Classic films and movies from around the world

LAST UPDATE November 3, 2026

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**Review: That Uncertain Feeling – 1941**

Frothy, lessor comedy from Ernst Lubitsch featuring three characters spinning around each other like tops, with the center being a young and pretty Merle Oberon being wooed on one side by Melvyn Douglas and on the other by Burgess Meredith. What complicates that rather simple romance geometry is that Merle and Melvyn are already married, with Merle's character in a sort of marital funk and seeking out a solution via psychoanalysis. While in her doctor's waiting room she meets Burgess's character, a brilliant pianist of the 1940's "egghead" variety, brash, flamboyant, arrogant, and possibly crazy. For this story's purposes, though, he is the antithesis of Melvyn's character who is a steady, conventional, hard-working insurance salesman.

Lubitsch had Melvyn Douglas in his excellent Ninotchka of 1939 (also on hand are a few other Ninotchka veterans: Richard Carle and Sig Ruman) but the script for that paragon of 1939 comedies was by Charles Brackett, Billy Wilder and Walter Reisch, and for That Uncertain Feeling it is Donald Ogden Stewart, Walter Reisch, and Victorien Sardou, adapted from a stage play. There are no commisars, governments, or international legal machinations bearing down on the lovers here, just their own goofy ideas about what is or is not "real" love, and it results in the characterizations being a bit blurry by Lubitsch standards. For example, is Burgess Meredith's character a blowhard conman pretending to be a great pianist? Is he a sincerely dedicated, devoted modernist artist up against grey middle class expectations? The film lets you have it either way. Is Merle Oberon's young wife a superficial airhead without an ethical or moral core or a woman confused by 1941 upper class fashions for understanding ennui? Is Melvyn Douglas' insurance salesman a clever, red-blooded American man trying to outlast his wife's misunderstandings, or is he really just a fast-talking dullard?

That these characters don't get nailed down very well and the need for them to keep moving through funny situations without developing in the process marks the movie for possessing the classy tone of Lubitsch but not the thematic artistry. If this film had come out from less known movie names, the well done dialogue and the funny situations would elevate it above the crowded world of 1941 comedies, but as a Lubitsch film That Uncertain Feeling is a title that applies to the movie itself.

Review: I Bury the Living - 1958

The title of I Bury the Living is misleading. No one is buried alive in the course of this story. Not that there aren't plenty of burials happening, though, since this 77 minute B-film takes place amid the day-to-day operations of a cemetery. Only some of what happens there is within our view, though, even as events heat up locally and the death rate accelerates. Instead, at its best, I Bury the Living is a psychological test of wills between a new but reluctant cemetery director (played effectively by Richard Boone) up against an apparently lethal cemetery plot map, a large but disingenuous paper object hanging on the inside wall of the cemetery grounds building.

Appointed to the position by the town's local businessman's committee, the role is meant to be a simple community volunteer position, one that's been held previously by many of the other local men. Saying he's too busy doesn't get him out of this "honor," and so Boone's pragmatic and rational Robert Kraft, promised that the task really only takes up a few hours a month, heads down to the cemetery and proceeds to learn how it operates from the longtime grounds keeper Andy (Theodore Bikel). The huge plot map is pointed out and is explained that it helps to keep things simple, with each individual grave site mapped out with family names and black pins showing which positions are already occupied, and white pins for purchased spots belonging to living people. A young couple drop by and they need a pair of plots, and Boone's character updates the plot map, marking their spots accidentally with black pins instead of white. The next day we learn the pair have died in a car accident.

Seeing how he had marked their spots wrong, and a bit shaken by the coincidence, Robert Kraft dismisses the matter until soon another wrongly marked plot is followed by another death. By this point the rational thinking of Robert Kraft is being chiseled away by guilt and a mounting panic that something is happening he can't see or understand. He appeals to the police and of course they view his remarks as absurd. He tries to bring the committee members (the cast is a who's-who of familiar TV actors, circa 1958) up to speed on the crazed situation, and they good-naturedly, but firmly, dismiss the matter. They also eventually put up a challenge for Kraft to "break free" from the delusion: insert black pins into our plots, tonight, they say, and tomorrow you'll see that there's nothing to this story you've concocted. He does this, then stays in the primitive office, staring at the plot map on the wall, covered in pins that cast long shadows (cinematography by Frederick Gately) and waits. And then the reports of death start coming in over the phone.

