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Born Eldred Gregory Peck in 1916, San Diego’s most glamorous native son evinced in life the very qualities that made his movie roles icons of strength and integrity.

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

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.  

Cities are like people, in that some periods represent career peaks, and there are plenty of examples of golden ages to go around: Paris in the 1920s, Los Angeles in the 1940s, and New York in the 1950s all brim with romance in the popular imagination. But no scene was quite as explosive in sheer energy and style as London was in the 1960s. A nation finally emerging from Blitz mentality and the rationing of World War II, England was primed for a major cultural earthquake, thanks to the crumbling of centuries-old social constriction, and the emergence of the Baby Boomers's youth culture. And when that earthquake, or “youthquake,” came, it was the movies that registered its shockwaves. “Swinging” London was its epicenter, as bands like The Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who, and the Kinks created a danceable soundtrack for the era, and pioneering hair stylist Vidal Sassoon snipped girls’ hair into a bob, perfect for bouncing along to the beat (and of course, boys’ hair grew down past their collars). 

In a variety of interesting ways, mustaches make the man in movies. At the dawn of film, it was usually the villain wearing the ‘stache. In silents and old-time serials, they would twirl them to signify a dastardly deed was being contemplated. These “types” would go on to inspire the indelible character of Snidely Whiplash in the “Dudley Do-Right” segment on “The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show.” I loved that guy. In the realm of silent comedy, the sight of well-placed follicles on the kisser also could elicit laughter from audiences, as evidenced by Charlie Chaplin, Ben Turpin, Andy Clyde, Oliver Hardy and others.

Turning leaves, the appearance of tweed, and the visceral thrill of a cool nip in the air all evoke a seasonal tide turning. Autumn on film is one of the medium’s richest commodities, and a visual feast to mirror the one that rolls around every November.  Filmmakers can’t resist all that color or the movement of falling leaves, with deep nostalgia swiftly evoked in a few frames of swirling red and gold. Regardless of plot, cast or dialogue, the unsung hero of the autumnal movie is the cinematographer.  Fall on film seems to break into two categories: city and country; and that city is most often New York. It not only dresses the part, but the energy that arrives in town after Labor Day belongs to a law of physics. 

Everyone knows Welles, Huston, Kubrick, Spielberg, Scorsese and Nolan. But what about Leisen, Hill, Hiller, Boorman, Mann and Sayles?  For every “name” director, there are several others we feel deserve more recognition. They may have had successes—critical and/or financial—but for some reason they’ve tended to fly under the radar. Here are six filmmakers whose legacies deserve our respect and appreciation. Even though their names may have faded from memory, their finest work lives on, as you’ll soon discover.

Keep all those “Zoolander” jokes to yourself, because being a model in a movie doesn’t necessarily mean a pretty face (or body) catwalking across the screen for mere amusement or titillation, or because the director needed a hot date for the Screen Actors Guild awards. Underneath the high cheekbones and sculpted abs often lie the makings of a great actor. Here are some of the folks who made astonishingly smooth moves from still photography to motion pictures.

Donald Sutherland has landed a pretty nice gig in the "Hunger Games" franchise. As the ruthless President Snow, with his lion's mane of white hair and fluffy beard, he's the sort of iconic villain that fans of the series love to hate.