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"Shuttlecock" is the code name for Alan Bates' character, a British agent renowned for his work with the French Resistance in World War II. Having just released a successful book about his wartime exploits, he has retired to 1960s Portugal in the time of Salazar's fascist regime. Shortly after the book's release, he is found speechless and disheveled near a train station, nearly catatonic after experiencing an unknown trauma. Bates' adult son begins to investigate his father's past, becoming obsessed with unlocking the truth and explaining his muteness.

"Shuttlecock" is a technically accomplished, quite beautiful film with a troubled production history. The director's cut features new footage filmed in 2014 with the original actors that bookends and elucidates the family saga. The new footage is edited seamlessly, and all of it looks fantastic. Many film databases list the revised version as an entirely separate movie with a 2020 release date.

Although the story's mysteries are ultimately revealed in a satisfying way, it must be admitted it can be slow going getting there. There is a chilly, reserved quality to the storytelling that requires patience from the viewer. In addition to the great Alan Bates, the film features a very strong Lambert Wilson performance, who portrays a character that may have seemed histrionic in the hands of a lesser actor.

This handsomely produced, well-acted drama of World War II's impact on one British family will reward patient viewers, and I'm glad it got finished so many years later.

Despite its exceptional quality and the presence of genre hero Richard Widmark, "The Trap" has mostly eluded noir enthusiasts. It's hard to see why: coming in at barely 85 minutes, the script is taut as a piano wire and immediately hits you with its vitality and tension. Widmark plays a mafia lawyer forced to use family law enforcement connections to help mob boss Lee J. Cobb escape from an oppressively hot desert town. Chaotic action and dark family tension erupt as the hour of Cobb's departure approaches.

Earl Holliman gives one of his best performances as Widmark's brother, the local deputy. Holliman is a barely functioning alcoholic with serious daddy issue who is quickly losing the affection of wife Tina Louise and the respect of his father, the sheriff. His rapid moral collapse, occurring while Widmark starts to gain backbone, provides the core tension of the film. It's wonderful to see Tina Louise in a starring role: she is excellent in these thrillers (see also "Day of the Outlaw") and should have been a much bigger star. The movie climaxes with a splendid action sequence on a plane runway that's beautifully executed given the film's limited budget.

Is it a crime to confess that Lucille Ball is my favorite "Mame"? There is a sincerity, sweetness and heart to her performance that I find more affecting than Roz Russell's ardency or Angela Lansbury's acidity. Lucy's version of Mame is the one I'd most like to dine with: a touch more human and not merely a bangled monument to "joie de vivre." Many have eviscerated her vocal performance, but I find her husky, talk-singing style well-suited to Jerry Herman's lyrical wit and uncomplicated melodies. "We Need a Little Christmas" brought me to real tears, something I had not experienced in many plays of the cast album.

Others have roasted "Mame" for its old-fashioned quality, but that's what makes this handsome, expensive production stand out in the context of its time. It feels like the last gasp of a dying art, an ultra-grand Hollywood studio musical defiantly emerging from the self-serious New Hollywood era. It's also simply *well done*: the choreography is lithe and beautifully executed, and Theadora Van Runkle's costume work positively gleams. Ball gets a few wonderful physical comedy bits, and even roller skates! The two-hour plus runtime flew by. This one deserves a serious reevaluation.