The Bishop's Wife directed by Henry Koster (starring Cary Grant, Loretta Young, David Niven)

The Bishop's Wife (1947). Screenplay by Leonardo Bercovici and Robert Sherwood from the novel The Bishop's Wife by Robert Nathan. (Some scenes were reportedly rewritten uncredited by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett.)

Bishop: Are you expecting a letter?
Dudley: Well, you never know. If I did get one, the stamp would certainly be worth saving.

That's because Dudley (Cary Grant) is an angel sent to give guidance to forlorn Bishop Henry Brougham (David Niven), and who eventually lights up the lives of everyone else in the Bishop's life, especially The Bishop's Wife in this delightful Christmas film from the late 1940s. When the Bishop prays for help in getting a new cathedral built (the local millionairess widow will only give if her late husband's name is prominently displayed), Cary Grant shows up as his "assistant" but soon makes the Bishop even more miserable by charming his wife Julia (radiant Loretta Young), daughter Debby, and even housemaid Matilda (Elsa Lanchester, always wonderful).

The Bishop's Wife is truly "heavenly" with Grant playing off his tried-and-true persona. Originally Grant and Niven were supposed to have the opposite roles, but Grant decided he could do more with the angel role — and Grant was a bigger star — so they were exchanged. Good thing, too: I can't imagine Cary playing the indecisive Bishop any more than I can imagine Niven charming a woman away from Cary Grant.

Only a few things keep The Bishop's Wife from being perfect. There is an overlong ice-skating scene that really stretches the believability (I had to keep telling myself, "He's an angel; he can do anything"), and the film runs on about 20 minutes too long. In the beginning, Grant is so taken by Young that, if he weren't an angel, those looks would feel really sleazy. Turns out that Cary is just discovering temptations, which makes the ending all the more noble.

I originally saw The Bishop's Wife during the summer months a few years ago in the midst of a Cary Grant festival on Turner Classic Movies. That experience feels a little strange, but the movie is so ... happy that it's easy to slip into the vibe, especially with all the Christmas carols being bandied about like so many candy canes. I'd certainly recommend that fans of the stars watch it at least once (especially since Loretta Young, whom I don't find all that attractive, is made, through Gregg Toland's photography, into a very appealing woman). Niven is rather on the milquetoasty side and his richest scene involves him being stuck in a chair, but the rest of the film is two hours of Christmas joy.

Sharp-eyed viewers may recognize actress Karolyn Grimes (Debby) from her role in another classic Christmas film. The year before The Bishop's Wife, she played Zuzu in Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life.

It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie directed by Kirk R. Thatcher (starring Steve Whitmire, Eric Jacobson, Joan Cusack, David Arquette)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2003. Reprinted with permission.

It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie (2002). Teleplay by Tom Martin and Jim Lewis.

This umpteenth offering from Henson Studios is a parody-laden tribute to It's a Wonderful Life (among others) starring Joan Cusack as villain Rachel Bitterman; David Arquette as Daniel, a social-worker/angel (Heaven is implied, but never said outright) who wants to take Kermit's case; and Whoopi Goldberg as "The Boss" (see?). Also appearing are William H. Macy and Matthew Lillard along with a host of cameos from television personalities (Kelly Ripa, Molly Shannon, Carson Daly, the cast of Scrubs), including a misguided appearance from Triumph the Insult Comic Dog and a hilarious turn from Mel Brooks as a lost snowman narrator.

As a whole, It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie succeeds admirably. The normally frantic Arquette tones it down considerably, settling into a mildly annoying tone that suits the character. And all the muppets are in fine form. Given that I grew up continually exposed to these voice artists, the fact that many of the characters are now embodied by different performers would hardly escape my notice. But I am happy to say that it was not a distraction and, actually, I did not realize that the characters formerly voiced by the legendary Frank Oz (who left the troupe just prior to this to focus on directing) — Fozzie, Miss Piggy, Animal, and Yoda in a cameo — were not Oz himself until doing the research for this review. (Kudos to Eric Jacobson, who makes it seem easy to fill those shoes.)

But the main thing I noticed about the movie was the amount of sexual innuendo. Not only is the "Voulez vous coucher avec moi, c'est soir" line from Moulin Rouge featured (and given a funny twist) in the "Moulin Scrooge" centerpiece (the highlight of the feature), but lines about topless bars, ogling of cleavage, and a stereotypically "dramatic" gay character (who admires Kermit as he walks away) round out the mix.

