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Dwayne Johnson: More Ahhnold than Ahhnold.

There's a scene in 2003's The Rundown in which Dwayne Johnson, finally in a big movie playing a character who's name didn't begin with "The Scorpion" or end with "King," gets a passing nod from a cameo-ing Arnold Schwarzenegger. At the time, many took it as a symbolic passing of the crown from one brawny action man to another brawny action man. That proved... premature.

Financially, The Rundown disappointed, and it did not, in fact, serve as Johnson's coronation as the new ultimate brawny action man. (That said, it is really good.) The early-aughts, it turned out, would be dominated by leaner, pastier action heroes like Jason Bourne.

It's in Skyscraper—the latest in a streak of big-budget high-concept Dwayne Johnson blockbusters—that he finally claims Arnold's mantle. Not in terms of body count or catch phrases, which are relics of another era. (Sorry, The Expendables.) What Skyscraper represents is an absurd action movie that simply couldn't justify its existence without Johnson's presence. He's an enormous charisma engine; drop him into a shiny plastic shell, and suddenly you've got a vehicle.

"As we live a life of ease, every one of us has all we need"

Milestones call for celebration—or in the case of Yellow Submarine, which has its 50th anniversary this month, a good ol’ fashioned restoration.

The animated musical fantasy—ostensibly made for children, but with surrealistic, psychedelic animations by George Dunning, appealing to adults of both the square and acid-eating varieties—was inspired by the 1966 Beatles song of the same name, and culls select other tracks from that seminal rock band’s catalog to soundtrack and illustrate its story: A group of musicians (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band) embarks on an underwater adventure through wildly surreal and tripped-out seascapes to save their Pepperland paradise from the music-hating Blue Meanies who’ve invaded and drained all the love, peace, and color from the place.