I was wowed by Lawrence of Arabia at age nine at its 1963 local premiere, which was also the opening of a new luxury theater in my hometown, Binghamton, NY (also where The Twilight Zone creator Rod Serling grew up). A color program was sold in the lobby, and the David Lean-directed movie was preceded by an overture by soundtrack composer Maurice Jarre. It was a cinematic event that I am sad that none of you today are likely to experience

Its tale of an odd duck Englishman in the desert aiding the Arab revolt against the Turks during World War I gripped my imagination, and the Technicolor gorgeousness of the stark and arid desert transported me into an exotic place I barely knew about. Peter O’Toole’s magnificent performance as its quixotic and haunted hero made the unknown actor a star thanks to the way his presence and dramatic skills lit up the screen to even compete with the desert sun. (That year for Halloween, my Mom made me a Lawrence costume that wonderfully replicated his gorgeous white robes and kiyefeh headpiece.) It is the touchstone work of epic cinema the likes of which I doubt we shall ever see again.

I saw it again on VHS in 1990. In the early part of the movie, as Lawrence was venturing into the desert on the back of a camel, there was a scene shot from high above of he and his guide riding across the sands from right to left. Wait a second, I thought. That isn’t right. I swear that they crossed from left to right! Sure enough, when I got the book Lawrence of Arabia: The 30th Anniversary Pictorial History not long after that I learned how this masterpiece had been hacked up again and again since not long after its release for that nasty old bugaboo: commercial considerations. Some of the negatives had been reversed, and the VHS was from a bad copy.

When I saw the miraculous restoration of Lawrence on the big screen at the Paramount Theatre in Austin, TX, the camels were again crossing the desert as I remembered them. The film had so imprinted itself on my consciousness that I knew that scene had gotten reversed. And of course I was again transfixed and transported. That is what great film can do to a mind and soul.

I again watched the restored version recently on DVD. Knowing it as well as I did by then, I could view it from a step back. I was amazed at how in the sprawling 3.5 hour-plus film, the dialogue was still utterly tight and concise: not one wasted word, and every line served the story and/or character development. Then of course there’s the stunning beauty of the brutal desert landscape its cinematography. Every single shot was framed for maximum visual effect, some of them stunning classics.

At age 16 I first saw Citizen Kane. My secondary school offered a film appreciation class for which I was the projectionist, and I was able to screen the greatest American movie ever made for myself a number of times and marvel at its visual riches and innovations, gripping story, and creative storyline that weaves back and forth through time. When it was made in 1941, it redefined such essentials as camera placement and depth of field and storyline, to name but a few of its groundbreaking advances in the art of cinema.

(I’ll also recommend highly the HBO movie about its making, RKO 281. I’m a big fan of movies about movies, from Truffaut’s delicious Day For Night to the sadly little known yet brilliant The Stunt Man, which features yet another bravura O’Toole performance as a Machiavellian film director.)

There’s a funny footnote to my love of Kane. While watching Velvet Goldmine, along came this tracking shot that soared in over the marquee of a nightclub and across the roof and then down through a skylight into the club to join a reporter and female singer at a table. Holy shit! I marveled with a big grin. That’s straight out of Citizen Kane!

As I watched the rest of it, I realized that the film was a total work of homage to Kane in story, structure, and any number of shots. Todd Haynes may have made a somewhat flawed yet still quite enjoyable and moving film in its own right. But as a work of homage it’s brilliant, and in being so it enhances the experience greatly.

I would mention this to self-proclaimed film buffs, and they scoffed at me: No way! Gimme a break! You’re crazy! Ha! It’s as obvious as the sun in the sky if one really knows Kane, and to me the skeptics revealed themselves as obviously mere poseurs.

So I’ll be a film snob and say that until you have not only seen but know these two movies, you don’t really know film. Both are essential cinematic monuments that will serve and enrich your work in movies.