In the late 1970s, a police undercover operation led to the arrest of some would-be mobsters; when the dust settled, it was revealed that both the New York cop pretending to be a don and the Chicago gangster thinking he was hooking up with a major Mafia family had prepared for the meeting by gleaning tips on mob etiquette from close scrutiny of The Godfather. Which goes to show you: Just because movies are an art form doesn’t mean they have to be useless. The most visual of art forms excels at displaying, step by step and point by point, precisely how to accomplish a specific task. Unlike a book, movies can provide a real-time demonstration of what needs to be done; unlike asking an expert, movies won’t prattle on in indecipherable technicalese or grow frustrated with your slow learning curve. Why not improve yourself this weekend by watching this selection of videos offering more than just entertainment, but also lessons to be learned and skills to be mastered.

The Grifters
(1990, dir. Stephen Frears)

Some might say this is a good movie for those who want to learn how not to
be taken advantage of by con artists, but they’d be lying. No, this is a great
movie to learn how to be a grifter. With detailed examples of petty cons, like
fooling a bartender into thinking you gave him a $20 bill or ways to get more
change from less money (tip: be sure to maintain eye contact), this is a good
introduction to a life of crime that anyone can partake in. Of course it shows
the downside, too, but there can be no gain without risk. Based on a novel by
Jim Thompson, who knew and wrote about the seedier side of life, this is a better
instruction manual than David Mamet (House of Games, The Spanish Prisoner)
ever made. ANDY SPLETZER

Land of the Pharaohs
(1955, dir. Howard Hawks)

No one would ever claim this as one of Hawks’ best works; however, it is perhaps
the finest expression of the Hawksian Hero, that man who, in Andrew Sarris’
words, “knows how to do what he is doing even if he doesn’t know why.” In this
case it’s an entire country that falls back on professionalism when meaning
has vanished: the nation of Egypt, building a pyramid for Jack Hawkins’ avaricious
ruler. True to form, Hawks meticulously displays every detail of this engineering
marvel, from the use of sand to seal the tomb shut (the final scene could work
as a moving blueprint on how to set an ingenious trap) to the best method of
insuring workers’ blindfolds are sealed tight (jab a knife toward their eyes,
of course). BRUCE REID

The Hot Rock
(1972, dir. Peter Yates)

The rock in question is a gemstone, and it’s hot because this is a caper movie.
Script by William Goldman at his best; score by Quincy Jones; with cute little
Robert Redford; George Segal, doing testy perplexity; Moses Gunn, so fastidious, so brainy; Zero Mostel; and the great Ron Leibman, playing the wheelman.
In a crucial scene, Leibman instructs us, out of the side of his mouth: “Instead
of going all the way around the Belt, [you go] up Rockaway Park-a-way and over
Eastern Park-a-way to Grand Army Plaza, then right on Flatbush Avenue to the
Manhattan Bridge and up Third Avenue, pqussst through the Park 79th street”–and
you know, I’ve found that he’s right. Almost always, that’s the best way to
get from anywhere to anywhere else. BARLEY BLAIR

Andrei Rublev
(1969, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky)

Tarkovsky’s cinema could, I’m quite sure, teach an ape how to remove a brain
tumor– provided the ape had the patience to sit through it. The majestic final
chapter of his masterpiece Andrei Rublev concerns an ambitious young
bell-maker who, under threat of death, agrees to cast a bell for the local warlord.
Tarkovsky details every facet of the operation with a fundamentalist’s glee:
see the molten silver and lead surge through the sluice channels; watch the
workers chip away at the clay forms around the cooling iron; marvel at the overhead
shot of the bell tower, streams, horses, and villagers painted into the corners
of the frame as in a Brueghel. But most of all, try to stay in your seat as
the clapper is slowly swung toward the wall of the massive creation, the bell-maker
quivering in the background with a combination of dread and ecstasy. I have
never quite been able to do it. JAMIE HOOK

Lifeboat
(1944, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)

When trapped on a hopelessly drifting lifeboat with eight people, it will be
easy for you to tell who’s going to need an amputation. One of your boatmates,
in this case William Bendix, will speak of a passion for swing dancing. He’ll
make it clear that his chance of keeping his sluttish girlfriend back home is
solely based on his ability to hoof. This, combined with his gaping leg wound,
will make amputation inevitable. Luckily, broads like Tallulah Bankhead always
have brandy, and brandy is a perfectly acceptable substitute for an operating
room and an anesthetic. When the patient is good and loaded and finally questions
his commitment to the merchant marines, it’s time for the knife. When the cutting
is complete, go ahead and toss the shoe aside. However, be smarter than Lifeboat‘s passengers: Use the leg as bait. MELYSA LIEBERMAN