Do you ever have those moments when you believe you are far greater than you really are?  Well, imagine that on one of those days you actually decide to take action, and say, rob a bank.  The 1975 film, Dog Day Afternoon, starring Al Pacino is the nerve wracking, hilarious, and sad version of actual events that occurred in 1972.

I had heard great things about the film, but once we started watching it, I got a little worried.  The bank robbery is going awry about five minutes in, and the film’s got another two hours to go.  Thankfully, I was quickly put at ease, for there were so many twists and surprises that kept me on the edge of my seat.

I’ll reveal a couple and then leave it there.  First, and in my opinion, most odd.  Sonny, the main character, is married and has two kids, but the whole purpose of the hold-up is to pay for a sex change operation for the man he has most recently married.  A man who just attempted suicide to get away from Sonny.  The reason I found this odd is the love that he shows for each of his “wives.”  He doesn’t seem the least bit conflicted about it – he’s just going through life.

Second – the robbers, Sonny and Sal (John Cazale from the Godfather), are pretty nice guys.  So nice, that the hostages they take end up having a great time.  It’s like a surreal party with pizza, guns, and ammo!  This is one of my favorite quotations from the film: “I had to tell him Wyoming isn’t a country.  I’m with a guy who don’t know where Wyoming is, and you think you’ve got problems!”

So, if you’ve got a hankering for something vintage, and of course, a little off beat, give it a try.  You’ll be chanting “Attica!” for the rest of the week.

You know, I really love it when I find something that epitomizes what I enjoy most in life: love, beauty, simplicity, honesty, quirkiness, and music to go with it all.  So, I am just tickled to write about Lars and the Real Girl, because, for me, it was a charming way to package my favorites together.

First love, because that really is the cherry on top, isn’t it?  This is the story of Lars Lindstrom, his family, and the small town that loves and supports him during a rather interesting time in his life.  You see, the rather sweet and mild mannered Lars has purchased a Real Doll named Bianca (bearing a slight resemblance to Angelina Jolie), and rather than keep her hidden in the bedroom like most men of his age would (Lars is a gentleman and a Christian, he would never), he introduces her to all, giving her a story and life of her own.

Beauty – Filmed in wintry Canada, the gorgeousness inherent in cold landscapes is here – falling snow, icicles, dormant grasses, and bare trees.  On a more spiritual level, the myriad ways his family and the town come together for Lars are really quite lovely.

Simplicity – I suppose it isn’t a terribly simple story when a man takes a doll for his real girlfriend, yet it is when viewed through the lens of love and letting go.  As Yoda would say, “Do or do not – there is no try.”

Honesty – Through his delusion, Lars is finally able to express himself and with great candor, inspiring those around him to do the same.

Quirkiness – Um, a grown man acts like a doll is his real  girlfriend and everyone plays along.  Enough said.

Music – The soundtrack, like Lars, is a complex mix of melancholy,  playful innocence, and carefully measured beats – very easy on the ears.  I think I’ll buy it and play it on a loop.

There’s this funny scene in You’ve Got Mail when Greg Kinnear’s character, Frank Navasky, is considering a topic for a book, and he says he’d like to write, “Something relevant for today, like the Luddite movement in 19th century England.”  Well, today’s spotlight is a bit like that.

Even though A Face in the Crowd came out in 1957, it is highly relevant to today, tackling issues like the power of celebrity, television ratings, and the Madison Avenue grooming of presidential hopefuls.

Andy Griffith plays – brace yourself my friends, this isn’t Mayberry –  Lonesome Rhodes, a drunken, womanizing, self-serving conniver whose meteoric rise to fame and power starts from a jail cell where he’s been arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct.  Complete with boyish good looks and a devilish laugh, he’s a force to be reckoned with.

The lovely Patricia Neal (that voice!) plays Marcia Jeffries, the woman responsible for his discovery.  Despite Lonesome’s wicked ways, Marcia remains loyal and protective, until her own sanity is at stake, forcing her to make a very daring choice.  Also cast is the young and handsome Walter Matthau (seriously – great glasses too!), playing the clever and equally devoted, though not to Lonesome, Mel Miller, Marcia’s savior.

With the exception of being filmed in black and white and Patricia Neal’s occasionally over dramatic hand getstures popular at the time, the movie really feels like it could have been made today.  The dialogue is razor sharp and the characters achingly real.  It is surprisingly racy, too – drunkenness, premarital sex, extra-marital sex, all this for 1957!

Do you know how old you will be when you grow up?  Do you know who you are now?  If presented to you, would you take the opportunity to be someone else?

These are just a few of the questions explored in Michelangelo Antonioni’s beautiful and beguiling filmThe Passenger, released in 1975.

I like to think of this film like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a butterfly, with Jack Nicholson in the lead role.  It is Jack before he was “Jack.”   Smooth, all the mannerisms and quirks we’ve come to expect from him are only shimmers on the horizon, scarcely perceptible to this viewer’s eye.  He is handsome, too, shirtless and wiry, very easy on the eyes.

As our caterpillar, he’s David Locke, an award winning journalist, devouring life, but never really appreciating all that he has and sees.  He’s trudging around the Sahara, hungry for a story, looking for the right person, looking for himself.  Despite his critical success and his marriage, he is impatient, edgy – immature.

Then, when a man bearing a certain resemblance to David dies, he assumes his identity, faking his own death, entering the chrysalis and the shady world of arms dealing.  Still somewhat unsure of himself, he proceeds slowly, traveling around Europe, dodging people who know him from his past life, and those who believe he is the new man.

When the butterfly finally emerges, it is with beauty, conviction, and self assurance.  This is ME.  This is what I do.  Such a glorious journey.