While I gear up for yet another query campaign, it's another day in the McIlvaine household ... which means more procrastinating while watching DANTE'S PEAK. I swear, no matter what time of day it is, that movie is playing somewhere in a dozen languages.

You know what I'm talking about: it's the golden rule. No, no, not the one about doing unto others what you would have them do to you (which is clearly not a reference to Jack Bauer on 24 who does the down and dirty to the baddies on a regular basis). It's the rule about those certain kind movies, some good, some bad, some indifferent, that no matter how many times you've seen them, you never get tired of watching them, even if doing so is hazardous to your health, marriage and mental stability. It could be 100 times or 1000. No matter what you're doing, you come running. You watch these flicks and still laugh over some bit of silliness, catch something that you hadn't noticed before, or just roil with delight over bad acting, logic leaps, lousy dialogue and cheesy special effects . It's like Aunt Grizelda's greasy, hot and spicy chili. You know you're going to pay for it, but you still eat it anyway.

Why this is so, I'm not exactly sure (like THE HAPPENING, another one that keeps repeating like heartburn and Christmas fruitcake). I mean, honestly, how many times can you see SIGNS and not want to break out the tin foil? Yet we're drawn to it a like a moth to a flame. Maybe we think the movie will improve with age, like fine wine. Or perhaps those movies hold pleasant memories. Maybe the sad fact is that we're just gluttons for punishment.

So while I check my e-mail every five minutes, here, for your edification (or mortification), is the list of "must see TV" in our household.

The previously mentioned DANTE'S PEAK is probably number one. God, I've lost track of how many times I've seen this damn volcano explode. But does it matter? I still shriek when the kids find the charred body in the hot springs (and still secretly wish the kids had jumped in). And I still yell at these brats when they go up the mountain to rescue their stubborn and stupid Granny (I always throw in a couple of choice curse words at that old broad). However, when Granny redeems herself by pushing the boat through the acid waters, my maternal instinct kicks into hyperdrive; I even shed a tear when she finally kicks it. There's a nice, subdued chemistry between Pierce Brosnan and Linda Hamilton (even if the ending feels tacked on and as sweet as pure maple syrup). All the requisite beats are played out, such as panic and mayhem in the streets, and we know intuitively that the short sighted government bureaucrat (aka first class a-hole) will tragically bite it for doubting Brosnan in the first place. All this leading up to the main course, the volcano erupting. Let's face it, if after all this buildup the volcano didn't erupt, there would be no point.

Another movie we can never say no to is CONGO. Amy! Lovey! Amy! Yeah, it's someone in a monkey suit, but who cares? It's pure Grade B schmaltz and it works. Despite the improbable concept, the acting more than makes up for it with Laura Linney acting against type, Tim Curry stealing the show as the sleazy adventurer/con man in search of buried treasure and ends up buried himself along with Ernie Hudson as the sly big game guide. Who could forget Vin Rhymes uttering the immortal "stop eating my sesame cake" line and the tribal guys breaking into "California Dreaming" on this expedition to hell.

I would be remiss ( and my husband would divorce me) if I didn't add the classic and beloved CASABLANCA. It's just one of those movies that seems fresh no matter what. This timeless tale of war, love and betrayal still affects me deeply. Every other line of dialogue is a gem. Claude Raines with his "shocked, shocked" and "Play it again, Sam" is now part of the lexicon. Ingmar Bergman was at her loveliest, Humphrey Bogart scowled like no other as he wrestled with his demons and his conscience. And the ending in which the guy didn't get the girl. They don't make them like these anymore. And if anyone gets the horrible idea of remaking this diamond---just so you know, me and about ten million other people are gunning for you.

Another movie that I'll drop anything for is the under appreciated IT'S A MAD MAD MAD MAD WORLD. A crazy caper supposedly about stolen money, it's really just an excuse to get a boatload of the world's top comedians into one movie and let them run wild. Who would have thought that dour old Spencer Tracy could hold his own with such nutjobs as Phil Silver, Mickey Rooney, Jonathan Winters, Sid Ceaser, Jim Backus, Ethel Merman, Dick Shawn, Buddy Hackett. There's an old saying about putting your characters up a tree and throw rocks at them. In this film, it's just not rocks that are thrown, it's boulders as complications escalate to the breaking point and then some.

Another golden oldie is REAR WINDOW with James Stewart as the celebrated photographer laid low by a broken leg, lovingly attended to Grace Kelly (another odd pairing) who becomes convinced that the woman across across the courtyard has been offed by her gruff husband, played by a scary Raymond Burr pre PERRY MASON. Talk about your contained thrillers. Thelma Ritter rounded out the fine cast with a hoot of performance as the gabby and gritty nurse. Stewart got more tension just peeping on his neighbors with a very low tech gadget (binoculars) rolling about in a pedestrian wheelchair than all the high tech gadgets and high speed car crashes of today's actionfests.

Also, I'll never pass up a viewing of THE BIRDS. There's just something about something so ordinary-and yet so bone chilling-about common birds banding together to attack us poor humans. The scene in the diner is a classic and the "religious nut" has become a staple in horror movies (uhm, THE MIST). I'm not going to mention PSYCHO (that's a column, nay a novel, unto itself), and I know there are some cinemaphiles who disdain THE BIRDS as not being one of Hitchcock's best. But I beg to disagree. It still scares the pajamas off me, and that's all that counts.

My kids, for reasons I still can't understand, are enamored of CON-AIR, THE FIFTH ELEMENT and DAZED AND CONFUSED. I'm still not sure what CON-AIR is about, besides Nicholas Cage with a mullet and John Malkovitch playing a Easter Ham. THE FIFTH ELEMENT is basically Bruce Willis playing Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich in a stringy red wig babbling nonsense. DAZED AND CONFUSED always left me, well ... you know.

PJ McIlvaine isn't a dude, doesn't live in California, and is old enough to vividly remember the day JFK was shot. She's been writing since she was in diapers and against all odds has managed to get two scripts produced: the Emmy nominated, Showtime family film MY HORRIBLE YEAR starring Eric Stoltz, Mimi Rogers and Karen Allen, and an offbeat holiday family comedy THE TOWN THAT BANNED CHRISTMAS) with Hunter Gomez, Matt McCoy, Jane Sibbett, Christa B. Allen and Carol Alt (DVD). PJ can be reached at pmcilvaine@aol.com or pjmac56@yahoo.com.