There is also a dark layer to the proceedings that, while seemingly appropriate given the source material, seemed not at all suitable for the target audience. Kermit screaming "I wish I'd never been born" over and over was nothing short of disturbing.

The story involves the normal crew and their attempts to retain the Muppet Theater by delivering their rent on time to Cusack's Bitterman. Unfortunately, Bitterman changes their contract and the time of delivery of the money is moved up six hours — unbeknownst to the rest until it is almost too late. It is then up to Fozzie to deliver the money before the deadline. This leads up to a painfully funny suspense- and slapstick-filled action sequence involving mistaken identity and various obstacles that eventually ends up ... but that would be giving it away. The eventual solution to the problem, while surely obvious to a town official, escaped me until it was delivered — but it was glossed over in favor of wrapping up the proceedings.

While it's difficult to recapture the original nostalgic joy that came with The Muppet Show and The Muppet Movie (or even the early days of Sesame Street), anything involving our felt friends is worth a watch. It's always good to see them in action, and It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie is no exception.

Lady of the Night directed by Monta Bell (starring Norma Shearer)

Lady of the Night (1925). Screenplay by Alice D.G. Miller from a story by Adela Rogers St. Johns.

I first became aware of Lady of the Night while reading Complicated Women, where author Mick LaSalle refers to it as the breakthrough of star Norma Shearer: "After the film's release, MGM stopped lending her to other studios. She was too valuable." He also praises Shearer's collaborations with Monta Bell (the director of this film and several others with the actress) as "delicate, poem-like films with a bite to them."

I'm not a huge fan of silent films in general, as much as I would like to be, but when I saw that it was going to be broadcast on Turner Classic Movies, I set my recorder. I'm so glad I did. First off, in reference to my previous comment, once Lady of the Night began, I never once remembered that I was watching a silent film. Not only is the brand new score by Jon Mirsalis wonderfully apt to the point of invisibility, but the story is immensely involving because the characters are so engaging. Monta Bell's direction tops everything off with further storytelling touches using only visuals.

The plot involves two women from the proverbial opposite sides of the tracks: Florence Banning (Shearer) is the daughter of a rich judge/businessman, and Molly Helmer (also Shearer) is the daughter of a man sent to jail for 20 years on the day of her birth. Years later, they both graduate from school, Florence from the "Girls' Select School" and Molly from the "Girls' Reform School." Watch as Bell instantly sets up the different worlds: Florence leaves to much pomp and affection from her classmates, and Molly is kind of pushed out the front gate (of what looks like a prison) with her two friends, who immediately go their own separate ways. On the way home, Molly checks her reflection in a passing vehicle: a hearse.

Some time later, Molly has set herself up with "Chunky" Dunn (George K. Arthur), a milquetoasty "prince of fashion" who introduces her to ambitious inventor Dave Page (Malcolm McGregor), whom she instantly falls for, much to Chunky's chagrin. In fact, Molly is attempting to advise (and romance) him when he meets Florence while selling her father his new invention. (One could assume that the similar appearance of Florence and Molly is a consideration, but this is never mentioned in the film.)

One could say that the usual love-triangle conflict occurs, but the characters (especially Molly, one of Shearer's best performances, a true tour de force) are much too complex to be rules by cliches. Though both are played by Shearer, I never imagined Florence and Molly as anything other than two people who look alike. Though both around 19 years old, Shearer plays Molly as more worldly and "older," while Florence is giddy and much "younger." This speaks volumes about Shearer's work in Lady of the Night and suggests why she was so famous and respected in her heyday — in addition to bringing a sharp focus on the sad fact that so few of her early roles are available on video in any form.

The special effect of having both women sit together looks impressive even today (I couldn't see the line!). The only flaw is that, when they embrace, we do catch a glimpse of the double in profile. Interestingly enough, this is another famous face: that of a young Lucille LeSueur, still trying to break into the movies. Not long after, MGM would have a contest to rename Miss LeSueur (due to her surname resembling "le sewer"), and she would eventually be crowned "Joan Crawford."

At just over an hour, the story is tight and succinct, with no wasted film -- ideal for an evening's entertainment with time left over for discussion because the writing, acting, and direction are all top notch. It's only unfortunate that the Academy Awards would not begin for a few more years, or perhaps Lady of the Night would be better remembered as the terrific little film that it is.

Flying Down to Rio directed by Thornton Freeland (starring Dolores del Rio, Gene Raymond, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire)

Flying Down to Rio (1933). Screenplay by Cyril Hume, H.W. Hanemann, and Erwin Gelsey from the play by Anne Caldwell based on a story by Lou Brock.

