When this came on one of the local PBS stations, I couldn't resist. I've heard a lot of good things, and with Bogie and Bacall starring and Howard Hawks directing, there's no reason not to watch.

The Big Sleep is not as good as The Maltese Falcon, but no one should ever dare try to rate any movie in that league.

In The Big Sleep Bogie is again a private investigator, named Philip Marlowe, hired to keep a scandal from scarring the name of the family of respected General Sternwood. Marlowe is not as sharp and quippy as Sam Spade, and one reason is that for such a great detective, he allows himself to be ambushed by goons one too many times.

Exactly who is the bad guy? That's the beauty of these old sagas, the movies that set the stage for today's violence-ridden police flicks. Could it be A.G. Geiger, the rare book dealer? How 'bout agenda-driven Joe Brody? Rich Eddie Mars? Even Vivian Sternwood Rutledge (Bacall)?

Gen. Sternwood's two daughters, Rutledge (newly divorced) and Carmen, still live with him, and have a knack for getting in trouble. Carmen is a slut and prone to getting drunk or high, and Rutledge is a gambler who associates with bad characters.

I didn't really catch the connection between Marlowe and Rutledge, though. Sure, she's sultry and he's got that confident handsomeness, but I didn't see that certain moment where the fire was lit. I'd rather have gone out with Carmen, she was a mega-babe.

Let's make a list of how many women throw themselves at Bogie during the movie: 1) The Book Seller, 2) Taxi Driver, 3) and 4) Waitresses at Mars' gambling parlor, 5) Carmen Sternwood and 6) Vivian Sternwood Rutledge. He's a stud! I think his cop friend Bernie had a crush also, but I can't prove it.

After watching this and other period pieces pre-1960, I now know why you couldn't have malls back then, all the cars look the same! Can you imagine trying to find it in the parking lot when every automobile is a black Ford? It would be like picking out the redneck in a monster-truck rally.

The verdict: -- For Bogie fans, otherwise it may be The Big Snooze.

Citizen Kane
1941, 1 hr 59 min. Dir: Orson Welles. Cast: Orson Welles (Charles Foster Kane), Joseph Cotten (Jedediah Leland), Everett Sloane (Bernstein), Dorothy Comingore (Susan Alexander), George Colouris (Thatcher), Ruth Warrick (Emily Norton).

Okay, I've finally seen what most regard as the greatest film ever made in America. Of course I liked it, but being that I was born in 1975, it's not the breakthrough movie wonder it was in 1941. But it was a fantastic movie, more than I expected, and I'm sure I'll buy the movie soon on video.

I especially enjoyed the items on running a successful newspaper business and the rise of yellow-journalism. Kane (inspired by the life of media mogul William Randolph Hearst) knew how to build an empire from scratch (I say scratch but he had $60 million in savings from his benefactor already and was ready to lose a million bucks a year), in his case sensational journalism and getting the best people for the job. His out-going personality and very public life didn't hurt his rise, either.

The cinematography was truly amazing, as was the editing, especially considering that Welles and staff were more focused on radio and this was their first venture into motion picture-making. The series of shots of Kane and wife Emily at the dinner table were spectacular, showing through the years how Kane became more and more driven at the newspaper at the expense of his marriage to a great woman and son. Kane definitely made a mistake in dumping Emily (elegant and beautiful) for young Susan (dumb blonde and spoiled brat).

The open is also a grand feat, leading us in a newsreel, "News on the March", through Kane's life from start to finish. With this knowledge we do not get lost as the story skips around in his life.

Thompson, the reporter assigned to investigate what or who Rosebud is, in the end comes to realize that Kane's life cannot be summed up as easy as his final word. He compares his search and all the stories told by Kane's colleagues and loved ones as if he were piecing together one of Susan's puzzles:

"Mr. Kane was a man who got everything he wanted and then lost it. Maybe Rosebud was something he couldn't get or something he lost..anyway, it wouldn't have explained anything. I don't think any word can explain a man's life. No, I guess Rosebud is just a piece in a jigsaw puzzle...a missing piece."

The overhead shots near the end showing the endless treasure Kane collected reminded me a bit of the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Here, though, there are thousands of priceless items, and none of them really worth anything. Except for one thing you need most -- for Kane it was the innocence lost as a poor child happily riding down a snowy hill on his sled.

. The verdict: -- "Rosebud" is more than just a sled.

