"977"

Name almost any type of film and it’s likely Robert Wise made at least one of them.   Whether it's a horror movie, a science-fiction outing, a war picture, an ensemble drama, a suspense film or a musical, Wise handled it, usually in exceptional fashion. (The only area he really didn’t tackle was pure comedy.)   Yet predictably, his versatility didn’t play well with some film commentators of his time who prescribed to the “auteur” theory, which lent more significance to directors who consistently followed a signature style in their work.

Bill Murray has been doing things his own way since the beginning of his career. Not only does he operate without an agent or manager, but he seems to make it virtually impossible to contact him. He has a P.O. box somewhere in America, and if you're lucky enough to figure out where it is, you can mail your scripts to him. If you’re extra lucky, and we mean lottery winning lucky, he may actually check his mail that year. It's a small miracle that he learns about any offers at all. It's not that Murray doesn't want to work. It's just that his way of playing the Hollywood game is distinctly different from the way everyone else plays it. This isn't necessarily a star trip, either, for he liked to keep people guessing long before he was scoring at the box office with hits like "Ghostbusters" (1984).  For instance, Murray was so uncommunicative with the production crew of "Caddyshack" (1980) that they had no idea if he was going to show for his first day of shooting. Finally, just moments before his first scene was to begin, he arrived ready to bring the memorable Carl Spackler to life.

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.

It’s very hard not to like Harrison Ford. He seems like one of us. He’s a ruggedly handsome, well-built guy, but his prominent nose, slightly goofy, off-center grin, and that prominent scar on his chin, somehow make him more human and accessible than your standard issue leading man. And in all his “heroic” roles, be it Han Solo or Richard Kimble, he’s never afraid to show us when he’s totally freaked out. I love that.    Not many people know this, but Ford’s movies have grossed more worldwide than any other actor’s, close to — wait for this — $6 billion. Yet the man seems completely humble and down-to-earth. (I know — I’ve met him.) Why? Because, God bless him, he recognizes the role  luck played in his remarkable journey. Ford was a native of the Chicago suburbs whose adult life started without much direction. Showing little interest in his philosophy studies at Wisconsin’s Ripon College, Ford decided an acting class might help him get over his shyness. Hey Mikey — he liked it! He then quit college, did a season in summer stock, and leapt off to LA with dreams of becoming an actor. Yeah, him and everyone else.

Even though much of the appeal of horror movies lies in their power to tap into primal fears, I’d like to think our cerebral cortexes have evolved to the point where we want our thrills to test our minds as well as our nerves. After all, horror movies often leave the greatest, and most lasting, chill when they hinge on psychological, rather than fantastical, terrors.  The higher the intelligence of the piece, the harder it is to dispel that chill, and the more elegant the premise, the more likely it is to stay lodged in our psyches. Smarter scary movies just seem more believable, even when they are set in space, or when ghosts crawl out of the television. Not surprisingly, a large percentage of such titles are adapted from works of fiction. The “interior” aspect of fiction reminds us that the worst nightmares are often conjured not by reality but by our own imaginations.

Given all the heroes and soldiers he played over his half century in film, this year, it’s only fitting that John Wayne’s birthday should fall around Memorial Day. 

The Olympics finally wrapped last week with a blowout Closing Ceremony in Sochi that featured a hellish, 3-story animatronic bear that Putin probably designed for the upcoming attack on Ukranian freedom fighters.  Amongst the thrills and spills that come part and parcel with humans travelling at unholy speeds atop icy surfaces, we had the usual whining from ice dancers and figure skaters over anonymous judges’ scoring, some truly amazing tumbling and spinning from the more amicable (and fun) crowd of skiiers and snowboarders, and those weird moments that happen once every four years where we suddenly care deeply about non-sports like curling.

We had a varied crop of great movies in 1978. Some I saw right away; I vividly recall, for instance, being traumatized by “The Deer Hunter.” Others I missed and only experienced years later.