D: Jonathan Demme (1984); with David Byrne, Tina Weymouth, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison.

Stop Making Sense is considered by many to be one of the best concert films of all time, and possibly the best (depending on how one feels about the band). There are people who find David Byrne to be affected and bizarre, but plenty of others have no such problems. The Talking Heads were at their artistic zenith when the film was made, having released back-to-back the albums Remain in Light and Speaking in Tongues, and the band's videos were getting heavy rotation on MTV.

The concert begins with Byrne taking the stage, guitar in hand and accompanied only by a boom box. After performing "Psycho Killer" solo, he's joined by fellow Heads Weymouth, Frantz, and Harrison, each arriving individually to add their talents to the next song. It can be argued that parading the band out one at a time is a conceit, but it's one that works.

By the time they kick into "Slippery People," the music is in full gear. Heads fans will be happy with the performances of such favorites as "Heaven," "Burning Down the House," "Life During Wartime," "Naive Melody," "Once in a Lifetime," "Take Me to the River," and "Crosseyed and Painless." Byrne bouncing around the stage in his big suit during "Girlfriend Is Better" is one of the more memorable rock images of the Eighties, but Stop Making Sense is more than just something to be sliced and diced into music videos. Director Jonathan Demme wisely stayed away from unnecessary camera movement and the rapid editing style so prevalent on MTV at the time, allowing the concert to unfold in the organic manner the band intended.

D: George Dunning (1968); with the voices of the Beatles, John Clive, Geoffrey Hughes, Peter Batten, Paul Angelis, Dick Emery, Lance Percival.

The late 1960s were a low point in the production of animated feature films. Walt Disney was dead, and although his company released The Jungle Book in 1967, it would be over a decade before the studio regained its form and started making classic animated features again. So Yellow Submarine is something of an anomaly for its time, and yet is completely of its time as well.

The simplistic story begins when the music-hating Blue Meanies attack the peaceful kingdom of Pepperland. At the behest of the lord mayor, Old Fred sets off in the yellow submarine to find champions for Pepperland. As luck would have it, he finds Ringo, and after all the lads are assembled, they undertake the perilous journey through the seas of time, monsters, and holes back to Pepperland. Upon arriving, they steal back the musical instruments and liberate the land from the grip of the meanies, snapping turtle-turks, apple-bonkers, and the sadistic flying glove.

D: Mel Brooks (1974); with Gene Wilder, Peter Boyle, Teri Garr, Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman, Madeline Kahn, Kenneth Mars, Gene Hackman.

One of Mel Brooks' finest and funniest films, Young Frankenstein was initially the brainchild of Gene Wilder, who took the idea to Brooks after the duo paired on the amazingly successful Blazing Saddles. The story, co-written by Wilder and Brooks, follows the exploits of Victor Frankenstein's grandson, who deplores his infamous ancestor's work animating dead tissue and prefers to have his name pronounced Fronk-un-steen. After inheriting his grandfather's castle in Transylvania, Young Frankenstein visits the family estate and quickly becomes obsessed with building a living human being from the dead, with uproarious results. One of the film's greatest strengths is the obvious affection its makers have for the Universal Studio horror movies they are sending up. Shot in black and white, Young Frankenstein looks like it might have been filmed on the Universal lot during the 1940s. One almost expects to see Dwight Frye, Edward Van Sloan, or Lionel Atwill pop up from behind a gravestone. Although the concept and script are solid, the performances are what elevate the humor to classic status. Kenneth Mars and Marty Feldman, as the inspector and Igor respectively, occasionally kick out all the stops and step into broad physical comedy, but for the most part the cast doesn't overplay the material, instead relying on timing and performance to sell the gags. Anyone who's seen Bride of Frankenstein will howl at Gene Hackman's cameo as the blind hermit, which he plays almost entirely straight. The formula works wonderfully, and it's this quality that makes Young Frankenstein as funny on the 10th viewing as it is on the first.

D: David Mirkin (1997); with Lisa Kudrow, Mira Sorvino, Janeane Garofalo.

High school is hardly the best of times for most people. Under the guise of providing an education, pubescent kids are cast into a crucible of other people's expectations designed to break their wills and instill a respect for authority. In spite of which, most teenagers manage to squeeze a certain amount of enjoyment from the experience anyway. While a high school reunion may be an opportunity to check up on old friends, each of us also hopes to appear comparatively more successful than our former classmates. This is a major problem for best friends Romy and Michele, who are returning to the place that spawned them into the adult world 10 years previously, with precious little to brag about. Unable to find boyfriends or high-powered jobs in the week or so before their 10th reunion, the pair arm themselves with a borrowed car, business suits, cell phones, and a cover story (they claim to have invented Post-It notes) in hopes of making an impression. Needless to say, things don't go as planned.

D: George Armitage (1997); with John Cusack, Minnie Driver, Dan Akroyd, Alan Arkin, Joan Cusack, Jeremy Piven.

Martin Blank is a professional killer with no end of trouble. His last two jobs haven't gone according to Hoyle, his therapist doesn't want to see him any more, and worst of all, the fates and his assistant are conspiring to send him back to Detroit for his 10th high-school reunion. Complicating matters further are a fellow assassin who is trying to unionize the murder-for-hire business and wants Martin to cooperate, a pair of federal agents waiting to kill him when he completes his next hit, and the girlfriend he abandoned 10 years ago on prom night. Besides which, he doesn't think his fellow Grosse Pointe High School alums will be able to relate to a person who "killed the president of Paraguay with a fork."

D: Nathan Juran (1958); with Kerwin Mathews, Kathryn Grant, Torin Thatcher (special visual effects: Ray Harryhausen; music, Bernard Herrmann).

The 7th Voyage of Sinbad was the third film brought to the screen by producer Charles H. Schneer and effects technician Harryhausen, and broke new ground for the duo in a number of ways. The Arabian Nights adventure was their inaugural color picture, marking the first time Harryhausen brought multiple monstrosities to life through the painstaking process of stop-motion animation and was the first of several Harryhausen-Schneer films to be scored by legendary composer Herrmann. The story pits Sinbad (Mathews) against a malevolent sorcerer, an animated skeleton, a fire-breathing dragon, and a pair of Cyclops, all of whom he must overcome to restore his pint-sized princess to her normal size and thereby avert a war. It's pure Saturday matinee fare, elevated by Harryhausen's incredible technical virtuosity into first-rate entertainment.

("Video Reviews" wishes to thank Encore Movies & Music, I Luv Video, Vulcan Video, and Waterloo Video for their help in providing videos, laser discs, and DVDs.)

D: Don Chaffey (1963); with Todd Armstrong, Nancy Kovack (special visual effects: Ray Harryhausen; music: Bernard Herrmann).

Harryhausen's movies have sometimes been described as beginning-monster-monster-monster-end, and in spite of being an oversimplification, it's sometimes an apt description. Jason and the Argonauts certainly fits into that category, but in spite of its formulaic nature, it's a wonderfully engaging and entertaining film. The son of the former king of Thessaly, Jason (Armstrong) hopes to drive the murderous usurper Pelias from the throne by finding the Golden Fleece and returning with it to his kingdom. Along the way, he and his crew of Greek champions encounter a number of monstrous antagonists, including the bronze colossus Talos, a pair of ill-tempered harpies, a seven-headed hydra, and an army of living skeletons. Although Jason's mission is basically one of thievery, and the tale ends before his ill-fated love with Medea reaches critical mass, the storyline takes a backseat to the monsters. Each mythological creature was brought to life by the incredible stop-motion animation of Harryhausen, who painstakingly created the effects one frame at a time.

Directed by James Cameron. James Cameron's Titanic currently holds a number of cinematic distinctions. It is the all-time moneymaker among films, which is fortunate since Titanic is also the most expensive movie ever made, and its 11 Oscar wins tied it with William Wyler's 1959 epic Ben-Hur as the Academy's most honored film. As with all of Cameron's efforts, the money invested in Titanic is on the screen; visually and aurally, the film is spectacular. Cameron's insistence on re-creating the physical details of the doomed ship, as well as other aspects of the period, are indeed impressive. Unfortunately, his ability as a screenwriter falls well short of his directorial talents (it is no accident that the film failed to earn an Oscar nod for best screenplay). The story of Jack and Rose is hackneyed and predictable, but in spite of that has clearly touched a nerve with the viewing public. An earlier Cameron film, The Abyss, is a more mature and believable study of the transcendent quality of human love, but it failed to connect with either critics or audiences.

D: F. W. Murnau (1922), w/Max Schreck, Gustav von Wangenheim, Greta Schroeder. Laserdisc.

Nosferatu is one of the first feature films to deal with the subject of vampirism. This silent classic is based on Bram Stoker's novel Dracula, and although the author originally went unmentioned in the titles, he is given proper credit in this version. The familiar plot has Count Orlock seeking the aid of a young real estate salesman to relocate from his castle in Transylvania to a large city. The film's finale is a departure from other versions of Dracula in that the vampire's destruction is brought about by a woman who sacrifices herself to keep Orlock occupied until the sun rises. The strengths of Nosferatu are Murnau's stylish direction and Max Schreck's performance as the vampire. Creepy and rodent-like in appearance, with elongated fingernails and a balding skull, Schreck truly looks like a creature who could bring death and pestilence to an entire city.

D: John Carpenter (1982), w/Kurt Russell, A. Wilford Brimley, Richard Dysart. Laserdisc.

Carpenter's version of The Thing is less a remake of the Howard Hawks 1951 version than a more faithful adaptation of John W. Campbell Jr.'s short story "Who Goes There?" on which both were based. The film opens in Antarctica with a sled dog running from a pair of Norwegian men in a helicopter, who are attempting to kill the animal. The dog finds safety at a nearby American base and the Norwegians end up dead, leaving the Americans with a mystery and a whole lot more (although they don't realize it at the time) on their hands. After investigating the Norwegian camp and a crashed alien spacecraft, the Americans, led by pilot Kurt Russell, begin to put the pieces together. When the dog metamorphoses into something indescribable, the men are faced with the fact that they are up against an enemy that can literally look like anyone or anything. The Thing is paranoid, bleak, uncompromising, and thankfully devoid of a traditional Hollywood happy ending. Led by Russell, the ensemble cast is outstanding, but the real star of the film is Rob Bottin's imaginative creature effects. Bottin, who was responsible for the werewolf make-up and transformations in The Howling the previous year, takes full advantage of the myriad possibilities that the alien's power provides.