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I’ve always had an affinity for horror films built around ghosts, usually favoring them over titles involving homicidal slashers, monsters, zombies, aliens, and vampires. I love the delicious build-up in a ghost story, with subtle signs gradually escalating to full-fledged horror.

Given today’s chaotic, divisive political environment, it’s hard to imagine that events on the presidential stage could be any more sensational, yet looking back, many memorable films have mined the drama inherent in this exalted office. 

Personally, I rate Melvyn Douglas as one of the finest stage and screen actors of the twentieth century. Not only was he awarded two Oscars over his career, but he is one of just nine individuals to attain the fabled Triple Crown of acting, winning an Oscar, an Emmy and a Tony.

When producer Ross Hunter decided to make “Pillow Talk” early in 1959, many industry insiders doubted his judgment. After all, the golden era of romantic comedy was long past. William Powell had already retired, and Cary Grant had only a few films left, most of which were not romantic comedies.

It’s striking just how alike they were: both petite women with big personalities and talent who achieved overnight success in iconic movies at age 19; both immensely driven professionals who, in the face of personal challenges and misfortune, channeled their prodigious energies into their work.

In the years after the smashing success of Mike Nichols’s “The Graduate” (1967), Anne Bancroft came to believe that her portrayal of Mrs. Robinson, the bored middle-aged wife and mother who seduces newly minted college grad Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman), overshadowed the rest of her career.

Rarely if ever has a collaboration between artist and muse yielded such rich cinematic treasure. Master director Akira Kurosawa and his favorite actor Toshiro Mifune worked together on sixteen films in as many years. Most of these titles achieve a very high level of quality and hold up beautifully, while a few are truly brilliant.

Dick Powell: always underrated, and today, perhaps even unknown. While any movie buff worth their salt will certainly remember him, for most anyone else not holding an AARP card, the mention of his name will likely elicit a questioning look.

With the gradual passing of opening movie credits, we also lost a vital element that distinguishes many so-called “classic” movies: the original music score, including a heroic, memorable opening theme. What’s the last film you remember that had a score you could hum while walking home from the theater — a piece of music you knew you'd always remember and associate with the film?