It could hardly have been a more appropriate time and place for the screening of Rudolph Valentino's last film. On August 23, 2026—precisely one hundred years after his death—the Los Angeles premiere of the Cohen Film Collection's careful restoration of The Son of the Sheik took place at the Masonic Lodge at Hollywood Forever. Earlier that same afternoon, fans had assembled in the Cathedral Mausoleum for the 99th Annual Rudolph Valentino Memorial Service. A few hours later, Valentino appeared once more on screen: young, athletic, and still able to command a room, as he had a century after his death.

Long before Hollywood and Vine became one of the most famous intersections in the world, the southeast corner looked nothing like the urban crossroads we know today. Hollywood was still a semi-rural community of orchards, scattered houses, and dusty roads, and Hollywood Boulevard was still called Prospect Avenue. The land at the southeast corner of Prospect and Weyse Avenue—later Vine Street—had once been part of a lemon grove owned by Hollywood pioneer Daeida Beveridge.

The final weekend of August offers moviegoers an unusually varied assortment of choices, from Ridley Scott’s latest post-apocalyptic epic and the long-rescued Coyote vs. Acme to romantic comedy, Korean zombies, offbeat horror and several acclaimed international films expanding into additional theaters. Some of these pictures have already opened in limited engagements and are widening their runs this weekend, while others make their U.S. theatrical debuts on Friday, August 28. Here are some of the more interesting choices vying for your movie-going dollar.

The well-known British actor Tim Curry, with his deep voice, sharp sense of humour and extravagant theatrical style, was one of the most unique performers of his time, and he has died at the age of eighty. According to his long-time manager Marcia Hurwitz, Curry passed away peacefully at his home in Toluca Lake, Los Angeles on August 25, 2026.

Today Agnes Ayres is mainly remembered as Lady Diana Mayo, the beautiful and headstrong heroine who played opposite Rudolph Valentino in The Sheik. Nevertheless, her career went beyond that one film; at one time she was among Paramount's most well-known actresses, worked with Cecil B. DeMille and other prominent filmmakers, experienced wealth and fame, and appeared to have a secure position in Hollywood. Unfortunately, her later years became a sad illustration of how quickly silent-film fame could disappear.

Dolly Parton carried out one of the most amazing balancing acts in American entertainment for most of her life. She had the ability to take to a stage under a huge platinum wig, adorned with rhinestones and having a joke ready about her own look, before sitting down with a guitar and composing something as emotionally sincere as “Jolene,” “Coat of Many Colors,” or “I Will Always Love You.” The image was intentionally extravagant and the ability behind it by no means lacked depth.

On August 23, 2026—precisely 100 years after Rudolph Valentino died—fans once more crowded into the Cathedral Mausoleum at Hollywood Forever Cemetery to attend the 99th annual Rudolph Valentino Memorial Service. In keeping with custom, the service started at 12:10 p.m., the time believed to be when Valentino died in New York back in 1926, and gathered together historians, performers, members of his family and long-time devotees for an afternoon that was not about the myths surrounding Valentino but rather focused on the man himself, his films and the impressive influence he still exerts on the public imagination.

On Monday, August 23, George Ullman, Joseph Schenck, and Frank Menillo, along with the doctors, had kept a watch at Rudy’s bedside all that night. Shortly after midnight an x-ray revealed that the peritonitis was spreading quickly through Rudy’s system. By early morning, he was struggling to breathe against the fluid that was seeping into his lungs, causing him agonizing pain. That, and the difficulty in breathing, were the only things he complained about.

On Saturday, August 21, Ullman arrived at Polyclinic Hospital around five o’clock that morning. Rudy was sleeping as Ullman read his chart, which noted that his pulse and respiration had increased. Concerned, he called Meeker, who arrived shortly with his associates.

Never before—and never again—would the illness, death, and funeral of a Hollywood actor command such extraordinary attention. For more than a week in August 1926, Rudolph Valentino’s final days became not merely a Hollywood story, but front-page news around the world. The New York Daily News chronicled Valentino's drama as it unfolded, from anxious reports outside Polyclinic Hospital to Valentino’s death on August 23, the enormous crowds that gathered to view his body, and the funeral that brought New York to a standstill. Presented together, these remarkable front pages offer a visual record of how one newspaper captured the shock, grief and sometimes astonishing public spectacle surrounding the death of the screen’s greatest romantic idol. A century later, the headlines still convey something that ordinary photographs cannot—the feeling that, for those few August days, Rudolph Valentino was the biggest story in the world.

While still not out of danger, on Thursday, August 19, Rudy’s condition seemed much improved. The heartburn he suffered the night before appeared to have no ill effect during the day. In fact, oatmeal was now added to his daily regimen, but he grimaced and complained that it didn’t “ride so well.” His doctors were so confident about his condition that they released the following bulletin: “Mr. Valentino is making satisfactory progress and having passed his most critical period, no further bulletins will be issued unless some unexpected development occurs.”

By Tuesday, August 17, Valentino's fight had evolved into a bizarre blend of private anguish and public drama. Behind hospital-room doors that were guarded by police and private detectives, the ailing star continued to speak whimsically of returning to pictures, asked for a mirror so he could better study the effects of his makeup as a sick man, and ordered all of the flowers being sent to him to be given to the other patients. Beyond those doors, though, normalcy was quickly eroding. Fans clamored to rush upstairs, reporters kept a morbid "death watch," and reports of his death were prematurely sent flashing across Manhattan. While doctors monitored his temperature and pulse for any signs of recovery, millions anxiously awaited each bulletin, hoping that the world's most famous screen idol would live.