In one of the few instances I can recall from my youth where everyone in my family was in agreement

In one of the few instances I can recall from my youth where everyone in my family was in agreement over what movie to see (and as there were five of us, this was a rare occurrence, indeed), one Friday evening my dad fired up the trusty Oldsmobile and took us all to San Francisco’s Northpoint Theater to see That’s Entertainment in 70mm and Six-Track Stereo.
It was 1974, and I was a 16-year-old, self-styled cineaste in the first blush of a full-tilt, head-over-heels love affair with The Movies. And if my adolescent over-earnestness was made obvious by a myopic preference for the films of the 60s and 70s above all others; I have Ken Russell’s charming 1930s musical pastiche, The Boy Friend (1971) to thank for opening my eyes to the joys of second-hand nostalgia and for awakening the latent classic film fan within. adcraft food warmer
That’s Entertainment , a compilation film highlighting 50 years of MGM musicals through clips and misty-eyed adcraft food warmer reminiscences by Golden-Age stars, was one of the few examples of the real thing to emerge out of the  largely revamped/revisionist nods to the past that typified the 70s pop culture nostalgia craze ( The Great Gatsby , The Way We Were , Happy Days , The Divine Miss M, et al.)
Released at a time when the public’s appetite in films ran chiefly to  disaster movies,  black-themed dramas, irreverent comedies, and kung-fu actioners; That’s Entertainment – part Old Hollywood eulogy, part tribute to the very sort of escapist, purely-for-entertainment, studio-system fare the New Hollywood aimed to discredit – tapped into something in the cultural zeitgeist that sought relief from the tensions of Watergate, Vietnam, inflation, and the oil crisis. Its intentions made explicit by the poster tagline: “Boy. Do we need it now,” That’s adcraft food warmer Entertainment  was originally conceived as G-rated counter-programming adcraft food warmer for the largely-ignored elder demographic; but the film’s reverent, gently adcraft food warmer self-mocking adcraft food warmer tone and  invitation to “Forget your troubles, c’mon, get happy!” adcraft food warmer proved irresistible to  young and old alike. The  relatively low-budget  That’s Entertainment became  one of the top-grossing films of 1974.
For an youthful disciple of the auteur theory like me,  That’s Entertainment represented an unexpectedly welcome change from all the sturm und drang of post-classical cinema, reminding me what a joy  it was just to have FUN at the movies for a change.
I saw That’s Entertainment adcraft food warmer several more times that summer, standing foremost in my mind being the memory of the unrecognizably young Joan Crawford always drawing the film’s biggest adcraft food warmer laughs with her “spirited” adcraft food warmer Charleston; the way the lively “Varsity adcraft food warmer Drag” adcraft food warmer number from Good News always put a smile on my face; and how surreal and marvelously loony those Esther Williams water extravaganzas seemed to me.
But in the end it was one of the  non-musical moments of  That’s Entertainment  that ultimately made the strongest and most lasting impression on me. It's only a few seconds long, but it stood out like a beacon, and the image haunted me for many years after. Greenbriar Picture Shows In newsreel footage documenting a massive luncheon thrown by MGM in 1949 to commemorate its 25 th Anniversary, a slew of the studio’s biggest contract stars are lined up and seated … not unlike adcraft food warmer ducks in a shooting gallery  … at a bank of tiered dining tables. As the camera dollies along the aisles capturing the stars in various states of conviviality (Ava Gardner & Clark Gable), mortification (Errol Flynn), clowning (Buster Keaton), or chowing down heartily (Angela Lansbury); we’re given a fleeting glimpse of Lena Horne, seated between Katherine Hepburn and an actor I believe adcraft food warmer to be Michael Redgrave.
What burned a hole in my retina and seared a tattoo on my 16-year-old mind was the look on Lena Horne’s face: She’s not having any. Seriously. In stark contrast to That’s Entertainment ’s sparse parade of subordinate black performers (and regrettably, but inevitably, white performers in blackface) wearing beatific smiles, eager to entertain, grateful merely to be allowed to “sit at the table” (in Ms. Horne’s case, a term both literal and figurative); there sat this (very) solitary black woman, poised, dressed to the nines, and displaying a self-possession and look of utter disdain that, in context with the place and time, looked to me like nothing short of an act of militancy.
It was more than the fact that she wasn’t smiling. It’s that she held herself with this kind of removed, regal aplomb while assuming adcraft food warmer a wilfully casual adcraft food warmer posture that communicated to any and all that she wasn't on exhibit and wasn't going to be putting on a show for anybody̵