Jonathan Kemp

Jacques Tati’s gloriously choreographed, nearly wordless comedies about confusion in the age of technology reached their creative apex with Playtime. For this monumental achievement, a nearly three-year-long, bank-breaking production, Tati again thrust the endearingly clumsy, resolutely old-fashioned Monsieur Hulot, along with a host of other lost souls, into a bafflingly modernist Paris. With every inch of its superwide frame crammed with hilarity and inventiveness, Playtime is a lasting testament to a modern age tiptoeing on the edge of oblivion.

Yesterday Jim Molner was an ordinary guy. Today he's a desperate man, frantically trying to save himself and his family, held hostage by a demented terrorist who's demanding $500,000 not to detonate a bomb he's planted on a domestic airliner.

The Devil arranges for a deceased gangster to return to Earth as a well-respected judge to make up for his previous life.

The Mafia tries to take revenge against a man who testified against them in court.

After the war, the Nazi who exterminated six million Jews escapes from Europe but is eventually recaptured.