The Bad News Bears (Michael Ritchie, 1976). The Bad News Bears is arguably the quintessential sports movie. It certainly set the template for all the tales of misfits teams overcoming their own shortcomings to achieve some modicum of on-field success that followed. The script, credited to Bill Lancaster, puts together the pieces well enough, but it’s the brisk directing of Michael Ritchie that makes the movie crackle with energy. Ritchie provides room for each character to show spark of personality, no matter how briefly they appear on screen, and the various conflicts are clear and logical. There are few instances of nineteen-seventies casting more inspired than Walter Matthau as slovenly, drunken little league coach Morris Buttermaker, and Tatum O’Neal moves deftly between brash and vulnerable as pitching ace Amanda Whurlitzer. Above all else, the film is consistently funny, cracking off cynical jokes and baseball slapstick with equal aplomb.

Hearts of the West (Howard Zieff, 1975). In the nineteen-thirties, an aspiring writer (Jeff Bridges) bumble his way into the movie business, his aspirations to be the next Zane Grey leading to him becoming an actor in bigscreen Westerns. There’s a vein of bleak satire running through Rob Thompson’s screenplay, but director Howard Zieff is ultimately to amiable to ruthlessly tap it. Instead, Hearts of the West plays like little more than a genial distraction with some throwback affection for Hollywood’s early years. The latter quality was better realized one year later in Peter Bogdanovich’s flawed, earnest Nickelodeon. Because the tonal edge is dulled down, the film is best when it’s at it simplest and most good-natured, which in in the earlier scenes where Bridges is in full jabbering yokel mode. The film grows notably less lively as it aspires to greater complexity. Andy Griffith gives a nice performance as a screen veteran who mentors the damp-eared newcomer.

Gambling Lady (Archie Mayo, 1934). Barbara Stanwyck is in fine form in this early starring vehicle for her. She plays Lady Lee, a card sharp who becomes romantically entangled with Garry Madison (Joel McCrea), the scion of a wealthy family. Their relationship is complicated by both unscrupulous types from Lady’s occupational past and individuals from Garry’s highbrow circles who are often just as conniving. Directed sturdily and stiffly by Archie Mayo, the melodrama tends to drag. The only liveliness to be found in Gambling Lady comes from Stanwyck’s performance. She moves through the gambling den scenes with the assurance and confidence of someone hardened by life and also pivots into moments of extreme softness and vulnerability. She’s one of the few screen thespians of her era who could travel that emotional journey in a single film, even one, like this feature, that clocks in at barely over an hour.