Two especially arcane sub-genres: movies that you’ve never much liked or felt especially caught up in, but which you’ve watched a few times anyway because (a) the photography is magnifique exceptional — so good that all the other aspects pretty much fall by the wayside, and (b) movies that you’ve never much liked but you’ve watched occasionally because the opening credit sequence is seriously mesmerizing. I feel this way about the 1963 Cleopatra; ditto David Lean‘s Summertime (’55), which has been Blurayed by a Japanese outfit.
