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If the stunningly talented, charismatic Barbara Stanwyck was hurt by not having picked up that coveted statuette over the course of four Best Actress nominations, she never showed it. And she wouldn’t have. She was too tough and too proud for that. And yes, I mean that as a compliment.

 He might not like to hear it, but it’s hard to think of anyone who was more of a Hollywood natural than Warren Beatty. He was born Henry Warren Beaty in 1937. He exemplified that old saying: women wanted him, and men wanted to be him. And what made him so appealing what that he wasn't the least bit self-conscious about who he was or what he had.

There are certain stars from Hollywood’s Golden Age who over time fade from our collective consciousness like an old photograph. Ann Sheridan is a divine case in point. Only the most serious movie buff is likely to remember her or appreciate her contribution to film, which was considerable.

Any list of the twentieth century’s finest actors is incomplete without Alec Guinness. Yet it’s a name some might overlook because there was never anything remotely showy — or even particularly magnetic — about him.

I'm beginning to think that the late Swedish director Ingmar Bergman gets a bad rap. Mention the idea of watching one of his films and many otherwise reasonable, intelligent people head for the hills. The presumption is that the experience will be slow, laborious, depressing. If there were such a thing as cinematic paint, you’d be watching it dry.

In 1956, Grace Kelly ascended from Hollywood royalty to the real thing. Henceforth, she’d be called Her Serene Highness, Princess Grace Of Monaco. Her story was right out of a fairy tale, only without the “happily ever after” part.

Amidst all the discussion about the lack of Oscar nominations for African-Americans this year, it seems opportune to consider the one black actor who’s actually won two Academy Awards: Denzel Washington. His enduring career proves that if you create great roles for African-Americans, there will be great actors to play them. The problem in Hollywood is less about recognition of black stars, more about creating roles that command recognition.

I vividly recall seeing Robert Redford on the streets of New York City at the height of his stardom in the early seventies, moving quickly but unfettered by security. I called to him once from across the street (what did I have to lose?). He looked over, waved at me and said: “Hello!” My week was made.

Over a period of fifteen months from the beginning of 1931, the Warner Brothers studio released three bona-fide gangster classics: “Little Caesar,” “The Public Enemy,” and “Scarface: The Shame Of A Nation.” All three movies made stars out of their leading men in the still fledgling sound era: Edward G. Robinson, James Cagney, and Paul Mu