April 6th 2013. Pick Of the Day.

Winter. Jeezus, will you die already?

In the spirit of all things warm and dry the Nitehawk Cinema screens Sam Peckinpah's cult western PAT GARRETT AND BILLY THE KID as part of their Country Brunchin' series. Bob Dylan provides the original soundtrack and shows why he'd never be asked to act in a film ever again. Breakfast tacos, my friends, breakfast tacos...

The Film Center Ampitheater of Lincoln Center kicks of a month of Audrey Hepburn with George Cukor's MY FAIR LADY. Yes, it's a BluRay projection, but if that's your cup o' tea this bustery day you could do worse.

Then again, you could do better. BAM's trib to Hayao Miyazaki and his Studio Ghibli output continues into the second day of its weeklong hug. The mighty offerings on hand today? The animation master's MY NEIGHBOR TOTORO and NAUSICAA OF THE VALLEY OF THE WIND. I am fingernail-pulling tempted to select either of these as today's Pick, but an even more essential work to my childhood both current and previous screens today. So I must balk.

The Weimar Touch, MOMA's intriguing retrospective dedicated to the influence German expressionist cinema of the 20's had on Hollywood filmmaking of the 30's and 40's, continues today with three-count-'em-three solid exhibits! Joseph Losey's remake of the Fritz Lang masterwork M gets things going and is followed by Edgar G. Ulmer's THE BLACK CAT and Henry Koster's PETER. All worthy of your attendnace, but seeing as this fest goes on for a full month I reserve my Pick for a this-weekend-only screening. MOMA strikes out with the bases loaded.

And midnight screenings in our exciting gotham include the addendum booking of Kubrick's 2001 and THE SHINING at IFC Center following their complete retrospective of the director's works just last month, as well as the same venue's unspooling of Nobuhiko Obayashi's gloriously batshit HAUSU. Williamsburg's witching hour brings Dennis Hopper's New Hollywood harbringer EASY RIDER to the Nitehawk's screens. Close call but they're all out. I will now wittily tie all the baseball references together as only I can. I know, I know, you're incredibly impressed with me. So am I.

Whenever film discussion turns to lists one either cringes or indulges, often times both. Top ten noir, top ten westerns, best French films pre-nouvelle vague, most iconic gangster actor all-time, and such and sundry. There isn't, incidentally, a film fan alive who will not enter the intellectual fray no matter how above the whole damn thing he persists in believing him or her self to be. All it takes is that one jab to the correct nerve and the gloves come off. "HOW can you say UNFORGIVEN is better than SHANE?" "What do you mean OUT OF THE PAST isn't the definitive 40's noir?" And the old saw "Anyone who doesn't get HUDSON HAWK doesn't understand film!" That's been said. You know who you are.

A flicker topic routinely entered into the conversation, because its seasons change in concert with the year's, is best sports film, and the sub-divisions therein. Best Football flick, Best Tennis flick, Best Cricket flick, Best Mah Jong flick, Best Three-Card Monte flick. And so on and so forth. For the record my all-time fave sports film is the exercise in organized anarchy SLAP SHOT, the third of the Paul Newman-George Roy Hill films, and perhaps the best. No other film to me captures the day to day existence of an athlete in a lower tier exhibition, and since MLH ain't too far removed from its minor leagues the ennui, the anxiety, the very existentialsm the sport imbues in its practicioners is, in my opinion, perfectly represented in this tale of struggling ice jockeys from the "Iron League". Best sports Movie Ever, sez this guy. SURELY the best Hockey Movie All-Time. Best Baseball flick ever made? That's another story.

Baseball has an unfair cinematic edge; it has been and remains the sport of choice for film dramatization, mostly, I proffer, because it has long been accorded the accolade America's game, but also because it isn't much older than the medium itself. There is a long and cherished list of Baseball films that will bring a tear to an aficionado's eyes; THE PRIDE OF THE YANKEES, FEAR STRIKES OUT, BANG THE DRUM SLOWLY, FIELD OF DREAMS, MAJOR LEAGUE. Hey I feel it when Berenger bunts. That's not a colorful euphemism either, wisenheimer!

No film, however, epitomizes the sport as well, as extensively, as crassly, as daringly or thoroughly or indeed lovingly as a certain flick from the incredibly permissive 70's, one that focused not on major league players but their childhood selves, and examined where exactly the modern athlete, indeed the athlete of any age, comes from, the competitive cauldron in which he is brewed, the intimidation dealt him from opposing players and even members of their own family, even their dads. No film has ever captured the sheer Fuck-Youness of a baseball game than this gem, that marketed itself as a shallow exercise in vulgarity but ultimately rewarded the film and sports fan with the kind of hug only a knowing valentine to an obssesion might yield. Simply put, it's April, the bases have been dusted off and Buttermaker's team is taking the field. It's next year, Lupus! There is indeed no crying in baseball, but choking up is encouraged.

Michael Ritchie's perfect statement on America's game THE BAD NEWS BEARS screens today and tomorrow for noon brunch at the Nitehawk Cinema. you know what that means? BAD NEWS for the Williamsburg Cinemas!

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Safe, sound, keep an eye out for the next so & so! Back next week with new Picks. In the meantime follow my Twitter or Facebook posts for the best of what's screening in classic film! Excelsior, knuckleheads!

-Joe Walsh