The 2025 TCM Fest Commemorated the Magnificent Illusions of Classic Film

      “When you see them descending those stairs,” Herbert Marshall states at a pivotal moment in The Enchanted Cottage, “whatever actions they take, whatever words they speak, engage with them. They are unaware, but they’re performing a role.”

      John Cromwell’s romantic film from 1945 tells the tale of a war veteran with physical scars who falls for a––as labeled by the film––“homely” young woman. What begins as a quest for companionship transforms into genuine love, and the charm of the cottage enhances their beauty, at least in each other's eyes.

      This year's festival theme was “Grand Illusions: Fantastic Worlds on Film.” The Enchanted Cottage, illustrating the beauty we perceive in those we cherish, offers a perfect framework for this discussion. While “fantastic worlds” might evoke thoughts of sci-fi and fantasy (and rest assured, the weekend showcased many such films, from The Empire Strikes Back to Blithe Spirit), classic cinema often deals deeply with apparent fantasy. These grand illusions. What may seem alienating––the exaggerated acting, the rich musical scores, the lush dialogue, the vibrant colors and stark lighting––are exactly what draw viewers in and invite them to engage, to take part.

      Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957)

      Certain genres––often male-driven like westerns and film noir––tend to resonate more readily with contemporary audiences. On Saturday night, the TCM Film Festival presented a unique archival VistaVision print of Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, one of Hollywood’s many dramatized versions of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday’s showdown with cattle rustlers. It has the typical elements––witty banter, tidy attire, and bright smiles––that set it apart from the reality of the West, yet its portrayal of violence makes its narrative believable to the audience. Films like The Mark of Zorro and Ben-Hur––which were screened in a new restoration by The Film Foundation and Warner Bros.––likely hold similar appeal for these reasons.

      More challenging to absorb might be a film like Lili, which the festival showcased on a stunning 35mm print. A major success in 1953, it has largely been forgotten, possibly due to its premise of a man in his 30s employing puppets to attract a 16-year-old girl, which now feels unsettling. Yet it is this very distancing that the film explores. Lili (played by Leslie Caron, who received an Oscar nomination for her role) is transitioning from girlhood to adulthood; the puppets serve as a childlike means for her to connect as an equal with the adults who intimidate her. She too grapples with the artificiality of her situation, at one point envisioning herself dancing with the puppets she interacts with while searching for the reality behind it.

      Lili (1953)

      Artifice often connotes deceit and contradicts truth; yet, when utilized with empathy, it allows artists to engage with potentially confrontational themes. Take into account 1954’s Brigadoon, which screened on 35mm, with background dancers George Chakiris and Barrie Chase present for discussion. Two hunters stumble upon a magical Scottish village that materializes only once every hundred years. Gene falls for a local girl portrayed by Cyd Charisse. The film showcases dazzling choreography, until eventually, the village must disappear again. Is it pure escapism? Or, in the aftermath of World War II, does it reflect the experiences of men who visit distant lands, gaining insights that they cannot share with anyone back home, fundamentally altering their worldview? Might its fantasy evoke memories of the women they loved while stationed abroad, now distant figures in their lives? Or does it simply represent the essence of cinema—a vision of a marvelous world that must inevitably conclude?

      Oklahoma! (shown in a restoration that debuted at TCM Fest in 2014) perhaps poses an even greater challenge. The musical, adapted from the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic, portrays two young women divided between four suitors (two for each, mind you). On the surface, it offers a charming depiction of southwestern life on the eve of Oklahoma's admission as the 46th state––complete with suitable matches for each girl, a town dance, a schoolhouse auction, and songs celebrating the beauty of it all. Yet… something ominous lurks beneath. Odd intimacies. Unexpected skinny-dipping. And when the girls are alone, their conversations revolve around boys; not due to failing the Bechdel test, but simply because, well, what other topics are available?

      Oklahoma! (1955)

      Just as I begin to think I might be overanalyzing, Laurey inhales some opium and envisions an alternate version of herself before being ushered into a dream ballet that vividly illustrates the conflict between respectable values and repressed sexuality. All the surface-level niceties she presents, reinforced by the