It's the stuff that dreams are made of.

The Saenger Theater in downtown Pensacola has a series going on right now where they are showing a total of ten classic movies through the summer. If you haven't been, I suggest you pick at least one of the remaining films to attend (Show Boat, Citizen Kane, My Fair Lady, Fiddler on the Roof, The Music Man, Casablanca, and The Wizard of Oz). Each showing is Saturday at 7, with tickets costing $5. The experience of seeing these classic movies in a theater with an audience is really something. During the first movie, On the Town, which I admittedly don't like, the theater was packed with what I call a "reaction audience." They let out enormous reactions at every little thing. Somehow, they're enjoyment of the movie made me like it a bit more than I ever have, but also made me realize how much the same audience would have enjoyed something much better, like Singin' in the Rain.

Last week, they showed The Maltese Falcon, one of the great masterpieces of American film. I mean, it created an entire genre, for heaven's sake. It is generally considered the first of the movies that can be referred to as film noir, and once again judging by the audience's enthusiastic response, it still packs a punch. The movie stars Humphrey Bogart as a private detective whose partner is mysteriously killed. He finds himself involved with an assortment of criminals who are looking for a statue of a falcon said to be worth an awful lot of money. The movie co-stars Mary Astor, Sydney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre, and they are all together a very eclectic bunch. This is one of the movies that I really have seen a countless number of times, but which never loses its effect, and which also reveals new things with each viewing. For example, I noticed more visual allusions to prison besides the stripes on Astor's nightgown and that famous shot in the elevator. I also was aware that the Lorre character was gay, but watch his first scene and the positioning of that cane with the long handle.

Above all else, seeing the film in a theater opened my eyes to how amusing it is. For some reason, I have never thought of The Maltese Falcon as being funny, but a lot of people, possibly seeing it for the first time, were struck with giggles at various points throughout. I actually appreciate the movie even more now because it has proven to be a more rounded entertainment than ever. The exact same thing went for 42nd Street, which was shown yesterday evening, and which inspired loud laughter from all through the audience. I had never thought of it that way. However, everyone seemed to be in unanimous awe of the film's musical climax, which remains an impressive acheivement eighty years later. The movie itself is not a musical, but a sometimes dramatic, sometimes humurous, documentation of the production of a musical play being put on by a director played by Warner Baxter who knows he won't be around long enough to make another. Ruby Keeler also stars in her first feature as the plucky, if a little weak-headed, youngster who becomes a star.

The first two-thirds of the movie are light and entertaining, but that finale is sensational. The extended musical number that closes the film was directed by Busby Berkeley, who also lent his hand to other popular musicals like Footlight Parade and Gold Diggers of 1933, which contained a number where the girls wear aluminum bathing suits and the guys are equipped with can-openers. Similarly, 42nd Street has more legs than you can shake a stick at (Remember that it was 1933 and the strict production code hadn't been introduced.), causing one woman-chasing financier to remark, "After three weeks of this, a leg means nothing to me but something to stand on." The most famous shot of the film is when the camera pans through a line of girls with spread legs, which, along with the spinning circles of limbs forming geometric shapes, made Berkeley legendary. These scenes were also incredible for how mobile the camera was, since in previous years, the introduction of sound forced the camera to sit stable behind a glass wall, whereas it could now move freely through the action.

In short, movies were meant to be seen on the big screen and, in some ways, seeing movies with an audience can increase the enjoyment and understanding of the film. Next week, the Saenger is showing the 1951 version of Show Boat for some reason, but I would most recommend Citizen Kane, My Fair Lady, or Casablanca, if you haven't been and want to try it.