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Did you know that both Lincoln and Kennedy have 7 Letters? Did you know that both were shot on a Friday? Just as uncanny is the connection between genial superstar Tom Hanks and his folksy predecessor, James “Jimmy” Stewart.   If there was any question that the two share cinematic auras for their respective generations, it was blown away when Hanks inhabited Stewart’s role from “The Shop Around the Corner” in the slick remake “You’ve Got Mail”. Their parallel command performances – studies in “aw shucks,” regular guy humility – make them both exasperatingly lovable middle-class heroes – everymen doing extraordinary things. The two stars’ respective charm-laden film careers have a great deal in common too, running the leading man gamut from drama to thriller to comedy (Stewart’s “The Philadelphia Story” is a little classier than Hanks loving on a sheep in “Bachelor Party,” but you get the idea).

Forget robins, forget flowers. The real harbinger of spring is baseball. And finally, blessedly, the MLB has returned today with Opening Day.  We’re celebrating America’s Pastime the only way we know how: with movies. In our new two-part series, we’re asking – if your baseball team were a movie, which would it be?

Wes Anderson’s disarming new film, “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” is undoubtedly his most ambitious to-date. While the director’s signature visual style will be familiar to his fans, “Hotel” feels distinctly fresh and different. From its genre (a caper of sorts) to its complexity (his most complicated story yet, with multiple storylines and flashbacks); from the soundtrack (no British Invasion-era Kinks or Stones) to the script (tight, mercilessly funny, yet with tragic elements), “Hotel” is a bold, exciting step forward in Anderson’s career as a filmmaker. The main story thread follows the exploits of Gustave M. (Ralph Fiennes) and his protege, Zero Mustafa (newcomer Tony Revolori). Gustave is the titular hotel’s legendary concierge, resident expert on romantic poetry, and gentleman lover to the hotel’s migratory flock of elderly, blonde aristocrats.  When one particularly besmitten widow dies (an unrecognizable Tilda Swinton), it’s discovered that she bequeathed Gustave a priceless painting in her latest will. Her jealous family, led by her jackbooted, eldest son Dmitri (the wonderfully profane Adrien Brody), challenge the will’s legitimacy. Undeterred, Gustave and Zero abscond with the painting. Pretty soon, everyone who knew of this second will begins to disappear. Can Gustave and Zero survive Dmitri’s deadly machinations?

In 1983, the Center for Disease Control reported 1,025 cases of AIDS. By 1985, it had claimed the lives of over 6,000 Americans. Still no word came from the White House. When Reagan finally addressed the issue in 1987, over 36,000 Americans had been diagnosed.  The Oscar-winning “Dallas Buyer’s Club” is set in the midst of this terrifying silence. It’s 1986, and heterosexual Rob Woodroof (Matthew McConaughey), gets diagnosed due to unprotected sex. While searching for treatments unavailable in the US, he realizes he can make a buck selling those drugs to patients back in the States. The homophobic Rob begins an awkward partnership with the transgendered Rayon (Jared Leto), whom Rob initially sees as nothing more than a foot in the door to their largest customer base: gay men.        McConaughey and Leto won Lead and Supporting Oscars for their memorable performances, and joined a small cadre of distinguished actors to be nominated by the Academy for portraying men living with the disease.

One of the many lures of the film noir genre is its taut, no nonsense dialogue. There’s no room here for flowery speech, not when the bullets and fists are flying.