend, Carrie Rickey, movie critic
for The Philadelphia Inquirer, and I asked her a question which, up until that point, had merely been an elusive thought - a thought that had been nagging me for a few years.

"Why is it," I asked, "that I find it more special to watch 'Vertigo' when it's shown on Turner Classics than to watch my DVD of it?"

Fact is, I've never watched my DVD of "Vertigo," even though I made a point of rushing out to buy a copy as soon as Tower Video (remember Tower Video?) had it in stock.

Carrie's theory is that it's a holdover from the moviegoing experience itself, which limits to a degree where and when we can see a movie. The fact is, Turner Classics has replaced the neighborhood rep house, recreating the experience of seeing a specific title at a specific time. And, by doing so, it makes a film that is fully accessible on DVD seem, well, almost rare. And special again.

Movies are not difficult to see anymore and, frankly, I'm not sure that's a good thing.

When "Vertigo" was first released, I was a kid. I'm not sure I undersood the film - in fact, I'm fairly certain that I didn't - but I loved it nevertheless. It played at my neighborhood theater for only three or four days. (Back then, two new films opened every week - one on Sunday and then one on Wednesday.) I had to see it whenever I could because, once it was gone, it was gone for good. I think I saw it at least three times during its engagement; I know I sat through it twice in one day.

It may have been committed to memory but it was still missed once it left our theater.

I wouldn't encounter it again until many years later when it popped up on television. Each TV showing, sometimes spaced years apart, became an occasion for a party. Friends would join me, even if it was on The Late, Late Show, and we'd indulge ourselves in bad food and good Hitchcock.

Occasionally, I'd venture to New York to see a revival showing of it at the Thalia or the Waverly.

It was difficult to see. A fact which made it precious. My inability to see "Vertigo" whenever I wanted somehow made it even more special.

By the mid-1970s, things changed. I didn't have much time for friends - or family - because my new friend was my Betamax, which was inevitably replaced by a VCR. On any given night, and certainly every weekend, I could be found locked away in my little apartment with - what?- five television sets, three video recorders and 547 videotapes which contained, by my count, 1,064 movie titles.

The problem was, I taped films but I didn't necessarily look at them. Once I had "Vertigo" on tape, I stopped watching it because, well, it was always there. It was suddenly accessible. It was right there in my bookcase. Now, I could watch it whenever I wanted to. But I didn't.

I eventually purchased a studio-produced VHS of "Vertigo," which traveled from apartment to apartment, from house to house, until I ran out to buy the aforementioned DVD of it. Which, as I've said, I've also never watched.

I only see "Vertigo" now when it's on Turner - which actually is often, given that it's a staple of the cable network.

With a kind of perfect circuity, I pencil it on my calendar whenever I see it listed in the Turner Classics guide, blocking out the afternoon or night when it's being televised. My wife and I open wine - from Northern California's wine country, which is apt - and eat popcorn. Sometimes we share Scotch and thick steaks, just as James Stewart and Kim Novak do at Ernie's in the movie.

"Vertigo" has remained one of my special films - no thanks to home entertainment and the video/DVD revolution.

Now, anyone want my unopened DVD? Cheap.

(Artwork: Vintage lobby card for Hitchcock's "Vertigo," featuring Stewart and Novak in an intimate moment.)

seductions in the dark: Jon Favreau's "Iron Man" - The $100-Million Iraq War Movie

Jon Favreau, bless him, has been able to accomplish what no other contemporary filmmaker has been able to do, not even a master of Brian DePalma's stature.

With his shrewdly-made - and very well-made - new film, "Iron Man," Favreau has conjured up the first movie about the on-going wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, and the private contractors and profitteering that drive them, that moviegoers not only are willing sit through but are actually clamoring to see.

Favreau's film opened to $100.8 million in ticket sales over the weekend.

Unlike other CG-driven films, "Iron Man" is serious (rather than just somber), intelligent (instead of just glib) and leisurely-paced. Credited scenarists Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Art Marcum and Matt Holloway have provided Favreau with material whose first hour is actually devoted to detailed exposition and character delineation. They've also penned some crackling, hugely literate dialogue.

As a result, the remarkable Robert Downey, Jr. is able to Method-Act his way into the role of filthy-rich (and often soddened) entrepreneur Tony Stark, whose Fortune 500 company, Stark Enterprises , provides the United States military (and, by extention, its enemies) with high-tech weaponry used in New Age wars.

That is, until Tony's own body is left wracked by his inventions and he is suddenly stricken with pangs of conscience.

Tony reinvents himself as Iron Man, the ultimate lethal weapon, as he mutters monologues and dialogue about the "accountability" of people in power. Sound familiar?

"Iron Man" may have the hard, handsome appearance of the super-hero flick, but there's a subtext here that's decidedly political.

Gwyneth Paltrow is an unexpected and refreshing presence as Pepper Potts, Tony's efficient but womanly assistant, and a near unrecognizable Jeff Bridges seems to be channeling Fred Thompson in the role of Obadiah Stane, Tony's duplicitious, hawk-like older partner. (I have no doubt that, had this film been made a decade ago, Thompson himself would have played this role.)

Favreau, who has come a long way as a filmmaker since "Made" (2001) and "Elf" (2003), two modest hits, has quite simply given us the best film of the year to date. That may not mean much to you, but the only other films this year that I've come even remotely close to admiring are Martin McDonagh's "In Bruges," George Clooney's "Leatherheads" and Woody Allen's "Cassandra's Dream."

What can I say? It's been that kind of year. For me, at least.

(Artwork: Robert Downey, Jr. as Marvel Comcis' Tony Stark, aka Iron Man; and his ever-maturing director, Favreau)

second to none: Minnelli's "Some Came Running"

Say what?

The New York Times' Charles Taylor and Stephanie Zacharek collaborated on an entertaining DVD preview, "For Air-Conditioned Living Rooms," in Sunday's special Summer Movie Preview section and, while everyone's opinions on film are more or less valid, I feel compelled to challenge something that Taylor wrote.

Taylor covers Warner Home Entertainment's new, five-disc "Frank Sinatra: The Golden Years" (one of four boxed collections devoted to Sinatra that Warner is releasing this season) and declares: "'The Tender Trap' and 'The Man With the Golden Arm' are the most interesting films in the collection." I like both films, especially compared to two other titles in the set, "None But the Brave" and "Marriage on the Rocks."

However, the fifth title in the collection is Vincente Minnelli's sublime "Some Came Running," a version of the James Jones novel that is full of Minnelli's lyrical touches and observational wit and ensemble playing that remains unmatched.

Sinatra, arguably the '50s' reigning acting auteur of male alienation, is in his prime here, playing a fascinating anti-hero battling the rigors of self-recrimination. And he's ably backed by Dean Martin, Shirley MacLaine, Martha Hyer, Arthur Kennedy, Nancy Gates, Leora Dana, Connie Gilchrist, Larry Gates, Steven Peck, Betty Lou Keim, John Brennan and the singular Carmen Philips. Not a single bad performance among them.

"Some Came Running," a fully-realized work, is clearly the crown jewel in this set.

Inarguably.

Note in Passing: "Some Came Running" will be aired by Turner on Thursday, May 22 at 4:45 a.m. (est) as part of its on-going Sinatra salute this month.

(Artwork: Sinatra and co-star Shirley MacLaine in a typical vintage studio publicity shot for Minnelli's "Some Came Running")