A sweet and clever combination of anecdotes and autobiography, Radio Days draws heavily on Woody Allen's childhood. Fittingly, the unfolding episodes are woven together by music-lovely hits of the 1940s like "In the Mood" and "That Old Feeling. " Some episodes are built around radio itself (like the burglars who answer the phone in a house they're burgling and win a radio contest), and others center on the life of a young Jewish boy (Seth Green, clearly playing a version of Allen himself as a child). Though light in tone, Radio Days is an ambitious re-creation not simply of an era, but of radio itself. Nowadays radio is little more than a way to sell pop tunes, but it used to transmit dreams; watching this movie, you get a taste of how inspiring this simpler medium could be. -Bret Fetzer.

The most lavish feature built around Laurel and Hardy, 1934's March of the Wooden Soldiers is also the most bizarre. Opening unpromisingly with one of several mawkish numbers derived from Victor Herbert's musical Babes in Toyland, the antics of toyshop laborers Stannie Dum and Ollie Dee are worked into a scenario midway between Lewis Carroll and the Brothers Grimm. Nursery-rhyme characters come and go in a surreal fantasy, with the evil Mr. Barnaby threatening to evict Widow Peep from her shoe unless he receives her daughter Bo in marriage. The movie culminates in a full-scale invasion of Toyland by the yeti-ish Bogeymen and their defeat by the 100 six-foot wooden soldiers which Stan and Ollie have built by mistake. Henry Brandon gives a characterful performance, while 1930s child star Charlotte Henry is an appealing heroine. Directors Gus Meins and Charles R. Rogers milk the slapstick to an increasingly unnerving degree. Reputedly Hardy's favorite among the double act's features, March of the Wooden Soldiers emerges now as their most audacious screen appearance. -Richard Whitehouse.

During its release, this was the most popular film of all time in its native Italy. A typical Roberto Benigni comedy of mistaken identity, this 1991 work stars the actor-director in two roles, one a tough mafioso named Toothpick and the other a meek bus driver who is the gangster's look-alike. When the bad guy's girlfriend comes on to the clueless innocent-and she brings him along to her Sicilian villa-the slapstick madness rolls into high gear. Benigni really is a very funny and often remarkable clown, and he employs his usual physical gags in great and gratifying abundance. His script's inspiration reaches several peak moments when the mysteries between light and dark doppelgangers are suggested. One could reasonably call this sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde tale the closest Benigni has yet come to making his version of Jerry Lewis's The Nutty Professor. -Tom Keogh.

A harsh, cutting, and wickedly funny look into the darker side of show business, Swimming with Sharks tells the story of a naive and eager assistant (Frank Whaley) and his slide into the cutthroat world of Hollywood power struggles. Whaley goes to work for a top movie executive (Kevin Spacey) who almost immediately begins to wear down his new assistant's exuberance with his whining, egomaniacal tantrums and relentless verbal abuse, even as he promises his young charge a chance to move up the ladder. Culminating in a violent and ultimately ironic confrontation between mentor and protégé, this brutal 1994 black comedy benefits from some razor-sharp writing and terrific comic turns from both Whaley (Hoffa) as one whose idealism is irrevocably shattered, and Spacey (Seven, L. A. Confidential), deliciously funny as a caustic, belligerent, and ultimately sad figure. A savage indictment of both the movie business and the price of ambition, Swimming with Sharks is one of the best black comedies in recent years. -Robert Lane.