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The attention always goes straight to her violet eyes, and why shouldn’t it? Violet eyes don’t show up every day, and when magnified on screen, they will knock you off your feet. But Elizabeth Taylor was so much more than those mesmerizing irises, and her beauty did not hold her back from delivering passionate, believable performances.

Space certainly gives us humans plenty to think about, and the question of what lies beyond our solar system is still awaiting a full answer. This year, the revived series “Cosmos” had us scratching our heads as we contemplated the abyss, and even with the laws of physics greatly simplified, the universe is still too big for our primitive brains to grasp. Now comes director Christopher Nolan’s thinking person’s space movie “Interstellar,” and with it, a renewed interest in the possibilities of “out there.”

We’ve all done it, watched a movie and thought, “How do they think this stuff up?” and, “Do they expect us to believe this?” Yes, “they” do, because movies depend on the suspension of disbelief for their magic. Musicals, horror, and romantic comedies are all fueled by the high octane of fantasy.

She was born Ruth Elizabeth Davis in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1908, and was, by her own admission, a Yankee.

Young adult used to be just another stage in personal development, starting somewhere around the end of Barbie dolls and army men, and cresting just after the discovery of beer and indie rock. Growing up seems to happen in that one, long, hot zone of emerging identities and burgeoning freedom.  These days, YA is an entire industry of books and movies, a full lifestyle in fact, and one that doesn’t end once the “adult” is no longer “young.” After all, growing up is never quite over, which explains why YA audiences are as likely to be “adult” as they are “young.” For instance, who is the prime audience for “The Hunger Games?” Not just kids.   One forgets that the term “teenager”  gained traction only in the 1940s, as the popularity of Frank Sinatra took hold with a multitude of teen girls. Suddenly, this overlooked group had the attention of radio programmers and audiences, and a demographic was born. 

Why, one has to ask, is it not pure megalomania whenever directors direct themselves? Simply put, this is a breed of actor (and director) who understands the vision so completely that the need to control every element, even their own performances, overrides all doubt. Of course, this could look quite a lot like megalomania, or it could simply be pure genius. Or perhaps a bit of both.  For many auteurs, it feels perfectly natural. Orson Welles started out with the Big Bang of "Citizen Kane," his first feature film — with credits for directing, producing, co-writing, and starring — crafting what many critics agree is the best movie of all time.  

Movies are palaces of the imagination, showing us places we can’t go, either because they are closed to us, or too far away, or they never existed in the first place. Place is a star in its own right, and the places where movies are set are often the key to the psychology of the piece. Sometimes the setting, and set, is found already built, seemingly just waiting for a camera to come and create an iconic image. And then there’s the house (or an entire city) that must be built from scratch in order to realize the director’s vision. These are sets that go way beyond the functional — they actually advance the mood, flavor, and drama of the piece. We invite you to open the door to these houses with stories to tell.   

Ben Bradlee’s death on Tuesday at age 93 truly feels like the passing of an era. Thus it seems only fitting to revisit the movie that immortalizes him, the times he lived in, and the heroic stand he took: Alan J. Pakula’s “All The President’s Men” (1976).  This riveting, true-life story centers on the history-making reporting by Washington Post reporters Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) and Bob Woodward (Robert Redford) back in 1972, as they track a tiny, throwaway story about a bungled burglary at the Democratic National Committee headquarters in Washington’s Watergate building. That story eventually leads all the way up to the office of the President, and topples Richard Nixon. Guiding the process with a steady hand throughout is Bradlee (played by Jason Robards, who won an Oscar for this). It was inspired casting, but the gifted Robards fully earns his statuette. “All the President’s Men” milks all the inherent suspense around the unfolding mystery of the Watergate scandal, and the parlor game of guessing the real-life identity of key intel informant “Deep Throat” (Hal Holbrook). Stars Hoffman and Redford also work off each other beautifully. But for anyone interested in the machinery of free speech in this country, watch the movie again for those memorable scenes between Robards’s Bradlee and his editorial staff. 

 Life is full of weird coincidences: The first time Brad Pitt’s star power really hit me was in a film directed by...Robert Redford. The movie, of course, was Brad’s big breakthrough, 1992’s “A River Runs Through It”, in which Brad plays the more rebellious of two brothers growing up in 1920’s Montana. Watching it over twenty years ago, I vividly remember thinking that Redford was directing a younger version of himself. Think about it: they look alike, they talk alike, and a generation apart, each would be considered for the same kind of roles. Each in their younger days had the fair, clean-cut quality commonly referred to as “All-American”.