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'Dr. Zhivago,' 'Fargo' and more movies to help you chill in the summer heat


Temperatures this week topped 115 degrees in Texas and Oklahoma. And with more than 275 million Americans set to swelter through highs above 90 over the next week, a lot of us will be dreaming up inventive ways to cool off, just as Marilyn Monroe did in the 1950s comedy "The Seven Year Itch."


MARILYN MONROE: (As The Girl) Maybe if I took the little fan, put it in the icebox, then left the icebox door open, then left the bedroom door open and soak the sheets and pillowcase in ice water - no, that's too icky.

SHAPIRO: Wicked or not, Marilyn got film critic Bob Mondello thinking about more movie moments that might help us all chill out.

BOB MONDELLO, BYLINE: I remember a blue-and-white sign that used to tempt me every summer when I was a kid. It dangled from the marquee of our neighborhood movie theater, painted penguins and three irresistible, snow-covered words - it's cool inside. And it was. They kept the AC cranked so low that my mom made us take sweaters when we went to see midsummer movies...


ROD TAYLOR: (As Pongo) Follow the collie.

MONDELLO: ...Movies like "101 Dalmatians," where Pongo and his gazillion pups fought their way across an icy river through wind and huge snowdrifts to get to a nice, warm barn where some friendly cows welcomed them with fresh milk.


MARJORIE BENNETT: (As Duchess) Just look, Queenie. Have you ever seen so many puppies? They're completely worn out and half-frozen.

MONDELLO: I don't know whether filmmakers deliberately released movies with scenes of snow in the summer back then, but they sure should have. Air conditioning wasn't common in homes yet, so it was a big movie theater draw in those days. And while I was watching kid flicks, my folks were watching the grown-up equivalent - Omar Sharif's Doctor Zhivago, his beard and eyebrows crusted with icicles mistaking half-frozen refugees on a frozen tundra for his wife and child...


OMAR SHARIF: (As Yuri Zhivago) Tonya, Tonya.

MONDELLO: ...Or breaking into a long-neglected ice palace that could have doubled as a frosted wedding cake, its interior a white-on-white maze of drifting snow, frozen furniture and glistening icicles that rivaled the chandeliers.

It's not as if any of this was new or happened only in summer movies. Charlie Chaplin had made audiences feel a chill in his silent comedy "The Gold Rush" by whipping up a blizzard that left a prospector's house perched precariously on the edge of a glacier. And that was just a few years after D.W. Griffith had put a poor, coatless Lillian Gish on an ice floe in "Way Down East" and sent her hurtling downstream towards a waterfall.

But technology's made it possible for more recent filmmakers to give audiences not just a chill but a bad case of frostbite - Jack Nicholson freezing solid at the end of "The Shining," for instance, or that Uruguayan rugby team stranded high in the Andes after a plane crash in "Alive." John Carpenter's "The Thing" had scientists battling its title critter in Antarctica, and the hardy crime-solvers in "Fargo" plunged through slush into North Dakota's snow drifts...


FRANCES MCDORMAND: (As Marge Gunderson) Ooh, what you got there?

MONDELLO: ...Armed only with a coffee thermos.


BRUCE BOHNE: (As Lou) Thought you might need a little warm-up.

MCDORMAND: (As Marge Gunderson) Thanks a bunch.

MONDELLO: There have also been documentaries about climbing Everest and explorers going to the South Pole, even animated films - "Happy Feet" with dancing penguins, "Ice Age" with mastodons and, of course, "Frozen."


KATIE LOPEZ: (As Young Anna, singing) Do you want to build a snowman?

MONDELLO: And all of this barely qualifies as nippy next to the deep, deep freeze in the climate change epic "The Day After Tomorrow," which depicted the sudden arrival of a new ice age...


TAMLYN TOMITA: (As Janet Tokada) Satellite readings are showing a temperature drop of 10 degrees per second.

MONDELLO: ...With digital effects that sent frost streaking down the spire on the Empire State Building and froze New York Harbor solid enough that the stars could hike over to the Statue of Liberty - not that water has to get that cold to make audiences shiver. Witness Leonardo DiCaprio at the end of "Titanic," all but submerged in the frigid Atlantic, teeth chattering, lips turning blue as he tries to buck up Kate Winslet's spirits while clinging to a makeshift raft he can't climb onto.


LEONARDO DICAPRIO: (As Jack Dawson) I don't know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all this.

KATE WINSLET: (As Rose DeWitt Bukater) I'm so cold. I can't feel my body.

MONDELLO: Ah, quit your complaining. "Titanic" cold is merely brisk, as moviegoers would learn a few years later from the documentary "March Of The Penguins," in which tens of thousands of those stoic, flightless birds huddled together and Morgan Freeman's voice provided practically the only warmth.


MORGAN FREEMAN: The temperature is now 80 degrees below zero. That's without taking into account the wind, which can blow a hundred miles an hour.

MONDELLO: See? That's cold.


FREEMAN: The males are totally docile, a united and cooperative team. They brace against the storm by merging their bodies into a single mass. They will take turns, each of them getting to spend some time near the center of their huddle, where it's warmer.

MONDELLO: No matter how hot it is outside, you're going to be hoping for a thaw by the end of "March Of The Penguins," which is true of a lot of these pictures, even "Zhivago" or perhaps especially "Zhivago," since it spends the better part of three hours feeling downright Siberian whether the good doctor is battling wintry winds outside or cooped up in a country house with his wife, fingers cramped as he tries to write.


GERALDINE CHAPLIN: (As Tonya Gromeko Zhivago) Yuri, why don't you go to Yuriatin?

SHARIF: (As Yuri Zhivago) No, I don't think so. Anyway, the roads are blocked.

MONDELLO: And the snow's drifted high enough that they can't open doors. Windows are a latticework of frost crystals so thick they can't see out. But with overcast skies, what's to see? - until Zhivago spots a glint in one spot and realizes the sun's peeking out from behind the clouds for the first time in months. Then the sun hits the window full-on, and the crystals glisten. And in a dissolve that could only happen in a David Lean film, the frost melts away to reveal in 70 millimeter what looked to be 40-foot-high daffodils. For a moment, at least, you'll welcome a little warmth.

I'm Bob Mondello.


Bob Mondello, who jokes that he was a jinx at the beginning of his critical career — hired to write for every small paper that ever folded in Washington, just as it was about to collapse — saw that jinx broken in 1984 when he came to NPR.