Gwynn, Michael

Barabbas

Starring Anthony Quinn in the title role, Barabbas was released in 1961 in the midst of a wave of widescreen epics based on biblical characters. The screenplay, by playwright Christopher Fry (who also contributed to Ben-Hur), is an unusually intelligent one. Further assets are the imaginative, sparingly orchestrated score by Mario Nascimbene and a handsome production design by art director Mario Chiari that is so rewarding to the eye in Aldo Tonti's often dazzling cinematography.

Many scenes, such as Christ's crucifixion, are shot and staged like tableaux in a style reminiscent of the great masters of art. And director Richard Fleischer surpasses anything Ridley Scott achieved years later in Gladiator: he fills the huge arena--a vast Roman amphitheatre--with a gladiatorial school of hand-to-hand combat, a parade of elephants, and a den of lions, and then caps his production with a riveting and thrillingly mounted duel between Jack Palance, careering round the circumference of the arena in his chariot, and Barabbas dodging him on foot. --Adrian Edwards

Jason and the Argonauts

Arguably the most intelligently written film to feature the masterful stop-motion animation of Ray Harryhausen, Jason and the Argonauts is a colorful adventure that takes full advantage of Harryhausen's "Dynarama" process. Inspired by the Greek myth, the story begins when the fearless explorer Jason (Todd Armstrong) returns to the kingdom of Thessaly to make his rightful claim to the throne, but the gods proclaim that he must first find the magical Golden Fleece. Consulting Hera, the queen of gods, Jason recruits the brave Argonauts to crew his ship, and they embark on their eventful journey. Along the way they encounter a variety of mythic creatures, including the 100-foot bronze god Talos, the batlike Harpies, the seven-headed reptilian Hydra, and an army of skeletons wielding sword and shield. This last sequence remains one of the finest that Harryhausen ever created, and it's still as thrilling as anything from the age of digital special effects. Harryhausen was the true auteur of his fantasy films, and his brilliant animation evokes a timeless sense of wonder. Jason and the Argonauts is a prime showcase for Harryhausen's talent--a wondrous product of pure imagination and filmmaking ingenuity. The DVD contains an informative interview with Harryhausen by filmmaker John Landis. --Jeff Shannon

The Fall Of The Roman Empire (Limited Collector's Edition) (The Miriam Collection)

Anthony Mann directs this giant-size, three-hour, sweepingly pictorial entertainment (Daily Variety) that chronicles the peace-loving Caeser, Marcus Aurelius (Guinness) and his corrupt son, Commodus, (Plummer) who covets his throne. Featuring epic battles, breathtaking sets and locations, and a chariot race that easily rivals Ben Hur, Fall of the Roman Empire charts the greedy miscalculations that led to this civilization s collapse at the bloody hands of the Barbarians.

The Fantastic Films of Ray Harryhausen - Legendary Monster Series (Jason and the Argonauts / The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad / The Golden Voyage of Sinbad / Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger / The 3 Worlds of Gulliver)

Village of the Damned/Children of the Damned

What's scarier than scary kids? Village of the Damned is the definitive scary-kid classic, a truly unsettling film drawn from John Wyndham's novel The Midwich Cuckoos. The brilliant opening sequence depicts the sudden and temporary paralysis of a small English hamlet, which is followed by the town's women becoming mysteriously pregnant. The spawn of this occurrence are a dozen eerie, blond-headed children, who are either gifted, evil, or "the world's new people." A splendid outing, not least in the way it catches parental anxiety about this small new stranger in one's home. (It was remade by John Carpenter in 1995.)

Children of the Damned follows up with a story about six more creepy kids, brought from all over the globe to huddle in a old church in London. An excellent opening half-hour gets bogged down in the movie's global-political ambitions (it's very much a cold war offering), but it has its share of shivery moments--the sight of the six youngsters striding down a London street as though they controlled the world is a chiller. But where's the blond hair? The two films are different in tone; Village feels like a fifties sci-fi offering, with an old-school star (George Sanders) and classical style; Children is a film of the sixties, with hipper techniques, urban setting, and young actors Ian Hendry and Alan Badel. But both have those damned kids. --Robert Horton

Scars of Dracula

The Revenge of Frankenstein

Death has never stopped anyone from crafting a sequel to a successful film, but Terence Fisher and screenwriter Jimmy Sangster rather ingeniously twist the climactic execution of The Curse of Frankenstein into the opening of The Revenge of Frankenstein. With a cold-blooded flourish that would become his trademark, Frankenstein plots his escape and sends an innocent (a priest, no less) to take his place on the guillotine, leaving himself free to continue his experiments. As the new head of a hospital for the poor, he builds a body for his crippled assistant from parts amputated from his patients, but body battles mind for supremacy and turns the newly ambulatory man into a bloodthirsty cannibal. Once again Fisher makes the most of a constricted budget, turning his poorhouse hospital into a cramped, dank hole and splurging on another colorful laboratory of buzzing devices and a centerpiece tank for his suspended creature. There are few innocents in the Frankenstein films and this is no different: high-society dandies are hypocrites, poorhouse patients thieves and opportunists, and of course the driven doctor is willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to achieve his goal. The clever conclusion, which lays the groundwork for the next sequel, was curiously ignored when the third installment finally arrived six years later in The Evil of Frankenstein. --Sean Axmaker

The Fall of the Roman Empire

The second and last of Anthony Mann's historical epics is a smart, handsome spectacle of the decadence, corruption, and intrigue that tears apart the greatest empire the world has seen. The sprawling story spreads itself thin over a number of characters and stories. At the center are handsome but stiff Stephen Boyd as Livius, the loyal soldier and symbolic son of the aging emperor (Alec Guinness), and Christopher Plummer as Commodus, the corrupt heir to the throne--boyhood friends turned enemies when the latter accedes to the throne and sells out the values of his father for greed and hedonistic pleasures. The three-hour running time is filled out with the tales of Sophia Loren (as the beautiful Lucilla in love with Livius but coveted by greedy Commodus) and a gallery of heroes and villains that includes James Mason, Mel Ferrer, Anthony Quayle, John Ireland, Omar Sharif, and Eric Porter. The film is highlighted with spectacular scenes (a grandiose funeral fit for an emperor, brutal battles in the provinces as the barbarians threaten the empire, and a climactic duel to decide the destiny of Rome), which Mann weaves into the shadowy intrigue of the halls of power. Like his previous epic El Cid, The Fall of the Roman Empire remains one of the best of the 1960s epics: well written (and largely historically accurate) with strong performances and a consistently elegant style, but it lacks a central core and the magnetic hero of its superior predecessor. --Sean Axmaker

Barabbas (With CD Sampler)

What a Carve Up!

Sidney James and Kenneth Connor star in this Classic British 'haunted house' comedy. The foolishness begins when the family members of the supposedly dead madman, Uncle Gabriel, are summoned to the reading of his will. Ernie Broughton (Kenneth Connor) and Syd Butler (Sidney James) gather with the rest of this motley bunch in a lonely mansion. With all the classic trappings of a comedy whodunit, Ernie and Syd keep the laughs coming as mysterious bumps in the night unfold into a bizarre but sinister series of murders.