Diner (Barry Levinson, 1982). Barry Levinson’s debut feature is a great hangout comedy and act of wistful nostalgia that shows some strain whenever he feels the need to impose some plot into the proceedings. I wonder if he would have been happiest if he could have made a booth-based version of My Dinner with Andre and spent the whole runtime with the idle bantering of this batch of buddies. The character craft in all of those scenes is exceptional, driven by distinctive quirks that come out naturally in the spirited exchanges. Levinson also cast his crew perfectly, keenly understanding, say, that Mickey Rourke suits a charismatic but untrustworthy wounded soul and Steve Guttenberg is bound to be the most annoying person in a scene. Those strengths shrewdly played to, Levinson concentrates on building the authenticity of time and place. Charming as the film is, it’s hardly flawless: Diner also shows that Levinson had some distance to travel before he’d do right by the women in his films, even with Ellen Barkin doing admirable work as a put-upon wife.

Leave the World Behind (Sam Esmail, 2023). After a string of lauded television projects, Sam Esmail returns to feature filmmaking with this twisty drama that considers what it might be like to watch from a not-so-distant distance while society starts to collapse. Married couple Amanda (Julia Roberts) and Clay (Ethan Hawke) trundle their family out to a fairly remote AirBnB for an impromptu vacation only to get a late-night knock at the door from a pair (Mahershala Ali and Myha’la) who say they are the house’s owners and circumstances have left them in need of a place to stay for the evening. Leave the World Behind is strongest in the first act, which plays like a modern, slicked-up episode of The Twilight Zone, all uncertainty and dread. From there, the film weaves back and forth between thoughtful, effective considerations of the basic logistics of a widespread breakdown (I’m particular fond of a sequence that cleverly uses driverless cars as a means of preventing escape) and over-directed cheats meant to ratchet up tension (a scene of Ali’s character discovering carnage at a beach is the worst offender). The film is better when it’s leaner. It remains a pleasure to watch Roberts revel in playing unpleasant characters now that she’s definitively reached her post–America’s Sweetheart phase.

Pickup (Hugo Haas, 1951). Hugo Haas produces, directs, co-writes, and stars in this splendidly cynical low-budget feature about a lonely railroad dispatcher (played by Haas) who falls for and weds a conniving blonde named Betty (Beverly Michaels). After the dispatcher, named Jan Horak, goes deaf from an accident, Betty’s already suspect soul blackens even more, and she begins plotting her exit, maybe with a side of murder. The situation is complicated further when Jan gets his hearing back (from the medically dubious method of being struck by an automobile) and doesn’t reveal it so he is privy to the open plotting she does with her illicit lover (Allan Nixon). Haas balances the pulpy story precisely between sincerity and floridness. He brings real pathos and dignity to the lead role, which gives heft to the story. Michaels is a marvel, blasting through scenes like a turbo-charged bulldozer with a bleach job.