Celluloid

The scene takes place toward the end of Quentin Tarantino's rollicking World War II action-drama "Inglourious Basterds." As fire engulfs a Parisian movie theater packed with German military commanders, pandemonium ensues, diverting attention from the real action: a heart-pounding confrontation between a crack team of Nazi-terrorizing Jewish covert operatives (the so-called "Basterds") and the Third Reich's top brass. It's vintage Tarantino, hyper-real ultra-violence that arrives as a kind of catharsis after more than two hours of intricate plot twists and baroque dialogue as the Basterds, led by Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt)

Vintage jewelry is having its moment--again. Ask Joan Collins, Diana Ross, Cher, Farrah Fawcett. All of them are clients of Connie Parente, a jewelry collector who lately has supplied the stars, and anybody else who likes the aging baubles, from her Ali Baba-like studio in Los Angeles. Madonna, who was covered with Parente's trinkets for her "Material Girl" music video, picked up another stash for a new video in the works. Consequently, Parente has made a living out of a childhood passion.

To watch the fascinating and illuminating "The Celluloid Closet" on HBO tonight--or to read the late Vito Russo's landmark book upon which it is based--is to be made to realize that the movies, so beloved by so many gays and lesbians, have always been a major instrument of their oppression--perpetuating negative stereotypes from the earliest days, shaping the way they have viewed themselves and the way they have been viewed by straights.

Mel Gibson and Danny Glover need houses to burn for their upcoming action movie "Lethal Weapon III." Lancaster has a half-built, abandoned housing tract that city officials would like to see leveled. Could it be a match made in Hollywood? The hottest scene since sets standing in for Atlanta were torched for "Gone With the Wind"?

Because tribute concerts are so often bogged down by windy speeches and self-promoting performances, Monday's salute to Peggy Lee at the Beverly Hilton was a triumphant surprise. The evening was marked by sheer quality and music. Produced by George Schlatter and staged by the Society of Singers, it was climaxed by the presentation to Lee of the "Ella" Lifetime Achievement Award.

Myles Berkowitz needs you to like his movie. As writer, director, narrator and star of "20 Dates," his offbeat, kinda-sorta documentary about dating, he's in our faces like a desperate suitor. He's scared to death we won't find him funny or charming or exciting enough. It made me want to slap him. You're funny, Myles. You're charming. But why do you have to be so annoying?

"The Adolescent Radioactive Black Belt Hamsters"--The little critters are at Rankin-Bass Prods., being developed for animation. "American Flagg"--His name is Ruben Flagg (he's Jewish); he's a member of the futuristic law-enforcement squad, the Plexus Rangers. Now being developed by producer Larry Gordon ("48 HRS," "Predator"). "Ant Man"--New World Pictures (which owns most Marvel Comics properties) has it; the hero can communicate with ants--and shrink to their size.

"What Women Want" is the latest twist on a venerable movie genre: sexual politics in the office between men and women. Over the years, the battle of the sexes has gone through many transformations as the role of women in the workplace and in society has changed--and that's been reflected in films since the early days of cinema. In 1927's "It," for example, Clara Bow played a seductive salesgirl who sets her hooks into her handsome boss.

ZACH HELM says the epiphany that led to "Stranger Than Fiction" came to him while riding in his car: A guy hears a voice that, he realizes, is narrating his life. So he called producer Lindsay Doran to share his brainstorm. "She said, 'That is really funny,' " he recalls. "It's not necessarily a movie, though." It took him two more weeks to come up with the needed complication: The unseen narrator would tell the man he's going to die.

"I'll make it." --Jimmy Chitwood, "Hoosiers" Jerry Dawson has officiated dozens of recreation league basketball games at the small Salvation Army gym on Edinger Avenue. But something was bothering Dawson on this April evening, something he couldn't quite place. Maris Valainis stood out among the 10 guys playing in the 6-feet-4-and-under league game that night. Dawson recognized that jump shot, the one so perfect it should be cast in gold and sitting atop a trophy.