Most viewers are probably going to come to Flying Down to Rio to see the first pairing of one of filmdom's great couple: Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. But Astaire and Rogers are actually only supporting players to stars Dolores del Rio and Gene Raymond in this lighthearted little pre-Code romantic comedy musical. (If you never thought Ginger Rogers was sexy, you have to see her as Honey Hale in this film.)

Raymond plays Roger Bond, a bandleader with a reputation for getting his orchestra barred from gigs due to his dalliances with the paying customers. His accordion player and best friend, Fred Ayres (Astaire), tries to keep him in line, but because of a bet with her girlfriends, Brazilian girl Belinha de Rezende (del Rio, actually born in Mexico) seduces him first. (As one of the friends, Lucile Browne has the best line in the movie. In a wonderful, typically pre-Code jab, she queries the others, "What has that South American got below the equator that we don't?")

Since Bond is also conveniently a pilot, he and Belinha go off to get some alone time and end up stranded on an island. Interestingly both his and hers "devils on the shoulder" appear to make sure they take full advantage of the situation though each originally had nixed the idea. They end up falling for each other, but unfortunately she's already part of an arranged marriage to Julio (Raul Roulien) who also happens to be a friend of Roger's. (Roulien's best scene is during his reaction to Roger's story of his new girl; as it quickly dawns on him that their girls are the same one.)

Fans of character actors will appreciate Flying Down to Rio's fantastic opening scene involving Franklin Pangborn, one of the great pompous asses of cinema, and Eric Blore, best known for his portrayal of elitist butlers. Both are wonderfully cruel, as the hotel manager and his assistant, in their treatment of the band while they wait for the terminally tardy Bond and Ayres to arrive.

Astaire and Rogers first show off their chemistry together during a funny and charming dance to "The Carioca" (which some of my generation may recognize from a comedic version played over the opening and closing credits of The Kentucky Fried Movie). What follows is a lengthy, 15-minute dance of the multitudes, something that would become a feature of some of the couple's early films. For example, "The Continental" runs around 17 minutes in The Gay Divorcee (their first starring vehicle and still my favorite).

(A lot of Astaire and Rogers fans pick Top Hat as their favorite. But I've never understood this since it's simply a retread of the plot — and cast! — of The Gay Divorcee. Perhaps it's simply because it contains a lot of songs that are now standards. In any case, fans wanting all three, and more, need only look as far as the Astaire & Rogers Ultimate Collector's Edition.)

On the whole, Flying Down to Rio is a forgettable trifle, though "The Carioca" is a real earworm — I had it in my head for two weeks after watching — and it's easy to see why Astaire and Rogers became the great screen couple and not del Rio and Raymond. It's all about chemistry, and director Thornton Freeland capitalizes on the fact that one couple has it in spades while the other is merely going through the motions (though each certainly has charms of his and her own, as they would show in other films).

Heaven Can Wait (1943) directed by Ernst Lubitsch (starring Don Ameche, Gene Tierney, Eugene Pallette, Allyn Joslyn, Marjorie Main)

Heaven Can Wait (1943). Screenplay by Samson Raphaelson based on the play Birthday by Lazlo Bus-Fekete.

Don Ameche arrives at the gates of Hell ready to turn himself in for being so ruthless with women. "His Excellency," however, chooses first to hear his story. He finds that Ameche has not been any worse than anyone else (in fact most of his "crimes" were done in the name of love), and so sends him on his way up.

This is the story of Heaven Can Wait, yet another confection from director Ernst Lubitsch and screenwriter Samson Raphaelson (the duo responsible for the fantastic Trouble in Paradise).

Ameche and Gene Tierney give fine lead performances. However, the film is stolen out from under them by the supporting cast. Allyn Joslyn (The Horn Blows at Midnight) is perfectly pompous as cousin Albert, and Charles Coburn is a delight as always playing Ameche's lovable grandfather, charming and good for a laugh.

But the pair who rule this film are Tierney's parents, played by Eugene Pallette (My Man Godfrey) and Marjorie Main (best known as "Ma Kettle"). Their powerful voices fill the air with intimidating presence when they are together; and their dueling breakfast scene is the highlight of the picture.

Yes, the acting is terrific all around, but somehow it doesn't all fit together right. The ending is obvious from the start and so isn't at all satisfying. I was left thinking, "so what?" But at the same time, the performances were so good, I didn't want Heaven Can Wait to end, so it felt cut short.