This 1982, 180-minute television remake of the original MGM feature, produced 30 years before, is the rare makeover of a classic that works quite well under its own steam. Anthony Andrews plays the disinherited knight who returns from the Third Crusades and is determined to raise the ransom to free a kidnapped King Richard (Julian Glover). With his bid rebuffed by his estranged father (Michael Hordern), and the affection of the latter's ward, Rowena (Lysette Anthony), compromised, Ivanhoe looks toward the generosity of the beautiful Rebecca (Olivia Hussey)-whose father (James Mason) he rescued from anti-Semitic Normans-for help. But a plot by faithless friends to discredit Ivanhoe, and his subsequent partnership with Robin Hood (David Robb) to save the day, keep this story from slowing down even for a minute. Originally a miniseries, this production has enough breadth to provide lots of breathing room for the script and cast to mine all the drama they can from Sir Walter Scott's novel. This is also a great-looking movie, with wall-to-wall pageantry, superb costumes-the works. -Tom Keogh.

Although Sunshine was made by a Hungarian, István Szabó, and deals with the history of Hungary as refracted through three generations of a Jewish-Hungarian family, you might be more inclined to give it three hours of your own life if you approach it as a David Lean movie in spirit. It is an English-language picture, and Maurice Jarre's music recalls his score for Doctor Zhivago. Szabó emulates Lean's intimate-epic style of merging the sweep of history with the crystalline detailing of individual lives, so that the shape of destiny is glimpsed through personal moments that feel at once evanescent and eternal. His lighting cameraman, Lajos Koltai, is one of the handful of cinematographers equal to capturing these moments in lapidary images-cinematic sunshine of the highest order. "Sunshine" is a literal translation of Sonnenschein, the family name of the central characters. And "destiny" is one meaning of Sors, the name three Sonnenschein offspring choose for themselves to better assimilate as subjects of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Two are brothers, Ignatz (Ralph Fiennes) and Gustave (James Frain); their sister (by adoption) Valerie (Jennifer Ehle) is really their cousin. Both men love her, and Ignatz rocks the ultratraditional family by taking her as his wife. Nevertheless, the Sonnenscheins and the Sors enter upon the 20th century in loving solidarity, grateful to live under a liberal and tolerant regime. That's all swept away by the Great War, the rise of Nazism, and its replacement, the new fascism of Stalinist Communism. [+]

Bette Davis pulls out all the stops as Janet Frobisher, a devious, selfish vixen who will stop at nothing to get what she wants in "Another Man's Poison," a drama deliciously full of unexpected twists and turns. Frobisher is a rich mystery writer who falls in love with her secretary's fiance and lures him away. But her happiness is far from ensured. She first must deal with a long forgotten ex- convict husband who tries to blackmail her, and then she must scheme her way out of the clutches of her husband's ruthless partner, George Bates (Gary Merrill, Davis' husband in real life). Davis proves why she remains such an acting legend as she dominates the screen in the kind of part that only she could bring to life so vividly.

Cinematographer Gianni di Venanzo's masterful use of Technicolor transforms Juliet of the Spirits (Giulietta Degli Spiriti), Fellini's first color feature, into a kaleidoscope of dreams, spirits, and memories. Giulietta Masina plays a betrayed wife whose inability to come to terms with reality leads her along a hallucinatory journey of self-discovery. Home Vision is proud to present the fully restored version of one of Fellini's most dazzling dreams.

When American audiences first saw Mario Bava's 1963 horror trilogy, it wasn't the same film he had made in Italy. Finding it too terrifying for kids (imagine that!), AIP pictures trimmed it of violence and intensity, rescored it, and renamed it in order to cash in on the success of Black Sunday. New tongue-in-cheek introductions with costar Boris Karloff were added, the segments were rearranged, and one segment was completely rewritten in the dubbing. It was a good film even in its butchered form, but the original Italian version is excellent. The correctly ordered stories begin with "The Telephone," a gripping, ornate thriller that anticipates Bava's later "giallo" horror classics such as Blood and Black Lace. (In the American version, lesbian overtones were removed and the escaped criminal killer was turned into a vengeful ghost. ) Karloff stars as a demonic, wild-haired patriarch in the eerie "The Wurdulak," a gorgeous vampire tale shot on misty, menacing sets. The masterpiece of the collection is "The Drop of Water," a chilling ghost story with shiver inducing imagery: the piercing dead eyes of the restless corpse will haunt you long after the film is over. Bava's original framing sequence ends with a playful tribute to the magic of moviemaking and storytelling, a sweet coda to remind us that it's only a movie. The print suffers slightly from wear and tear and water damage but the colors are sharp and vivid. [+]

Robert Donat won an Oscar for his portrayal of the humble British don in the 1939 film Goodbye, Mr. Chips-and Peter O'Toole was nominated for his version of the role in this lackluster musical (he, along with Dustin Hoffman and Jon Voight of Midnight Cowboy, lost to John Wayne in True Grit). O'Toole is affecting as the shy English schoolteacher at a private boys' school who is brought out of his shell by the love of a good woman, then goes on to become a teaching legend after her tragic death. But the idea of turning this touching tale into a musical (with totally forgettable songs by John Williams and Leslie Bricusse) was almost as wrong-headed as having O'Toole do his own singing-or as casting singer Petula Clark as his wife. -Marshall Fine.

Furious, violently bombastic, terribly unsettling, Ken Russell's 1970 biography of Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky (Richard Chamberlain) is a portrait of artistic brilliance beset by the Russian composer's mounting guilt over, well, everything: his homosexuality, his marriage to the increasingly miserable and mad Nina (Glenda Jackson), his hidden attraction to Count Anton Chiluvsky (Christopher Gable), and his suggestively incestuous relations with a sister while growing up. Consumed by his art to the point of explosiveness, Tchaikovsky has increasing difficulty coping with his life, finding some solace in the distant love proffered by his rich patroness (who refuses to meet him but communicates her feelings through letters). Russell intends the film to be a bumpy and harsh ride that descends into grotesque tragedy as Nina is confined to a monstrous asylum and Tchaikovsky becomes ill. Still, there are a few of the usual pop-surreal sequences of which the director is so fond, most memorably a loony visual accompaniment for the 1812 Overture. -Tom Keogh.