By Mary Shaffer
and Jerry Bunin
The Tribune

Great films possess and elevate the magic of a darkened theater.

They transform mere transitory entertainment into something timeless, a permanent part of ourselves and our culture.

Unfortunately, few films ever reach this level. Most movies today are barely entertaining.

This month--when the box office is dominated by retreads of 30-year-old TV shows--you don't need to look far to find creative failure.

But films that stretch the art of illusion are still being made. Many are available in local video stores.

Films that last are the ones you want to see again and again.

Perennial favorites like ''Gone With The Wind'' (1939), ''The Wizard of Oz'' (1939) and ''It's a Wonderful Life'' (1946) still entertain us and never lose their relevance.

They are universal but personal. Everyone seems to understand their stories, yet each of us experiences the meaning in our own way even if it will never happen to any of us.

Not too many people are going to find a cute little alien to hide in their closet, but ''E.T. The Extra Terrestrial'' (1982) is more about family and friendship than spaceships.

Some films look so strikingly different they redefine movie standards. ''Road Warrior'' (1981), ''Blade Runner'' (1982), ''Star Wars'' (1977) and ''2001: A Space Odyssey'' (1968) altered our vision of outer space and Earth's future.

Fate sometimes plays a role in finding greatness: A film is released at just the right time, when an idea and a culture are in perfect sync or the perfect actor has come along.

The popularity of ''Rebel Without a Cause'' (1955), still the best film about alienated teenagers, set the stage for the 1960s youth rebellion and made James Dean a star.

''Easy Rider'' (1969) and ''The Graduate'' (1967) boosted the careers of Jack Nicholson and Dustin Hoffman and focused the mood of a young generation facing an uncertain future in the late 1960s.

''American Graffiti'' (1973) looked nostalgically back a decade later at the idealism of the early '60s by concentrating on the culture that led up to a generation in revolt.

Just as the films themselves became part of the histories they chronicled, it's impossible to see anyone but Dustin Hoffman as Ratso Rizzo in ''Midnight Cowboy'' (1969), Diane Keaton as ''Annie Hall'' (1977), or James Cagney as George M. Cohan in ''Yankee Doodle Dandy'' (1942).

Those actors, characters and films are permanently merged in our minds.

Memorable movie characters aren't always people we like or admire, but they manage to capture our imaginations anyway.

Hannibal Lector in ''Silence of the Lambs'' (1991), Travis Bickle as the ''Taxi Driver'' (1976) and Norman Bates in ''Psycho'' (1960) are frightening and repulsive, yet seductive and fascinating to watch.

We get so caught up in their lives, we can't wait to find out what happens to them, just as we wonder about the lives led by Rick and Ilsa after they left ''Casablanca'' (1942).

The great stories take us on a journey--physical, emotional or spiritual--to the resolution of a problem: finding ''The Maltese Falcon'' (1941), saving the boy destined to save mankind in the ''Terminator'' (1984, 1991) films, or watching the fate of two little people in a crazy world at war 50 years ago.

Being timeless doesn't mean being stuck in our time. Great films transport audiences to places they've never seen or imagined.

New worlds open to us when Bernardo Bertolucci's explored China's past in ''The Last Emperor'' (1987), Stanley Kubrick imagined life in ''2001'' or Carl Franklin took us into the lonely, violent world of a contemporary, smalltown Arkansas sheriff in ''One False Move'' (1991).

These films, like any great novel, rely on written words.

The dialogue must sound convincing, the way real people talk, whether it is the devastating and bitter wit of Broadway theatre people in ''All About Eve'' (1950) or the simple, plainspoken yearnings of hardworking longshoremen in ''On the Waterfront'' (1954).

Movies that stand the test of time have an internal logic. They don't need to be realistic, but their dialogue, characters and plot twists must be credible within that world, even in a fantasy like ''Who Framed Roger Rabbit'' (1988) or ''The Exorcist'' (1973).

And the mood must fit the story.

Too many American films today are butchered by having happy endings forced onto stories that aren't about happiness.

The European version of ''The Vanishing'' (1988) is so dark, haunting and disturbing that it's hard to forget even if you wanted to. The 1993 American remake completely changed the ending, turning an unsettling, claustrophic saga into a boring Hollywood cliche.

Tacking positive endings onto films regardless if they fit is part of today's equally disturbing trend of trying to put together a hit film by stealing elements from past successes.

Studios act like audiences will only see films that make them feel good or so familiar with that they already know what will happen. Predictability is actually a cinematic sin.

''Chinatown'' (1974) has so many twists that Jack Nicholson's detective J.J. Gittes and the audience can't rest because they are always several long steps behind the bad guy.

Director Roman Polanski, a survivor of the Holocaust, made the story even better by making the ending darker and more despairing than the original screenplay.

Truly memorable films are more likely to happen when an artist, likr Polanski, is able to pursue a personal vision, such as Francis Ford Coppola's ''Godfather'' trilogy (1972, 1974, 1990), Orson Welles' ''Citizen Kane'' (1941), Martin Scorsese's ''Raging Bull'' (1980), and Sylvester Stallone's original ''Rocky'' (1976).

Great films share many these traits and much more, but the first test of greatness is easy to apply.

If you leave the theater with something to talk or think about, the magic worked once again.

Mary Shaffer works at Cal Poly. Jerry Bunin is a news reporter for The Tribune. They are always on the lookout for a new piece of magic.