Boone carries most of I Bury the Living as not just our main character but the only one the script by Louis Garfinkle allows us to get to know. The map starts changing from a ubiquitous framed object into a psychological symbol as Kraft stares at it obsessively, becoming both a dark universe sprinkled with stars (because of how the cinematography by Gately has the map pins glittering in the subdued lighting during these claustrophic moments) but also as a stand-in for Kraft's own soul as he wrestles with the shame that he has some bizarre power that is killing people right and left without his concious awareness.

Director Albert Band doesn't have a lot of budget here and the best scenes are usually just Boone alone with the map in the shadowy grounds building, in a mental conflict with reason, fear and a sense of cosmic power. That this is shown by Boone reduced to an almost silent film level of communication, but pulling it off, is much of what makes I Bury the Living unusually gifted beyond its low budget and genre shackles. But those shackles are real and do reveal themselves as the tale progresses, and the budget, too, asserts its cheapness, and the requisite twists (which are not hard to see coming) reduce what was an effective ambiguity into a cloying obviousness.

The original marketing materials for the film have "out of a time-rotted tomb crawls an unspeakable horror" but even with the cemetery setting, we don't have dead coming out of the ground... though the idea was at least part of the story at some moment in the film's development, that is, the mentally disintegrating Robert Kraft, overwhelmed with the rising body count, gets the crazy idea of putting white pins into where dead bodies lay on the plot map. Unfortunately, the film makers didn't have the time or money to develop their best ideas and instead need to tie up the story before the credits roll, and it's done with all the taste and tact a film titled I Bury the Living can muster. But, for long stretches the cast had something much better happening, and one wonders what might have been accomplished if a less standard summation had not been pursued. Boone, as an agreeable and frightened "everyman" is the main reason this movie is able to juggle a kind of existential dread for awhile in terms that are remarkable and reach out far beyond the cheesy trappings.

Criterion releasing 4K restoration Blu Ray disk of The Shop Around the Corner in December – Criterion

How George Hurrell photographed the 1930s stars – MSN Digital Camera World

But Hurrell wasn't just in the right place at the right time: he was doing things differently. Before him, publicity stills were bland and interchangeable. Hurrell innovated by using hard, directional light to carve out cheekbones and throw everything else into shadow. His portraits of Dietrich are a masterclass in the approach..."

10th Anniversary sale at Indicator-Powerhouse and their disk offerings – Powerhouse Films

Why are there so many new releases from Warner Archives? Because of changes in restoration permissions.

Eric Bauza, modern voice for Looney Tunes characters and many others, has died – CBS Bay Area

A prolific voice actor, just his 2026 credits are a long list of well known titles like Star Wars Mandalorian, Coyote vs Acme, Avatar, Spidey and the Avengers, and that only scratches the surface.

Bauza had more than 400 acting credits listed on his IMDb page. In addition to voicing Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, Bauza is credited with voicing other "Looney Tunes" characters such as Porky Pig, Pepé Le Pew, Marvin the Martian, Elmer Fudd, Foghorn Leghorn, Tweety Bird and Road Runner. He also voiced characters in the most recent "Space Jam" film, alongside LeBron James. Beyond "Looney Tunes," Bauza was known for his voice work on shows such as "Avatar: The Last Airbender," "Puss in Boots," "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," "Woody Woodpecker," "Bob's Burgers" and "Teen Titans Go!"

Sneak peek of the cover for my new book about the making of #TheWomen! Drops in Spring 2027! Thank you, @UTexasPress 😍 #TCMParty #NormaShearer #JoanCrawford #OldHollywood https://t.co/Stj06dPoFd
— Alison Macor (@agmacor) October 29, 2026

The classic era stars who ran their own production companies – MSN Las Vegas News

Pickford, Chaplin, Lucille Ball and others

Hayley Mills at 80 – Hello US MSN

The 80-year-old actress, beloved by generations for movies including The Parent Trap and Pollyanna, attended a special screening of her 1961 classic Whistle Down the Wind at BFI Southbank on Friday, September 4, 2026..."

Fast Review

The Keyhole (1933) Trouble hits trophy wife Anne Vallee Brooks (Kay Francis) fast when it turns out an ex-husband isn't quite as "ex" as she thought. George Brent and Glenda Farrell also appear.

More about The Keyhole, 1933

Tenth anniversary of Hail Caesar! "a hidden 21st-century masterpiece" – Movie Web

Talk of the Town in 4K UHD – AMAZON

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur and Ronald Colman, 1942.