How Green Was My Valley
1941. 1 hr 58 min. Not rated. Dir: John Ford. Cast: Walter Pidgeon (Mr. Gruffydd, Preacher) Maureen O'Hara (Angharad Morgan), Anna Lee (Bronwyn Morgan), Donald Crisp (Mr. Gwilym Morgan), Roddy McDowall (Huw Morgan), John Loder (Ianto Morgan), Sara Allgood (Mrs. Beth Morgan), Patric Knowles (Ivor Morgan), Morton Lowry (Mr. Jonas, Sadistic Schoolmaster), Arthur Shields (Mr. Parry, Church Elder), Richard Fraser (Davy Morgan), Evan S. Evans (Gwilym Morgan Jr.).

How green was their valley? Very, I'm sure. How green is their valley? Not very. Probably not the best idea to name a movie after a color when it's in black-and-white, even if it's based on a book. Then again, it's appropriate, if only because of the mood of the picture, which should be called "How Blue is My Life."

This is one depressing movie. As Hamlet invoked in times of crisis: "When sorrows come, they come not as single spies, but in battalions."

A tale of a Welsh coal-mining town where the mine dominates the city yet mars the countryside, There's arguing over low wages, unions, class warfare, disunion among family, schools and church, especially in a battle of the old and the new. It's of people living their lives, full of happiness and occasional hardships. Okay, mostly hardships, since what we see are mainly the problems and less of the good times. Hey, ya know, the grass is always greener in the other valley.

I really wanted to see How Green Was My Valley for Maureen O'Hara, one of my favorite actresses. Of course, here she does nothing but walk around not talking, looking pretty, occasionally singing a tune for a few seconds and trying to woo a man of the cloth while sourly accepting an unwanted marriage. O'Hara is the older sister to the central character (or at least narrator), Hugh, a boy who likes toffee and sees everything in the town, good or bad, around him.

Did it deserve to beat The Maltese Falcon, Citizen Kane or even Sergeant York for Best Picture? No. But it rightly deserved to win its Oscars for Best Actor in a Supporting Role for Donald Crisp, Best Director for John Ford, Best Cinematography for Arthur C. Miller and Best Art Decoration-Interior Decoration-Black-and-White (yes, that award existed). Also sizable are the awards it was nominated for but didn't get, including Editing, Sound, Music, Screenplay and a Supporting Actress nomination for Sara Allgood as the Morgan family matriarch.

Walter Pidgeon probably deserved a nomination as well, as the local preacher. He was goodly authoritative, and nicely fended off the advances of O'Hara, something I sure couldn't have done. Crisp was especially remarkable as well, as the patriarch who runs the family with an iron hand and a soft heart, full of good advice as "I never met anyone whose talk was better than good food."

I can see why it would be Frasier Crane's favorite, but it's not really my cup of tea. Fine acting, good direction from John Ford, but the story could've used at least one or two more uplifting stories.

The verdict: -- How Blue is My Mood?

A Walk in the Sun
1945, 1 hr 57 min. Dir: Lewis Milestone. Cast: Dana Andrews, Lloyd Bridges, Norman Lloyd, Herbert Rudley.

In A Walk on the Sun, the action is negligible, though, compared to the interaction of the soldiers. It's amazing this film was made, considering how "rah-rah U.S.A." all the movies were at this time, with the war coming to a close.

Americans die in unpleasant ways, soldiers crack under pressure and the film is dialogue-driven, so I'm sure most critics and movie lovers nowadays would compare it to The Thin Red Line. I will, but I liked A Walk in the Sun and despised The Thin Red Line. Why? I related to the men in A Walk, because their banter was of things soldiers talk about, such as jobs, family, Coney Island, Norman Rockwell paintings vs. photographs, record collections, etc. Poetic in a sense, but not the Robert Frost gibberish that Red Line subjected the audience.

Again I harp on how the realism of this film drew me in, by showing that 9.5/10ths of war is waiting and preparing to fight. This gives a soldier a lot of time to think, which isn't always a good thing, because much of the thoughts running through your head involves fear of death and losing your friends and family. Of course, once the troops experience war's horrors, the waiting doesn't seem so bad anymore.

The difference is that Harry Brown, the author of the novel for which the movie was adapted, was a veteran. He knew what men talked about in the trenches; their hopes and fears, something Terrence Malick would rather compare to a blade of grass or an alligator in a swamp.

I think an explanation of the this film that expresses its' feel is an excerpt of American Movie Classics' "Hollywood Goes to War":

While the conventions of the combat film were threatening to become formulaic and predictable, in the hands of a great director like Lewis Milestone, they could also form the foundation of a masterpiece.
This poetic adaptation of...Brown's best-selling novel told the story of one monumental day in the life of an infantry platoon charged with finding and destroying an enemy stronghold near the coast of Salerno, Italy.
A Walk in the Sun distinguished itself with a superb cast of fully drawn characters who eloquently expressed the hopes and fears that made them human.
The film's chilling combat scenes were all the more moving because audiences had come to know each man, not just a stereotype but as a person.

The verdict: