To say that my brother and I didn’t get along when we were growing up would be like saying Khan didn’t get along with Captain Kirk or Bette didn’t get along with Joan. We were mortal enemies until we both ended up at the same college (but that’s another story). Mom and Dad tried everything to get us to tolerate each other. But they didn’t understand the extent of my brother’s warfare: Barbie heads hidden under my pillows, ratting me out for hiding the peas on my plate, and scaring me sleepless with his dreaded ”Tales of Zonka,” an escapee from the local penitentiary who had a zipper neck for his detachable head—perfect for swallowing little girls whole. Given the emotional intensity of the battle, the best Mom and Dad could hope for was a Brother-Sister Cold War suffused with icy glares and frosty exchanges.

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What scares you? Don't think about it too much, just...what makes your hands go clammy, your heart go boom BOOM boom, and your nights go...sleepless? The depraved human mind doing depraved things? Large carnivorous creatures springing randomly from the woods or deep water? Wicked, undead things that may or may not get their marching orders from Satan?

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When Rocket Man was in theaters last year, a good friend and I went to see it. We had different opinions. She was expecting more of a biopic and wasn’t really comfortable with the almost magic realism of the movie. I, on the other hand, loved that people broke into song and dance and flew through the air and I don’t even really like Elton John’s music.

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Summer’s end. I can think of few more evocative phrases in the English language. The words conjure vivid sense memories and emotions: the splashing-laughing sounds of the final day at the pool, shopping for school supplies, swirling midway lights and the scent of fried food at state fairs, a subtle change in the quality of sunlight, the first few yellow leaves, geese starting to migrate, the first day of a new school year… Melancholy mixed with anticipation. I feel it even now, long after my last graduation.

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There are certainly countless lines of dialogue from movies over the years that have stuck in viewers’ minds, but I’d wager that among two-word utterances, few have provoked as much of an emotional response as that simple greeting from Scout to Arthur Radley (Robert Duvall in his debut) in the classic 1962 film To Kill A Mockingbird.

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Silent Running, a beautifully filmed outer space epic produced on a shoestring budget of a million dollars — about six million 2020 dollars — was directed by the special effects master Douglas Trumbull. It starred Bruce Dern.

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Sometimes, just the fact that a film exists is enough to change or mark your life in significant ways, and for me, A Hard Day’s Night is top of the list. Upon watching it again recently (for at least the fiftieth time), I was completely transported back to my mostly giddy, carefree, sun-drenched childhood, while the more mature (snort) film critic and musicologist in me was once again bowled over by the instinctive brilliance and collaborative alchemy on display.

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The swimming pool has been a prominent feature of the American landscape since the rapid growth of suburbs in post-WWII culture. Upper and middle-class homeowners, enjoying a period of prosperity, would contract out for a geometrically pleasing shape in a corner of their back yard which they would fill with crystal clear water on summer afternoons.

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I was 13 years old — just the right age to fall in love for the first time — and I fell hard for Jaws. I saw it a dozen times in the summer of 1975. It was the first film I obsessed over, that I couldn’t wait to see again and again. It was the movie that made me love the experience of being in love with a movie.

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